Dragon wasn't starting from scratch.
He already had capable top commanders like Karasu and loyal deputies like Swore.
While these individuals might not yet compare to future heavyweights like Sabo or Kuma, having a force of nearly thirty thousand followers at this early stage was already formidable.
'If he plays his cards right,' Raleigh thought, analyzing the board, 'he has a real shot.'
As long as this group was fully converted into loyal followers—true believers—and they quietly developed for a few years in a remote land the World Government paid little attention to and controlled loosely—they could begin to expand aggressively later.
'Accumulate grain, build walls high, and claim the throne slowly.'
It was a classic strategy from Raleigh's previous life.
However, these were all Raleigh's own strategic projections for the Revolutionary Army.
He knew the Dragon of this world all too well; the man didn't understand the principle of patience.
He was burning with the desire to change the world now.
It was likely that Dragon wouldn't stay in the Far North for long before wanting to expand aggressively.
'And if he gets crushed by the World Government then...' Raleigh took a sip of his drink, his eyes cold.
'I have no intention of helping him. I'm not a charity.'
The world was just that simple.
Between two individuals, friendship is straightforward—shared vibes make you friends.
But between two factions, it's purely transactional. When interests diverge, they part ways.
When interests align again, they sit together.
"Hmm, Raleigh, you're right. I do indeed have a substantial foundation now," Dragon admitted, breaking Raleigh's train of thought.
Back when Dragon was a Marine, thousands of soldiers had followed his orders.
But those men were different.
As a Marine officer, Dragon didn't have to worry about logistics.
The World Government paid the salaries. The bases provided the food and shelter. The soldiers obeyed him partly out of admiration, but mostly because of the rank on his shoulders.
"Now..." Dragon looked at his hands. "The Rebellion Army is different. No one knows my true identity. They don't follow a rank; they follow me. They follow the ideal."
"But the logistics... managing the food, clothing, housing, and transportation for thirty thousand people... in a frozen wasteland like the Far North..."
The mere thought of the paperwork made Raleigh's head spin.
'Troublesome. Troublesome. Troublesome. Glad it's not me.'
Dragon, on the other hand, seemed to light up.
His eyes burned with a new fire.
He felt incredibly excited about the challenges ahead.
He had shed his old identity as Garp's son and a Marine lapdog. He was fully immersing himself in his ideals for the first time.
"For the future of the three of us... let's toast."
Momonga, sitting to the side, raised his glass first.
Dragon and Raleigh lifted their cups and clinked them together firmly.
Clink.
The sound rang clear in the night air.
"Raleigh. Momonga. May we never meet on the battlefield."
Dragon cast one last, deep glance at Raleigh—a look of gratitude and warning combined.
Then, his figure flickered.
Whoosh!
A sudden, localized gale of cyan wind swept past the balcony. When the dust settled, the stool was empty. Dragon had vanished into the night sky.
Raleigh stared intently in the direction Dragon had departed for a few seconds, swirling the remaining ice in his glass.
Then, without turning his head, he called out toward a concealed shadowy corner behind him.
"Gion. How much longer are you going to stay there? Your breathing is getting loud."
Thump.
Gion's heart skipped a beat.
She had been hiding in the shadows of a large potted fern for quite some time.
She had arrived just as Dragon appeared.
Upon being exposed, her blood ran cold. "I—I didn't mean to..."
Gion emerged from the corner, her face pale and trembling as she looked at Raleigh and Momonga on the balcony.
To her terrified eyes, the two men didn't look like the colleagues she knew.
In the dim moonlight, their figures seemed to grow increasingly imposing, as if shrouded in dark energy, their eyes glowing red like demons plotting the end of the world.
Raleigh and Momonga blinked, staring wide-eyed at the dazed, terrified Gion.
"What's wrong with her?" Momonga whispered.
"How should I know?" Raleigh shrugged. "Maybe you startled her with your ugly face."
"I get it," Momonga ignored the insult. "She's definitely overthinking things. She probably believes she overheard a treasonous conspiracy—which she did—and fears we might eliminate her to silence the witness."
Raleigh was speechless.
'This girl watches too many crime dramas,' he thought. 'Does she forget she's a powerful Marine officer?'
Though, to be fair, she stood no chance against the two of them combined.
And inside the main hall, Sengoku was eating.
If she screamed, things would get... complicated.
"Raleigh..." Gion suddenly lifted her head, her large, beautiful eyes fixed intently on him.
Her voice trembled. "Are you... are you going to kill me?"
She looked at him as if fearing he might utter the answer she didn't want to hear.
A mischievous, slightly sadistic impulse stirred within Raleigh.
He remained silent as a slow, sly smirk playing on his lips.
He let his eyes droop into a menacing glare.
Seeing the lecherous, villainous expression on Raleigh's face, Momonga knew exactly what was happening.
'He's going to mess with her. I am not dealing with this.'
To avoid being subjected to their flirtatious antics—and potential collateral damage—Momonga stood up.
"I'll go check the perimeter," he muttered.
Activating his ability, Momonga kicked off the ground to drift away from the balcony and into the night, leaving the two alone.
"Heh heh heh..." Raleigh chuckled low in his throat, stepping forward.
"If you want to blame anyone, blame your own bad luck, Gion. You saw too much."
Raleigh abruptly rose from his seat, moving with imperceptible speed.
Soru!
He flickered through the air, closing the distance instantly.
In the next moment, a large hand reached out, slamming against the wall beside her head—a classic Kabedon—trapping her.
"Sob!"
Tears streamed from Gion's eyes, fueled by fear and betrayal.
But her instincts were sharp.
Her right hand had already moved.
Shing! She had drawn her blade, Konpira.
Coated in jet-black Armament Haki, the famous sword gleamed sharply, emitting a sonic boom as it sliced through the air toward Raleigh's midsection.
It was a lethal strike.
Yet, the blade halted less than a finger's width from Raleigh's waist. The air pressure from the stop cut the fabric of his shirt, but not his skin.
Had Gion swung the blade down, Raleigh would have been bisected.
But she froze.
Her hand shook violently. She stared at Raleigh, tears rolling down her cheeks, her heart breaking.
"Leave," she choked out, her voice cracking. "Go. Run away, Raleigh. I... I'll pretend we never met. I won't report this to Admiral Sengoku. Just go!"
She couldn't do it.
Even knowing he was a "traitor," she couldn't kill him.
The sly, villainous smirk faded from Raleigh's face instantly, replaced by a soft, tender smile.
He gently reached out with two fingers and pushed the deadly blade away from his stomach.
Then, as if performing a magic trick, he produced a bouquet of flowers from behind his back—clearly hastily assembled from the decorative blooms he'd plucked from the balcony planters moments before.
"But where would I go?" Raleigh asked softly, his voice returning to its normal, lazy drawl. "I'm the Marine Commander of the North Blue. My office is here."
He leaned in closer.
"Though... if the destination is your heart, I'd be willing to go there."
Gion blinked.
The tears stopped.
Her brain rebooted.
She looked at the flowers. She looked at Raleigh's teasing face. She realized the "treason" was over, and the "villain" act was a prank.
"You..."
Only then did Gion realize Raleigh had been teasing her.
Her face turned a shade of red that rivaled a tomato.
Humiliation and relief exploded in her chest.
"YOU JERK!"
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