"I formally recommend Vice Admiral Rogers Darren for promotion to Marine Admiral."
Kong's deep voice, steady with a veteran's conviction, rolled through the Chamber of Deliberation in Pangaea Castle.
The Gorosei paused, then lifted their eyes. Calm gazes met Kong's.
"Wasn't Darren's application for Admiral Candidate just filed?" said Saint Ethanbaron V. Nusjuro, the Warrior God of Finance, resting his katana across his lap. "We've already approved the processing. It should reach Marine Headquarters soon."
Saint Shepherd Ju Peter, the Warrior God of Agriculture, sipped his tea, gold hair bright in the light. "Darren is certainly gifted," he said mildly. "But isn't Admiral a touch… early?"
Saint Marcus Mars, the Warrior God of Environment, stroked his long white beard and smiled. "If I recall, Sengoku was in his early thirties when he took the rank."
Saint Jaygarcia Saturn, cap pulled low, gave a slow nod.
"That boy is headstrong," one of them murmured. "Given the choice, we'd prefer he gain more experience."
Kong didn't flinch. Their resistance wasn't hard; he pressed.
"Your Excellencies' judgment is beyond question," he began. "But the New World is boiling. The Marines need leaders who can steady morale.
"Vice Admiral Rogers Darren, who rose from the North Blue, already has a record that surpasses most Admiral Candidates—in results and in reputation.
"During the rollout of the Shichibukai system, he served the Government and the Marines with decisive effect.
"To give such a talent only the hollow title of Admiral Candidate would weaken public confidence and, by extension, Your Excellencies' authority.
"Moreover, since Zephyr's retirement, one Admiral seat remains empty. The burden of command and administration has grown too heavy for Sengoku alone.
"If protocol can be set aside and Darren promoted to Admiral, much of that weight lifts from Marine Headquarters."
He straightened, gaze burning. "That is my recommendation."
Silence. Then the five laughed together.
"Well, Kong," one said, amused, "you do rate that brat highly."
"It seems you're ready at last to take up your post here in the Holy Land—and to set Marine Headquarters in order before you go," another added.
"Excellent," a third agreed.
"Rogers Darren is indeed an exceptional talent. He has executed every Government mandate with near-perfect precision."
"Promoting him ahead of schedule would not be unreasonable."
They spoke like men ordering tea. With the same ease, they could order a life.
"So, you agree?" Hope leapt in Kong's chest.
His transfer to Commander-in-Chief of the World Government had long been set, but Marine Headquarters had kept him tethered. He trusted Sengoku—his disciple, his subordinate—yet the tide of the world was turning. He doubted one man could bear the full weight of Justice.
When Sengoku ascended to Fleet Admiral, the Marines would face three Admiral vacancies at once. Successors had to be named now.
Sakazuki and Borsalino had the strength and the résumé, but their extremes and clashing styles made them poor balance wheels for the Government, the nations, and the newly sanctioned pirates. With the Shichibukai in play, the seas were more volatile than ever. Neither seemed suited to manage their ambitions.
Darren, on the other hand—womanizer, rake, scoundrel—proved unerringly reliable when it came to politics. In courtcraft, he was cannier than many who had played the game for decades.
Set him beside Sengoku and a natural symmetry formed. Sengoku handled the inside—administration, strategy, the greater plan. Darren took the outside—expansion, diplomacy, the fighting that couldn't be avoided. His presence would also keep Sakazuki, Borsalino, and Kuzan in productive tension, preventing any one of them from tipping the balance.
With Sengoku inward and Darren outward, and the "Golden Generation" rising under Darren's lead, Kong was certain the Marines stood on the brink of an unprecedented flowering.
Only when each piece was set could he surrender the Fleet Admiral's chair and accept the Holy Land's post.
"Kong, you know how we value your judgment," said Saint Topman Warcury, the bald Warrior God of Justice with the walrus mustache. He smiled. "Since you are so insistent on promoting Rogers Darren ahead of schedule, we will not oppose it.
"After all, Darren's talents are singular—especially in areas where his audacity knows no bounds."
Something flickered in his aged eyes, a glint that hinted at terms.
Kong missed it. "Thank you, Your Excellencies!" he said, the words tumbling out. "I'll have the promotion papers drawn up at once—"
"Wait," Saint Saturn said, leaning on his ancient staff, a faint smile on his lips. "There is a condition."
A condition?
Kong froze.
Saint Saturn drew a gold-embossed letter from his robe and set it on the tea table. "The triennial Native Hunting Competition is nearly upon us. After deliberation, we have chosen Felsek Island as this year's venue."
Kong's pupils pinched to points.
The Native Hunting Competition.
The man who never lost his composure felt it crack; shock and tension stung through him.
A name clawed its way out of nightmare and dragged him under:
—God Valley.
Others might not know, but as Supreme Commander, Kong knew the truth. The "incident" had been a hunting festival for Celestial Dragons. The island's indigenous people had been the prey. Elite nobles stalked them to test their mettle; the victor received obscene reward.
It was slaughter dressed as sport.
After God Valley, the Dragons had taken heavy losses. The triennial "competition" had fallen silent.
Now they would revive it?
Panic slid cold across his spine. Sweat pricked his brow.
Saint Saturn watched him with a twisted little smile. "Our condition is simple: security for this year's Native Hunting Competition will be the responsibility of the future Marine Admiral, Rogers Darren."
Kong's eyes widened in shock, a chilling premonition seizing his mind.
Before he could speak, Saint Saturn added with a cruel smirk:
"Oh, almost forgot to mention-Felsek Island... is located in the North Blue."
Kong felt as if he'd been struck by lightning.
To be continued...