How should the new bounties be set?
Under normal circumstances, if it were any other pirate, everyone would be eager to speak up.
But this involved Barzeb Seven, and—more critically—the Vice Admirals who had fought him: Sakazuki and the others. Suddenly the headquarters officers were at a loss.
Set it too high and the Navy would be dragged into endless arguments.
The pirates across the seas would sneer: "If some rookie brat can get a bounty that big, let's go test the Navy ourselves."
At that point… it might actually be amusing.
We wouldn't even need to hunt pirates door-to-door.
Set it too low and we'd be admitting that Vice Admirals Sakazuki and Kuzan together couldn't catch a pirate worth only that amount.
Word was that Sakazuki and Kuzan were about to be promoted to Admiral; the promotion papers were already filed—once they returned from carrying out the Buster Call, the rank would be theirs.
So if Barzeb Seven's bounty came out low, we'd offend two future Admirals in one go.
The assembled officers all looked silently toward Admiral Kizaru: Sir, offending Admirals is your job.
Feeling the stares, Kizaru stared at his nose, his nose at his heart, and emptied his mind.
Too much trouble—make it three billion each.
Vice Admiral Tsuru was torn. As headquarters staff, she had to weigh every angle: the World Government's order to adjust the bounty on one side, the Navy's deterrent image on the other.
Seeing the deadlock, Fleet Admiral Sengoku spoke.
"Sakazuki, Kuzan—any suggestions?"
The men who'd fought him had the strongest say; no one here knew better what that bounty should be.
The den den mushi crackled: "Provisional—three billion."
Sengoku frowned. "Barzeb Seven at three billion, the other two at two billion each?"
Kuzan's voice came through: "Issho at two billion—no objection."
Then came the voices of Mole and the others: "Dracule Mihawk… two billion as well. We couldn't beat him, but we held out a long while."
"Good." Sengoku slammed the table.
"Issue the wanted posters at those figures. Dispatch them to every base. Spot the Morning Star Pirates—report to headquarters at once."
"Nico Robin, rescued by Barzeb Seven—provisional bounty one hundred million."
"Yes, sir." Brannew saluted.
When the Navy's bounty list reached Morgans, the news king was still fretting over photos that could send sales through the roof.
He'd expected—just like the last Celestial Dragon kidnapping—the World Government and Navy to bury the story. They hadn't.
Morgans froze, then planted his hands on his hips and laughed to the ceiling.
"Big news—no, the biggest news ever!"
"A Buster Call! Ohara left in ruins! Barzeb Seven leads the Morning Star Pirates, crushes the Navy's Buster Call force, and spirits away the Devil Child Nico Robin!"
"Sales—sales will double!"
"Reprint—must reprint!"
Morgans wrote the story himself, yet something felt missing until his eye caught a clipping about Emperor Whitebeard. He leapt up.
"An emperor of the sea—the second emperor of the sea!"
After Pirate King Roger's execution, Morgans had figured Charlotte Linlin most likely to become the second emperor after Whitebeard.
Who could have guessed Barzeb Seven would steal the crown.
The Morning Star Pirates number only three, but their bounties add up to Seven billion: Captain Barzeb Seven at three billion, First Mate Mihawk at two billion, Issho at two billion.
"My god—this is an emperor of the sea!"
Morgans howled with glee.
"Barzeb Seven, don't let me down—I'm staking the next twenty years of paper sales on you today!"
He kissed the final draft twice. "I'll make my own name echo across the seas."
Six kings rule the underworld—only the King of News stands supreme!
Morgans stormed into the printing plant and slapped the proof into the manager's face.
"Print it exactly—every word. Run twenty times the usual press run—no, thirty!"
The manager's face twitched: Boss, have you lost it?
"A three-man crew? An emperor? Jokes have limits!"
Morgans sneered. "Three men—so what? They can't recruit more? Quit yapping and get it done. Plenty would kill for this job."
The manager grinned on the outside, cursed inside: Fine, print it. When you go broke, I'll piss on your head and stuff your beak!
Next morning.
Fresh-ink newspapers rode the wings of countless News Coo to every corner of the world—and the world erupted.
"Extra! Extra! The Ohara Buster Call!"
"A second emperor of the sea? Three crewmates? The press has lost its mind!"
"Three billion—two billion—another two billion?"
"Has the Navy lost it too?!"
Not only common folk but also World-Nation nobles, small-time pirates of the Four Blues, and Grand Line heavyweights reeled in disbelief.
All saying the same: the Navy's gone mad… the Grand Line, the New World.
Aboard the white-whale-shaped Moby Dick.
Marco, pineapple hair, didn't rant like last time; he stared at the paper, brooding.
Two years at sea and already three billion?
Seven kid, you make a sixteen-year veteran feel like a failure.
He'd joined Dad and Whitebeard the day God Valley ended—exactly sixteen years ago.
Seven had sailed only two years; even counting his five with Roger, just Seven.
Damn talent freak.
Marco's gloom drew the others. Vista called, "What's it say, Marco?"
Marco shook his head, jogged to the old man, and silently handed him the paper.
Whitebeard took one look.
When he saw the Morning Star trio's bounties and the headline naming Barzeb Seven the second emperor, he roared with laughter.
"Gurararara!"
"He drove back the magma brat, five Vice Admirals, ten thousand troops—well done!"
"Marco—feast time!"
The bounties gave him another excuse for a banquet.
"What's so funny, Pops?"
The sons crowded round.
Whitebeard grinned and shoved the paper at Vista. "Read it out—save time, we've got a party to start."
Vista glanced—and his pupils quaked. "Th-this… has to be fake!"
Emperor at seventeen?
Personal bounty three billion?
Three-man crew—Seven billion total.
"Read it, Vista!"