The rhythmic tapping of my finger against the table echoed softly through the tent, a steady cadence that mirrored the storm of thoughts swirling in my mind. I found myself in a dilemma, one that I hadn't anticipated: deciding what to do with the high priestess of the Shandian tribe.
This elderly woman, frail in appearance but sharp as a blade, had somehow glimpsed the secret I had guarded so fiercely since the moment I transmigrated into this world.
She knew. Somehow, she knew I didn't belong here.
"Killing you off right now would put my heart at ease," I muttered, my tone as cold and measured as the tapping of my fingers. My gaze locked onto her, searching for any trace of fear or duplicity. Yet the high priestess simply sat before me, her hands resting calmly in her lap, her face graced by an unshakable smile. It was maddening.
"If that is what would bring your heart some semblance of peace, my Lord," she said softly, her voice steady and unwavering, "then I would gladly lay down my life for you."
There was no hesitation in her words, no deceit in her cloudy, age-worn eyes. Even without her saying it, I could sense her sincerity. The old woman was ready to die, to take my secret to the grave, if that would ease my paranoia.
I let out a sharp sigh and waved a hand dismissively. "Never mind. I'm not so bloodthirsty that I'd condemn an old woman who already has one foot in the grave." I paused, my eyes narrowing slightly. "And besides, it's not like you've done anything to harm me or my interests."
The high priestess inclined her head, her serene expression unchanged.
"But tell me this," I continued, leaning forward slightly, my voice dropping into a dangerous whisper. "Have you shared this knowledge with anyone?"
She met my gaze without flinching, her voice firm. "None, my Lord. No one other than me knows of your true origins. And even I only became aware of it because..." She hesitated, her eyes filling with something between awe and reverence. "...because you are the one who will inherit the mantle of our God."
I snorted, leaning back in my chair. "I've told you a thousand times—I am no god."
The priestess didn't falter, her stubbornness almost admirable. "And yet, my Lord, you have bested death not once, not twice, but thrice. That is no mere coincidence. The spirits whisper your name, and I have seen glimpses of the future." Her voice dropped to a near-whisper, laced with conviction. "Sooner or later, you will embrace the mantle, whether you wish it or not."
Her reverence bordered on madness, and it clawed at my patience. Still, I couldn't deny the usefulness of her blind loyalty. If her unwavering faith in me would buy her silence, so be it.
I stood, my hands clasped behind my back as I looked down at her. "Fine. Believe what you want, so long as you keep that belief to yourself. I have no interest in your so-called prophecies or titles." I let the weight of my words hang in the air before adding, "But if you dare share this knowledge with anyone—"
"You have my oath, my Lord," she interrupted, bowing her head deeply. "Your secret is mine alone, and I would sooner die than betray you."
Her words carried the weight of truth, but I wasn't one to take chances. Still, the more I considered the situation, the more I realized the advantage she represented. With the spiritual leader of the Shandian tribe now under my thumb, bringing the rest of the tribe under my control would be child's play.
A slow smile crept onto my lips. "Good. Then we understand each other."
The high priestess nodded, her reverence as maddening as ever. But as much as it irked me, it was a tool—a weapon. And I intended to wield it to its fullest.
Outside the tent, the muffled sounds of the tribe's activity reached my ears. They were waiting, oblivious to the shifting power within their ranks. Soon, they would fall in line, one way or another.
For now, I would let the high priestess keep her delusions. After all, even a madwoman could serve a purpose in the hands of the right master.
*****
Open seas, New World
A vast armada of World Government ships cut through the treacherous waters of the New World, flanked by an imposing escort of Marine vessels. The fleet, freshly returned from the tumultuous events of Dressrosa, was on a direct course for the Holy Land, Mary Geoise.
The sunlight glinted off the pristine sails and metallic cannons, a display of authority and power that served as a warning to all who dared challenge the sovereignty of the World Government.
Within the ornate chambers of the flagship, Elder Jaygarcia Saturn sat in contemplative silence. The faint creak of the ship's hull and the rhythmic splash of waves against the bow provided a soothing backdrop, but his mind was anything but at peace. His wrinkled fingers drummed idly on the armrest of his intricately carved chair, his brows furrowed in deep thought.
Plans and counterplans swirled in his mind, a web of strategies meant to secure the sanctity of the upcoming Reverie. Normally, such gatherings were little more than ceremonial farces, a stage for kings and queens to air their petty grievances while the true powers moved unseen in the shadows. But this time was different.
The Donquixote brothers.
Even the thought of their names made Saturn's jaw tighten. Doflamingo, the infamous Heavenly Yaksha, and Rosinante, the enigmatic enigma. These two figures, shrouded in infamy and cunning, had somehow managed the unthinkable—they were granted an audience with Imu-sama. That fact alone sent ripples of unease through Saturn's otherwise unshakable composure.
"Why?" he muttered to himself, his voice low and contemplative. Why would Doflamingo, the venomous snake that he was, willingly place himself within the lion's den? His agreement to walk into enemy territory so readily rang alarm bells in Saturn's mind.
The man was a master manipulator, a player who thrived on deception and chaos. Such eagerness to comply meant one of two things: either he had no other choice... or he had already accounted for every move they might make against him.
Saturn's thoughts were interrupted by a soft, measured knock at the door. His sharp gaze snapped toward the sound. It was unusual for someone to disturb him without cause, especially while they were still days away from reaching the Red Line.
"Enter," he called out, his voice low yet commanding, carrying the weight of authority earned through centuries of service.
The door creaked open, revealing a figure clad in the black-and-white uniform of CP0, the elite shield of the Celestial Dragons. The leader of the Cipher Pol team assigned to the fleet stepped inside, his mask obscuring his face, but the slight rigidity of his posture betrayed the gravity of the matter he was about to present.
"What is it?" Saturn asked, his piercing eyes narrowing. "We are still two days from the Red Line. Why have you come to me now?"
The CP0 agent bowed respectfully before speaking, his voice calm but tinged with urgency.
"Elder Saturn, we have intercepted a report from our surveillance unit stationed near the edge of Whitebeard's territory. It appears that... the Whitebeard Pirates have mobilized their fleet. They are on an interception course."
Saturn's fingers froze mid-drum. His sharp eyes narrowed, and his expression turned grim.
"Whitebeard? Mobilizing his entire fleet? Outside his own territory?"
The elder's surprise was evident, though he masked it quickly. Whitebeard, the so-called
"Strongest Man in the World," was not known for taking the offensive unless provoked. For him to move with such aggression was unprecedented—and troubling.
The CP0 agent hesitated before continuing. "Yes, my Lord. This movement is uncharacteristic, but it's no mere show of strength. We've identified his target."
"Speak plainly," Saturn commanded, his tone colder now. "Who has provoked Whitebeard enough to warrant this level of retaliation? And why is he moving with such urgency outside his own borders?"
The agent straightened, his masked face betraying no emotion, though his voice carried a heavy weight. "Elder Saturn, Whitebeard's fleet is targeting Kaido. The Beasts Pirates who were en route to Dressrosa."
The revelation hung in the air like a thunderclap. Saturn's fingers, now still, curled into a fist against the table. His gaze darkened, and his brows furrowed as he processed the implications.
"Kaido..." Saturn muttered, his voice laced with irritation. "So that beast is finally making his move on Dressrosa as per our provocation." His eyes flickered with calculation as he leaned back, hands steepled before him. This development was both a disruption and an opportunity, though neither came without risk.
The agent pressed on, his tone betraying his unease. "Our arrangement with Kaido was precise, my Lord. We ensured his attack would coincide with Donquixote Doflamingo's attendance at the Reverie. With Rosinante absent and most of the Donquixote Family's key combatants dispersed, the Beasts Pirates would have had a significant chance of overwhelming Dressrosa's defenses."
Saturn grumbled under his breath, his irritation bubbling to the surface. The plan had been meticulously crafted to corner the cunning Heavenly Yaksha, exploiting his vulnerabilities while dividing his forces. But Whitebeard's intervention had thrown the entire operation into chaos.
"Newgate..." Saturn muttered darkly, his voice carrying a mix of disdain and grudging annoyance.
"What is that stubborn old bastard doing now of all times? He has no reason to interfere in this matter."
"From our intelligence, my Lord," the CP0 agent began carefully, his tone measured yet taut with underlying tension, "Whitebeard's movements suggest he is resolute—dead set on clashing with Kaido. Our analysts suspect this may be in retaliation for what transpired with Kozuki Oden in Wano. It's highly likely he views this as an opportunity to settle old scores, to avenge Oden once and for all."
The words lingered in the air like a storm cloud, thick with implications. Saturn's eyes narrowed as he digested the report, the mention of Oden stirring long-buried memories of the samurai's fiery rebellion and tragic end.
The agent pressed on, aware of the gravity of his next statement. "However, my Lord, there is another possibility—one that might explain Whitebeard's timing. He may be attempting to force the hand of the true orchestrator behind Wano's fall. Whitebeard is no fool; he is unlikely to believe that a figure as legendary and formidable as Oden succumbed solely to Kaido's strength."
Saturn's brows furrowed, the faintest hint of frustration flickering across his usually inscrutable face. "Hmph. Newgate is many things—reckless, stubborn—but naive is not one of them," he admitted, his tone begrudging. "If he suspects someone else pulling the strings behind Wano's tragedy, then this maneuver may be a ploy to smoke them out."
The Elder leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled as he contemplated the layers of intrigue now surrounding the brewing clash. "If Whitebeard believes Kaido is merely a piece on the board and not the player, he's likely aiming to destabilize the shadowy forces at work. That could mean trouble—not just for Kaido, but for us."
The CP0 agent nodded, his masked face betraying no emotion. "Precisely, my Lord. A confrontation between these two pirates will undoubtedly draw attention from all corners of the New World—and perhaps even beyond. It's not just a grudge match; it's a declaration to whoever holds the reins of Wano's fate. A message that Whitebeard intends to unmask and confront them, regardless of the cost."
Saturn's grip on his quill tightened until it snapped. He tossed the broken remnants aside with a growl of frustration and crumpled the parchment he had been writing on, throwing it to the floor.
"If Kaido faces Whitebeard head-on..." Saturn's voice trailed off as his mind worked rapidly through the scenarios. "The outcome is obvious. Even that stubborn beast cannot withstand the full might of someone like Whitebeard. And if Kaido falls, the balance of power in the New World will collapse entirely."
The Elder's thoughts turned to Big Mom's recent demise. Her death had already created a dangerous vacuum in the pirate world, one that every faction across the seas were scrambling to fill. If Kaido were to fall now, it would only escalate the chaos—a chaos that the World Government had yet to fully exploit to its advantage.
"This cannot be allowed," Saturn declared firmly, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.
"Kaido may be a pawn, but he is a valuable one; he has yet to reach his potential. The balance he maintains through sheer force is critical to our plans."
He turned his piercing gaze toward the CP0 agent. "Send word to Kaido immediately. Inform him of Whitebeard's movements and suggest he alter his course. If he has any sense left, he'll understand that a direct confrontation with Newgate is suicide."
"Understood, Elder Saturn," the agent replied, bowing low.
"And mobilize additional surveillance near their projected clash point," Saturn continued. "I want eyes on every ship, every move. If Kaido refuses to retreat, we may need to consider intervention—or at the very least, contingency plans to mitigate the fallout."
The agent hesitated for a fraction of a second. "Should we prepare a force to assist Kaido, my Lord?"
Saturn's lip curled into a bitter smile. "Assist him? Hardly. Let the beasts fight among themselves. But if Whitebeard gains the upper hand, we'll ensure he doesn't leave unscathed."
As the CP0 agent exited the room, Saturn leaned back in his chair, his mind once again racing. This unexpected clash between two of the most fearsome figures of the New World could either spell disaster or present an opportunity to tighten the World Government's grip.
As the CP0 leader turned to exit the cabin, Elder Saturn's voice cut through the air like a blade.
"Wait."
The agent froze mid-step, pivoting back to face the Elder.
"I've reconsidered. Perhaps it would be prudent to send reinforcements, just in case," Saturn said, his tone sharp and deliberate. His fingers drummed once more against the armrest of his chair as his calculating eyes bored into the agent.
"With how prideful Kaido is, it's unlikely he'll back down, even against someone like Whitebeard. But what Kaido doesn't understand—what fools like him never truly grasp—is what an enraged Whitebeard is truly capable of."
The agent nodded, though his masked face betrayed no reaction. Saturn's words were measured but carried an undertone of disdain, as if the Emperor's pride was a child's tantrum in the face of real power.
"Contact Sengoku," Saturn continued, his voice brooking no dissent. "Have the Marine detachment escorting us break off and have them intercept the clash. I want Garp deployed with them. If anyone can temper Whitebeard's rampage and buy us time, it's that troublemaker. His presence alone will force Whitebeard to think twice before escalating."
The CP0 agent's head dipped slightly in acknowledgment. "Understood, my Lord. I will ensure the orders are relayed to Marine Headquarters immediately."
Saturn leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. His eyes moved to the intricate map pinned to the cabin wall, tracking the intersecting routes of Whitebeard, Kaido, and the World Government forces. His earlier strategy of letting the two Yonko clash to their deaths no longer seemed viable.
The aftermath of such a conflict was all too predictable: Kaido's inevitable defeat.
And that, Saturn realized grimly, would be disastrous.
With Linlin gone, the balance of power in the New World was already precarious. Scarlett—another relic of the Rocks era—had emerged, defying all expectations and claiming her place in the chaos. She was ambitious, powerful, and cunning—a far more insidious threat than Kaido. If Whitebeard survived and Scarlett moved into Linlin's void, the so-called balance that the World Government worked tirelessly to maintain would shatter irreparably.
"We cannot allow Kaido to fall now," Saturn muttered, more to himself than to the agent. "Not with Scarlett lurking in the shadows after breaking off from her position as a Shichibukai, waiting to tip the scales. We need to ensure the playing field remains… manageable."
The agent inclined his head. "I will oversee the deployment personally."
Saturn's gaze snapped back to the agent, his expression darkening. "Before you go, what of the matter I entrusted to you?"
A flicker of hesitation passed through the agent's stance—a minute shift that did not escape Saturn's notice.
"Well?" Saturn pressed, his tone dropping into something cold and menacing.
"My Lord," the agent began cautiously, "progress has been… limited. We have yet to uncover how Scarlett and the others managed to regain their youth. The phenomenon remains elusive, but—"
"Enough excuses." Saturn's voice was sharp, cutting the agent off mid-sentence. "You mean to tell me that with all the resources at your disposal, you still haven't uncovered the truth?"
The agent's silence was damning.
Saturn's brow furrowed deeply, his expression etched with the weight of countless calculations as his thoughts churned with unease.
Scarlett's resurgence isn't just an inconvenience—it's a threat of unparalleled magnitude. The thought echoed in his mind like a sinister mantra. Immortality... It is not some trinket to be bartered or stolen. It is a sacred truth, a forbidden treasure, reserved solely for the Elders and Imu-sama. For centuries, we have guarded it as the cornerstone of our dominion. And yet...
His fingers tightened around the armrest of his chair, the faint creak of wood punctuating the tense silence in the room. Here we are, facing the impossible. Relics from the Rocks era—figures thought to be buried by time itself—now stride the world once more, defying the natural order with reckless abandon.
His mind raced, dissecting the implications of Scarlett's reappearance. Her return wasn't merely a resurgence of power; it was a harbinger of chaos, a ripple that threatened to become a tidal wave. If she had unlocked the means to cheat death, how many others could follow? How many others might rise from the annals of history, driven by vengeance or ambition, to challenge the world Saturn and his peers had meticulously shaped?
Even more troubling was the method itself. How did she achieve it? The question gnawed at him like a persistent parasite. Immortality was not a trivial pursuit. It required a convergence of ancient knowledge, unfathomable resources, and the will to defy the gods themselves. Scarlett's survival was more than a stroke of luck—it was a puzzle with missing pieces Saturn could ill afford to overlook.
This isn't just about her, though, he mused darkly, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the polished surface of the desk. If one relic has returned, who's to say others won't follow? The Rocks Pirates were not an isolated phenomenon—they were a nexus of ambition and chaos. If Scarlett's secret falls into the wrong hands... no, it mustn't come to that.
He allowed himself a long, measured breath, his gaze hardening. There could be no hesitation, no room for error. Scarlett's mystery needed to be unraveled, her secrets uncovered and contained before they could destabilize the fragile balance of the world.
Relics belong to the grave, Saturn thought coldly, his resolve crystallizing. And Scarlett will be reminded of that truth—one way or another.
The agent dared not speak.
"Redouble your efforts," Saturn ordered, his voice laced with an edge of finality. "Have more agents tail the other two Shichibukai. Scarlett may be the most overt threat, but the others are no less critical to this mystery. I want to know how they escaped the grip of death and what infernal means they've used to regain their vitality."
He leaned forward, his piercing eyes locking onto the agent. "If we fail to understand this secret, we risk losing the very control we've maintained for centuries. And failure, I assure you, is not an option."
The agent bowed deeply, his voice resolute despite the immense weight of the task. "It will be done, Elder Sama."
As the agent departed, Saturn's gaze returned to the horizon beyond the cabin window. His mind churned with thoughts of ancient powers, hidden truths, and the delicate balance teetering on the edge of collapse.
"Scarlett," he muttered under his breath, the name dripping with disdain. "Whatever you've unearthed... I will ensure it never sees the light of day."
For a fleeting moment, the corner of his lips twitched into a grim smile. The game was evolving, and Saturn was determined to remain its master, no matter the cost.
His gaze drifted to the map sprawled across the table before him. His fingers traced the paths of the two titans on a collision course.
"Newgate... Scarlett... The pawns think themselves kings," he murmured, his voice carrying both contempt and intrigue. "But even kings fall when the right strings are pulled."