Holy Land, Mary Geoise — Hall of Authority.
Just as Sengoku had anticipated, when the Five Elders received the list he submitted—an astronomical ledger detailing reconstruction, relocation, pensions for the fallen, military expansion, and countless other expenditures—they did not hesitate in the slightest.
The five highest powers in the world displayed unprecedented "generosity" and "efficiency."
Saint Ethanbaron V. Nusjuro, the Warrior God of Finance, agreed almost instantly.
Whatever Sengoku requested—funds, materials, policy support—was approved with full clearance, green lights all the way through.
They even diverted half of this year's Heavenly Tribute to his allocation.
There was only one condition: Sengoku must remain in the position of Fleet Admiral. He was not to step down under any circumstances—not now.
When Sengoku departed the Hall of Authority with a "satisfactory" answer in hand and the massive doors groaned shut behind him—
The atmosphere inside froze.
The veneer of harmony evaporated.
All five faces darkened in near unison, the earlier generosity revealed as nothing more than a mask worn out of necessity.
"How is Sakazuki's preparation progressing?"
Saint Nusjuro's voice turned cold as he broke the silence.
Supporting Akainu's ascension had long been their predetermined strategy. A Fleet Admiral who believed in "Absolute Justice"—predictable, uncompromising, controllable—was the ideal chess piece.
"His injuries still require time," Saint Topman Warcury replied evenly. "But his resolve… has only hardened."
He paused, then added with a trace of dissatisfaction:
"Unexpectedly, Hero Garp's intervention ended up benefiting Gern. A Marine hero striking a Marine admiral carries enormous implications—and yet, by a twist of circumstance, Gern became the sole spiritual standard-bearer of the Marines."
"Which is precisely why Sengoku must remain in position for now," Saint Shepherd Ju Peter interjected, his tone edged with caution.
"Under no circumstances can we allow Gern to seize the Fleet Admiral's seat while the momentum favors him."
His expression tightened.
"His prestige within the Marines… has reached a rather terrifying height."
The power Gern Reginald Sigmar displayed at the Summit War, the fallout from Garp's actions, and his final rallying stance as he guided the entire force—those images, broadcast by Transponder Snails and printed in newspapers, had spread across the globe.
Among the lower and mid-ranking Marines, his influence had peaked.
In simpler terms—
A mere wave of his hand would summon countless responses.
That kind of personal authority was precisely what the World Government loathed most.
"However… isn't 'Heavenquake' being a bit too quiet?"
Saint Marcus Mars frowned, raising a crucial point.
"It's been nearly a month since the war ended. There has been almost no movement."
By all logic, carrying such overwhelming victory, Gern should have pressed forward while the iron was hot—intervening in Headquarters' affairs, perhaps even forcing a political confrontation.
This unnatural silence was more unsettling than open ambition.
In response, Saint Jaygarcia Saturn calmly relayed the latest intelligence from CP0.
"According to CP reports, he is currently fully occupied in the New World—absorbing and consolidating the territories left behind after Whitebeard's death. He's overwhelmed."
He paused before adding, a hint of relief slipping through his voice:
"'Big Mom' Charlotte Linlin, 'Beasts' Kaido, the recently withdrawn 'Red-Haired' Shanks—even the remnants of 'Blackbeard' Teach and Wang Zhi, whose fate remains uncertain—have all scented blood in the water. Like sharks, they're attempting to carve a share of the enormous cake."
"It appears… he simply cannot spare the time."
"I see…"
"Oh, Saturn," Saint Ju Peter shifted topics, turning toward the man responsible for scientific defense.
"How are matters progressing with Vegapunk's research?"
"The World Government has invested vast resources into the Pacifista project."
At those words, the remaining three Elders—Warcury, Mars, and Nusjuro—also focused their attention on Saturn.
This project, crucial to the future of their military power, had always been a priority.
Saturn rested both hands firmly atop his cane.
"Vegapunk reports that progress is satisfactory," he said steadily. "However, to fully perfect the system and achieve scalable combat effectiveness, we must continue optimizing and analyzing collected battle data."
"At minimum, another two years."
After delivering the report, he seemed to recall something, his tone hardening with dissatisfaction.
"Hmph. If we had successfully acquired the unique physiological data of Bartholomew Kuma's Buccaneer body back then—an almost perfect biological construct—we could have long since used Kizaru's laser technology to produce the first-generation Pacifistas and begin mass production immediately."
His cane tapped sharply against the marble floor.
"Instead, we were forced to initiate a far more complex program—one reliant upon the so-called 'Green Blood' technology, replicating the abilities of the former Seven Warlords… the Seraphim project."
It was obvious that Kuma's rescue—Gern's interference—had derailed their original deployment plans, pushing them down a slower, more complicated technological path.
"It matters not," Nusjuro said calmly, the First Kitetsu resting in his grasp. He waved a dismissive hand.
"It merely requires patience."
His gaze swept across the hall.
"For if we were to press too aggressively and provoke that man's 'Calamities' into motion—if he were to storm the Holy Land again as he did back then…"
His voice thinned slightly.
"We would not conclude matters easily."
The "Holy Land Incident" Gern had orchestrated years ago was a lesson they would never forget. It had taught them caution whenever touching the core interests under his control.
Kuma now served beneath Gern's command.
Forcibly reclaiming him was no longer an option.
"Very well."
"We wait for the Seraphim project to reach completion."
"When that day comes, we will possess a force powerful enough—and absolutely loyal enough—to address many future upheavals."
"In that case… regarding Heavenquake…"
Warcury narrowed his eyes.
"While this opportunity presents itself, we should initiate the plan. Sengoku, after his prior experiences, no longer appears entirely aligned with us. We cannot allow him to control everything alone."
"Naturally," Mars replied, lifting his teacup for a measured sip.
"I've already dispatched CP0 to invite Morgans—the bird."
He smiled thinly.
"In the past, he dared defy World Government orders to report countless stories. This time, we shall let him report freely. Thoroughly."
"And we will cooperate."
At that, the Five Elders exchanged knowing smiles.
They were seasoned political predators.
When it came to soft blades and subtle manipulation, none were more experienced.
It was nothing complicated—
"Elevate his name. Strip his power. Solidify his enemies. Sever his roots."
Only this time—
The Five Elders would not merely observe from their thrones.
They would enter the board themselves.