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For a branch colonel like Alvida, the tall, broad-shouldered man standing before her felt less like a superior officer and more like a legend stepping out of myth and into reality.
Her young heart was rattled.
From the very second she received the orders, she'd been in a daze.
She still couldn't quite believe it—an admiral of such strength and towering reputation would be assigned to a backwater like the West Blue.
A commander of G-18?
It didn't fit him at all.
A man like Vice Admiral Kyle had a far brighter future ahead of him.
"Tell me about the situation here," Kyle said lightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he looked down at her.
"And have everyone disperse."
Alvida blinked. She had been staring.
His gaze on her snapped her back to reality, and heat rushed to her face.
"Yes, sir!"
She shot a quick signal to the other officers, then hurried after him as he strode toward the main base complex.
"G-18 Base has approximately thirteen thousand marines," she began, drawing in a steadying breath. "Thirty-five vessels in total—large, medium, and small."
"The base is circular in layout. The main structure sits on a barren island, enclosed by defensive walls."
As she spoke, Kyle surveyed the surroundings.
At the same time, his awareness expanded outward in a silent surge, sweeping across the entire fortress in an instant.
She was right. The base formed a perfect ring. The western side housed the main facilities—cafeteria, training grounds, recreation halls, living quarters, armory. The eastern side held the grand main gate.
Watchtowers rose at each of the four cardinal points.
There was only one way in—through the eastern gate.
Easy to defend. Hard to breach.
"Vice Admiral Johnny is close to retirement," Alvida added carefully. "Until your arrival, I was temporarily overseeing all base operations."
Kyle chuckled softly. "Sounds like you're quite the capable administrator."
"N-No, sir."
"From today onward, you'll serve as my adjutant."
"…Ah?"
She froze.
Kyle continued casually, "Crocodile, Bullet, and Evans will handle the other affairs."
A chill ran through her.
Only then did she notice—at some point, several figures had appeared behind them.
Their presence alone was suffocating.
Terrifying.
So the rumors were true.
The monsters always gathered around Vice Admiral Kyle.
They toured the base at an unhurried pace, with Alvida acting as guide. She introduced each facility as they passed.
Notably, Rouge had changed into a marine uniform and now followed quietly at the back of the group.
"In the entire West Blue, the marine forces number roughly two hundred eighty thousand," Alvida explained with a small smile.
"Across the islands, towns, kingdoms, and patrol units at sea—those two hundred eighty thousand are all under your authority. Your command."
"If any major incident occurs, the other branches will send requests for reinforcements. You decide whether to respond."
"Two hundred eighty thousand?" Kyle repeated.
He was momentarily stunned.
Then again, it made sense.
The Four Seas were vast—nearly a quarter of the planet's surface.
The Navy ruled the world not because of a handful of elites, but because of the countless ordinary soldiers beneath them.
Most of those two hundred eighty thousand were average rank-and-file marines. Individually, they were weak—he alone could wipe them out without effort.
And yet…
The sheer number was overwhelming.
It was precisely these ordinary people who formed the foundation of the World Government's control.
And from among them rose captains, commodores, admirals—even fleet admirals.
"Control these two hundred eighty thousand," Kyle murmured, eyes narrowing slightly, "and you indirectly control the entire West Blue."
He glanced back at Crocodile, Bullet, and the others.
They'd heard the number too. Shock flickered across their faces—followed quickly by unmistakable excitement.
He knew exactly what they were thinking.
A helpless smile touched his lips.
They were marines.
And yet, they looked more like infiltrators—cuckoos preparing to take over the nest.
But… wasn't that exactly what this was?
Ever since that day outside the Fleet Admiral's office, when he'd overheard that conversation, the idea had been taking shape in his mind.
Go to one of the Four Seas.
Seize local military authority.
Move slowly. Methodically.
Then claim it entirely—build a force loyal to him alone.
He wouldn't become a pirate.
He wouldn't join the revolutionaries.
Instead, like a frail little insect, he would gnaw away at the Navy itself—piece by piece—until the colossal beast belonged to him.
By the time they finished touring the base, Kyle had a firm grasp of his new fortress.
"Major Crocodile. Effective immediately, you're promoted to lieutenant colonel. You'll command First Division."
"Bullet. Same promotion. You'll take Second Division—and serve as chief instructor of the base. Focus on training promising recruits."
"Major Evans, Third Division."
"Major T-Bone, Fourth Division."
"Smoker, Fifth Division."
He paused briefly before continuing.
"Slow, Sixth Division."
"Patty, Seventh Division."
"Mico, Eighth Division."
"Divisions Nine through Thirteen remain under their current commanders."
"As for the rest—if anyone objects, they're free to challenge my appointees. Win, and you'll be reinstated. Lose, and you'll serve as deputy without complaint."
Alvida's expression shifted.
Decisive. Ruthless. No room for hesitation.
"Yes, Vice Admiral Kyle," she said. "I'll see your orders carried out."
She understood clearly now—he intended to seize absolute control of G-18.
There would be no grace period. No easing into it. No room for the previous commanders to negotiate.
"I'm entrusting this fortress to you," Kyle said to his men evenly. "I expect results."
Bullet grinned viciously. "I'll forge this base into a blade sharp enough for your hand."
Crocodile exhaled a stream of smoke. "No objections from me."
"T-Bone will carry out your will to the letter," T-Bone declared solemnly.
The others gave firm assurances.
Kyle nodded and dismissed them.
Then, led by Alvida, he headed toward his new residence.
Compared to headquarters, the branch commander's home was even more extravagant—spacious to the point of indulgence.
Before him lay a large courtyard filled with trees, flowers, and even a pond. It looked less like military housing and more like a curated work of art.
Alvida smiled. "Former Commander Johnny knew how to enjoy life."
Kyle understood immediately.
The old man on the verge of retirement had clearly been living very comfortably.
"..."
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