At the same time — Fleet Admiral's Office
The door opened without a sound.
Gern Reginald Sigmar stepped inside, his coat of justice loosely draped over one forearm.
The office was brightly lit. Beyond the wide windows stretched the orderly, bustling naval port of New Marineford—warships moving in disciplined formation, personnel flowing like clockwork across the docks.
Inside, Tesoro stood before the large desk, speaking in a low voice with Sengoku, who was seated in the Fleet Admiral's chair. A thick stack of documents rested in Tesoro's hands—it was clear they were in the middle of a report or handover.
At the sound of the door, both men looked up.
Tesoro reacted instantly.
He snapped to attention, back straight as steel, and delivered a crisp Marine salute toward Gern.
"Fleet Admiral Gern!"
"Mm." Gern waved a hand casually, dismissing the formality.
He made no move toward the main desk.
Instead, he walked straight over to the wide leather sofa at the side of the room and dropped into it with visible fatigue. He leaned back heavily, half-sprawled into the cushions, letting out a long breath—completely abandoning any semblance of decorum.
Sengoku, still seated at the desk, raised an eyebrow at the sight of Gern's utterly unrefined posture.
He didn't bring up official business immediately.
Instead, he set down his documents, lifted his teacup, took a slow sip—
and then, without any politeness whatsoever, spoke bluntly:
"Gern, you little brat."
"You didn't… happen to know from the very beginning that that old bastard Garp would be left behind on Hachinosu, did you?"
The question was direct.
Blunt.
Gern clicked his tongue and spread his hands in mock innocence.
"Hey now, you can't just throw around accusations like that, my dear former Fleet Admiral."
"I didn't expect that either!"
"With Vice Admiral Garp's monstrous strength, even if he couldn't win, he should've been able to escape, right?"
"Who could've predicted he'd be forcibly held there? Blackbeard wasn't even present at the time."
He tilted his head lazily.
"On that pirate nest of an island… aside from Kuzan, is there really anyone capable of keeping him pinned down?"
With that, he sank even deeper into the sofa, letting out a performative sigh—before abruptly shifting into a tone of feigned responsibility.
"If it really comes down to it… how about I recall Sakazuki from the first half of the Grand Line?"
"Have him wipe out the Blackbeard Pirates once and for all. Clean and simple."
The suggestion carried a sharp, murderous edge—
but recalling Akainu was no small matter.
"…Forget it."
Sengoku frowned, setting down his teacup as he shook his head. In front of him lay intelligence reports—among them, Blackbeard's recent clash with Trafalgar Law.
"To be honest, given the current situation, the Blackbeard Pirates aren't easy to deal with."
"Marshall D. Teach may be arrogant, but he's far more calculating than he lets on."
"He holds two Devil Fruit powers—especially that Dark-Dark Fruit with its bizarre properties…"
"For fighters like us who rely on abilities or Haki, it's a massive problem."
He paused, as if reconsidering his own wording, then added:
"Of course, he's not invincible."
"But… he's extremely cautious. Without absolute certainty or overwhelming gain, he won't expose himself or fight us head-on to the bitter end."
"If we go to full-scale war with him now, even if we win, the cost would be unbearable—and other forces would swoop in to reap the benefits."
"A cautious man…" Gern nodded slightly in agreement.
No one understood better than he did just how troublesome the Dark-Dark Fruit truly was.
That near law-like ability to nullify powers—
in top-tier battles, it was practically cheating.
You could fight Blackbeard.
But there was no such thing as a clean victory.
One misstep—and you could fall into the gutter.
That man was like a venomous snake lurking in the shadows.
The moment he struck—
it was trouble.
And more importantly—
Blackbeard was never a fair opponent.
Never someone you could face in a straightforward duel.
"Let's set Garp aside for now." Sengoku shifted the topic, his expression turning serious as he leaned forward slightly, fixing his gaze on Gern.
"Your recent expedition… the scale of it was enormous."
"Kaido and Big Mom—both defeated."
"The Red-Hair Pirates—wiped out."
"And the Revolutionary Army… need I say more? Even their leader has been captured."
He paused briefly before continuing:
"Leaving the Revolutionaries aside, let's talk about the 'inheritance' of the other three Emperors…"
He raised his fingers, listing them one by one:
"Kaido's territory—Wano and its surrounding waters—we've already fully taken control."
"The Big Mom Pirates, after losing Linlin, have abandoned everything outside Totto Land's core. They've retreated completely, licking their wounds."
"As for Red-Hair's territory—it was always more scattered, held together by his reputation and personal influence. Now leaderless… it's relatively easy for us to take over."
Sengoku's gaze sharpened.
He asked the question that truly mattered:
"With the situation as it is now, the Marines' influence in the New World has reached an unprecedented height."
"So—"
"What's your next move?"
Gern leaned back further, practically lying across the sofa now. He raised a hand and rubbed his temples, saying nothing at first.
As if processing his fatigue.
Or organizing his thoughts.
"…Next move, huh?"
A few seconds passed before he finally spoke.
"The next step is obvious…"
"…we stabilize what we've taken."
He lowered his hand, his gaze shifting toward Sengoku and Tesoro.
"Territory means nothing if we can't digest it."
"Wano needs time—for integration and restructuring."
"The islands we've taken from Kaido and Big Mom need proper governance—administration, garrisons, taxation systems."
"As for Red-Hair's former territories—we need to pacify them, filter out unstable elements, and secure loyalty."
"All of that requires manpower. Resources. Time."
He drew out his next words slowly.
"So…"
"We're going to ride the tide."
"…Borrow the momentum of the era."
"Borrow the tide?" Sengoku and Tesoro both focused intently.
Gern's lips curled slightly.
He straightened up, his gaze sweeping across the two of them.
"That's right."
"What I'm going to do is…"
"…call a World Conference."
"Not just the one limited to the World Government's affiliated nations."
His voice deepened.
"But a gathering of all nations and regions—"
"that choose to align with the Marines…"
"and accept Marine order and protection."
"…Every single one of them will attend."
"—!!!"
The words landed like a thunderclap.
Sengoku and Tesoro both froze.
Shock was written plainly across their faces.
Sengoku's teacup hovered midair, the liquid inside trembling.
Tesoro's pupils shrank, his breath catching for a moment.
The World Conference.
The highest political assembly through which the World Government had maintained its authority for eight hundred years—
a symbol of its legitimacy as the only recognized global power.
Only kings and top representatives of affiliated nations were permitted to attend.
And now—
Gern intended to convene a gathering under the same name—
on behalf of the Marines—
summoning all forces aligned with them?
This wasn't merely about "stabilizing territory."
This was the construction of an entirely new political framework—
one that would stand in opposition to the existing World Government system…
or even seek to replace it outright.
This was a declaration to the entire world:
The Marines were no longer just a military force.
They were becoming—
the architects of a new order.
It wasn't just undermining the foundation of the World Government—
it was digging at its roots…
far deeper than mere military independence ever could.
The ambition—
was staggering.
So vast—
that even Sengoku, who had weathered countless storms,
and Tesoro, a master of calculation—
were left speechless, utterly shaken by the sheer magnitude of it.