Chapter 51: The Warlord's Ultimatum

The pristine, vaulted ceiling of the Room of Authority in Mary Geoise offered a stark contrast to the absolute catastrophe currently laid out on the mahogany table below it.

The Five Elders sat in their respective leather chairs, the silence in the room heavy enough to crush a lesser man.

The official report from Admiral Aokiji sat in the center of the table.

A Buster Call, the ultimate symbol of the World Government’s wrath, had been completely dismantled.

Ten heavy-class battleships scattered, thousands of Marines demoralized, and an Admiral beaten back.

And the architect of this humiliation, Victor D.

Costa, was currently flying away in an indestructible Adam Wood fortress.

“The boy possesses power that defies standard logistical scaling,” the blonde Elder, Shepherd Ju Peter, stated flatly, his arms crossed.

“He humiliated a fleet.

If we do not respond with overwhelming force, the balance of the world will waver.”

“He also possesses the truth about Dressrosa,” the Elder with the large mustache, Topman Warcury, countered, his voice a low rumble.

“Aokiji confirmed it.

Costa is fully prepared to dial Big News Morgans this very second.

He knows exactly how Donquixote Doflamingo usurped the throne, he knows about the memory-erasing toy Devil Fruit, and he knows Doflamingo is extorting us.

It is not a bluff.”

“Then we erase him before he can make the call,” the tall, bearded Elder, Marcus Mars, suggested coldly.

“Deploy the God’s Knights.

Let the Holy Knights handle the Beastmaster in the shadows.”

The bald Elder, Ethanbaron V.

Nusjuro, slowly polished the hilt of the legendary Kitetsu blade resting in his lap.

He shook his head.

“Negative.

Morgans already has his journalists swarming the waters around Water 7.

If we deploy the Holy Knights to hunt down a single South Blue rookie right now, it will draw the exact kind of global scrutiny we are attempting to avoid.”

“Then what is the play?”

Nusjuro sheathed his sword with a sharp click.

“We offer him a seat.

Make him one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea.”

The room paused.

“His strength is undeniable,” Nusjuro continued, his eyes cold and calculating.

“Furthermore, intelligence confirms he completely dismantled Gekko Moria’s operation in the Florian Triangle single-handedly.

He has the resume.

By bringing him under our official umbrella, we control the narrative.

We turn a catastrophic defeat into a recruitment mission.”

“There is merit to it,” Warcury agreed slowly.

“His little sister is currently a Commander in the Revolutionary Army.

By making him a sworn sword of the World Government, we sow a permanent ideological rift within his family dynamics.”

“He will never truly submit to us,” Ju Peter noted.

“He is too wild.”

“He doesn’t have to submit.

He only has to accept the title,” Nusjuro replied, a chilling smirk crossing his aged face.

“We know he will eventually betray us.

It is inevitable.

But by making him a Warlord, we buy ourselves time.

We keep the Dressrosa secret contained, and when he finally outlives his usefulness, the global spotlight will have shifted.

Then, we can quietly deploy the Holy Knights to execute him on our own terms.”

The Elders murmured their collective agreement.

The checkmate was set.

The order was drafted and sent directly down the Red Line to Marine Headquarters.

Marineford – Fleet Admiral’s Office

The atmosphere inside Sengoku’s office was so incredibly tense it felt as though a single spark could ignite the very air.

Fleet Admiral Sengoku stood rigidly behind his desk, the veins pulsing angrily at his temples.

The room was packed with high-ranking officers.

Veteran Vice Admirals like Doberman, Strawberry, and Momonga—who had just been fished out of the freezing waters of Water 7—stood at strict attention.

No one dared to breathe loudly.

The collective shame of a defeated Admiral hung over the room like a guillotine.

Sengoku stared at the golden Den Den Mushi on his desk.

He hated this order.

He hated bowing to a pirate.

But the Five Elders had spoken.

He picked up the receiver and dialed a highly encrypted frequency.

Bacha-cha-cha.

Bacha-cha-cha.

Kacha.

“Fleet Admiral,” Victor’s calm, steady voice echoed through the speaker, completely devoid of the panic a man who just fought an Admiral should possess.

“Victor D.

Costa,” Sengoku practically snarled, his grip on the receiver white-knuckled.

“By direct decree of the Five Elders, the World Government is formally offering you a vacant seat as one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea.”

A beat of genuine silence passed over the line.

“A Warlord?” Victor asked, his voice laced with mild surprise.

“I just sank your Buster Call, and your response is a promotion?

I expected a firing squad.”

“Do not test my patience, Beastmaster,” Sengoku barked, his voice turning to uncompromising steel.

“You have exactly twelve hours to accept this position.

If you refuse, your bounty will be published globally by dawn.

You will be branded an international terrorist, and the full, unyielding might of Navy Headquarters will hunt you to the ends of the earth.”

“And if I decide to call Morgans right now?” Victor challenged smoothly.

“If I drop the Dressrosa intel?”

“Publish it,” Sengoku called the bluff, his eyes narrowing behind his round glasses.

“The Five Elders have declared they no longer care.

By dawn, the world will see you as a raving terrorist, and any ‘truth’ you leak will be treated as the desperate propaganda of a criminal trying to save his own skin.”

Sengoku didn’t wait for a response.

He slammed the receiver down, cutting the connection.

He looked up at the sweating Vice Admirals in his office.

“Prepare the press releases.

Either we have a new Warlord by midnight, or we go to war.”

The Sky above Paradise – Aboard the Titan’s Glory

I set the receiver down on the heavy wooden table in the ship’s galley.

The Titan’s Glory was cruising smoothly through the clouds, securely clutched in the talons of the Sky-Rift Roc, but the mood inside the cabin was dead silent.

Robin, Brook, Perona, and Gammamon were all staring at me.

“They found a loophole,” Robin analyzed quietly, her dark eyes reflecting the gravity of the situation.

“By offering you a Warlord seat, they neutralize the Dressrosa threat.

If you refuse, they brand you a terrorist, discrediting your word before you can even speak it.”

“I have no intention of being the World Government’s lapdog,” I said, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

“I like my freedom as a legally gray bounty hunter.

If I take that seat, I answer to Mary Geoise.”

I needed a second opinion, and there was only one person whose tactical mind rivaled the madness of the Grand Line.

I pulled out my secure, deep-cover Revolutionary snail.

I dialed the direct line to Koala, hoping she could relay a message.

Click.

“Koala, it’s Victor,” I said immediately.

“I need you to arrange a secure call with Jasmine at your earliest convenience.

It’s a code-red political situation.”

“Well, aren’t you lucky, Bhai,” a familiar, chaotic voice chimed through the speaker, layered over the sound of wind and distant shouting.

I blinked.

“Jas?”

“In the flesh!” my little sister laughed brightly.

“I happened to be dialing Koala’s line for a status update on my South Blue operation the exact second your call connected.

It’s a multi-line miracle.

What’s the code-red?”

I quickly laid out the entire situation.

I explained the Buster Call, the fight with Aokiji, the Dressrosa blackmail, and Sengoku’s twelve-hour ultimatum for the Warlord seat.

“So, I’m going to refuse it,” I concluded.

“We can handle the heat.

We’ll just have to move a little faster.”

“Bhai,” Jasmine’s voice dropped all of its playful energy, turning razor-sharp and intensely serious.

It was the voice of a Revolutionary Army Commander.

“Do not refuse that seat.

You are going to call Sengoku back and accept the Warlord title immediately.”

“What?

Jas, are you insane?

If I accept, I work for the people you are actively trying to overthrow.”

“Exactly,” she purred, the chaotic glee returning to her tone.

“Listen to me, Bhai, I have a massive, long-term master plan brewing in the background.

A scheme so beautiful it’s going to hit the World Government right in their arrogant teeth.

But for it to work flawlessly, I need a Trojan Horse.

I need you to have the clearance, the legal immunity, and the unrestricted global access that only a Warlord possesses.”

I stared at the snail, my jaw slightly slack.

I was fighting for my life against Admirals, and my little sister was treating global politics like a game of 4D chess.

As her older brother, I was supposed to be the one keeping her out of trouble, not the other way around.

“You want me to become a Warlord…

just so you can exploit my security clearance later?” I asked, utterly exasperated.

“Yes!

It’s perfect!” Jasmine cheered.

“Take the seat, Bhai.

Let them think they have a leash on you.

It’s going to make it so much funnier when we finally pull the rug out from under them.”

I let out a long, heavy sigh, resting my forehead against the wooden table.

I was falling right back into my little sister’s hijinks.

But looking around the galley at my crew, I knew the Warlord immunity would give them a massive layer of protection, too.

Robin wouldn’t have to hide anymore.

“Fine,” I grumbled into the receiver.

“I’ll do it.

But you owe me, Jas.

Big time.”

“Love you too, Bhai!

Stay out of trouble!” she sang, before the line clicked dead.

Eleven hours and forty minutes later, the golden Den Den Mushi on Sengoku’s desk began to ring.

The Vice Admirals in the room stiffened.

The twelve-hour deadline was almost up.

Sengoku snatched the receiver.

“Speak,” the Fleet Admiral commanded.

“I accept the title,” my voice echoed through the tense office.

A collective, silent exhale swept through the room.

The crisis was averted.

“I am officially your new Warlord of the Sea.”

“A wise decision, Costa,” Sengoku said, his shoulders dropping a fraction of an inch.

“We will draft the global press release.

Your bounty is officially frozen.”

“Glad to hear it,” I replied smoothly.

“But as a new, loyal Warlord of the World Government, I find myself in need of a favor, Fleet Admiral.

A specific favor that requires your immediate authorization.”

Sengoku frowned, his grip tightening.

“What kind of favor?”

The Border of East Blue and Paradise

The ocean waves crashed heavily against the reinforced hull of the Marine warship.

Vice Admiral Monkey D.

Garp stood at the very edge of the bow, his heavy coat snapping in the wind.

He wasn’t looking at the horizon.

He was looking straight up.

High above the clouds, obscuring the afternoon sun, were massive, jagged landmasses.

Islands, complete with waterfalls and forests, effortlessly levitating in the sky.

Garp scowled, cracking his massive knuckles.

“That dumbass brat actually had it right.”

Victor Costa’s intel was flawless.

Shiki the Golden Lion had been hiding above his home sea this entire time, building an army of mutated beasts to reign destruction on the East Blue.

Garp turned around, looking at his stoic second-in-command, Bogard.

“Bogard!

Get Headquarters on the horn right now,” Garp commanded, his booming voice echoing across the deck.

“Tell them I am calling in my authority.

Commodore Alister’s transfer of Trafalgar Law to Impel Down is to be halted immediately.

The rookie is not to step foot in that prison.

Reroute him to a standard midway base.

A deal is a deal.”

Bogard nodded, immediately pulling out a communication snail.

“Yes, Vice Admiral.

And what are your orders for the men?”

Garp grinned, a fierce, terrifying smile that showcased exactly why he was known as the Hero of the Marines.

He reached up, casually tossing his heavy Marine coat onto the deck.

“Hold the perimeter, boys!” Garp laughed, his muscles tensing as he crouched low.

“I’ve got an appointment with an old buddy!”

With a thunderous explosion of force that cracked the wooden bow of his own ship, Garp kicked the air using Geppo.

He rocketed upward like a human cannonball, tearing through the clouds, launching himself directly toward the floating islands to clash with a legend.

Word Count: 2031

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