-Real World-
When money became a motivating factor, Admiral Kizaru demonstrated remarkable efficiency. Most Marines at the G-5 branch had been completely unaware of Vergo's true identity—the Admiral resolved all security issues within an incredibly short timeframe, eliminating a massive crisis before it could fully develop.
The secretly constructed laboratories and SMILE factories matched the Sky Screen's revelations perfectly. After Caesar Clown's explosive devices were safely dismantled, determining whether these facilities should be destroyed or repurposed would require comprehensive scientific assessment by Marine Headquarters.
Artificial Devil Fruits had already begun shipping to the Beast Pirates, but fortunately, this supply line had been discovered early. The Marines still had time to sever this connection and prevent further enemy strengthening.
Borsalino had completed Fleet Admiral Sengoku's mission flawlessly. He hadn't shown the slightest leniency during the operation—Vergo, the undercover agent who had infiltrated Marine ranks for over years, had been systematically brutalized beyond recognition. The spy's skin had been scraped off against factory walls, leaving the SMILE production facility stained with human blood.
"You didn't disappoint me this time," Sengoku's voice crackled through the Den Den Mushi. "I've dispatched the nearest prison ship to collect you. Keep constant watch on both Vergo and Caesar Clown until transfer is complete."
"Understood, Fleet Admiral," Borsalino replied before attempting to leverage his success. "About my salary deduction—can we consider that matter resolved? You understand that an Admiral's pay is limited, and with current inflation rates, these berries don't stretch very far. It would be embarrassing if word spread that an Admiral was living in poverty."
Fleet Admiral Sengoku, wise to his subordinate's financial maneuvering, deliberately deflected the salary increase request by changing subjects entirely, leaving Borsalino no opening to continue his pitch.
Meanwhile, at Marine Headquarters, nearly every elite officer had gathered in the Operations Room for an unprecedented strategic discussion. They were collectively wrestling with a profound question: if their current actions had completely altered what the Sky Screen showed would happen in the future, would the timeline itself change as a result?
Was unauthorized timeline manipulation a catastrophically dangerous undertaking? Eren had described in the Sky Screen how his attempts to help a family avoid their predicted fate had led to even worse consequences—instead of one person dying, the entire family had been annihilated.
"We've changed the future," one officer muttered nervously. "That might not be wise."
"This kind of theoretical analysis is beyond us military types," another added. "Scientists should be handling these philosophical questions."
"I'm concerned we might trigger something far worse," a third voice interjected. "The Marines need to expand our capabilities immediately to handle whatever consequences arise."
As the senior officers continued their heated debate, a blonde figure at the back of the room raised her hand with calm authority. "May I address the assembly?"
Vice Admiral Gion glanced at her closest friend with surprise—they hadn't discussed this intervention beforehand, and it was too late to stop Artoria from speaking.
Though both women held the title of Admiral Candidate, in practical terms this remained largely honorary. Real Marine power was concentrated among departmental commanders. Admiral Borsalino, for instance, commanded the Marine Science Division—a position of genuine authority and influence.
Both Gion and Artoria remained technically under Vice Admiral Tsuru's command, working alongside other female Marine officers. Their actual sphere of influence was limited, and other Marine executives acknowledged them only when convenient. In this military organization, seniority-based hierarchies dominated every aspect of advancement.
A flicker of curiosity crossed Vice Admiral Tsuru's weathered features, quickly replaced by an encouraging smile. Her recent interactions with Artoria had convinced this shrewd veteran that the young woman was significantly underutilized within the current Marine structure.
"Artoria," Tsuru said warmly, "speak freely. The Operations Room exists for open discussion. Don't disappoint us."
Vice Admiral Tsuru harbored high expectations for Artoria's potential leadership. Whether the Marines could enter a new era under her guidance remained to be tested through further observation.
"Gion, please assist me briefly," Artoria whispered to her companion, quickly outlining what she needed. "Just follow my lead."
Several minutes later, Artoria had positioned herself at the main podium, replacing the previous speaker. The blonde Admiral Candidate stood on the elevated platform while dozens of senior officers regarded their potential future Fleet Admiral with keen scrutiny.
Vice Admiral Momousagi brought a large blackboard and positioned herself behind Artoria. The younger woman picked up a piece of chalk and drew a straight horizontal line across the dark surface.
"What I'm about to explain was taught to me by a scientific advisor from my homeland," Artoria began, her voice carrying absolute confidence. "Through his theoretical framework, I can illustrate the potential dangers of timeline manipulation."
She deliberately avoided naming this advisor—though everyone assumed he had perished along with her kingdom, a dead man's identity was irrelevant compared to the scientific insights he'd provided for Marine strategic planning.
"The concept I'll introduce is called 'timeline theory,'" Artoria continued, pointing to her drawn line. "Timeline forms the foundation for both world-lines and historical progression. Only through temporal flow can we measure world development and historical advancement. Without a timeline connecting past and future, both world events and historical records become meaningless abstractions."
She gestured to the simple line on the blackboard. "Consider this our current timeline—what I'll call the Main Timeline. This single line encompasses all human civilization and historical development on our planet."
Artoria drew a second line parallel to the first, ensuring they didn't intersect. "The future events shown in the Sky Screen exist on what we can term the Future Timeline. Time invariably moves forward—none of us have experienced temporal reversal. Most humans spend their entire existence traveling along the Main Timeline as passive participants in time's current."
The room fell silent as officers absorbed this theoretical framework. Several began taking notes, recognizing the strategic implications.
"The Sky Screen's appearance creates a fundamental paradox," Artoria continued, her chalk tapping against the board for emphasis. "On our Main Timeline, we now possess knowledge of future events. This should logically cause the Future Timeline to diverge. Originally, these timelines existed in sequential relationship—one following the other. External interference has forced them to split."
She paused, allowing the weight of her words to settle. "Some of you may not fully grasp timeline manipulation's inherent dangers. For example, when we dispatched Admiral Kizaru to eliminate the Punk Hazard threat, we potentially saved lives that the Future Timeline showed would be lost. However, the reverse statement also holds true."
Artoria drew several branching lines from her original timeline, creating a complex web of possibilities. "Timeline interference represents profound recklessness. People who shouldn't have died and individuals who shouldn't have been born are now performing their roles in our Main Timeline. Changing the future from our present position is theoretically possible, but the costs may be catastrophic."
"Consider this scenario," she continued, warming to her subject. "In the Future Timeline, Vergo's betrayal during the Dressrosa incident directly caused multiple Celestial Dragon deaths. By capturing him now, we've prevented those specific murders. But what if our intervention causes him to be replaced by someone more competent? What if Doflamingo recruits a more dangerous spy to fulfill Vergo's role?"
Murmurs of concern rippled through the assembly as officers grasped the implications.
"Furthermore," Artoria added, her voice growing more urgent, "we must consider temporal causality. The Sky Screen itself might exist because we're destined to change these events. Perhaps showing us the future was always part of the original timeline. Or perhaps our observations are creating new timelines we never intended."
She drew arrows connecting various timeline branches. "Each major change we make could spawn additional timeline branches. In the worst-case scenario, we might create a temporal cascade where our corrections cause increasingly severe problems across multiple reality streams."
Fleet Admiral Sengoku, who had been listening via Den Den Mushi from his office, finally interrupted. "Admiral Candidate Artoria, what do you recommend as our strategic response?"
"Calculated intervention only," she replied without hesitation. "We should focus on changes that prevent maximum casualties while minimizing timeline disruption. Capturing known spies like Vergo is logical—but we must be prepared for unexpected consequences."
She turned to face the assembly directly. "More importantly, we need to establish a Timeline Analysis Division. If we're going to manipulate temporal events, we need specialists who can model potential outcomes and minimize unintended effects."
"The Sky Screen has given us unprecedented strategic advantages," Artoria concluded, "but advantages are meaningless if they destroy the timeline we're trying to protect. We must proceed with scientific precision rather than military enthusiasm."
Vice Admiral Tsuru smiled with quiet pride as she watched Artoria command the room's attention. Perhaps the Marines' future leadership was already taking shape before their eyes.