After resolving Doflamingo's supply and distribution channel issues, Kane picked up his teacup and took a leisurely sip to soothe his throat.
Then, his gaze shifted past the pink feathered coat and landed on Crocodile, who was sporting a slicked-back hairstyle and had remained silent all along.
"Crocodile."
"...Hmm?"
Crocodile opened his eyes, rotated the cigar between his teeth halfway, and exhaled a wisp of smoke.
Without beating around the bush, Kane pulled open a drawer beneath his desk, retrieved an aerial view map of Punk Hazard, and spread it out on the desktop.
Large areas of sea and the edges of the island were circled in red on the blueprint, densely annotated with various engineering data.
"Your Sand-Sand Fruit can gather and accumulate large amounts of sand and stone from the seabed in a short time, right?"
Crocodile didn't respond, but his brow twitched slightly.
He vaguely sensed something ominous.
"G-5's original No. 5 port has too small a throughput." Kane's finger traced along the red line on the blueprint. "I need to reclaim land outward from the periphery, expand a deep-water port by fifty kilometers, and additionally excavate a three-story underground air defense military shelter covering one hundred thousand square meters."
"Under normal construction progress, it would take at least a year."
Kane looked up and offered a friendly smile.
"But if there's a Sand-Sand Fruit user who can directly extract sand and stone from the seabed for foundation filling and reinforcement, the construction period can be compressed to within three months."
Crocodile's cigar paused at his lips.
"You want me... to reclaim land?"
"Land reclamation, waterway dredging, foundation compaction." Kane counted on his fingers. "You alone can match three hundred construction teams. I've calculated it—the efficiency is quite remarkable."
"I am a Seven Warlord of the Sea." Crocodile's voice was flat. "Not a civil engineer."
"You are now."
"..."
Crocodile pulled the cigar from his mouth and crushed it forcefully in the ashtray.
He stared at Kane for a full three seconds, but there was no hint of joking on that young face.
"How long is the construction period?"
"Three months for the first phase; the second phase will be determined based on progress." Kane pulled a construction plan from the drawer and pushed it over. "Don't worry, it's not unpaid labor. During the reclamation period, your Annual Tribute will be reduced by five percent as a construction subsidy."
Five percent.
Crocodile did the math in his head.
Of his annual plundering income, thirty percent went to the government, twenty percent went to G-5 auditing fees, and now with a five percent reduction, his take would increase from fifty percent to fifty-five percent.
A mere five percent, and he, a future great pirate, was expected to go work on a construction site?
But then he looked at the expansion area marked on the blueprint—this scale of work, if done by ordinary construction teams, would cost billions of Berry in labor alone.
Kane was buying labor worth billions with a five percent reduction in Annual Tribute.
No matter how you calculated it, Kane was making a killing.
Crocodile lit another cigar and took a deep drag.
"I have a condition."
"During the reclamation period, I want access to G-5's New World waterway intelligence archives."
Kane raised an eyebrow. This guy had quite the ambition. Information on New World shipping routes was worth far more than gold to an ambitious man seeking to establish dominance on the seas.
"Files below C-level are free to view. For B-level and above, each costs ten million Berry."
"...Deal."
Crocodile bit down on his cigar and signed his name on the agreement. He rolled up the engineering blueprints, tucked them under his arm, and remained silent.
Doflamingo watched from the side, thoroughly amused. He was at least a channel sales representative, running around reselling weapons. This Sand Crocodile had directly become a construction site foreman.
Moria, sitting at the far end, finally couldn't hold back and let out an extremely unpleasant laugh: "Kishishishi... Mixing concrete! Land reclamation! Sand Crocodile, you're really living the high life as one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea!"
"Moria."
Kane's calm voice drifted over.
The laughter cut off abruptly. Moria's heavily made-up, deathly pale face froze mid-air.
"Your Shadow-Shadow Fruit allows you to insert shadows into corpses to create zombie soldiers, correct?"
Moria nodded, instinctively growing wary.
"Zombies don't need to eat, don't need to sleep, don't require salaries, won't go on strike, won't slack off, and can work around the clock without issue."
With each word Kane spoke, Moria's face grew paler, even though it was already pale enough.
"G-5's monthly material throughput is rapidly increasing. Seastone weapons, research equipment, military supplies—just loading, unloading, and transportation alone require a significant amount of manpower."
Kane patted the documents on the table.
"From today onward, all port loading/unloading, warehouse transportation, and logistics scheduling at G-5 will be fully handled by your Shadow Army."
Moria opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
Opened it again.
"You want my Zombie Army... to work as dock porters?"
"To be precise, an advanced automated logistics system," Kane corrected. "Doesn't that sound much more respectable?"
"Respectable my ass! My Zombie Army is meant for battle! You want them to move boxes?!"
Moria finally snapped.
"What's wrong with moving boxes?" Kane's expression turned cold. "Kaido is currently moving bricks day and night in my quarry, and your zombie horde doesn't even have a chance for revenge!"
"Rather than letting your zombies rot on your ship, they might as well shine and contribute here!"
"I..."
This critical blow left Moria utterly speechless.
"Of course, the door is open. You can leave anytime," Kane leaned back in his chair and said indifferently. "However, the three billion registration fee won't be refunded, your bounty will be reinstated, and Mihawk or Sakazuki will kindly escort you out."
"I... I'll sign!"
Moria snatched the agreement, closed his eyes, and signed his name.
Only after signing did he realize he'd been played again.
Satisfied, Kane neatly collected the three agreements into a folder, stood up, raised his teacup toward the three of them.
"Gentlemen, a pleasure doing business. Welcome to officially becoming G-5's external staff."
...
Ten minutes later.
Punk Hazard, port.
Three infamous overlords of the sea stood side by side at the edge of the dock.
The sea breeze whipped their clothes, also chilling their once world-dominating hearts.
No one spoke. The silence lasted a long time.
Finally, it was Doflamingo who broke the silence first, his voice dry.
"Fufufu... So, I'm an arms salesman."
Moria, looking utterly dejected, added,
"I'm a dockworker."
Crocodile exhaled a thick cloud of smoke, the haze swirling before his face.
"I'm a construction laborer."
The three exchanged glances, seeing the same confusion and humiliation mirrored in each other's eyes.
The air once again fell into a suffocating silence.
"This is nothing but a ruthless, black-hearted capitalist."
Crocodile turned and walked toward his ship, leaving behind a remark spoken through gritted teeth.
Meanwhile.
In the top-floor office of the main building's base, the moment Kane sat down, a series of mechanical prompts erupted in his mind!
[Ding! Host detected, misusing public resources for personal gain! Forcibly converting the strategic balancing force established by the World Government into free labor for a private military-industrial base!]
[Turning future overlords of the sea into foremen, salesmen, and dockworkers has severely deviated from the world's original trajectory, causing a major impact on the world order!]
[Comprehensive assessment complete...]
[Congratulations, host! Violation Value obtained: 500,000 points!]