Ten days later, at Senrock Island.
In the office of Base 177, Kuzan bent over his desk, reviewing a series of documents related to the Prince’s Kingdom incident.
His hair was a tangled mess, resembling dried straw from the seashore.
His face was filled with fatigue, and he kept yawning.
Kuzan hadn’t personally handled such tedious clerical work in many years.
For nearly a week now, he had been busy every day, handling the aftermath of the incident.
There was no choice; as the highest-ranking officer of the North Blue Navy, it was his responsibility.
Although the coup in the Prince’s Kingdom had ended, the aftermath was extensive.
It involved not only dozens of pirate crews but also neutral maritime trade forces and the pacification of tens of thousands of affected citizens.
Furthermore, the revelation that Prince Ilya had sent pirates to massacre neighboring villages caused an uproar and outrage among nearby countries.
Reports and condemnations against the Prince’s royal family flooded the World Government.
The Prince’s Kingdom itself, without a reigning king, was leaderless, causing panic among the populace during this disaster.
To quickly mitigate the negative impact, it was essential to restore order in this allied nation promptly.
Therefore, the World Government had been urging Base 177 to ensure Prince Grus, the legitimate heir to the throne, would take the crown to stabilize the people’s hearts.
But this was exactly what troubled Kuzan the most.
Prince Grus, the prince who had just woken from his severe injuries, didn’t want to be king!
The rightful heir of an allied nation was refusing the throne!
Not only that, but Grus also pleaded to join the Navy.
Thinking about it made Kuzan’s head ache again.
He paused his work, massaged his brow, and sighed deeply.
He remembered how badly he was scolded by Fleet Admiral Sengoku when he reported Grus’s request.
Sengoku’s exact words were, “Don’t joke around, Kuzan! Grus is the designated heir by Prince VII. If he doesn’t become king, the only other eligible candidate is Prince Ilya! Do you want that criminal who caused the deaths of tens of thousands to return to power and drag the country back into hell?”
Then came the admonitions about failing the mission and being useless as a high-ranking officer.
Thinking about Prince Ilya filled Kuzan with a sense of suppression and anger.
The noble youth, who seemed polite on the surface, had led a country into a bloody purgatory, causing the deaths of tens of thousands, all for an answer to a question.
Kuzan had almost lost control and killed Ilya that day.
“What a thorough scum. If it were Sakazuki…”
Yet, Kuzan had to admit that Prince Ilya was a deeply calculating, nearly diabolical genius.
Had he chosen the right path and joined the Navy, he would have at least been a high-level strategist at Headquarters?
He manipulated forces far stronger than himself with his intelligence into his schemes.
Supernovas with bounties of over 100 million berries, renowned Warlords of the Sea, the Navy, and even the Revolutionary Army, who exchanged a rare Mythical Zoan fruit for food, were all part of his plan.
Yes, Kuzan now knew the origin and name of the fruit Rosha had eaten.
“Rosha’s Mythical Zoan fruit is the Horse-Horse Fruit, Kirin form, capable of controlling wind and thunder. It’s a powerful fruit with immense potential, on par with Kaido’s Azure Dragon form. With his strong sense of justice, Rosha will become a formidable force for the Navy.”
Every time Kuzan recalled the injured Rosha’s near-roaring speech, his long-frozen heart felt a surge of passion.
Once, he was just like Rosha.
When did he abandon his initial fervor for justice in favor of this lazy approach?
Was it after the Buster Call on Ohara?
No, perhaps even earlier.
As the detestable Doflamingo had said, the world had too much darkness and filth.
How many people trapped in it could maintain their original pursuit?
Unknowingly, Kuzan fell into deep thought, holding his forehead.
Knock, knock, knock.
The office door suddenly knocked, waking Kuzan from his reverie.
He took a breath, rubbed his face vigorously, and said in a slightly hoarse voice, “Come in.”
Ensign Richard of Base 177 entered, saluted sharply, and said loudly, “Report, Admiral Aokiji, Ensign Rosha’s ship has returned!”
“Finally back? That kid…” Kuzan shook his head slightly.
“Shall I inform Ensign Rosha to come see you?” Richard asked.
“No need, I’ll go see him myself. You stay here and watch for any incoming calls.”
Kuzan waved his hand and left the office, surprising Richard.
“As expected of Rosha, to be so valued by the admiral. But… considering what he accomplished, he deserves it. To share the same homeland and era with such a man is my fortune.”
Richard thought back to the scenes they witnessed storming the Prince’s castle, feeling awed.
Especially seeing the horrific injuries Rosha and his team endured, no one in Base 177 envied his talent anymore.
Instead, they felt recognition, respect, and reverence.
At the seaside port.
A damaged Navy ship with a broken mast and filled with holes slowly docked.
A team of soldiers and logistics officers ran forward to assist.
“Report, Lieutenant Bill, Ensign Rosha has returned.”
A soldier ran up, sweat beading on his forehead.
His face was pale.
“Understood. Gather more soldiers; we’ll need manpower for this task.”
Bill nodded, seemingly prepared for this.
Even so.
When Bill boarded the dilapidated ship again, he gasped, his face turning ashen like the new recruit’s.
The ship’s deck was not filled with berries, food, confiscated weapons, or refugees.
It was filled with heads.
A mountain of heads.
Terrified, despairing, bloodied heads nearly filled the entire deck.
The deck was coated in thick congealed blood like spilled black-red paint.
The pungent smell of blood attracted vultures circling overhead.
Amidst this hellish scene, Bill saw a silver-haired boy in a blue and white Navy uniform sitting coldly atop the pile of heads.
Suddenly, a sigh came from behind.
“Ara ara, Rosha, at this rate, you’ll become another Sakazuki.”
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