"One hundred billion berries."
The number detonated like a thunderclap in the halls of power.
The Five Elders froze. Their breathing stopped.
To put that in perspective Whitebeard, one of the Four Emperors, had a bounty of only 5.046 billion.
A hundred billion was equal to nearly twenty Whitebeards.
Even for the World Government, which had hoarded wealth for eight hundred years, such a demand was staggering.
Worse yet, the Navy's funding always came in liquid form hard cash.
That meant Sengoku's demand would drain the Government's reserves dry.
They looked at him at the cold fury gleaming in the Buddha's eyes.
"…"
The Five Elders exchanged silent glances. In each other's eyes, they saw the same gravity… and the same fear.
This was the first time in centuries that the Navy had pushed back so violently without restraint, without compromise.
If they didn't appease this lion now, the consequences could spiral far beyond their control.
They had no choice.
Fine. They would agree at least for now.
They could always make up the loss later by increasing the Heavenly Tribute and squeezing it from the allied nations.
But after this? The Navy would have to be put back on a leash.
Their infiltration and influence would have to deepen, until every officer understood that the Navy's "justice" was not its own it was the justice of the World Government.
Their purpose was to serve the Celestial Dragons. Nothing more.
The five reached silent agreement, their faces pale with restrained fury.
Finally, Saint Jaygarcia Saturn nodded slowly.
"One hundred billion, then. The Government agrees."
Sengoku's lips curled slightly, satisfaction flickering in his eyes.
Good. Let them choke on it.
Eight hundred years of arrogance, eight hundred years of hiding behind divine authority it was time these self-proclaimed gods felt what it meant to be threatened.
He didn't even try to hide the cruel pleasure burning behind his calm.
The day would come when the Navy was ready, and when it did…
these old men would have many sleepless nights ahead.
The thought cooled the anger in his chest.
He nodded curtly. "Accepted."
Then, without another word, he turned and strode toward the financial department of the World Government.
He would withdraw the funds himself every last berry of it and bring it straight back to Marineford.
"…"
The Elders' gazes followed him, locked onto his retreating back until the heavy doors swung shut, sealing him from view.
For a moment, silence reigned.
Then, Topman Warcury slammed a fist on the table, veins bulging across his bald head.
"Outrageous! How dare he?!"
"The Fleet Admiral of the Navy… threatening the World Government?!"
"Sengoku's lost his mind!"
Shepherd Ju Peter's voice rose in a snarl. "What gives him the right? Their funding comes from us! Their authority comes from us! Where does he find the nerve?!"
"That's exactly the problem," said Ethanbaron V. Nusjuro, his tone cold and cutting. "We don't know where that confidence comes from and that's what makes him dangerous."
"His reaction was far too extreme," murmured Marcus Mars, his long white hair shadowing his face. "Even for Sengoku, this is uncharacteristic. A single traitor like Vergo isn't enough to push him this far."
"There's something else at play," Saturn said, tapping a finger rhythmically against the table. "Something we don't yet see."
He paused. "As for Doflamingo… he cannot be touched, not yet."
"That bastard knows too much. If he's cornered and decides to spill the secrets of Mary Geoise, the world's foundations will crumble."
"What, so we just let this go?" Warcury's voice thundered again. "The Navy walks all over us, and we're supposed to hand them a towel after?"
"Of course not," Saturn replied, eyes gleaming like a serpent's. "We'll pay. But we'll make them remember their place."
He reached for the transponder snail on the desk and dialed a line CP0's highest channel.
"Transmit this to all allied nations," Saturn said, his voice smooth, cold, and absolute. "Next year's Heavenly Tribute raise it by ten percent."
"And one more thing. Every undercover agent within the Navy is to increase their activity. I want to know everything every whisper, every shift of the wind."
On the other end, a voice devoid of emotion responded:
"Understood."
Rainbase, Alabasta.
This city stood as the kingdom's lone exception.
While the rest of Alabasta cracked beneath three years of merciless drought, only here did the skies still weep.
Rain meant life. Hope.
And to the people, that hope was the miracle bestowed by one man Sir Crocodile.
The heart of Rainbase pulsed within the Rain Dinners casino, a palace built on gold and greed.
Inside, the air was thick with laughter, perfume, and the sharp scent of alcohol. Coins clattered, cards flipped, and dreams were bought and lost in every corner.
Through the din walked a tall, sharp-featured man with a shaved head and lips like stone. A massive tattoo of the number "1" marked his chest.
He was Mr. 1 Daz Bones, the Baroque Works' deadliest assassin.
He made his way to the casino's innermost chamber, where a massive door adorned with a crocodile's skull loomed.
Pushing it open, he stepped into a lavish, suffocating office.
Exotic furs draped the walls, the floor was buried beneath thick carpets, and the air was heavy with cigar smoke and the faint scent of sand.
Behind a colossal desk sat a man with slicked-back hair, a deep scar carved across his face, and a gleaming gold hook for a left hand.
The former pirate warlord Sir Crocodile.
He exhaled a slow ring of smoke, his eyes hidden behind a haze.
"Miss All Sunday still hasn't returned?"
"Her transponder snail went silent after sending an emergency signal," Bones replied, his voice dry and metallic.
Crocodile's fingers paused mid-air.
So, she'd vanished.
That woman, Nico Robin he had never trusted her.
A survivor of Ohara, a woman carrying the weight of a slaughtered civilization… she hid more secrets than the desert held grains of sand.
He had kept her close only because she could read the Poneglyphs
the key to unlocking the "Ideal Land" he sought.
But now, that key was missing.
No matter. His grand design was already nearing completion.
Alabasta's civil war was reaching its breaking point.
Once he obtained the ancient weapon Pluton, the god of destruction neither the Navy nor even the World Government could stand against him.
What mattered now was simple: eliminating the intruding Marines who had dared to set foot on his territory.
A low, mirthless laugh rumbled from his chest.
"Guha-ha-ha-ha…"
"Forget her."
Crocodile crushed his cigar into the ashtray, smoke curling around his hook.
"Tell every Officer Agent to gather. We're going hunting."
Moments later, Crocodile strode out of the casino with the full force of Baroque Works behind him agents, killers, and mercenaries alike.
The golden rain of the desert city glinted off his coat as he raised his gaze toward the distant horizon.
"Let's go," he said, a cruel smile curling across his lips.
"It's time to hunt."
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