"I have a question."
As the only woman in the group, Kalifa adjusted her glasses and asked,
"The Revolutionary Army has liberated all the seas, yet it remained dormant for nearly ten years before setting its sights on 'Paradise' again... I can't understand the logic behind that."
"Logic? I'm glad you mentioned that word..."
The hooded man shrugged.
"For the Revolutionary Army, revolution and liberation are merely means and processes—but never the ultimate goal. Our only goal is to bring the world into an age of fundamental fairness and equality."
Fairness, equality...
Those were words alien to a world that, just a few years ago, still had slaves.
"As for the logic you mentioned, it's actually quite simple... In the beginning, most members of the Revolutionary Army joined after the liberation of the Sorbet Kingdom. As one kingdom after another was freed, more and more people joined. But people get tired. They find satisfaction."
"They came from the Four Seas, and once those seas were mostly free from the Navy and the World Government's control... they naturally wanted to return home and share the hard-won peace with their families."
"And the Revolutionary Army also needed time to consolidate and grow. So, there came a period of ten years of stillness—most of the frontline fighters shifted to the rear, becoming the backbone of building new strongholds."
"With the support of the Four Seas, the Revolutionary Army spent that decade training a new generation of frontline warriors."
"Life perpetuates itself, doesn't it?"
The hooded man stopped walking after he finished speaking.
"After listening to me for so long, don't you have any thoughts of your own?"
"As the most outstanding young talents of the CP organization... are you all really just a bunch of dull people?"
He turned around and pulled down his hood.
His platinum, shoulder-length hair exuded a sacred aura, and his sapphire-like eyes seemed to pierce through all falsehood.
The moment they saw that face, every member of CP9 froze.
The man standing before them was none other than Michael, the former Chief Inspector of the Navy—who, five years ago, vanished at sea after the entire Navy mobilized to capture him.
One of the most legendary figures of recent years, appearing before them now as if it were nothing.
Of course, the calm only belonged to Michael himself.
Even Rob Lucci, the strongest among them, broke into a cold sweat.
This man... if he wanted to kill them, it would be easier than crushing an ant by the roadside.
After all, to crush an ant, one has to bend down.
To crush their skulls, he wouldn't even need to stoop.
"Why are you looking at me with such fear?" Michael asked curiously. "It was the World Government that abandoned you, not me... Well, to be fair, I was the one who broadcasted the footage of your investigation into Tom's Workers at the World Summit."
"W-what?" Rob Lucci's voice trembled. "You mean... what we did at Tom's Workers was broadcasted live at the World Summit?"
"Mm-hmm. In high definition, too. That's also the direct reason why Water 7 became known as the Nation of Ships."
Rob Lucci finally understood.
No wonder both the World Government and Tom's Workers had gradually grown cold and indifferent toward them...
It turned out that they had already made their deal long ago.
They were nothing more than disposable pieces in that trade.
So much for being geniuses—they were just pawns to be discarded at will.
Thinking of this, he lifted his head. The tension in his expression eased as he looked at Michael.
It was true—Michael was the one who used them directly.
But strangely enough, none of the CP9 members felt hatred toward him.
Because from the start, the two sides had been enemies.
And in war, using underhanded tactics against your enemy was fair play.
That was the nature of war.
The ones they truly hated were the World Government—the same people who had thrown them away without hesitation for the sake of reputation and profit.
They did the dirty work, while the Government reaped the glory?
What kind of twisted deal was that?!
"Wow, your eyes... they've changed," Michael tilted his head slightly, looking at the CP9 members.
"Do you feel injustice now? Do you feel that burning anger inside your chest? Do you want revenge against the World Government?"
"Congratulations—you're already members of the Revolutionary Army."
...
Dressrosa.
"My King, that concludes this quarter's national budget report."
Former King, now Prime Minister, Riku Dold III, stood before the throne.
"Do you have any further orders?"
"Leave me for now, Dold... I need a moment alone. I've already held four meetings today."
"Well, it is a turbulent time... then I'll take my leave."
After saying that, Riku Dold III exited the palace.
Doflamingo sat upon the throne. Though he still wore his favorite flamingo-feathered coat, there was a weary dullness in his expression—a kind of numbness born of overwork.
One would hardly believe this was the same man known throughout the underworld as "JOKER," the nearly unrivaled king of the dark world.
"Fufufu... Doffy, are you alright?"
From the shadows emerged Trebol, his voice dripping with amusement.
"I've got some good news for you..."
"Good news? This better not be a joke." Doflamingo rubbed his temples. "Go on."
"Kaido's side... the research has basically succeeded."
"Succeeded?"
"That's right—the artificial Devil Fruit project is basically a success."
"Hold on, what do you mean 'basically'?"
"Well, there are some side effects... those who eat the fruit have a certain chance of failing to gain its power. In that case, they can only laugh—stripped of every expression except laughter."
"...And you call that basically a success?"
Doflamingo's mouth twitched. "That's a complete failure!"
"I wouldn't say that..." Trebol spread his hands. "People eat Devil Fruits for power. And now, there's just a small, harmless side effect."
Doflamingo froze—then suddenly shook his head hard.
"Damn it! Playing this virtuous king role too long has messed with my brain."
He raised his head again, and the innate wickedness returned to his face.
"You're right. It's just a 'small' side effect."
What Doflamingo didn't know, however, was that every word and action of his was already being recorded—and sent to...
Alabasta.
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