"Crocodile, since we've settled the trivial matters," Mike began, his tone darkening slightly as a sharp serious glint flashed in his eyes.
"let's talk about what you really care about."
He had secured his vacation.
Now, he would offer the fallen Warlord a path to something more.
He leaned forward slightly as his lazy demeanor was gone, replaced by the focus of a master strategist about to make a critical move.
Crocodile, who had just been feeling a wave of relief, felt his body tense up instantly.
He knew this was it.
The real negotiation was about to begin.
How could he escape this disaster, this complete unraveling of his life's work, unscathed?
Mike's gaze seemed to pierce straight through him.
"Crocodile, in these seas right now," he began, his voice low and compelling,
"The Marines, the Four Emperors, and the Seven Warlords of the Sea form a delicate balance of power. But tell me, who do you think is the true ruler?"
The atmosphere in the plaza instantly grew heavy.
Crocodile paused, his mind racing.
He thought of the New World, of the terrifying, world-shaking power of men like Whitebeard.
After a moment of contemplation, he answered, his voice a low growl.
"The Four Emperors."
Mike simply shook his head, a faint, enigmatic smile playing on his lips.
"Wrong."
"Is it the future Pirate King or is it the Yonko? Or perhaps it's you Warlords, maneuvering so skillfully between the great powers?" Mike asked, then shook his head again, his voice firm with an unshakable conviction.
"No. None of them."
He leaned back, taking a slow drag from his cigar.
"The Marines—the army of Justice—is the true ruler of these seas."
"!!!"
A shockwave surged through Crocodile's mind, as if a time bomb had just detonated inside his skull.
The sheer arrogance, the absolute certainty in Mike voice, was staggering.
....
Far out at sea, a man who had been pedaling his bicycle with a growing sense of worry for his friend suddenly stopped, his Observation Haki fully extended.
Admiral Kuzan lifted his head, a profound light flickering in his eyes as he "heard" the conversation taking place in Rainbase.
He sensed Smoker, the young and handsome Marine Captain, and the Warlord Crocodile.
"The Marines is the true ruler of these seas!" Mike's voice echoed in Kuzan's perception.
His eyes narrowed and a silent, weary sigh escaped his thoughts.
An icy aura erupted around him, and a transparent wall of ice suddenly rose from the sea's surface, separating him from the outside world.
He leaned quietly against it, his eyes slightly closed, his mind focused.
'Well said, kid,' he thought, a bitter taste in his mouth.
'But the 'Justice' in today's Navy... isn't so pure anymore.'
...
"Though the Navy's influence is vast," Mike continued, lounging lazily in his chair, completely unaware of the Admiral eavesdropping on his speech.
"Who can truly see through its intricate web of relationships? The pressure from above, from our so-called leaders, constantly looms over the entire organization."
He pointed a thumb upward toward the sky as a complex glint formed in his eyes.
As someone who had grown up under a very different flag in his past life, he had plenty to say about the rotten, outdated system of the World Government.
This world had one massive, cancerous tumor, and countless viruses scattered everywhere.
"The military funding is the World Government's greatest leverage over us," he explained.
"But does that funding come from the Celestial Dragons? No. It comes from the 'heavenly tribute' paid by the member nations, from the blood, sweat, and tears of countless common people."
As he spoke, Mike's tone grew colder.
"But this world is sick. It prevents the Justice that should be upheld from ever being realized. Everyone, from the lowest-ranking seaman to the Fleet Admiral himself, is bound by these hypocritical systems. We're all just pawns, trapped in the cracks of a corrupt system."
"Mike, you..." Smoker was stunned, a flicker of shock crossing his eyes.
He never expected the usually apathetic Mike to voice such subversive, dangerous views.
Mike waved a hand dismissively, as if to say, 'don't take it so seriously.'
He was just spouting nonsense, after all.
Saving the world was far too exhausting.
But a small, dangerous part of him meant every word.
'If those five old men and their hidden king ever push me too far,' he thought with a flicker of his past life's ideology.
'I'll start a revolution myself. Let them taste the might of a true people's tide.'
"This..." Crocodile listened, inwardly shaken, his gaze uncertain.
He faintly began to grasp Mike's meaning, but the path forward remained unclear.
"What should I do?"
Mike chuckled lightly.
"Crococile, your strategy of winning the people's hearts through heroic performances is correct. The people truly are the key to everything. But they aren't fools. Given time, your methods will be seen through, and your hypocrisy will be laid bare."
He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
"So, the best approach is to turn the performance into reality. Use your wisdom and strategy to genuinely build Alabasta into a prosperous nation. Put your heart into it. Only then can you truly win the people's support and completely take over this land."
Mike straightened up, his gaze deepening.
"If you can truly achieve this... if you can build a nation where the streets are filled with laughter and the markets are bustling, a place that reminds me even a little of the prosperity of my homeland..."
He locked eyes with the stunned Warlord, and made him an impossible promise.
"Then even if the entire world turns against you, I, Mike, will protect you."
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