"And that concludes the report on the current situation."
I spoke calmly as I meticulously sliced through a thick, sizzling steak with a silver knife and fork. We were in the private dining hall reserved for high-ranking Marine officers.
It was the night following the massive sweep of the slave trade houses in Sabaody.
Excluding the silent attendants, there were four of us—the core of the Navy's future—gathered around the table.
Admiral Sakazuki (Akainu): Representative of "Thorough Justice," his gaze sharp and his expression perpetually set in a mask of grim displeasure.
Admiral Borsalino (Kizaru): Representative of "Unclear Justice," leaning back with drooping eyelids and a flighty, nonchalant air.
Admiral Kuzan (Aokiji): Representative of "Lazy Justice," looking as though he might fall asleep into his soup at any moment. And myself,
Rear Admiral Krieg (Blunt Bear): Representative of "Self-Serving Justice."
Though I was the lowest in rank, I was the host of this recurring "Dinner Party." We met irregularly to synchronize our intel and steer the direction of the Navy from the shadows.
"The Celestial Dragons didn't say a peep about the slave raids, did they~?" Borsalino remarked, swirling his wine.
"Yeah, well, that 'Green-Spot Fever'—I think they're calling it Chlorosis now—is hitting them hard," Kuzan replied, his eyes half-closed.
"Kuzan," I interjected, setting my fork down. "Is the Chlorosis still contained solely within the Holy Land? What are the casualty and infection rates?"
Kuzan flipped through a stack of documents beside his plate. "So far? Only the Celestial Dragons are affected. Zero reported cases among the commoners.
Over eighty percent of the world's nobles have symptoms. More than half of those are already dead. The survivors... we're looking at maybe a hundred and ten or so individuals left."
"Do we know if it's natural or a targeted strike?" Sakazuki growled. "The World Government is losing its mind. They're breathing down the Fleet Admiral's neck every hour."
"They're looking at Fisher Tiger and Teach," I noted.
"Hmph. They figure Tiger did the slave break and Teach did the bio-attack," Sakazuki grunted.
"Speaking of Fisher Tiger," Borsalino added in his singing tone, "it looks like Rear Admiral Kadar of G-2 has been mobilized to deal with those 'Sun Pirates'~."
"They're a handful. I hope he's careful," Kuzan yawned.
"By the way, Krieg," Sakazuki turned to me. "Your 'Four Seas Hegemony' plan? The Five Elders won't budge on moving Marine Headquarters yet.
You should drop it for now. However... since the number of Celestial Dragons has plummeted, they are considering a massive reduction in the Heavenly Tribute."
"Oh? Lowering the Tribute?" Kuzan perked up. "That'll make escort missions a hell of a lot easier."
"The increase in the Tribute and the subsequent thinning of our guard lines were exactly why the pirates were having a field day," Borsalino agreed.
"I have a medical report from my personal research team regarding the Chlorosis," I said, leaning in. "I'll submit it to Sengoku-san tomorrow. It should help stabilize the situation soon."
Wiping out eighty percent was a good start, I thought privately. No need to let the rest die just yet; I need them as leverage.
"One more thing," Sakazuki added. "That masked man calling himself Teach... our investigation turned up a name. There's a member of the Whitebeard Pirates—one of the Three Great Powers—with the same name. Keep your eyes open."
"Is that part of the plan, too, Senpai?" Kuzan joked.
"I'll handle Whitebeard," I said. "I'm departing for Fausse Island tomorrow anyway. I'll stop by and pay my respects to the old man on the way."
The next morning, before setting sail, I handed Dr. Indigo's report on "Green-Gift" (Chlorosis) to Fleet Admiral Sengoku. It detailed the specific bacteria emitting the toxins; with this, they could halt the spread. As for the necrotic green spots already formed? Not my problem.
I gathered my group: Robin, Olga, Dr. Acier, and Gin—who had just finished a grueling training stint under "Black Arm" Zephyr. We headed to Red Port and boarded the flagship of the Independent Guerrilla Task Force: the Charlotte Angel.
The crew was ready. But standing near the gangplank was a group in white lab coats—my personal Armed Research Division.
"Rear Admiral! Sorry for the last minute! We finished the request!" the lead researcher shouted, handing me a large metallic case.
"We need to adjust the fit. Sit here for a moment," a female researcher directed. I sat on a crate as they pulled out a pair of dull-silver, heavy-duty gauntlets.
"Are these the Multi-Gauntlets or the Reject Dial prototypes?" I asked, extending my arms.
"The Gauntlets, sir," the lead tech replied, snapping the armor onto my forearms. "You asked for extreme durability, built-in weaponry, and a long-range option.
Because durability and complex machinery don't always get along, we've trimmed some of the older gadgets to make these practically indestructible."
A quiet, bespectacled researcher stepped forward to explain the specs as I flexed my fingers.
"This is the Prototype-14 Gauntlet. For long-range, the left arm houses a specialized compact repeating crossbow. It's designed to fire custom bolts, but in a pinch, you can load it with rocks or debris from the battlefield.
Also, the fingertips are now fully armored—you can punch through stone without worrying about the mechanism."
"The left also has a switch-operated grappling wire," another tech added. "The wire is made from the same alloy as your battle-staff, so... apologies for the weight, sir."
"As for the right arm," the female lead continued, "we kept the favorites: the high-tensile steel weighted net, the compact flamethrower, and a retractable combat blade. There's also a micro-wire in the wrist for utility."
"Excellent work," I said, testing the weight. It was heavy, but with my strength, it felt like nothing. "I'll take them. I'll send a field report once I've bloodied them. Here—bonus for the team. Go get a world-class dinner."
I handed a thick envelope of Berries to the team leader.
"Thank you, sir! We're already working on the next set of gear! Safe travels!"
I waved them off, tucked the case under my arm, and walked up the ramp of the Charlotte Angel. Next stop: the New World, the Whitebeard Pirates, and finally, the patients waiting on Fausse Island.
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