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The West Blue.
By any measure, it was a sea packed with power.
It was the birthplace of the most infamous mafia syndicates in the world. The five great crime families that ruled the underworld had all risen from these waters—most notably, the Capone family.
Then there was the Happo Navy of the Land of Kano, a force strong enough to give the Marines constant headaches.
Its most famous leader was the 12th generation Don, Chinjao.
Legend had it that in order to defeat Chinjao, Vice Admiral Garp had once used eight mountains as punching bags, flattening them one by one before finally facing him in battle—and crushing the man's proud, drill-like head with a single blow.
The Happo Navy's signature technique, the Hasshoken, was passed down through generations. Its principles and impact were strikingly similar to the advanced armament technique of Wano Country.
There was no question about it: the Happo Navy was a force to be reckoned with.
And they weren't the only ones.
Many renowned figures had come out of this sea—future Yonko Red-Haired Shanks, Gecko Moria, Brook, Lafitte, Sanjuan Wolf, and more.
And beyond warriors and criminals, there was also the world-famous sanctuary of archaeology—
Ohara.
At the thought of it, Kyle's eyes narrowed slightly.
He remembered Ohara clearly. He had been keeping an eye on it for a long time.
When he had met Vegapunk, the scientist had mentioned that his hometown traced back to that very island.
As for the memories of this body's original owner, Kyle had none. It was all a blank slate.
But what truly weighed on him was the island's future.
Because of its scholars' efforts to decipher the Poneglyphs and research the lost century from eight hundred years ago, Ohara would one day be erased by the World Government—destroyed under a Buster Call.
Step by step, the island was already walking toward its doom.
Two years.
In just two years, Ohara would be gone.
When that day came… what would he choose?
Would he reach out a hand to help?
Or stand by and watch in silence?
"The Land of Kano isn't easy to deal with, but they won't openly attack the Marines either."
Crocodile's voice pulled him back.
"And some of the other kingdoms' royal guards aren't pushovers, either."
"The five mafia families control the entire underground network of the West Blue."
Kyle's eyes flickered. He spoke up.
"What's the Marines' stance on them?"
Crocodile paused, surprised by the question.
"They don't seem overly concerned," he said after a moment. "As long as things look peaceful on the surface, the Marines haven't gone out of their way to stir trouble."
Kyle nodded.
"Then we can enjoy a little peace for now."
That's what he said.
But deep down, he knew.
In two years, peace would be impossible—no matter what.
By noon, the warship arrived at G-18 Fortress.
Massive iron gates slowly opened. From the outside, its grandeur bore more than a passing resemblance to the Gates of Justice at Marineford.
Inside lay a vast inner harbor, sunlight shimmering across the water. More than a dozen warships were docked along the port.
Towering steel structures and imposing buildings rose ahead, spaced at intervals with Marines standing rigid at attention.
The moment Kyle's ship entered the harbor, the entire base erupted into motion.
"The new commander's here!"
"Quick! The welcoming ceremony—get in position!"
"That's Vice Admiral Kyle from Headquarters!"
Squads of Marines poured out from every direction. In no time, they assembled into neat formations across the plaza—so many that at a glance, they seemed endless.
Everyone on the bow watched.
Crocodile's eyes widened slightly. The sight of countless Marines gathering and filling the square was undeniably overwhelming.
Compared to the size of a pirate crew, the scale of this base was staggering.
"Eight thousand?" he muttered.
"Ten thousand!?"
"Thirteen thousand."
Bullet crossed his arms, grinning.
Even he looked faintly impressed. He hadn't expected this fortress to house such numbers.
"They're ours now," Kyle said quietly.
The feeling in his chest was nothing like his previous promotions.
From the moment his ship docked, those thirteen thousand Marines belonged under his command.
This colossal fortress—this steel stronghold—would answer to him.
Having no subordinates was one thing.
Commanding thirteen thousand was something else entirely.
Overlord.
In a very real sense, from this moment on, Kyle was the true ruler of the West Blue.
A regional power.
A warlord in his own right.
The words flickered through his mind. Even someone who had seen countless battles couldn't help but feel a surge of pride, of rising ambition.
But it lasted only a heartbeat.
He forced the emotion down, returning to calm.
"If you leave them to me," Bullet said in a low voice, "I can turn them into an elite force."
He came from a military background. Training and commanding soldiers was second nature to him.
His eyes sharpened.
"A force that answers only to us. Only to you."
Kyle's gaze flickered.
When the warship docked and they stepped onto the pier, his eyes fell on the assembled ranks before him.
The Marines stood packed in tight formation, backs straight, gazes fixed forward—some curious, some excited.
An officer at the front suddenly shouted:
"Salute!"
In an instant, every Marine moved in perfect unison.
The synchronized motion sent a faint hum through the air.
Kyle remained expressionless.
He strode to the front, sweeping his gaze across them all before raising his hand in return.
"Good afternoon."
"I'm Vice Admiral Kyle. As of today, I'll be taking over as commander of G-18."
Silence filled the plaza. The sea breeze rolled in, snapping the Marine flags on the docked warships.
Every pair of eyes was locked on him.
"Since this is our first day meeting…"
"Would someone brief me on the current state of the fortress?"
His gaze settled on the highest-ranking officer in the formation—a woman.
Feeling his eyes on her, she stepped forward without hesitation.
"Branch Colonel Alvida reporting for duty, sir!"
Kyle studied her for a moment before offering a faint smile.
"I'll leave it to you, Alvida."
She was clearly a swordswoman, a blade hanging at her waist. Her expression was serious, her aura cool and composed. Black-framed glasses rested on her nose, and her black hair was tied into a neat ponytail. She gave off a clean, crisp impression.
As for her strength, Kyle couldn't tell yet.
But being the highest-ranking officer in the base meant she was no lightweight.
"It's my responsibility," Alvida replied softly.
Still, curiosity flickered in her eyes as she looked at the young Vice Admiral before her.
"..."
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