One week later — New World, G-10 Base.
After personally clearing and consolidating the route under his jurisdiction, Gern Reginald Sigmar returned to his headquarters. In the small garden, beneath swaying leaves and filtered sunlight, he sat across from the current Fleet Admiral, Sengoku.
"...Heh."
Sengoku watched Gern calmly brewing red tea with unhurried precision. A faint chuckle escaped him before he spoke first.
"Gern, no matter what happens, I will honor my promise."
He paused, gaze steady.
"The new Marineford will be built in the New World. That will not change."
Then his tone shifted, sharpening as he brought up the real issue at hand.
"But the first half of the Grand Line — Paradise — and the sea routes connecting the Four Blues must be guarded with sufficient force. Order must be maintained. We cannot allow chaos simply because Headquarters relocates."
His eyes locked onto Gern's.
"So… how do you intend to handle that?"
It was a practical concern — and a test of Gern's command over the broader strategic picture.
Gern took a slow sip of his tea, the steam curling softly between them. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he set the cup down.
His answer caught Sengoku completely off guard.
"Sakazuki."
His tone was even, unhurried.
"I intend to have Akainu take sole responsibility for all defensive operations in the first half of the Grand Line."
Under Sengoku's stunned stare, Gern calmly pushed a fresh cup of tea toward him and continued outlining his plan.
"I will establish a brand-new, independent G-2 command division at the former site of Marineford. He will be stationed there permanently, overseeing all defense across Paradise and the entry points to the Four Seas."
"And our current G-2 in the New World will be upgraded and expanded into the new Marine Headquarters — 'New Marineford.'"
"..."
"Sakazuki???"
The sheer audacity of the proposal left Sengoku visibly shaken. For a moment, he even forgot to lift his tea.
From a strategic standpoint, the logic was flawless.
With Akainu's iron will, ruthless methods, and unwavering belief in Absolute Justice — unburdened by the need to maintain "balance" the way Sengoku had been forced to — he could treat the first half of the Grand Line as a straightforward suppression zone.
He would crush and purge the fledgling pirate rookies pouring in from the Four Blues before they ever had the chance to mature.
It was a perfectly matched assignment.
It would drastically reduce both the quantity and quality of pirates entering the New World in the future.
And most importantly —
Akainu, extreme as his ideology might be, was no empty theorist. He was a man of action. A man who executed.
Any region entrusted to him would be managed like a fortress of iron — airtight, disciplined, unyielding. No one could deny that.
But…
"Sakazuki has his eyes set on the Fleet Admiral's chair!" Sengoku said sharply. "Why would he willingly abandon the New World — the center of power — and retreat to the first half of the Grand Line to become some 'regional commander'?!"
"You'd be pushing him to the sidelines. You'd be distancing him from the future core of Marine authority!"
"He won't agree." Sengoku shook his head.
On the surface, Gern's arrangement seemed reasonable.
In reality…
It was a promotion in name, a demotion in substance — removing Akainu entirely from the New World's power chessboard.
Yes, it came packaged as a heavy responsibility and a grand stage.
But Sengoku had not forgotten that quiet, calculated "apology" Gern once used in their political maneuvering. Sakazuki was no fool.
Gern, of course, understood that perfectly.
Seeing the deepening furrow in Sengoku's brow, he smiled with easy composure.
"In any case, that's the plan."
"As for how to arrange it — how to make Sakazuki go willingly…"
"That," Gern said softly, "is my concern."
"You…" Sengoku muttered, staring at the confident smile that suggested every piece was already in place.
"...Hah. Fine."
After a moment of contemplation, Sengoku set aside his thoughts about Akainu for now. He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice.
"There's something more urgent."
"The World Government. Those five old men."
His eyes hardened.
"I stood with you during the Holy Land incident. To them, that makes me a war criminal."
"They will never fully trust me. They've definitely prepared contingencies. Perhaps…" His voice dropped further. "Perhaps they've already set them in motion. You must be cautious. They—"
"GAA— GAA— GAA—!!!"
A sudden eruption of harsh, overlapping cries tore through the air above the garden, brutally interrupting Sengoku mid-sentence.
Both men looked up at once.
High in the sky, countless News Coo — the messenger gulls belonging to the World Economic Journal — were flying in tight formation, as though following a single unified command.
Their shrill cries echoed as they swept over G-10 Base in massive numbers.
But something was different.
They weren't making targeted deliveries.
They were dumping.
Newspapers cascaded from their satchels in an indiscriminate deluge, falling like a blizzard of ink and paper across the entire base.
"A full-sea distribution?" Sengoku murmured, eyes narrowing. "But the war ended a month ago… Why would there still be—?"
"Did Morgans uncover another world-shaking story?" Gern frowned slightly. "Don't tell me Blackbeard died."
Full-sea print runs only happened for events of the highest magnitude:
When Gern had slain the Golden Lion and earned the title "Heaven-Shaker."When a new Yonko had risen.When G-10 was established as the Fifth Pole.When the Paramount War erupted.
This scale meant something monumental.
Without thinking, Gern and Sengoku both raised their hands, each catching a copy of the falling paper with precise ease.
Their eyes scanned the bold, enlarged headline.
Within seconds—
The pupils of two men who had weathered the greatest storms of the seas trembled simultaneously.
—
World Economic Journal · Special Edition · Official Release by the World Government
Stamped across the front page in gilded lettering:
"Sacred Investiture! Pinnacle of Legend! 'Heaven-Shaker' Gern Reginald Sigmar, Admiral White Qilin, Granted the Supreme Titles of 'Highest Guardian of the World Government' and 'Legend Terminator'!"
"In recognition of Admiral 'Heaven-Shaker' Gern Reginald Sigmar's unparalleled achievements in the recent all-out war — personally ending Whitebeard and the Golden Lion, bringing the legendary era to its absolute conclusion!"
"For his immeasurable contributions during the Paramount War in defense of Absolute Justice — his deeds shaking the Four Seas!"
"By unanimous resolution of the Five Elders, the highest authority of the World Government, Admiral Gern is hereby awarded the unprecedented supreme honorary titles of:"
'Highest Guardian of the World Government''Legend Terminator'
"These honors are without precedent and shall stand unparalleled, symbolizing his indelible contribution to world stability!"
"His status and glory shall rival — and may even surpass — that of the former 'Hero of the Marines,' Monkey D. Garp!!"
And then came the true shock:
"To commemorate his achievements and uphold justice, the World Government will hold a grand global live-broadcast investiture ceremony at the Holy Land, Mary Geoise!"
"The supreme rulers of the World Government will personally attend and confer the honors upon Admiral Gern, witnessing this historic moment together!!"
—
It wasn't suppression.
It was something far more insidious.
An exquisitely executed elevation — praise as execution.
Rather than attempting to curb Gern's growing influence, the World Government had chosen to exalt him — to raise him to the altar with unprecedented titles and a globally broadcast ceremony.
To bind him tightly to the World Government.
To hoist him onto a pyre built from glory.
"Gern… they've made their move," Sengoku said quietly.
"Yes."
Gern's fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the newspaper, the thin paper crinkling beneath his grip.
"They have."
The Five Elders' "contingency" had arrived.
And it had come while the Marines and the World Government were not yet cleanly separated.
Such a dazzling move.
Such a ruthless one.