Chapter 569: Imu's Decision
Somewhere in the skies of the world, a massive floating warship drifted in silence.
"What? That man Brett has appeared?"
Saint Mars's startled voice echoed through the open space.
The Den Den Mushi in his hand carried a voice on the verge of panic. "Y-yes, my lord — he's come straight for the forces we assembled! He's trying to recruit them over to his side! And — and —"
The voice descended into despair. "He didn't come alone! He has an enormous flying vessel with him, and its firepower is unbelievable! A few casual shots and the entire sea around us started boiling!"
Silence.
Saint Mars's expression darkened as he lowered the Den Den Mushi.
He looked up to meet the equally grave eyes of his colleagues.
"Interesting."
Before they could exchange a word, a voice cut through the quiet — carrying a note of genuine amusement. A tall, slender figure drifted in like a ghost. The ruler who had governed the world for eight hundred years smiled and said, "A flying vessel in the sky? Is that Hades? Has Brett actually remodeled Hades?"
Hades?
The Hades that Fish-Man Island built?
The Five Elders' expressions shifted at once.
It was already finished?
That meant the enemy now had four ancient weapons in their hands. Even if Poseidon wouldn't be much use in a direct decisive battle, two Hades-class weapons alongside one Poseidon was already a terrifying combination.
It was hard for the Five Elders to keep the alarm off their faces.
"Imu-sama."
All five of them dropped to one knee before Imu immediately. Saint Mars spoke with urgent intensity. "Could this be an opportunity? Brett has appeared alone, with only Hades?"
"Has he?"
Imu shook his head gently. "Last time it was also Brett and Hades — and we still couldn't do anything to him, could we?"
The Five Elders fell silent.
That was true. Last time, Hades couldn't even fly — it was just a ship confined to the ocean surface — and they still hadn't been able to catch Brett. This time would be even worse.
"And Brett's movements show no fear whatsoever." Saint Nusjuro said with a bitter smile. "Besides — is this really an opportunity? What if Brett is using himself as bait to draw us out?"
His voice came out strained. "With the new Hades complete, aren't we the ones at a disadvantage now?"
The Five Elders exchanged looks, faces tightening.
Right. Setting aside the impossibility of catching Brett — what if what waited for them on the other end wasn't an opening at all, but a net?
"In fact, that possibility is the more likely one." Imu said lightly, still smiling. "Really — he's not even trying to disguise it. The word 'trap' is practically written across the whole thing."
"Then, Imu-sama — do we simply pretend we didn't see it?"
Saint Mars's expression grew more pained.
They had worked hard to gather those forces, and now they were about to be wiped out in moments. Those fighters couldn't do much in a battle between ancient weapons, but they were still valuable power all the same.
"Continuing to wait will only make our situation harder." Imu said quietly. "By the time Poseidon finishes maturing, our odds of winning will only be lower."
"But Imu-sama —"
Saint Nusjuro gathered his nerve and raised his head. "If we act now —"
That's exactly what Brett wants.
But then again — refusing to act now meant being slowly cooked alive while doing nothing. As Poseidon continued to develop, the gap in their combat strength would reach its widest point. Could they really stay hidden for decades on end, waiting for Poseidon to age and weaken again?
The Five Elders had very little confidence in that.
"Right now is the moment where a direct confrontation gives us the best chance of winning." Imu said, his tone completely even. "The further we push this, the lower our odds become."
He shook his head slightly, as though the situation itself was mildly tiresome. "Honestly. Brett has backed us completely into a corner."
The Five Elders sat with their lips pressed tight.
How long had it even been?
They had once ruled the world like gods standing above all things. And they had been reduced to this.
"Then, Imu-sama — your intention is —"
Saint Ju Peter spoke with some difficulty. "We are going to keep our appointment with Brett?"
"Of course."
Imu gave a slight nod, then smiled again. "But going in exactly as he expects would be far too reckless."
Brett was almost certainly using himself as bait. But that bait was far too tempting — the smell of it was simply impossible to resist.
That said, biting down on it directly would only give the fisherman exactly what he wanted.
"For now, we go. We'll figure out the details from there."
"...Yes."
This feels extremely unreliable.
Back at the abandoned Navy base, slightly earlier.
Brett had of course heard the CP0 agents scrambling to hide and relay their panicked report to the World Government somewhere out of his sight. He gave no reaction to it at all.
That was the entire point.
Even if Imu saw through enough of it to think — why would someone like Brett fail to notice the CP0 agents moving, there must be a scheme — that didn't matter either. Nothing about this needed to be perfectly concealed.
Imu understood clearly: the longer this dragged on, the worse his position became. If he wanted any chance of winning, he had to move fast.
There was a strong chance that man would actually come. Brett was certain of it.
But before that happened, how was he supposed to stall for time here?
Brett found himself mildly troubled.
Because —
"I DON'T CARE ABOUT ANY OF THAT!!"
The enormous robot vaulted into the air, wild laughter ringing out, and a massive fist came crashing down from above.
"He's insane! This man is completely insane!" Pizarro was practically shrieking. "How does he dare?!"
How does he dare attack Brett?
There was a weapon of absolute destruction circling directly overhead.
This man was out of his mind.
Which was precisely Brett's problem.
Bullet was an absolute lunatic.
Would it really have been so hard to just stand there, trade words, and help run out the clock?
Brett sighed and raised his right hand. An invisible force coiled around his palm.
Thud.
A sound like a balloon popping. Small, almost trivial.
Except that it was quite literally a balloon popping.
Bullet's giant right arm swelled like an overinflated balloon and then exploded into fragments.
"What?!"
Inside the robot, blood was already running from Bullet's mouth.
The next instant, a hand reached through the inner wall of the robot directly in front of him, closed around his head, and pulled.