—Real World—
The Sky Screen had a talent for producing moments that made Marine officers feel inadequate.
Rengoku Kyojuro was one of those moments. The image broadcast across the world showed him moving through a burning sea train carriage, blade wrapped in flame, cutting through something that had no business being on a passenger rail at all — and doing it with the particular quality of a person who has not for a single instant considered doing otherwise. The word justice on the cloak behind him was not a formality. You could see that. It was simply true.
Several officers in the observation room found sudden interest in their own hands.
"With that level of swordsmanship," Sakazuki said, his voice carrying the measured tone of a man choosing his words carefully around something that impressed him, "why is he only a Captain? Has he joined the ranks recently?"
It was a genuine question. The Marine intelligence apparatus began moving within minutes of Rengoku's appearance on the Sky Screen — quiet inquiries flowing out to branch bases across the seas, asking whether a yellow-haired swordsman of this description had recently enlisted, and if so, which posting, which sector, what record.
"I haven't seen a young Marine like this in a long time."
Garp was not laughing. That, in itself, was noticeable. The old Vice Admiral sat with his arms crossed, watching Rengoku clear another carriage and gather more survivors behind him, and what was on his face was something quieter than his usual bluster. Genuine satisfaction at a generation that might actually be worth something.
"The future of the Marine depends on people like him."
Sengoku did not share the warm feeling. He was watching the same image and experiencing something closer to anxious calculation. The sea train segment of the broadcast was compelling in all the wrong ways — it meant Beherit had spread far enough to reach a moving civilian vessel in open water, and the Marine had no asset closer than a Captain who happened to be on board. That was not a comfortable margin.
"The Marine has been careless again," he said, more to himself than the room. "Putting such a talent in that kind of danger without adequate support. The dark creatures he's facing — he can't fully understand what he's dealing with." He pressed two fingers to his temple. "And Beherit. The impact of Beherit is something I am still trying to calculate."
He was, at this particular moment, extremely tired.
The Marine's Chief of Intelligence had the specific posture of a man who has not slept adequately in several days but has done his job thoroughly anyway. He stood before the assembled senior staff with a compiled report and the expression of someone delivering news that is organized, sourced, and entirely unpleasant.
"In the past twenty-four hours, there have been more than five confirmed incidents involving dark creatures connected to Beherit activity. Ten black stones have been recovered directly — nine by force, one voluntary surrender. Casualties in each incident have been contained within a manageable range."
He continued. The first confirmed sighting had originated in East Blue — a fisherman had recovered one of the stones at sea. The Sky Screen had already broadcast the Beherit's mechanics by that point, and the fisherman had watched it and understood exactly what he was holding. He had sacrificed his elderly mother, who had lived with him for years, and obtained a substantial sum of money from the dark creatures that answered.
The patrol warship in the area responded immediately. The incident was resolved in half a day. The fisherman was no longer in a condition to receive the money.
"Pirates are the more persistent problem," the intelligence chief continued. "Several pirate groups who have acquired Beherit have no intention of surrendering it. They've begun treating it as an alternative to Devil Fruit acquisition — power accessible to anyone willing to pay a personal cost. The appeal is significant in our environment."
The logic was not difficult to follow. The sea ran on strength. Artificial Devil Fruits — blind-box gambles with uncertain results — were purchased regularly by people desperate for power. Beherit offered a guarantee. Pay the price, receive the power. In a world where most people had nothing to leverage, something you loved was often all the currency available.
"One pirate crew sacrificed every member aboard their own vessel." The intelligence chief delivered this without flinching. It was that kind of report. "The resulting creature required three warships to eliminate. The Beherit in their possession went down with the ship — location unknown, estimated to resurface."
He noted, for completeness, that two serving Marine officers had been found to be harboring black stones. Both were detected by colleagues before any sacrifice occurred. Both incidents were contained.
The room sat with this for a moment.
"If the Sky Screen hadn't broadcast Beherit to begin with," Sengoku said quietly, "the Marine wouldn't know to look. We'd be responding to isolated incidents without understanding the pattern. The scale of what we might have missed—" He stopped. "The Fleet Admiral is right. Large-scale recruitment must continue. This requires more manpower than we currently have in position, and a centralized system for managing the stones that are recovered."
He meant it. The word justice behind the cloak meant something, in rooms like this, on days like this. It had to mean something, or the alternative was unacceptable.
Kuzan leaned back in his chair, one arm draped over the back, and studied the intelligence chief with the particular laziness that people who knew him had stopped mistaking for inattention.
"The apostles encountered so far," he said. "What rank are they? Same level as the innkeeper?"
The mark from the innkeeper's skull had been broadcast on the Sky Screen for the world to see, and it was now firmly lodged in every senior Marine officer's memory — the symbol for 'one,' the lowest designation.
"All First Apostle rank, confirmed across every incident," the intelligence chief said. "No special abilities beyond physical attacks. The majority use tentacles. A small number have demonstrated the ability to partially transform their bodies into firearms. Standard warship gunnery suppresses them effectively as long as close-quarters engagement is avoided."
He paused, then added: "In one case, a Vice Admiral engaged directly using Armament and Observation Haki and eliminated the apostle at close range with no casualties. The approach works, but carries risk."
Kuzan nodded slowly, turning this over. First Apostle across all incidents. That was either fortunate or it wasn't yet — the question was whether the distribution stayed that way.
"Artoria Pendragon obtained the red Beherit."
Vice Admiral Tsuru's voice was quiet and precise. She was looking at the dozing figure of the knight girl two chairs down — Artoria had been awake since an hour before dawn and had finally lost the battle against her own exhaustion during the intelligence briefing, head drooping incrementally until it came to rest against her folded arms.
"She wouldn't use something like that," Tsuru continued. "Her character makes that clear. But there are things one must guard against regardless of character." She studied the sleeping future Fleet Admiral for a moment, her expression thoughtful. "I've been considering whether to expand the rotation of female Marine officers assigned in proximity to her. The transition ahead of us is too important to leave unguarded."
No one in the room disagreed.
On the Sky Screen, Rengoku Kyojuro cleared another carriage and told the survivors behind him not to be afraid.