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Nico Robin.
Kyle's gaze lingered on the little girl for a quiet moment before he looked away.
She was buried in a book, completely absorbed, and he had no intention of disturbing her. Instead, he turned and followed Professor Clover deeper into the vast Tree of Knowledge.
"This," Clover said softly, "is the wealth of all mankind."
"If it were ever destroyed, it wouldn't just be a tragedy. It would be a wound in history itself."
Kyle nodded.
He understood perfectly well what the old scholar meant. It wasn't just a statement. It was a plea, carefully wrapped in restraint.
They continued their walk around the island.
Ohara felt peaceful—almost idyllic. The air carried the quiet hum of scholarship, a sense of calm that settled into the soul. It was the kind of place where time slowed down and minds reached outward.
Then, beneath a stretch of shade, Kyle spoke.
"You're researching something the World Government has forbidden, aren't you?"
His voice was even, without the slightest ripple.
Clover's expression shifted. "Child… what are you talking about?"
"The truth of history shouldn't be buried," Kyle replied lightly. "But without the strength to protect it, all you're inviting is disaster."
His perception blanketed the island. He had already seen it—the perfectly squared stone beneath the Tree of Knowledge, etched with those ancient, indecipherable characters.
Clover's face changed again before he let out a long sigh. "What exactly do you know?"
"Everything I should know. And a few things I probably shouldn't."
Kyle's tone remained calm.
"If the day comes when Ohara is destroyed, Professor… what will you choose?"
Clover froze.
After a moment of thought, he smiled.
"I'll stake everything. Even this old man won't allow Ohara's will to die."
He looked at Kyle in return. "And you, child? What will you choose?"
But Kyle had already turned away, walking ahead.
"I'm heading out, Professor!"
More than ten meters away, he lifted a hand in farewell.
Clover never received his answer.
Watching him leave the island, the old scholar murmured to himself, "I understand. You're a Marine. You have your own camp, your own duties."
"If that day truly comes…"
"I have my faith as well."
With that, he turned and disappeared into the quiet of Ohara.
The island remained serene.
But back at base that same day, Kyle summoned all thirteen division commanders. His face was ice-cold.
"The reason the Marines exist," he said sharply, "is justice."
"That justice isn't handed to you by anyone. It's the line in your own heart—the measure of what a human being should never cross."
"Never forget who you're fighting for. Never forget who your blade is meant to protect."
"Starting today, Bullet, double the training intensity. I want these thirteen thousand men forged into true elites within two years."
The severity in his voice made every commander stiffen.
The first eight divisions were his original subordinates. The ninth through thirteenth had been selected through constant reshuffling during training. Only those with both strength and decent character qualified.
Half a year passed in the blink of an eye.
For six months, G-18 Fortress rang daily with thunderous drills. Bullet's brutal training left countless soldiers groaning in misery, but their strength rose steadily.
Meanwhile, Crocodile, T-Bone, and the others handled ideological education.
They spoke relentlessly about what real justice meant. They even brought up the Marines' past failures—boldly dissecting negative examples to subtly reshape the soldiers' beliefs.
Then one day, a merchant ship arrived at the gates of G-18.
"You said you're who?" a Marine on the watchtower called out, eyebrows raised. "The Capone family?"
There was no hiding his surprise.
"The Marines don't do business with mafia trash. Get lost."
With G-18 at their backs, the guards had nothing to fear.
"Please convey our respects to Vice Admiral Kyle," the young man at the helm said with a faint smile. "And accept our gift."
He looked about twenty, a cigar clenched between his teeth. Only around 165 centimeters tall, he was nonetheless the current head of the Capone family—Capone Bege.
"A gift?"
The Marines exchanged glances. They could see the stacks of crates piled high on the deck. What was inside, though, was anyone's guess.
"We'll need to report this."
"Please pass along the Capone family's sincerity," Bege said smoothly. "We only hope for the honor of meeting Vice Admiral Kyle."
He'd heard the man's reputation half a year ago. Only now had he found time to visit.
Compared to the Capone family, the true ruler of West Blue was the Marine commander stationed here. If Bege wanted to grow his empire in peace, he needed Kyle's goodwill.
The retired old vice admiral Johnny had once been the same.
At the same time, Kyle heard the report from Alvida.
"Capone Bege?"
His brow lifted slightly, and he gave a short laugh.
"Leave the gift. Tell him to get lost."
The order was relayed immediately.
"The Vice Admiral says you leave the gift and get out!"
Bege stiffened for a split second, but not a trace of displeasure crossed his face. He turned decisively.
Soon, the Marines watched as he departed on a small boat, leaving the massive merchant ship behind.
"Hey! What's this supposed to mean?" one guard shouted.
From the distance, Bege's voice carried back. "Everything aboard that ship is a gift for Vice Admiral Kyle!"
The Marines stared, stunned.
Even ignoring the crates on deck, just judging by the ship's draft line, the hold had to be packed full.
How much money was this?
When Crocodile finished overseeing the inventory, he reported the final number to Kyle.
"Two hundred million Beli."
He let out a low whistle. "The kid's got guts. Dropped the money and left without even stating his demands."
"That," Kyle said with a faint smile, "is what smart looks like."
His gaze drifted over the mountain of wooden crates. Some had cracked open, spilling out gold, jewelry, paintings, and all manner of valuables.
Not long ago, he'd been worrying about funding.
Now… he could almost see a new revenue stream taking shape.
There were five major mafia families in West Blue. The Capone family was only one of them.
If they all served him…
He'd be the true king of the underworld here.
More importantly, the cost of maintaining his elite troops would no longer weigh on him.
He might even have surplus funds left over—for other plans.
"..."
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