"Have you heard, old man Garp," Carl murmured, his sharp eyes fixated on the Marine warship anchored below the clouds.
Standing among the gathering, three figures stood out—'Heavenly Yaksha' Donquixote Doflamingo, the serpent-empress 'Pirate Empress' Boa Hancock, and the world's strongest swordsman, 'Hawk-Eye' Dracule Mihawk. Each once held the prestigious title of Shichibukai, but now, in the wake of the Reverie's decision to abolish the system, they were all considered outlaws again.
Carl's distaste wasn't just rooted in Zephyr's tragedy. His disdain toward pirates ran deep—he looked down on them all.
'Blackbeard' Marshall D. Teach, who had brazenly invaded Impel Down, liberated Level 6 inmates, and challenged the Marineford battlefield, had now officially replaced Whitebeard as one of the new Four Emperors. But even he had been removed from this internal dossier.
Carl arched a brow and casually flipped open the document, easing himself back onto the leather sofa in the cabin.
Squeak.
The door creaked as it closed behind him. The report in his hand detailed the fate of "Knight of the Sea" Jinbei—who had refused the World Government's mandatory conscription at the Summit War, was imprisoned in Impel Down, then escaped alongside Luffy's alliance. Now his name had also been stricken from Marine records.
"So… why call me in for something like this?" Carl blinked lazily, exhaling smoke from his cigar.
His gaze drifted to Garp, standing silently on the deck far below. Then, shrugging off the tension, Carl leaned back on the reclining chair under the open sky.
"Let's go, then," Garp muttered and sat heavily onto the deck, arms crossed, making no effort to resist.
Wherever he sat, Garp remained Garp.
Only Sakazuki—Fleet Admiral Akainu—stood with clenched fists and a scowl, his sharp eyes never leaving Garp's back as he trailed behind Carl.
Some people… even in their supposed retirement, managed to stir things up more than any active Admiral. Carl had to admit it: Garp might've been the original model Marine.
A faint red glow flickered within Carl's pupils. "Since all Admiral candidates have been summoned… it must be something troublesome."
For mundane matters, they would never be mobilized.
But now that a storm was brewing, even the Iron Fist wouldn't be allowed to roam the world freely anymore.
New World – Marine Headquarters (former G-1 Base)
"Yes, sir!" the Marine officer saluted crisply, spinning on his heel to carry out the next order.
Carl had barely taken a seat when Akainu's voice, harsh and unmistakable, echoed across the room.
He recognized the name flashing across the paper—Edward Weevil, the self-proclaimed son of Whitebeard. A lunatic with brute strength that even Kizaru had admitted rivaled the old Whitebeard in his prime.
There was a rare softness in Carl's face as he exhaled a puff of smoke. "Of course the old man remembers who he is. But I'm not just Vice Admiral Solomon Carl… I'm also Garp's legacy."
Everyone knew Carl was destined to become an Admiral.
'Tyrant' Bartholomew Kuma, once a Shichibukai and revolutionary, had gone completely silent after the events at Sabaody Archipelago. Reduced to a passive Pacifista drone post-reprogramming, even his name had been stripped from the living.
Carl's memory flashed to that moment—receiving the Straw Hat Crew from Kuma after Sabaody's collapse, standing beside Garp and watching history unfold. His expression darkened.
In a flash, his pupils contracted.
"That's right~ Carl does have that kind of ability," Kizaru said lazily from across the table, his tone as unreadable as always. "And it just so happens, he's the perfect one to lay the path forward."
Carl's fingers flicked through the document again. This wasn't just about fugitives—it was about the Shichibukai system's official disbandment.
Even someone like Kizaru, a man who treated warfare like a pastime, was part of the discussion.
In theory, with all three Admirals—Akainu, Kizaru, and Green Bull—still present, there should've been no need to summon a candidate like Carl to headquarters.
If he'd just stayed lounging on the deck, maybe the old man wouldn't have stirred things up again.
"That's right," Carl muttered, lazily crossing one leg over the other. "They won't even tell me what this is about, and yet I'm called back for a top-level meeting?"
That's why, despite there being "three Admirals," only two were really active.
Carl's eyes glinted crimson again as he scanned the list further. "Candidate Trafalgar D. Water Law, 'Joker' Buggy, and… Edward Weevil?"
He nearly scoffed aloud.
"Father… Brother Issho, it's been a long time," Carl sighed as he sank back deeper into the plush sofa.
The undercurrents weren't lost on him. This wasn't just about ranks or positions. It was about Zephyr.
Carl's heart twisted at the memory, though his expression stayed impassive.
It wasn't about protecting Marine's face anymore.
But more importantly, there was that man's connection to Zephyr-sensei…
"Cough…" Sengoku cleared his throat, turning to the rear deck officer. "Prepare the ships. We follow behind the 'Oak Dragon'," he ordered, referencing Carl's ship, a vessel now infamous even in Marine circles.
Even with the Admiral trio officially named, Ryokugyu (Green Bull) remained stationed at Mariejois, under the Celestial Dragons' shadow.
"Garp! Do you even realize what you've done?!" Akainu bellowed across the table, fists trembling. "Do you remember what side you're on?!"
Truly…
"Well~ three Admirals, but looks like we only have two who actually show up~" Kizaru commented dryly, inspecting his fingernails with mock concern.
"Cough… we'll take our leave," Sengoku said awkwardly, pulling Garp by the collar as the two old men exited the conference hall.
The last time Carl had been summoned like this… was during the battle for the Fleet Admiral's position, when Akainu and Aokiji nearly split the world in two on Punk Hazard.
But this was different. It involved Garp—the Marine Hero.
That was why the elders in Mariejois had demanded a presence equal to Garp's fury—so they sent Carl as a direct counterweight, hoping his future Admiral prestige would calm the waves.
"Ah, I figured," Carl muttered, his cigar burning low. "So why is this guy even on the shortlist?" He tapped the name with the back of his fingernail.
Even with all the paperwork in front of him, the chaos ahead would require far more than reports and meetings to resolve.
Sengoku, standing to the side, smacked his lips helplessly. He knew it—Sakazuki was absolutely going to explode.
"Your Excellency Carl," Fujitora nodded slightly in greeting.
With his current strength and achievements, Carl clearly operated on an Admiral-level—both in power and in the scope of his authority. His daily workload was demanding (and thankless), akin to those of official Admirals.
And now, on top of it all, came another headache—the reinstatement of the Shichibukai system.
The old men in Mariejois had been terrified since the Summit War. The chaos of the Paramount War shook their confidence, and the Seven Warlords, who were meant to stabilize the seas, had become ticking time bombs.
Carl took a slow drag from his cigar, then asked calmly, "So, Marshal Sakazuki—what exactly did you summon me for?"
Though considered an Admiral in all but name, Carl rarely performed the same routine duties. His stationing and field deployments were highly flexible.
"…This person is…" Carl frowned, as he looked toward the stranger standing silently nearby.
On the deck of the Oak Dragon, Carl gave a subtle wave, signaling to T. Penn to alter their course and leave the port behind. He knew staying too long here would stir the hornet's nest even more.
Back in the office, the tension finally began to ease as they stepped out.
Garp remained stoic, speaking gravely: "This old man will take responsibility. That's my grandson."
"Hey…" Sengoku let out a sigh, his eyes filled with a swirl of regret and resignation.
"If possible," Fujitora said softly, leaning on his cane-sword, "I would give up my seat to Your Excellency Carl. He is a man who embodies true justice."
On the couch nearby, both Kizaru and Fujitora sat in silence.
"But this kind of thing isn't so simple," Sakazuki replied, brows furrowed. "There's bound to be resentment in his heart."
So the truth had not been disclosed publicly.
His expression darkened. "In any case, the incident is contained for now. Wait for the official handling."
He bore responsibility too.
"Shichibukai…"
"Oh~ Carl, you're finally here," Kizaru greeted in his usual lazy tone, tilting his head slightly with a smirk.
SLAM!
Akainu's palm struck the desk. "You've lost your damn mind!"
He feared another God Valley incident. The world couldn't afford that kind of chaos again.
Moonlight Moria had been stripped of his title following the war at Marineford and was officially declared an enemy. After that, he disappeared entirely, pursued by mysterious forces—possibly even Blackbeard's crew.
"All said, we're rescinding the invitations to those currently listed," Sakazuki muttered, exhaling roughly.
But from the moment he learned of the situation, he had sealed all news leaks.
Realistically, the Shichibukai system was collapsing—it was a relic of the old world.
That was the core issue.
Sakazuki was silent for a moment before saying, "Whatever. Just treat Carl like an Admiral—we've already done so for the past two years."
Indeed, during the two years of the World Military Draft, Carl returned with Issho—now known as Admiral Fujitora—from Wanokuni. That had been one of the draft's few undeniable successes.
Zephyr's arm hadn't always been like that. That wound came later.
Sand Crocodile, a.k.a. Crocodile, had once incited rebellion in Alabasta. He was imprisoned in Impel Down before escaping during the Blackbeard-led breakout.
The office door creaked open. Carl stepped in, wearing his Admiral's cape and puffing a cigar.
With jurisdiction over the first half of the Grand Line, Carl's duties already mirrored that of an Admiral's.
If Carl wanted to formally ascend, he'd have to wait for one of the current Admirals to step down.
But no such vacancy existed yet.
Behind him, two elderly gray-haired officers followed quietly.
Sakazuki sat rigid at his desk, a deep scowl etched on his face as he read over a troubling report.
If Carl were the one to pull something reckless, Sakazuki might have overlooked it. But not this time.
Admiral Ryokugyu (Green Bull) had been the second recruited Admiral during the Draft, following Fujitora.
BOOM!
"You!" Sakazuki's chest heaved as he glared at Garp—but he eventually controlled his fury.
To Akainu, the Shichibukai had always been pirates—scum that polluted the sea.
Carl oversaw the Grand Line's front half—where pirates constantly surged up from Paradise. He was constantly needed in the field.
With Kizaru still active, and Fujitora and Ryokugyu recruited, the three Admiral seats were technically filled.
"You represent Marine justice! Not your personal idea of justice!"
Garp took a long breath and replied solemnly, "This old man will take full responsibility."
Naturally, Carl refused the Shichibukai reinstatement plan.
At present, only three of the original Seven Warlords remained active.
Garp wasn't acting as a man—he was acting as a symbol. As a Marine.
"Take a look at this first," Sakazuki muttered, handing over a thick file folder.
In the Marshal's office, the silence returned.
"Cut the chatter," Sakazuki grumbled. "If it were up to me, Carl would've been promoted to Admiral two years ago."
The Five Elders had their own agenda, even if Akainu valued Carl deeply.
"Carl, are we really going to Marineford this time?" Yamato asked beside him, tilting her head curiously.
"Alright, get out of here," Sakazuki finally snapped. "And don't leave headquarters until this is resolved."
He couldn't bear to look at those two old men anymore.
Akainu and the rest were well aware of Carl's usefulness.
That's why they unofficially treated him as an Admiral already.
"That guy calls himself Whitebeard Jr.," Sakazuki said gravely. "He's slaughtered sixteen captains from the remnants of the original Whitebeard Pirates."
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