Vergo felt his chest tighten. He'd been working quietly in G-5, blending into the background, when suddenly he was summoned—Base Commander, Vice Admiral Benn Ortoren himself wanted to see him in his office.
Truth be told, Vergo thought he'd kept his profile low since joining the Marines. He hadn't sought attention, hadn't shown off. His plan was to lay low for a few years, then slowly climb toward the mid-to-upper ranks once the timing was right.
So why had Ortoren noticed him already? He'd only been transferred from headquarters a couple of days ago. They hadn't even met before.
Still, though his nerves were fraying, Vergo didn't dare delay. He made his way straight to the commander's office.
Standing at the door, he drew in a deep breath, steadied himself, and knocked.
A moment later, Ortoren's voice sounded from within, and Vergo pushed the door open.
The office was empty of others. Ortoren sat sprawled back in his chair, legs propped up on the desk, a newspaper in his hands. He looked utterly at ease.
"Vice Admiral Benn, you sent for me?" Vergo spoke up first.
Ortoren didn't lower the paper, which covered his face, leaving Vergo unable to read his expression.
"Mm. Sit wherever. I'll finish this paper first," Ortoren said lazily.
With no choice, Vergo sat down on the sofa. His gut tightened further—what on earth was this man after?
Across from him, Ortoren quietly extended his Observation Haki, trying to pick up Vergo's thoughts.
He still hadn't mastered the ability. At best, he caught faint, disjointed impressions: Vergo's unease, his nervous calculations about how to handle the situation. But anything deeper—like secrets of the Donquixote Family—remained silent.
"You haven't been with the Marines long, have you?" Ortoren asked suddenly.
Vergo's reply was immediate. "That's right. I only joined recently. I was stationed in the North Blue at first, then transferred to Headquarters. Just a few days ago, I was reassigned here to G-5."
"I see…" Ortoren folded the paper, set it on the desk, and leaned forward with a smile. "So tell me—what made you join the Marines? Was Doflamingo not treating you well enough?"
The name hit Vergo like a thunderclap. His whole body stiffened. He shot to his feet, staring wide-eyed at Ortoren.
He didn't bother to deny it. Ortoren had said Doflamingo's name outright. That alone carried too much weight. To argue or protest would only make him look pathetic.
"Why the shock? Did your Donquixote Family really think slipping someone into the Marines would be that easy?" Ortoren asked, tilting his head in feigned puzzlement.
Vergo exhaled slowly, his voice low. "It seems we truly underestimated the Marines' intelligence and self-scrutiny."
Inwardly, he felt the walls closing in. His strength and talent were nothing compared to this man. Ortoren's record spoke for itself—Red Count, Golden Lion, the Pirate King… one legendary pirate after another had fallen before him. Just thinking of it was enough to chill the blood.
"Sit, sit. No need to be so nervous," Ortoren said with a casual wave of his hand, still smiling.
Vergo hesitated, then slowly sat again. Something was off. Normally, once his cover was blown, Ortoren should have already had him restrained and interrogated. Why waste words on a pawn like him?
"As for your identity," Ortoren continued, "for now, I'm the only one in the Marines who knows. Don't trouble yourself over how I found out. What matters is this: right now, I happen to have a use for your young master. G-5 is rebuilding, as you know. The way we operate requires an underworld distributor to move our spoils. Your Donquixote Family fits perfectly. I hear you're already pushing into piracy and looking toward the New World. Once you leave here, reach out to your young master. Ask if he's willing to work with me. That won't be a problem, will it?"
Ortoren lit a cigarette and spoke lightly.
His tone was gentle, but to Vergo, it was terrifying.
"Understood. No problem." Vergo nodded at once.
"Well, that's all I needed to say. If your young master agrees to work with me, you'll stay by my side afterward as my assistant." Ortoren waved him off, signaling he could go.
Vergo swallowed, backing toward the door. His hand gripped the knob, but after a moment's hesitation, he turned back. "Vice Admiral Benn… aren't you worried I'll just leave here and flee G-5?"
"What's there to be afraid of?" Ortoren's lips curled into a grin, sharp and just a bit menacing. "Right now, I have no quarrel with Doflamingo—if anything, there's potential for cooperation. But if you give me your word here and then run, that's making a fool of me. Mocking me, Ortoren, as if I were some honest pushover… That would make us enemies. And when that happens, don't blame me for showing your Donquixote Family no mercy."
To Ortoren, Vergo was just one man. If he ran, so be it—no real loss. But if he dared run after agreeing, that would be an insult. And Ortoren would make sure Doflamingo learned exactly what integrity meant.
Vergo stiffened. So this was the confidence of the strong—so certain the Donquixote Family wouldn't dare oppose him. Thinking it through, his young master really wasn't this man's match. If they angered him, the New World would be closed off forever. They'd be stuck hiding in the North Blue, or else serve themselves up to him on a silver platter.
"I'll convey your wishes exactly as you said, Vice Admiral Benn." Vergo bowed slightly, then turned and left the office.
Once he was gone, Ortoren turned back to the data sheets from headquarters.
They were quarterly intelligence reports from across the seas, and the numbers were grim. Battles at Marine bases had spiked, pirate numbers had swelled, and casualties were mounting at alarming rates.
Worse still, the trend was clear—escalating in sequence. First the Four Seas, then the first half of the Grand Line, and now the surge was pressing into the New World. More and more pirates, hardened by brutal eliminations, were converging on the ultimate battlefield.
"The tide of this era… it really is terrifying," Ortoren muttered.
...
At the Holy Land, Mary Geoise.
On the top floor of Pangaea Castle, in the office of the Five Elders, Fleet Admiral Kong stood in tense discussion with them.
"Honored Elders, to speak plainly, the policy outlined in this document could bring severe… negative consequences for the Marines." Sweat beaded at Kong's temples. The pressure weighed heavily on him.
"The document explains clearly—it is only a temporary measure. Once the Marines can stabilize the situation, this policy will naturally be abolished," said Saint Saturn, his eyes hard.
Before Kong could respond, Saint Warcury spoke coldly. "And this is already our decision. We're not here to negotiate with you. We're informing you in advance so you can adjust your mindset and prepare the Marines to cooperate fully in implementing it."
Kong's mouth opened as if to speak, but the unyielding gazes of the Five Elders silenced him. After a long pause, he sighed and swallowed his protest. "...Understood."
He knew the truth—once these five had decided, nothing he said could change it. To press further would only spark greater conflict and burden the Marines with needless trouble.
Even as Fleet Admiral, he could do nothing but endure.
Leaving the chamber, Kong looked down at the papers in his hand. He shook his head with a weary sigh.
"A lifetime in the Marines… and now, my reputation may be ruined in an instant."
The document's title read: The Shichibukai Plan.
...
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