Escorting the legendary Patrick Redfield into Impel Down personally was enough to ignite a firestorm of global attention once again.
But Wright hadn't deceived Redfield.
The Summit War had been broadcast live to the entire world. Anyone who watched that war had already seen the enigmatic man who once stood face-to-face with the Navy's top brass.
This was a man so powerful that even the Navy Headquarters had deployed three of their strongest to stand against him.
However, ever since the war at Marineford, Wright had deliberately downplayed Redfield's threat level in official records—because he knew, until Redfield found his ideal Devil Fruit, the old man was essentially harmless.
At the same time, his existence had been quietly buried. News reports mentioned little of him, and even in official coverage of the war, Redfield's presence had been intentionally glossed over.
This suited the World Government just fine—they had no interest in letting the Impel Down incident get out of hand.
But Wright's real reason wasn't political. He just didn't want to startle the prey before the trap was fully set.
Now that Redfield had been returned to Impel Down, however, the carefully contained story of the charismatic legend was bursting into the world once more.
Only two years had passed since the Summit War. That same "Red the Aloof" who had calmly bid farewell to his old rival Whitebeard—under the eyes of the former Fleet Admiral, the current Fleet Admiral, the Navy hero, and an Admiral—was now having every detail of his life dug up by Morgans.
Once again, the world trembled.
Selective footage was released: the current Fleet Admiral and two Admirals clashing with Red the Aloof.
Of course, most of the more outrageous scenes were held back—especially those involving Pato's bizarrely overpowered abilities. If too many of the old monsters from the previous era showed up on screen, the public might just lose their minds.
Pato had tearfully watched as Redfield was taken back to Impel Down. And now, Redfield's charm was sweeping across the world.
Cavendish, who'd traveled specifically to see the legendary man in person, was left in tears.
"What an inspiration... Even as an old man, he radiates charisma like no other! This is the ideal we should all strive for!"
"Even that crimson aura… 'Red the Aloof' just sounds so... dignified. His fashion sense totally matches the mystique," Cavendish muttered numbly as he stared down at his own plain Navy-issue Justice coat. Sure, it was stylish—but every damn Marine wore one!
Meanwhile, Wright had acquired a new "pet." Pato had been reluctant to leave Redfield, but the old man had made a compelling case:
Now that he was in Impel Down, someone had to witness whether that "promise" would truly come to fruition. And who better than Pato?
Wright even promised him one day each month to visit Redfield, to share everything he'd seen and learned.
And when the promise was fulfilled, if Pato wished to return to Redfield's side permanently, Wright wouldn't stop him.
Thus, the little tanuki went from being a Great Pirate's pet… to the Fleet Admiral's.
Understandably, Pato's feelings were all over the place.
By rights, he should've hated Wright. The man had captured his beloved master—even if Redfield himself had asked Wright to look after him.
But after spending some time with Wright, Pato realized something odd: even though they were technically enemies, he couldn't bring himself to hate the man.
Aside from personal grievances—not that this was purely personal anyway—Marines catching pirates was just the natural order of things. The Fleet Admiral capturing a Great Pirate like Redfield? Totally expected.
Even Redfield himself held no grudge.
In the world of the strong, you accepted the outcome of a fair fight. You win, you celebrate. You lose, you move on. There was no room for petty hatred.
And putting that aside, Pato had to admit—Wright was the kind of person you couldn't help but respect.
As Fleet Admiral, he had done just about everything he needed to… and more.
"Here you go, Fleet Admiral-san. The leaves you asked for."
Pato conjured several Transfiguration Leaves. All one had to do was inscribe their desired creation upon the leaves, and the object would materialize.
"Your power's quite similar to the Paramecia-type Brush-Brush Fruit," Wright remarked, examining the leaves with interest.
But unlike Kanjuro, whose Devil Fruit allowed him to bring to life anything he painted—on any surface—Pato's ability, tied to the Dog-Dog Fruit, Mythical Zoan model: Bake-danuki Form, was far superior.
Where Kanjuro's creations dissolved in water and were limited to his own use, Pato's worked differently.
"Hmph. Only the boss can use my Transfiguration Leaves perfectly. No one else has that kind of talent!" Pato huffed.
He himself couldn't create something as complex as a human being, let alone one with Devil Fruit powers.
"Hmm… so it's not simply about drawing," Wright noted.
During the battle where Redfield and Pato had fought together, Wright observed that they didn't use the leaves like a canvas for illustrations. Instead, Redfield would inscribe symbolic runes onto them—imprinting his mental image directly.
That's why anything conjured obeyed Redfield alone, not Pato.
"Heh… I enjoy a good challenge. Let's give this a shot."
Wright picked up a Transfiguration Leaf and focused his imagination on what he wanted it to become—
Poof!
The leaf vanished, replaced by a long sword appearing amid a puff of smoke—Ashes.
"Huh. Other than lacking the power of the Holy Light, it's a perfect match in appearance," Wright mused.
Indeed, the Holy Light's essence couldn't be replicated by Transfiguration Leaves—a limitation that became evident during his battle with Redfield.
Even when Redfield had conjured a clone of Wright, the duplicate could wield swordsmanship but not any of Wright's healing or Holy Light-based abilities. Redfield had found this baffling. Wright, however, wasn't surprised.
The truth was simple: powers derived from the world's elemental or natural laws could be reproduced—because they belonged to the world.
But the Holy Light?
Wright was its only master. The sole source.
No one, and nothing, could wield its power without his permission. Certainly not a cheap imitation.
So naturally, the conjured "Ashes" was nothing more than a finely forged blade, devoid of its sacred might.
Poof!
The sword vanished.
Wright took another leaf and inscribed something new—
Poof!
"Huh?!" Pato yelped in shock.
Standing before him… was Wright.
Decked out in a Justice coat, military cap, and sword at his waist—completely identical to the real one.
"Oh… this is fascinating. Truly strange, but fascinating."
The fake Wright smiled slightly, looking down at his hands, then at the stunned Pato.
"Hello, little tanuki. This sensation is… quite peculiar."
"Hm… There's no mind synchronization. So from the moment you appeared, you became a new being—one that inherited all of my thoughts up to that point…" Wright said, studying his double.
"So, in theory… I could leave this copy here to handle Navy business, while I go off on a little vacation?"
"Don't even think about it."
The duplicate snorted in disgust.
"If I'm being conjured just to deal with that, I'd rather vanish."
"…Yep. Definitely has my personality."
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