"People who commit such unforgivable crimes don't deserve mercy. Let me go — it's just a pirate, after all. How dare they threaten the Marines!"
Akainu's temper flared; he wanted to charge straight in without a second thought.
Sengoku's mouth twitched at the remark. He forced himself to stay measured.
"They're not ordinary pirates," Sengoku corrected. "They call themselves bandits. And sending only you, Akainu, would probably be pointless. Their core — a man called Adrian — has a subordinate whose strength rivals Garp's."
"That's possible," he continued. "I want them captured too, but based on what I learned from Garp, their strength is not to be underestimated. One member alone matched Garp for a couple of exchanges."
Silence fell in the meeting. If there really was a man equal to Garp floating in East Blue, you didn't send troops in like it was a street brawl.
"Understood," Akainu grunted, subdued by Sengoku's calm but iron logic.
A murmur spread through the assembled admirals and vice admirals. Some couldn't believe it — East Blue, traditionally the weakest sea, giving rise to someone who could stand toe-to-toe with Garp? It sounded absurd. Garp, after all, had the kind of reputation that made even the high command bow.
But Garp had said it himself.
"I traded two blows with one of them," Garp told the room bluntly. "That person is Emperor-tier."
Hearing the word sent jaws dropping. If one subordinate among the bandits was Emperor-tier, the crew's leader — and the team that could field such strength — had to be more than a nuisance. Sengoku moved the meeting forward with grim efficiency.
"Our immediate objective is rescue: Smoker, the captured marines, and Garp's grandson. After that we'll take action to eliminate Adrian's band. Discuss countermeasures."
Plans were drawn; contingencies rehearsed. The conference ran long into the day.
Meanwhile, in the New World aboard the Red Force, the Red-Haired Shanks' leisure had been ripped apart by a single newspaper.
A copy of the World Economic Journal — Morgans' paper — had arrived. Shanks read the headline and something in him snapped: his Conqueror's Haki flared like a live coal. His crew had long grown used to the way his Haki could sweep the soul; otherwise, lesser crews would have blacked out on the spot.
Shanks had known Luffy since the boy was small; he had even staked his arm on that kid's future. News that Luffy, Garp's grandson, had been kidnapped sent a bolt through him. Beckman put a hand on Shanks' shoulder and murmured reassurance: "He'll be fine. He's Garp's grandson. The Marines won't sit on their hands."
Shanks exhaled, but his eyes were fixed on the printed words. He muttered, "Loguetown…" — and no one could tell what he was planning.
Across the seas the big names all noticed the paper. Whitebeard's ship. Big Mom's crew. Kaido's forces. The Warlords. The whole underworld. Adrian's single act had made his name travel like wildfire.
Back in East Blue: the door to the Room of Spirit and Time opened.
Two days had passed outside — but inside, Rob Lucci had spent two years. When his boots hit the deck, the change was immediate and brutal. The man who had left as a tough ex-CP9 agent returned like a jungle predator unleashed: a lethal aura, cold and hungry.
"Lucci — welcome back," Adrian said with a small smile.
Lucci dropped to one knee without hesitation. "I have not failed you, Boss."
Two years inside that insane chamber — ten times gravity, savage temperature swings — would have broken almost anyone. Lucci had survived, trained, and emerged utterly remade. The 1,000 senzu beans Adrian had provided kept his body from failing while his mind and technique improved with every crushing step.
When Adrian evaluated him, the numbers were undeniable. Lucci's rank had vaulted from mere high-tier to Calamity-level — a battlefield force of an order that caused Adrian's eyes to narrow. He'd expected great gains from the Chamber; he had not expected Lucci to cross the threshold into outright world-shaking strength.
"You trained well," Adrian said. "Rest for now. We've got a big fight ahead — the ransom exchange."
Lucci nodded, eyes hard. "Whoever threatens the Boss will not live to regret it."
Adrian watched him go. He felt the familiar itch of preparation: it was time to spend the prestige he'd earned.
A quick glance at the system readout. He still had a healthy pool of reputation points left — enough to push his personal build further.
"System: spend prestige to upgrade [Physique] to Calamity-level. Upgrade [Instant Step] to Warlord-tier," he ordered.
The system chimed obediently.
"Ding! — 1,000,000 prestige consumed. [Physique] upgraded to Calamity-level."
"Ding! — 100 prestige consumed. [Instant Step] upgraded to Dangerous-tier."
"Ding! — 1,000 prestige consumed. [Instant Step] upgraded to Warlord-tier."
A heavy hit to the prestige balance (he had just under 870,000 left), but the changes were immediate. Adrian felt his body respond — denser, quicker, harder to wound — and his reflexive short-steps (the Instant Step) now had a razor's precision. Where before he had used the skill with brute force, now he could feather it with technique.
Worth every point. But the ledger had gone lean.
Half a month had passed since the story broke. The world had been set alight. Reputation and influence had swollen beyond Adrian's initial hopes: the kidnapping had already achieved at least two "+"s on the system's grading scale (fame and impact), and the target's strength alone almost guaranteed an S-class evaluation. If the Devil Fruits delivered were high-value, the result could be astronomical — enough to buy another apocalypse in upgrades.
Morgans kept up the pressure too: another front-page piece ran the photo of the World's Greatest Swordsman felled at Adrian's hands. Interest spiked again. The name Adrian lodged in the minds of every captain, captain's mate, and warden across the oceans.
The Marines redoubled preparations. Sengoku increased the operation's manpower — this was no longer a simple retrieval. If they underestimated the opposition, the result could be catastrophic.
At last, the day arrived: Loguetown. The place to hand over the ransom.
Ships crept into the harbor. Spectators watched from safe distance: curious pirates, a handful of notorious Warlords — Doflamingo, Crocodile, Moria, Kuma — and many others waited in the wings. Everyone wanted to see whether this new menace could take the money and walk off into the sunset.
Adrian's crew's ship glided toward the pier. He had waited a month for this day — a month that felt like an eternity. He'd spent it sharpening the team, shoring up advantages, and making sure his body and his men were ready.
As the hull touched Loguetown's quay, eyes across the harbor fixed on them. The stage was set. The exchange — and the fight to come — would determine everything.
Adrian, feeling the new weight of his upgraded body, allowed himself a thin smile. This was only the beginning.
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