One cannot know how vast the heavens are without climbing the highest peak, nor how deep the earth runs without gazing into an abyss.
When Bryan was escorted by Darso's men to Mariejois, everything he saw there delighted him—the grandeur filled him with a kind of feverish elation.
Towering buildings lined the avenues, their roofs shimmering with multicolored light beneath the sun. The eaves were inlaid with gemstones and gilded trim, while pillars of marble-white stone stood tall and proud—holy yet decadent, solemn yet dripping with wealth.
As he walked among them, even the air itself seemed perfumed with the fragrance of corruption and indulgence.
Bryan inhaled deeply, savoring it all. He loved everything about this place—the beauty of its women, the splendor of its architecture, the intoxicating scent of power.
Darso noticed the expression on Bryan's face and smiled knowingly.
"Vice Admiral Bryan, are you all right?"
Bryan spread his arms wide as though to embrace the world, his tone bordering on feverish and theatrical.
"Mr. Darso… this place is too intoxicating. Perfection so divine, it takes your breath away."
Darso blinked in surprise. He had met plenty of greedy men—many among the World Government's own ranks, and not a few within the Navy itself—but someone like Bryan, who made no effort whatsoever to conceal his avarice and desire, was a rarity even for him.
Recovering, Darso chuckled softly.
"Vice Admiral Bryan, don't be impatient. In time, you'll become one of them—and enjoy all that this place has to offer."
"That's something to look forward to." Bryan grinned broadly, flashing a row of white teeth.
They continued together until they reached the World Government Headquarters. Under the gaze of many officials, Bryan was led into the Small Garden.
This lush courtyard was the Five Elders' private retreat. It had a pool, a training yard, and an open-air bar for wine tasting—a perfect fusion of business and pleasure.
As Bryan looked around in open curiosity, Darso gave him a quiet warning.
"Go on in yourself. But remember—mind your tongue before the Five Elders."
"Don't worry, Mr. Darso. I'm not an idiot."
Despite Bryan's reassurance, Darso remained uneasy. Still, his duty ended here—what came next was out of his hands.
Following the white jade path through the garden, Bryan approached the Five Elders.
They were seated together, enjoying afternoon tea.
Bryan came to a stop before them and immediately raised his hand in a crisp military salute.
The blond elder was the first to set down his teacup.
"Bryan—it seems this is our first time meeting."
Bryan stood tall and straight as a pine, exuding the proud, iron-blooded bearing of a soldier.
"I've long looked forward to this day, sirs."
"Heh. There's no need to be so stiff in our presence. You're not like those other Navy officers—and we don't want you to become like them, either. That sort of formality only creates distance."
The elder with the goat beard spoke, his words laced with double meaning. Outwardly, he seemed to put Bryan at ease—but the real message was clear: stay apart from the Headquarters faction.
Bryan lowered his hand and smiled lightly.
"Then may I ask if I could trouble you for a cup of tea?"
The curly-haired elder in the round cap laughed aloud. "Interesting fellow. You're sharp. Here—catch."
With a flick of his wrist, a teacup whistled through the air.
Bryan raised his hand and caught it cleanly—precise, steady, effortless. Then, right before the Five Elders' eyes, he brought the cup to his lips—
Bryan downed the tea in one clean swallow.
At that moment, the elder with the birthmark on his forehead spoke.
"What are your thoughts on the current state of the Navy?"
Here it comes, Bryan thought, a sly smile flickering in his heart. The test.
But outwardly, his face remained calm as he replied, "To put it simply, one word is enough—incompetence."
The goat-bearded elder chuckled softly. "Oh? Including yourself in that judgment?"
Bryan answered without hesitation. "No. I've always believed I perform quite well."
"You're certainly not modest," said the bald elder with glasses, taking a sip of tea before continuing. "Since you're so confident, then go ahead—evaluate both the Navy and yourself. I'm curious to hear it."
It was the kind of question straight out of a corporate HR interview.
In his previous life as a civil servant, Bryan had seen countless questions like this. He knew exactly how to stand out—if you wanted the higher-ups to remember you, you had to say something bold.
And clearly, he was halfway there already—the Five Elders were visibly more intrigued.
"First," Bryan began, "the Navy's personnel system is rotten. Without joining one of the internal factions and earning favor from their leaders, there's no chance for advancement."
The blond elder interjected, "Are you speaking from personal resentment?"
"Of course," Bryan admitted bluntly. "At the Academy, my grades were top in every category—weaponry operation, naval command, tactics and strategy exams, field command simulations, and even hand-to-hand combat assessments. Every subject, every overall rating—number one. And yet I was assigned to the West Blue. If the pirate Astonna hadn't killed Admiral Karl's nephew, Karl never would've bothered to give me a chance."
The blond elder nodded slightly. "Seems you carry quite the grudge." He then reached across the table, picked up two cigars, and tossed one to Bryan. "But you just said yourself—joining a faction ensures promotion. So why didn't you? From what we know, your mentor Zephyr never gave up on you."
That question hit home.
Bryan's record was stellar—his potential undeniable. There was no way the upper echelons of Naval Headquarters hadn't noticed him. Even Zephyr, before Bryan's assassination of Karl, had held out hope that the young man would reform—that he might abandon his darker impulses and rise to become a pillar of the Navy.
In truth, Bryan's future had once been brilliant. Had he not destroyed it himself, he would have been the top candidate of the pacifist faction—the likeliest nominee for the next admiralship.
But that was a path long since burned.
Now, all four of the other elders turned their gaze upon Bryan, waiting for his reply.
Bryan's answer was simple—and scathing.
"Because they're idiots. And I don't like aligning myself with fools."
The blond elder gave a quiet "Oh?" of surprise, his interest piqued. "You call them idiots?"
The other four elders leaned in slightly, their curiosity sharpening.
Bryan noted their reaction and smiled inwardly. Then, in a voice edged with arrogance and conviction, he said:
"The Navy is nothing more than the Government's killing blade. Anyone who defies or undermines the authority of the World Government must be executed. Yet that fool Zephyr preaches mercy and restraint—follow him, and you're destined for mediocrity.
"As for Garp—he willingly turned down the admiral's chair, even the position of fleet admiral. To follow a man like that? You'd have to be as stupid as he is.
"And Sengoku—he postures as a hawk, courting the Government's trust, but secretly shelters the dove faction behind his back. A man who tries to serve both sides is a reed in the wind. Following that kind of man… would mean I'm even dumber than they are."
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