"Chief Inspector Sengoku, there's something I must remind you," one of the bolder inspectors said, forcing himself to speak. "According to the regulations set when the inspector system was created, only the World Government has the authority to revoke an inspector's position. Even you, as Chief Inspector, can't overstep."
At any other time, even three times his usual courage wouldn't have been enough to challenge Sengoku. But now, Sengoku was no longer Fleet Admiral, and the man was unwilling to give up such a lucrative post. Backed by the vocal support of his colleagues, he dared to stand up.
Even a brand-new inspector could easily take home over a million Berries in "dividends" each month.
For veteran inspectors with well-established networks, it wasn't uncommon to "earn" several hundred million Berries in a single year—provided they were lucky and willing to share the spoils. Clearly, the inspector role was a comfortable one.
"Don't worry," Sengoku said with a slow smile, "I can guarantee I won't revoke your positions… However, if I remember correctly, when the navy is short on manpower, a direct superior has the right to reassign personnel from their department to fill the gap?"
Long before becoming Fleet Admiral, "Buddha" Sengoku was already famous as a brilliant strategist.
In the past, his position as Fleet Admiral and the special status of the inspectors had restrained him from acting freely against them. But now, with Kizaru holding the top seat, there was no need for such restraint.
Compared to what Kizaru had to deal with, Sengoku figured that cleaning up a few inspectors was already giving the World Government plenty of face.
The senior inspectors immediately turned pale. Such a regulation did indeed exist, but it dated back to when the World Government—working with Kong—had planned to use the inspector system to gradually gain control over naval headquarters.
Later, even Admiral Kong had retired under less-than-honorable circumstances—though they prettily called it a promotion to Commander-in-Chief of the armed forces—and the plan to control headquarters through inspectors completely collapsed.
Who could have guessed that Sengoku would remember, let alone use, this rule against them?
Even Vice Admiral Garp could see that Sengoku wouldn't assign them cushy posts. Given the heavy navy losses during the Summit War, it was reasonable to expect a batch of branch marines to be brought in to fill the gaps.
And the most grueling, exhausting, and dangerous positions among those vacancies? They'd almost certainly be reserved for the inspectors.
"We have to appeal to Fleet Admiral Kizaru and the World Government!" cried several senior inspectors who had grasped the situation.
Headquarters inspectors held headquarters ranks and didn't get demoted like branch marines when moving between posts. But that only meant the places they'd be sent to were even more dangerous—there was a huge difference between what a headquarters field officer faced compared to a headquarters general officer.
Among the inspectors present, the lowest rank was major, and the highest was already a rear admiral. Together, the few dozen inspectors could staff a large branch base.
But carrying the rank of a headquarters rear admiral didn't mean they had a headquarters rear admiral's combat strength. Sengoku's plan was clearly to send them to their deaths.
"That's right! We'll file an appeal to our superiors!"
"Even Chief Inspector Sengoku can't act so arbitrarily!"
"Our job is to be inspectors, not marines! You can't force us to go… to be marines!"
Watching several senior inspectors raise their voices in protest, the remaining inspectors—though still unclear about the exact situation—could already feel the intense malice radiating from Chief Inspector Sengoku.
The inspectors didn't dare gamble on what treatment they might receive from the navy soldiers they had once oppressed, should they lose their headquarters inspector status.
"You can file a complaint with the Fleet Admiral's office, but make sure you pack your bags first. The mobilization orders will be coming soon—if you miss the deadline…"
Recalling the many times he had been disgusted by these inspectors in the past, Sengoku dropped the words slowly and deliberately before turning to leave.
Truth be told, Sengoku was rather looking forward to these inspectors openly defying orders. That way, he could exercise his authority as Chief Inspector to deal with them directly.
Once Sengoku's figure disappeared through the gates, the inspectors looked at one another, and finally, unable to hold back, erupted.
"No! We can't just sit and wait for death! Everyone—use every connection and contact you have, or we're all doomed!"
One inspector, holding the rank of Rear Admiral in headquarters, took the lead. While ordinary navy personnel found promotion difficult, inspectors—rejected by the navy's upper echelon—didn't have it much better.
They had all started at the rank of Headquarters Major, and even the highest-ranking among them was only a Headquarters Rear Admiral.
For one to climb to Rear Admiral despite the navy leadership's hostility, it wasn't hard to guess the kind of powerful backer such a veteran inspector must have.
"Inspector-General Rodman is right! We have to find a way to save ourselves. The navy isn't a place where they can cover the sky with one hand!"
Another Rear Admiral-level inspector gritted his teeth and spoke loudly. Once upon a time, they had been the ones framing others—now they had to rack their brains just to survive.
To their credit, the inspectors did have some ability when united. Before long, a formal accusation against Fleet Admiral Kizaru and Chief Inspector Sengoku was sent through World Government channels to the Five Elders.
In the past, this would have been a ready-made handle for the Five Elders to use against the navy leadership. But this time, the Five Elders showed no intention of backing the inspectors—instead, they resent the complaint back to Marineford for the navy to deal with internally.
"...Continue letting Fleet Admiral Kizaru and Chief Inspector Sengoku act without restraint, and in time, will the navy still be the World Government's navy? Hmm, now that's a good question—is the navy the World Government's navy?"
Seated behind his desk, Kizaru flicked his finger, shattering the forwarded complaint into dust, then blew lightly, scattering it without a trace.
It had already been several days since the Fleet Admiral's promotion ceremony. The first thing Kizaru did after taking office was give the navy high command—including Chief Inspector Sengoku—a collective vacation.
Some took only a week, others up to a month. Aside from the workaholic Sakazuki and the overly dutiful Sengoku, even Vice Admiral Tsuru happily applied for a half-month's leave.
"I'll handle the inspector matter myself—you stay out of it." Sengoku, now fully adjusted to his Chief Inspector role, shook his head. He had been mentally prepared for the Five Elders to use this opportunity to pressure navy headquarters.
But it seemed their tolerance for the current navy—or rather, for a navy led by Kizaru—was much greater than when he himself had been Fleet Admiral.
The result was, in a way, ironic. Sengoku, who had always tried to take the big picture into account, had been mistaken by the Five Elders for being weak. The thought left his mood complicated.
Still, he had braced himself for this outcome—in fact, this was already the best possible result, assuming Kizaru didn't suddenly decide to interfere on a whim.
"I couldn't care less about those parasites. But are you really not going to take a vacation yourself? I've still got an invitation from Gild Tesoro…"
Kizaru looked at Sengoku, who was still busy working even while sitting on the sofa, and spoke with a bit of a headache.
Boros had already begun to take action, and at most, in three days, a piece of news big enough to scare the World Government into wetting their pants would spread across the entire world.
If they couldn't send Fleet Admiral Sengoku away before that news went public, the one getting beaten up by Boros wouldn't just be Sakazuki.
A thick-skinned guy like Akainu could take a beating and recover after some rest, but Sengoku, with his old arms and legs… bullying someone like Ship King Jack was one thing, but if he ran into Boros, he might just get forced into retirement on the spot.
"Let's talk about it after I'm done handling this group. After decades of hard work, I'm not quite used to the idea of suddenly being able to take a vacation," Sengoku replied with a smile, flipping through the newly delivered shipbuilding plans as he tactfully turned down Kizaru's "good intentions."
Although Kizaru's performance so far had exceeded his expectations, Sengoku still wanted to keep an eye on things just to be safe.
At the very least, he'd have to wait until Tsuru or Kuzan returned from their leave before he could comfortably enjoy a long-overdue break.
Otherwise, the thought of Marine HQ being left in the hands of only Kizaru and Sakazuki made Sengoku uneasy even in his sleep.
Kizaru scratched his head but didn't try to persuade him further. Otherwise, with Sengoku's intellect, he might just figure out that something was off.
And to be honest, Kizaru really couldn't do without Sengoku's help at the moment. When he first came up with the idea of improving the Navy's treatment and promoting a new merit system to win people over, it had all sounded great in theory. But when it came to actually putting it into practice, Kizaru realized just how much trouble he had taken on himself.
The first part—improving benefits—was easy enough; just hand out money. But for the second part, if he wanted to truly establish a functioning merit system, he had to first draft all kinds of detailed rules and regulations.
How should the Navy determine and balance the relationship between a pirate's strength, infamy, and the corresponding amount of merit? Should more merit go to taking down a weak but utterly depraved pirate, or a strong pirate who hasn't committed many crimes?
If the former was worth more merit, would that cause some marines to avoid stronger pirates in order to gain merit more easily?
But if the latter was prioritized, wouldn't that mean some pirates who had committed heinous crimes might survive longer just because they weren't very strong? That would be a huge insult to the justice the Navy stood for.
Even if they found a proper balance between the two, it wouldn't be a once-and-for-all solution. How could they ensure the merit points went to the marines who actually earned them, instead of being claimed by someone else?
And after a joint operation against pirates, how should the merit be distributed? Should the system encourage individual excellence among elite marines, or promote teamwork in eliminating threats? These were all questions that needed deep thought and research.
There were simply too many such problems, to the point where Kizaru almost regretted sending Vice Admiral Tsuru and old man Zephyr away so early. Boros could have easily waited a little longer before taking action.
Fortunately, there was still the workaholic Sakazuki and Sengoku, who had voluntarily stayed to help. Otherwise, Kizaru would probably be kicking himself blue with regret by now.
While Kizaru was still busy at Marineford trying to fill in the pit he'd dug for himself, the Cosmic Dark Matter Pirates were about to arrive in the waters of Totto Land.
The massive spaceship Overlord was flying straight toward Totto Land over the sea without any attempt at concealment, so there was no way it could escape the notice of the Big Mom Pirates' spies.
Especially when the Big Mom Pirates tried to contact the Beasts Pirates and got no response—no matter how naïve someone might be, they could see the visitors were not here with good intentions!
Thus, when the Overlord entered the Big Mom Pirates' territory, a massive pirate fleet blocked their path.
"Mamamamama! Suddenly barging into Mama's territory without so much as saying hello? Kaido!"
Standing at the bow of the flagship Queen Mama Chanter, Charlotte Linlin shouted loudly, while the various people on the ship chattered noisily along with her.
On either side of the flagship, dozens of the Big Mom Pirates' ships formed a line.
They were commanded by Linlin's thirty-four children who held the title of "Minister," including the Sweet Commanders.
Behind these direct forces of the Big Mom Pirates came dozens of subordinate pirate crews of varying strength.
Charlotte Linlin regarded her children as bargaining chips for becoming Pirate King and often used marriage as a means to win over powerful pirates.
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