Chapter 47: The Five Elders' Decree! The Monster of the East!
Grand Line – Marine Headquarters, Marineford.
The morning sun struggled to pierce the heavy gray clouds hanging over the fortress of Absolute Justice. Inside the Fleet Admiral's office, the atmosphere was not just tense; it was toxic.
The air reeked of stale coffee, burnt tobacco, and the ozone smell of suppressed Haki.
Fleet Admiral Sengoku sat behind his massive mahogany desk, his head buried in his hands. His pet goat was chewing on a shredded report—a casualty list from the Twin Capes incident.
Across the room, the mood was somber. Admiral Aokiji slumped in his chair, staring at the ceiling. Admiral Kizaru tapped his fingers rhythmically on his knee, though his usual smile was absent. Vice Admiral Tsuru sat on the sofa, her eyes closed in meditation. Even Admiral Akainu, usually a volcano of aggression, stood by the window with his back to the room, radiating a silent, magma-hot fury.
They were discussing the numbers. The price tags to be placed on the heads of the monsters who had humiliated them.
"100 million for the Navigator? Too high," a Rear Admiral from the Intelligence Division argued nervously.
"She piloted a ship out of an Admiral's Ice Age," Tsuru countered without opening her eyes. "If we underestimate her, we lose the ship. If we lose the ship, we never catch them."
"And the Captain..." Sengoku grunted, lifting his head. His eyes were bloodshot. "Killing a World Noble... destroying a Buster Call's worth of ships... escaping two Admirals..."
Just as he was about to slam his fist on the table to finalize the decision, a sound cut through the room like a guillotine blade.
Puru-puru-puru... Puru-puru-puru...
It wasn't the standard, high-pitched ring of a Marine communication snail. It was deeper. Resonant. Authoritative.
The room froze.
Every eye turned to the velvet cushion on a pedestal in the corner of the room. Resting there was a Golden Den Den Mushi.
It was not for Buster Calls. It was a direct line. A line that connected this office to the only power that stood above Justice itself: The Room of Authority in Mary Geoise.
Akainu stiffened. Aokiji sat up straight. Kizaru stopped tapping his fingers.
Sengoku swallowed the bile in his throat. He adjusted his glasses, took a deep breath to compose himself, and picked up the heavy golden receiver.
"This is Sengoku."
"Sengoku," a voice echoed from the speaker. It was raspy, dry, and carried the weight of eight centuries of absolute rule. It was the voice of one of the Five Elders (Gorosei).
The temperature in the office seemed to drop ten degrees. The sheer political pressure emanating from that snail was heavier than any Conqueror's Haki.
"Regarding the incident at the Twin Capes involving Saint Jalmack..." the Elder spoke, his tone devoid of humanity. "The news of his death must be completely sealed off."
"Seal it off?" Sengoku frowned, confusion flickering across his face. "But... thousands of Marines witnessed it! The civilians on the pirate ship saw it! The pirates themselves took photographs! We cannot just erase reality!"
"They saw nothing," the voice commanded, cold as steel. "If word gets out that a 'God' was murdered by a rookie pirate, it will incite rebellions across the four blues. The Revolutionary Army will use it as a banner to burn down nations. The prestige of the Celestial Dragons is the keystone of this world. It must not be shaken."
The Elder paused, letting the order sink in.
"Publish the story that Saint Jalmack was injured but successfully rescued by Admiral Kizaru. Any Marine who contradicts this narrative... silence them. Permanently, if necessary."
Sengoku gripped the receiver tight, his knuckles turning bone-white. He was the Fleet Admiral, the symbol of Justice, yet he was being ordered to lie like a common criminal. He looked at Akainu, who was clenching his fists so hard that smoke rose from his gloves.
"Understood," Sengoku grated out, his voice heavy with shame. "We will... spin the narrative."
"Good. Furthermore..."
The Elder paused. The silence stretched, heavy with implication.
"We have received reports from the New World. The Shichibukai, Hanafuza, has been defeated. He fell to the rookie 'Fire Fist' Ace on an island in the first half of the Grand Line."
Sengoku nodded. He knew this. The balance of the Three Great Powers—Marines, Shichibukai, Yonko—was precarious. Losing a Warlord was a significant blow to their influence.
"A defeated Shichibukai has no value to the World Government," the Elder continued. "We need a replacement. A strong one. And we have found a candidate."
"Since this 'Suzaku' possesses the strength to escape from two Admirals, wields a Mythical Zoan, and commands a crew of monsters... he is a dangerous variable. A variable is better kept on a leash than running wild."
Sengoku's eyes widened. He realized where this was going, and his stomach churned.
"Wait... you cannot mean..."
"Offer him the position," the Elder ordered casually. "Let Suzaku Yareon take the vacant seat of the Shichibukai."
"WHAT?!"
Sengoku stood up, slamming his hand on the desk so hard the Golden Snail jumped.
"Make that dangerous madman a Warlord?! He attacked a Celestial Dragon! He murdered Marines! He kidnapped civilians! He is a threat to order itself! I absolutely disagree!"
"Don't be a fool, Sengoku!"
Akainu turned around, his face twisted in disgust. Magma dripped from his fingertips, singing the carpet.
"Making a deal with a criminal who killed a God? That is a disgrace to Justice! We should be burning him, not hiring him! This is capitulation!"
"Remember your place, soldiers," the Elder's voice turned to ice, cutting through the outrage in the room. "The Marine serves the World Government. Our orders are absolute. We do not care about your morals. We care about balance."
"But—"
"If he accepts, he becomes a dog of the government. We can control him. Use him against the Yonko. If he refuses... then you have permission to obliterate him with extreme prejudice. Send the invitation. That is all."
Click.
The connection was cut. The dial tone droned in the silent office like a flatline.
Sengoku slowly sat back in his chair, his face ashen. He looked at Tsuru, his expression one of utter defeat.
To invite a man who killed a God to join the system designed to protect them... it was madness. It was the ultimate hypocrisy.
"They want to tame a monster..." Sengoku whispered. "They think they can leash a dragon."
Tsuru sighed softly, pouring him a fresh cup of tea. "They are afraid, Sengoku. They saw the power he wields. They want that gun pointed at Kaido, not at Mary Geoise."
Sengoku drank the tea in one gulp, the heat burning his throat.
"Fine," he growled. "We send the invitation. But we also send the bounties. If he refuses, I want every bounty hunter in the world to tear him apart."
"Brannew!" Sengoku barked.
Commodore Brannew jumped to attention. "Yes, Fleet Admiral!"
"Finalize the posters. Release them to the world. Let everyone know that the Monster of the East has arrived."
The Next Morning. The World Economy News Headquarters.
The printing press was roaring like a beast. The smell of fresh ink and cheap paper filled the air—the smell of news.
"BIG NEWS! THIS IS BIG NEWS!"
Morgans, the President of the World Economy News Paper, was flapping his wings excitedly, pacing back and forth in his office. Feathers were flying everywhere.
"Unbelievable! Unbelievable!" Morgans squawked. "A rookie attacked a Celestial Dragon ship? Two Admirals failed to catch him? And the Government wants to cover up the death?"
He looked at the fax he had just received from a secret source within Marineford.
"They want me to print that the Saint is alive? Hah! Boring! I'll print it, but I'll make sure the subtext screams 'COVER UP'!"
He grabbed the photo of Suzaku laughing in the sky.
"This image... it captures the essence of this era! Rebellion! Chaos! Power! This kid... Suzaku... he understands showmanship!"
Morgans slammed his wing on the desk.
"Reserve the front page! No, reserve the first three pages! I want the whole world to know the name 'Suzaku'! I don't care if the Government gets angry; intrigue sells papers!"
"Change the headline!" Morgans shouted to his editors. "THE MONSTER WHO DEFIED THE GODS! Yes! Print it! Print it all!"
New World, Kingdom of Dressrosa.
The Royal Palace was a place of decadent luxury. In the private pool area, women in bikinis lounged around, feeding grapes to the Donquixote Family executives.
Donquixote Doflamingo sat on the window ledge, high above the city. He wore his signature pink feather coat and red sunglasses. He held the morning newspaper, his permanent grin stretching wider and wider until it looked painful.
"Fuffuffuffuffu...!"
His laughter started as a low chuckle and grew into a maniacal cackle that silenced the room.
"Doffy?" Trebol, the sticky executive, dragged himself over, snot hanging from his nose. "What is it? What's so funny, Doffy? Ne, ne?"
"The balance is breaking, Trebol!" Doflamingo threw the newspaper into the air. He used his strings to catch the bounty posters, suspending them in front of him like a mobile.
"Look at this! A rookie from the East Blue just slapped the World Government in the face! He escaped Kuzan and Borsalino!"
Doflamingo's veins bulged on his forehead. As a former Celestial Dragon himself, the news hit him with a complex mix of outrage and sadistic delight.
"And look at this report... The Government sent him an invitation to the Shichibukai."
"Ehh?!" Trebol gasped. "A rookie? A Warlord? But Hanafuza just fell!"
"Exactly!" Doflamingo grinned. "They are desperate. They are terrified of his potential. But will he take the collar? Or will he bite the hand that feeds him?"
His gaze shifted to the poster of Albedo.
[Guardian Overseer Albedo: 720,000,000 Berries]
"And a woman worth 720 million? A Mythical Zoan with an absolute defense? Fuffuffu... That's higher than Diamante or Pica."
He looked down at his own kingdom, his eyes hidden but his intent clear.
"Get the intelligence network running. I want to know everything about this crew. Their route, their weaknesses, their desires. If they survive Paradise... I want to be the first to welcome them to the New World. They could be useful allies... or dangerous enemies."
New World, Whole Cake Island (Totto Land).
The air smelled of sugar and butter. The flowers sang, the trees danced, and the very ground was made of biscuit. It was a fairy tale nightmare.
In the center of the Whole Cake Chateau, Big Mom (Charlotte Linlin) sat on her massive throne. She was in a good mood, currently devouring a wedding cake the size of a house. Cream smeared her face.
"Mama! Mama! Big news!"
Perospero, her eldest son, hurried into the hall, waving the newspaper. His candy cane staff tapped nervously on the floor.
"What is it, Perospero?" Big Mom grumbled, swallowing a mouthful of cake. "Is it the tea party invitations?"
"No, Mama! It's a new pirate crew! Look at these numbers! Look at these species!"
He presented the posters. Big Mom leaned forward, her massive shadow engulfing him.
She looked at Albedo first.
"Mamamama!" Big Mom's eyes lit up like a child in a candy store. "Horns? Wings? Is she a Lunarian? Or a Demon? I don't have that race in my collection yet!"
She snatched the poster of Albedo, drool dripping from her mouth onto the floor.
"720 million... She looks strong. And she's a woman! My daughters are so weak lately. I need strong bloodlines! I need her in my family!"
Then she looked at Suzaku.
[Vermillion Bird Suzaku: 830,000,000 Berries]
"And this boy..."
Big Mom's eyes narrowed. The playfulness vanished, replaced by the terrifying aura of a Yonko.
"He killed a Celestial Dragon? He fought Shiki? And he has the Float-Float Fruit?"
She licked her lips, her hunger shifting from food to power.
"A flying ship... imagine the mobility. Perospero! Send a team to track them. When they reach the New World, bring them to me."
She grinned, a nightmare of teeth.
"I'll offer him a choice. Marry one of my daughters and give me his bloodline... or become the ingredients for my next cake! MAMAMAMA!"
New World, Onigashima.
The skull-shaped island was shrouded in eternal storm clouds. Inside the massive skull dome, the Beast Pirates were partying. Drunken laughter, the smell of cheap sake, and the sound of brawling filled the air.
In the deepest shadow of the cave, a massive figure sat drinking from a gourd the size of a small car.
Kaido of the Beasts. The Strongest Creature in the World.
"Kaido-san."
King the Wildfire, the Lunarian survivor, walked up to the throne. He was calm, stoic, fire burning on his back. He held a newspaper.
"A formidable newcomer has appeared. It's relevant to us."
"Hic..." Kaido burped, a gout of flame escaping his mouth. His face was flushed red with drunkenness. "Newcomer? Boring. They're all weak. None of them can kill me. Hic. Whitebeard is old... Shanks is a pacifist... I'm so bored, King."
"This one might have potential," King said, placing the poster on the floor in front of the giant. "He has a bounty of 830 million. His first bounty."
Kaido blinked, his eyes struggling to focus.
"830 million? For a rookie? That's... decent. Hic."
"Read the report," King urged. "He has a Mythical Zoan. Fire-type. And his crewmate, the woman in black armor... she is also a Mythical Zoan. And they have the Float-Float Fruit."
Kaido froze. The drunkenness evaporated from his system instantly.
"The Float-Float Fruit? The old hag's fruit? Shiki's fruit?"
Kaido stood up. He towered over the room, his horns scraping the ceiling. His Haki exploded outward, knocking out the lesser pirates in the room.
"TWO Mythical Zoans in one crew?!" Kaido roared, the sound shaking the entire island. "And one of them is a bird of fire?!"
He remembered the old days. The Rocks Pirates. The clash of legends.
He threw his head back and laughed, a sound like tectonic plates grinding together.
"WORORORORO! Interesting! Finally! Someone who isn't a boring politician or a coward!"
He smashed his kanabo club into the ground, cracking the bedrock.
"Come to the New World, brat! Come to Wano! I'll test that fire of yours! Let's see if a bird can burn a Dragon!"
"WORORORORO!"
The laughter of the Yonko echoed across the turbulent seas of the New World. The world had taken notice. The gears of the era were turning, grinding toward a war that would engulf them all.
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