Leo had laid the groundwork carefully. He had leaked intelligence on the World Government, mocked the Four Emperors, and dismantled the current power balance—all to lead to one inescapable conclusion: the system itself was the disease.
Back in his old life, he had spent enough time reading intellectual debates to become cynical about "systemic issues." But in this world, the phrase wasn't just a buzzword; it was a literal, agonizing reality.
The World Government wasn't just a bureaucracy. It was a centuries-old machine held together by the Five Elders and a shadowy monster named Imu—a creature whose immortality ensured the government's policies never wavered across generations.
The common people believed the Navy obeyed the Celestial Dragons out of some hidden, world-ending weapon. But Leo knew the truth was simpler: the Dragons had the ultimate backer. They were the descendants of the gods, kept as pampered, bloated pets by a shadow that refused to die.
But he couldn't tell Hancock that yet. Not because he didn't trust her, but because that secret was a death sentence. To know of Imu was to be erased from history.
Instead, he framed the success of the World Government through the lens of cold, hard logistics.
"What does the World Government truly control?" Leo asked, his voice echoing in the silent chamber. "They hold the scepter of legitimacy. They possess the Red Line, the most stable trade routes, and the allegiance of nearly every nation. Their system is a masterpiece of indoctrination. Year after year, they take wide-eyed recruits who want to 'fight for justice' and forge them into elite warriors loyal only to the throne."
He looked at Gloriosa, noticing her thoughtful silence.
"Human beings are animals of compromise," Leo continued. "I was no different. When the Celestial Dragons first gave me decent food, I felt a spark of gratitude. When they gave me a shred of freedom, I began to imagine a future. When they gave me control of their business, I became arrogant. I forgot I was still a slave."
"Most people are the same. A king can tax his people into starvation, but the moment he offers a tiny tax break, the people will weep with joy and forget the years of hunger. But more importantly, the existence of pirates solves the government's internal problems. When a pirate attacks, the oppressed citizen and the corrupt king suddenly find a common enemy. They unite. The pirate's arrival justifies the Navy's presence and the King's tyranny."
He paused, letting the weight of the irony sink in.
"Do you see it now? To the World Government, pirates aren't a threat—they are a tool. They are the third party that keeps the King and the Peasant in the same bed."
Leo's speech, once hesitant as he recalled his old studies, had become a fluid, sharp weapon of rhetoric.
"You asked if I respect pirates? The answer is no. A pirate is just a blunt instrument. Even the Pirate King, even the Four Emperors—they don't have the potential to defeat the World Government because they don't represent the people. They are just outlaws."
"Most pirates aren't dreamers. They are just people pushed to the edge by a local king. But once they taste the freedom of the sea, they don't look for the enemy who drove them out. Instead, they become the very monsters they hated. They pillage other villages, other families. They become the Navy's whetstone."
"The World Government collects the Heavenly Tribute and ignores the internal rot of its member nations. They claim they don't 'interfere' with domestic affairs, which sounds noble, but it's a lie. They simply outsource the exploitation to local kings, take their cut, and wash their hands of the blood."
He stepped closer to the silk curtain, his eyes steady and calm.
"Is this normal? Is it right?"
He spoke each word with a heavy, deliberate punch. "The only way to change this world is to stand directly across from the World Government and defeat them on their own terms. Not as criminals, but as a new power that actually liberates the people."
Leo exhaled, the fire in his eyes settling into a quiet, unwavering resolve.
"So, come with me, Empress. Let's start a revolution."