Weeks after the announcement of the Yonko's. The world was shifting again.
The balance that had barely stabilized under the Four Emperors was now trembling beneath new schemes — not from the sea, but from the land above it.
The World Government had finally decided that waiting for the waves to calm would only drown them.
If they couldn't defeat the monsters that ruled the seas… they would create monsters of their own.
——————
The council chamber of Mary Geoise was colder than ever.
The Five Elders sat in solemn silence, the walls lined with files and bounty posters. In front of them, reports were stacked high — losses, casualties, and shattered fleets.
A single candle flickered as Fleet Admiral Sengoku stood before them, hands clasped behind his back, his jaw set in quiet anger.
One of the Elders, the bald one with the sword, spoke first.
"Sengoku, our patience has reached its limit. The Yonko have spread their control across two-thirds of the New World. Trade routes are collapsing. Marine casualties are rising every month."
Another Elder slammed his hand on the table. "And now even the nobles are afraid to travel by sea! We cannot allow these pirates to dictate the tides of history!"
Sengoku's gaze remained steady. "With respect, the Marines are already stretched thin. The Yonko command armies. We don't. If we move to open conflict, the cost will be—"
"Unacceptable?" interrupted the elder with glasses. "Everything about this era is unacceptable, Sengoku."
Silence.
Then, the oldest Elder spoke. His voice was calm — too calm.
"If we cannot fight the pirates directly… we shall control them indirectly."
Sengoku's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
The Elder steepled his fingers, eyes glinting. "We select seven powerful pirates. Not Yonko-level threats — but strong enough to frighten lesser seas. We grant them legitimacy. Government-sanctioned power in exchange for loyalty and cooperation."
Sengoku blinked, disbelief flickering across his normally composed face. "You mean… legalize pirates?"
A faint smile crossed the Elder's lips. "Use pirates, Fleet Admiral."
Another added, "We call them the Shichibukai — the Seven Warlords of the Sea."
Sengoku's hands tightened behind his back. "You'd have us make pacts with criminals. Murderers."
"And so are the Yonko," said the sword-bearing Elder, voice sharp as steel. "At least these ones will fight for us."
Tsuru, standing quietly beside Sengoku, finally spoke. "You realize what message this sends to the world? That justice can be bought?"
The Elder with glasses smirked faintly. "Justice has always been decided by those who can afford it."
Sengoku's jaw clenched, his silence a protest of its own.
But the decision was already made.
Days later, the World Economic Journal spread across the seas again — and with it, a new headline that would redefine the balance of the world.
"WORLD GOVERNMENT ANNOUNCES SEVEN WARLORDS OF THE SEA — LEGAL PIRATES TO RESTORE ORDER!"
Below it were the names and portraits of the first generation of government-sponsored pirates:
Gekko Moria, the "Lord of Shadows" — a grinning corpse of a man said to command the undead.
Sir Crocodile, a ruthless desert tyrant rising fast in the Grand Line.
Hanafuda, the "Kinf of Lizards," a calculating pirate known for his illusionary swordplay.
Four others — pirates of moderate fame, chosen not for power but for politics.
The article declared.
"To balance the growing might of the Four Emperors, the World Government introduces the Seven Warlords — pirates sanctioned to capture or destroy others in exchange for territory and pardon.
Their authority equals that of Marine Commanders, and their allegiance lies with justice itself."
The paper even displayed a neat diagram — Four Emperors on one side, Seven Warlords and the Navy on the other — the Government's dream of equilibrium.
But reality laughed louder than the ink.
——————
Far across the New World, aboard the Oro Jackson, that very newspaper now lay on the deck, fluttering in the ocean breeze.
Ada stood at the railing, silent. The moonlight cut across her face, tracing the faint smirk that curved at her lips.
Around her, her commanders gathered — Bullet, Mihawk, Fisher Tiger, Enel, and the rest of the Nyx Pirates.
Bullet spat into the sea. "So this is their big plan? Hire seven lapdogs to bark at us?"
Enel laughed sharply, lightning flickering around his shoulders. "The World Government really is desperate. Relying on pirates to fight pirates? That's divine comedy."
Mihawk, seated calmly with his sword resting across his knees, studied the portraits in the paper. His eyes paused briefly on Crocodile's name. "Hmph. Some of them have potential. Crocodile, perhaps. The rest…" he shrugged, "children playing war."
Fisher Tiger frowned. "Still, it's clever. They're trying to divide the seas — make us fight our own kind."
Ada turned toward them, her cloak stirring in the wind. "Let them try. A title won't make them strong."
Bullet's grin widened. "You think any of them are worth our time?"
Ada's smirk deepened. "No. They're rookies wearing crowns they didn't earn."
She picked up the newspaper, holding it between two fingers, and set it aflame with a flick of her thumb. The fire devoured the page, scattering ash into the wind.
"The Government's growing afraid," she said softly, her eyes reflecting the embers. "And fear makes fools of men."
The crew watched as the last of the flame vanished into the dark.
Mihawk finally spoke, his tone calm but analytical. "Even fools can be dangerous when desperate. If they can't reach us, they'll send others to provoke smaller seas. The Government doesn't need to win — it only needs chaos."
Ada's gaze drifted toward the horizon, where lightning danced faintly over distant waters. "Then we'll remind them what chaos really looks like."
——————
Meanwhile, in Marine Headquarters, the mood was deceptively triumphant.
New recruits cheered at the announcement of the Seven Warlords, believing balance had been restored. Reports flooded in. Smaller pirate crews surrendering at the sight of the new system, trade routes re-opening under Marine banners.
But those who truly understood the seas — like Sengoku and Tsuru — felt only unease.
"This will buy us time," Sengoku admitted, pouring tea into two cups. "But time isn't victory."
Tsuru nodded, her expression unreadable. "The seas don't respect titles. They respect strength. And Ada's the one who showed them that."
Sengoku sighed, his gaze shifting toward the map marked with the Four Emperors' territories. "If we're not careful, this era will devour everything — even justice itself."
—————-
Far from the world's politics, on a stormy night in the New World, Ada stood alone on the deck, watching the waves break against the hull.
The lightning illuminated her face — calm, composed, and faintly amused.
She could already feel the Government's next move before it happened. Their fear was predictable. Their pride, exhausting. They couldn't control the sea, so they'd try to chain it with names and systems.
She whispered to the storm, as if the world itself could hear her.
"You can dress wolves in uniform and call them dogs… but they'll still bite the hand that feeds them."
Her fingers brushed the hilt of her sword, her eyes glinting in the flash of lightning.
"Let them gather those seven warlords. It won't matter when one rises."
Behind her, Mihawk's quiet footsteps approached. "You seem amused."
Ada smiled faintly. "Because it's all so predictable."
Mihawk's eyes narrowed slightly. "You don't fear the Shichibukai, then."
"Fear?" she echoed, turning to him. "No. Pity, perhaps."
"Why?"
She looked toward the horizon — endless, dark, and beautiful. "Because they think they're free."
In the coming months, the Government paraded its Warlords across the seas — poster after poster, bounty after bounty, each one marked "PARDONED AND BOUNTIES FROZEN BY THE WORLD GOVERNMENT."
But the seas knew the truth.
The real power still belonged to those who didn't need permission to rule.
In the markets, whispers rose again.
"The Government's making pirates work for them now!"
"I heard one of those Warlords sank a Yonko ship!"
"You believe that? Those Emperors could erase them with a glance!"
"Still… maybe it means peace is coming?"
"Peace? Not while the Moon still rises in the New World."
——————-
Weeks later, Dragon received the news from one of his informants — the same newspaper Ada had burned.
He sat quietly in the shadows of his mountain base, scanning the headline, then closed it with a faint smile.
"Seven Warlords against four Emperors," he murmured. "The Government's trying to cage the storm."
He looked toward the window, the faint glimmer of the moon filtering through the clouds. "But they've already forgotten — storms don't obey kings."
His gaze softened. "And neither does she."
———————
Back aboard the Oro Jackson, Ada stood at the bow again, the night air sharp with salt. Her crew moved quietly behind her, sensing her mood but saying nothing.
The sea stretched endlessly — vast, indifferent, alive.
And Ada smiled, a small, dangerous smile.
"Let the Government play with its pawns," she said under her breath. "We're already rewriting the board."
The wind howled, carrying her words across the waves, and the moon above her glowed like a silver crown — cold, eternal, and untouchable.
The Age of Balance begins.
But beneath the surface, the tides still hunger for war.