Chapter 198: The Gorosei's True Intentions!
The Room of Power was as deathly silent as ever.
The sprawling, opulent chamber located within the highest, most restricted echelons of Pangaea Castle felt entirely detached from the rest of the mortal world.
There were no sounds of the bustling Holy Land of Mary Geoise outside, nor the crashing waves of the Red Line far below.
The air itself seemed unnaturally thick, heavy with the suffocating weight of eight hundred years of absolute, unquestioned authority.
The five old men sat calmly on their plush, velvet sofas.
They were the Five Elders, the Gorosei, the highest-ranking Celestial Dragons who stood at the absolute pinnacle of the entire world.
Each of them wore a distinctly different expression—boredom, contemplation, coldness—yet they all shared the exact same eternal, statuesque stillness.
They did not even look at Steel Bone Kong at first.
The Commander-in-Chief of the World Government's military forces, a living legend whose very name commanded respect across the oceans, stood tall and rigid in the center of the luxurious carpet.
His massive, muscular frame, sculpted by decades of brutal warfare and unyielding discipline, seemed strangely small beneath the towering ceilings of the Room of Authority.
Instead of addressing the legendary veteran standing before them, the five old men simply exchanged a brief, silent glance among themselves.
The glance was so incredibly fleeting, so subtle, that to an ordinary observer, it might have been a mere illusion of the lighting.
But Kong was no ordinary man.
His Observation Haki and decades of political survival told him everything he needed to know.
Kong knew that in that split-second instant, without a single sound echoing in the massive hall, they had already finished communicating.
They had reached a consensus that no mortal logic could hope to comprehend or challenge.
At last, the man seated on the far left shifted his posture.
It was the Scientific Defense Warrior God, a man whose left forehead was marred by a prominent, jagged scar and who wore his white hair in thick dreadlocks alongside a long, flowing white beard.
Jaygarcia Saint Saturn leaned heavily on his simple wooden walking cane.
He slowly, almost painfully slowly, turned his dark, unfathomable gaze toward Steel Bone Kong standing below.
His eyes did not regard the supreme commander of the world's military might with the respect owed to a decorated veteran.
Instead, they looked at Kong with the exact same indifferent, empty expression one might use when looking at a silent, moss-covered stone in a perfectly manicured garden.
There was no warmth, no humanity, no acknowledgment of Kong's legendary status.
"We already know everything that happened," Saint Saturn said.
His voice was entirely flat, devoid of even a singular ripple of emotion.
He spoke as casually and indifferently as though he were merely remarking that the afternoon weather over the Grand Line was rather pleasant today.
"The CP0 operatives stationed in the shadows of Wano Country sent us a highly detailed, more complete report significantly earlier than your arrival."
Saint Saturn blinked slowly, his dark eyes unwavering.
"We are pleased that the Marine headquarters reported its own gathered information to us without unnecessary delay. You did well."
Kong's heart plummeted, sinking into his chest like a lead stone dropped into the deepest ocean trench.
This sensation did not stem from the rare, albeit condescending, praise offered by the highest authority in the world.
It came entirely from the chilling, bone-deep calm hiding behind Saint Saturn's words.
They… already knew?
Kong felt a cold sweat break out across his broad, scarred back beneath his impeccably pressed suit.
How could they possibly be this calm?!
One of the Four Emperors of the Sea, the supposedly invincible creature known as Kaido of the Beasts, had been completely annihilated!
The impregnable fortress of Wano Country, a nation that had successfully defied the World Government for centuries, had violently changed hands overnight!
The delicate, carefully maintained balance of the Three Great Powers—the very foundation of global stability—was currently shattering into a million irreparable pieces!
An unprecedented, terrifying new threat had just kicked down the gates of the New World, ready to shake the absolute foundations of the World Government's rule!
Yet, these five men were not surprised in the absolute least?
They sat there as if reading a slightly interesting footnote in a historical ledger.
"Then," Saint Saturn continued, utterly ignoring the storm of confusion brewing within the Commander-in-Chief.
His next words drove the Iron Blood marshal from a state of mere strategic unease straight into the realm of utter, maddening absurdity.
"The specific man mentioned so prominently in your urgent report. Suzaku Yareon, the acting Captain of the Suzaku Pirates…"
Saturn tapped his cane once against the marble floor, the sharp 'clack' echoing loudly in the silent room.
"…is that his true, full name? Have your intelligence divisions thoroughly confirmed that it contains no hidden 'D,' correct?"
"D"?
Kong's head snapped up violently, the sheer, unfiltered shock blazing brightly in his stern eyes.
His jaw tightened so hard his teeth threatened to crack under the immense pressure.
What in the world was this old monster saying?
Two of the mighty Yonko had essentially been defeated!
The seas were boiling with panic, the Marines were stretched dangerously thin, and billions of innocent citizens were terrified of the incoming global upheaval!
And the absolute supreme rulers of the entire world... their very first, most pressing reaction was to fuss over a single, solitary letter hidden in a pirate's name?!
A tidal wave of righteous fury and profound disbelief churned violently inside Kong's hardened chest.
His muscular arms twitched, the thick veins bulging against the dark fabric of his sleeves as his warrior instincts screamed at the sheer tactical incompetence of the question.
He wanted to shout. He wanted to slam his fists upon their ornate coffee table and demand immediate military mobilization.
He needed budgets for new warships, authorization for Buster Calls, and permission to draft millions of new recruits to stem the bleeding of the New World!
Yet, under Saint Saturn's fathomless, chilling stare, Kong felt an invisible, crushing weight press down upon his soul.
It was the terrifying, unspoken aura of the world's true masters.
Kong forcefully swallowed his pride, violently crushing every single shred of his boiling emotion.
He forced the requested answer through his tightly clenched teeth, his voice straining with the effort of a man holding up a collapsing mountain.
"Yes… yes, Saint Saturn."
He bowed his head just a fraction of an inch, his eyes locked onto the intricate patterns of the carpet to hide his simmering rage.
"All of our intelligence networks, including Marine deep-cover spies and Cipher Pol intercepts, confirm there is absolutely no 'D' in his name."
"Hm."
Saint Saturn nodded slowly, his white beard shifting against his dark suit.
He looked incredibly satisfied, as though the single most vital, world-ending question of the entire century had just been peacefully settled.
He leaned back into his sofa and said absolutely no more.
Now, another figure in the room shifted, signaling his turn to speak.
It was the Warrior God who stood out among the men in suits—a tall, bald, elderly swordsman wearing a loose, traditional white kimono.
He rested his hands gently upon the hilt of the cursed, legendary blade, the Shodai Kitetsu, which lay across his lap.
This was the Finance Warrior God, Ethanbaron V. Nusjuro.
He adjusted his round wire-rimmed glasses, his voice echoing with an equally dry, hoarse quality that sounded like grinding tombstones.
"We have reviewed and officially approve the Marine Headquarters' requested budget increase for this upcoming fiscal year."
He didn't look at Kong either, instead gently running a thumb over the polished scabbard of his cursed sword.
"The extra hundreds of billions of Berries will be transferred to Navy accounts by the end of the week. You… may leave now."
Nusjuro finally raised his eyes, fixing Kong with a dismissive, empty glare.
"We will handle the rest of this trivial matter internally."
Kong felt as though a massive, Haki-infused war-hammer had just slammed brutally into the center of his skull.
His vision literally swam for a brief second.
Budget?
Approved?
He stood frozen, his mind completely unable to process the sheer audacity of their dismissal.
That was not why he had rushed to Pangaea Castle!
He had not come here begging for a few extra Berries to build more standard battleships or pay the salaries of rear admirals!
He had come for high-level military orders!
He had come to formulate a grand strategy, to set the World Government's ultimate war machine into immediate, devastating motion!
He had come to defend Absolute Justice from a monster who could casually crush Emperors!
"Saint Saturn! Nusjuro Saint!"
The burning frustration reached a critical mass.
Kong could keep his silence no longer.
He took a heavy, aggressive step forward, the heel of his polished shoe thudding loudly against the floor as his booming voice echoed through the vast hall.
"I did not come here to haggle for money! I came to request permission to—"
"Enough."
A single, immensely authoritative voice instantly sliced through Kong's passionate outburst like a blazing sword through thin paper.
It was the Warrior God seated directly across from him, a man sporting an incredibly thick, sprawling mustache and a prominent birthmark upon his bald forehead.
This was the Justice Warrior God, Topman Warcury.
He did not even bother to open his eyes to address the Commander-in-Chief.
He remained lounging comfortably on his luxurious sofa, his posture relaxed, entirely unbothered by the military crisis unfolding thousands of miles away.
"Steel Bone Kong, you seem to have forgotten your place," Warcury spoke, his tone dripping with an ancient, terrifying arrogance.
He paused, letting the silence of the room amplify the sheer weight of his impending words.
"Remember this well, soldier: how the Marine acts, how the tides of the oceans shift, and how this entire world turns..."
Warcury finally, slowly opened his eyes.
Within those dark, cloudy depths flashed a cold, absolute light of supremacy that transcended mere political power.
It was the look of a god addressing a particularly noisy insect.
"…we decide."
The air in the Room of Authority instantly plummeted by twenty degrees.
"Leave."
"But—!"
Kong, driven by his lifelong dedication to the Navy's justice, stubbornly tried to protest one final time.
He opened his mouth, the words of warning about Suzaku's terrifying crew forming on his tongue.
Yet, the very instant that single syllable left his lips, five simultaneous gazes fell heavily upon him at once.
It was not mere killing intent.
It was not even the overwhelming pressure of Conqueror's Haki that he was so intimately familiar with from fighting legends like Gol D. Roger or Whitebeard.
These were five pure, icy stares originating from an entirely different, unfathomable dimension of existence.
It was a demonic, suffocating pressure that bypassed the physical body entirely and gripped the very core of his soul.
Under the combined weight of those terrifying eyes, Kong's throat seized up completely.
He felt the oxygen flee from his lungs.
He swallowed his urgent, desperate words back down into his chest, one painful syllable at a time.
A mixture of deep, humiliating bitterness and a burning, shameful pain filled his seasoned heart.
He was a legendary warrior, a man who had bled for the World Government for over half a century.
Yet here, in this room, he was absolutely nothing.
"…Understood."
He bowed his head deeply, the muscles in his thick neck straining as he forced the words of submission out through sheer, agonizing willpower.
Without looking back up, he turned around mechanically.
He began the long walk toward the towering mahogany doors at the far end of the room.
Every single step he took felt as though he were treading barefoot across a field of red-hot, burning iron.
His pride as a Marine was being systematically crushed beneath the heels of his own masters.
Only when he finally crossed the threshold, and the oppressive, massive doors of the Room of Power closed heavily behind him with a resounding 'thud', did Kong finally stop walking.
The heavy wood successfully severed the connection between the two entirely different worlds.
Standing alone in the vast, echoing hallway of Pangaea Castle, Kong slowly unclenched the massive fists he had held so incredibly tight the entire time.
His palms were slick with cold sweat, crescent-shaped indentations left by his own fingernails bleeding slightly.
He leaned heavily against the cold stone wall and let out a long, ragged breath.
In that single, shaking sigh was contained an old soldier's deep frustration and total helplessness before the face of absolute political power.
But above all else, there was a profound, creeping despair he had never, ever known in all his years on the battlefield.
Click.
The heavy mechanical locks of the grand doors sealed perfectly shut, completely hiding Kong's broad back, which was still quivering slightly with violently suppressed fury.
Back inside the Room of Authority, the suffocating atmosphere instantly dissolved, returning to its usual, relaxed quiet.
"Hmph."
A soft, almost entirely soundless sneer broke the stagnant silence.
The derisive sound came from the Finance Warrior God, Ethanbaron V. Nusjuro.
He pushed his round glasses slightly up the bridge of his nose, the faintest, most mocking curve touching his thin lips.
"Kong… he is still just as annoyingly hot-blooded as he was in his youth," Nusjuro remarked smoothly, his fingers resting lazily on the Shodai Kitetsu.
"He acts so profoundly concerned over shifting borders and pirate skirmishes. He only ever sees the small pieces scattered across the board, never the vast sky that dictates the game itself."
"Seeing only the pieces is the absolute limit of a mere 'soldier,'" said Justice Warrior God Topman Warcury.
He reached out, casually flicking a speck of nonexistent dust from the immaculate fabric of his dark trousers with perfectly manicured nails.
He didn't sound angry at Kong's outburst; he merely sounded bored by it.
"After all," Warcury continued, his tone carrying the casual cruelty inherent to the highest Celestial Dragons, "a dog's primary role is to bark loudly at strangers and bite when instructed. It is not their place to attempt to understand the complex thoughts of its master."
The brutal, demeaning words were cold, sharp, and cutting.
Yet, within the heavily guarded walls of this specific room, they felt perfectly, undisputedly natural.
To the Five Elders, the supreme commander of the World Government's entire global military apparatus was merely a convenient, easily replaceable tool.
Kong was just a loyal hound tasked with keeping the sheep in line.
"Still, regardless of his barking, the most crucial key point has been successfully confirmed," Scientific Defense Warrior God Saint Saturn said.
He finally drew his dark, empty gaze away from the heavily sealed door, looking back toward the empty, patterned carpet at the center of the room.
His voice returned to its chilling, inhuman calm.
"Suzaku Yareon… absolutely bears no 'D.' in his bloodline. That single fact completely removes the greatest, most unpredictable variable from this current equation."
"Indeed," Nusjuro agreed, nodding slowly.
The swordsman leaned back, the faint tension that had been subtly present in his shoulders finally vanishing completely.
"As long as this Suzaku is not one of those wretched ghosts who blindly inherit the cursed Will of 'D,' he poses no true, existential threat to the divine order."
Nusjuro's eyes glinted sharply behind his lenses.
"No matter how great the storm he currently raises in the New World, it remains merely a passing weather anomaly. A temporary storm."
He gripped his sword, his voice filled with absolute, unshakeable arrogance.
"Raw, overwhelming physical strength alone is nothing more than mere brute courage. It can shatter islands and topple false Emperors, yes. But it cannot, and never will, overturn the heavens themselves."
To the five immortal rulers of the world, this, and strictly only this, was the true heart of the matter.
The bloody death of Kaido?
The humiliating defeat of Red Hair?
The isolated fortress of Wano changing its ruling hands?
These were massive, earth-shattering events that would undoubtedly rock the course of mortal history for decades.
Yet, to the Gorosei, they meant significantly less than the presence of a single, capitalized letter in a man's surname.
They had lived far too long, seen far too many empires rise and inevitably turn to dust.
They knew perfectly well that the true enemy of the gods had never been the foolish, greedy Emperors desperately scrambling for petty territory, fame, and buried treasure.
The true, terrifying enemy was the ancient curse that had clung stubbornly to the shadows for eight hundred long years.
The inescapable destiny named "D."
Until that specific, hateful ghost appeared on the grand stage with the power to threaten them, everything else happening in the oceans below remained exactly what it had always been.
A simple, entertaining game to pass the centuries.
Since the boy named Suzaku did not carry the fatal initial, he was merely an exceptionally strong pirate.
A sharp, dangerous knife without a master.
And a knife, no matter how sharp, could always be manipulated by the hands of the gods.
Since he is not of the 'D,' his existence can be used.
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