Three days passed quickly.
Early morning.
Thirty nautical miles south of Punk Hazard, an extremely luxurious fleet cut through the morning mist, appearing on the horizon.
Leading the way was a massive gilded sailing ship, its bow carved with the cross emblem representing the absolute authority of the World Government, reflecting a blinding glare under the sunlight.
On either side of the sailing ship, two heavy warships of the World Government provided escort, their decks densely packed with CP agents clad in black suits.
Kane stood atop the hundred-meter-high wall of the G-5 Branch, his Observation Haki silently spreading out.
There were two auras within the escort fleet that made him pause for half a second.
Not weak.
Elite CP0 agents, with strength roughly at the Vice Admiral level. In normal circumstances, they would be considered experts, but in this den of monsters that was G-5, they were just average.
"They're here."
Kuzan walked over to Kane's side, lazily chewing on an ice pop, and cast a casual glance at the glittering golden ship on the sea.
"Ara ara... so dazzling."
"How scary~" Borsalino sauntered over from the other side, even holding a small colorful flag that read "Warm Welcome" in a perfunctory manner. "I heard it's Saint Roswald who's coming this time. He's notoriously difficult to please~"
Sakazuki stood behind the three of them, lowering the brim of his Marine cap, arms crossed over his chest, not saying a word.
"Let's go." Kane was the first to leap down from the wall.
The four of them lined up at the port to wait.
Behind them, hundreds of Marine officers from the G-5 Branch were arranged in order of rank.
The air was thick with a suppressed restlessness.
These veterans, accustomed to fighting in the New World, now wore grim expressions, veins throbbing faintly on their foreheads.
Because they knew what was about to happen.
A Celestial Dragon's arrival.
All officers below the rank of Rear Admiral must kneel and bow.
"Fuck," a scar-faced captain at the back of the formation muttered under his breath.
A comrade beside him nudged him with an elbow.
"Endure it."
With a heavy anchor-drop sound, the golden sailing ship slowly docked.
A massive gilded gangplank slammed down.
Two rows of CP0 agents, dressed in black suits and wearing white masks, disembarked first, standing rigidly on either side of the gangplank in perfect unison, forming a human corridor.
Immediately after, a bloated figure clad in a white protective suit descended unsteadily from the gangplank with an arrogant, waddling gait.
Saint Roswald.
Even through the bubble helmet, his face, distorted by layers of fat, was visible. A string of snot stretched from his left nostril, swaying back and forth inside the helmet, reaching peak levels of disgust.
Kane's stomach churned.
"Kneel! The descendant of the creators, Saint Roswald, has arrived!"
A leading CP0 officer stepped forward, coldly announcing to all the Marines present.
With that one sentence.
The faces of tens of thousands of G-5 Marines lined up at the port instantly flushed red, expressions of humiliation spreading across each resolute face.
But military orders were absolute, and the rules were clear.
"Clack—"
Knees collided with the bluestone dock in a continuous, dense series of "clacks," spreading from the front ranks all the way to the back. Officers and soldiers below the rank of Rear Admiral all knelt on one knee.
At the forefront of the formation.
Sakazuki lowered the brim of his Navy cap, shadows covering most of his face, only the lips holding a cigar twitching slightly.
Kuzan had his hands in his pockets, head bowed, exhaled cold air crystallizing into ice in mid-air.
Borsalino pursed his lips, unusually refraining from his usual irritating tone.
Admirals did not need to kneel, but they still had to bow their heads in respect.
Kane stood at the very center, using an appraising gaze as if evaluating goods, watching the bloated figure descending from the ship's gangway.
"So you're the Admiral who came up with that Seven Warlords of the Sea system, Kane?"
Saint Roswald sniffled, walking up to Kane and looking him up and down through the bubble helmet.
"Welcome, Saint Roswald. I am G-5 Base Commander, Kane." Kane straightened up, a textbook-perfect smile spreading across his face. "We have prepared the highest standard VIP suite for you. Please follow me."
"Suite? Not in a hurry!"
Saint Roswald waved his hand arrogantly.
"I heard you keep the most vicious pirates on the sea, working like dogs in this base?"
"Take me to see! I want to see how those lowly Pirate Hounds slave away for the World Government!"
At the word "slave," the air around Sakazuki twisted violently.
But Kane calmly stepped forward half a step, precisely blocking the killing intent emanating from Akainu. The smile at the corner of his mouth grew even warmer.
"As you wish, sir. Please follow me."
...
Half an hour later, at the southern side of Punk Hazard, the "G-5 Land Reclamation Phase One Project" site.
The sun blazed overhead.
Along the massive coastline, a scene of bustling construction was in full swing.
"Hah!"
With a low roar, a zombie as large as a small mountain carried dozens of tons of alloy steel bars on its shoulder, staggering toward the designated location.
Behind the zombie, Gecko Moria sat under a parasol, sweating profusely as he manipulated shadows, muttering complaints about the workload.
And further out on the sea.
Yellow sand filled the sky!
Crocodile, biting a cigar, pressed both hands against the beach.
The terrifying power of the Sand-Sand Fruit was unleashed wildly, grinding the seabed's reefs into dust, then transforming it into solid sand and stone foundations, forcibly wresting hundreds of acres of flat land from the sea!
Crocodile's white shirt was long soaked with sweat, but he dared not stop—because if he didn't meet today's quota, that devil named Kane would deduct his Tribute Share!
"Incredible! This is amazing!"
Standing on the safe observation platform, Saint Roswald watched the scene, so excited he even stopped sniffling, clapping his hands loudly.
Saint Roswald turned to Kane, his eyes filled with greed. "Admiral Kane, you're a genius! This is much more interesting than riding those pirate captains on Sabaody Archipelago!"
At this point, the Celestial Dragon's train of thought suddenly connected to an utterly insane idea.
He pushed aside the CP0 guards beside him and pointed at Crocodile, who was frantically reclaiming land below.
"Hurry! Bring that man up here! Make him lie flat on the ground!"
"This Saint shall ride one of the renowned Seven Warlords of the Sea right here in G-5!"
As soon as these words were spoken.
The entire area fell deathly silent.
Below, Moria, who had been working, suddenly froze, his enormous eyes nearly bulging out of his head.
Meanwhile, Crocodile, who had been immersed in his "civil engineering" work, slowly turned his head.
The cigar in Crocodile's mouth snapped with a sharp crack, scattering embers across the sand.
An icy, bone-chilling aura of murderous intent—mixed with extreme humiliation and fury—erupted from him, surging straight toward the high platform!
Crocodile could endure humiliation and laboriously reclaim land for his ambitions, but he was still a top-tier powerhouse with his own dignity!
Ride him?!
Even if he died here today, he would absolutely drain that scum in the bubble helmet into a dried-up corpse!