"I just hope he didn't do this for survival… or for revenge."
Borsalino's voice was low as his gaze lingered on Douglas Bullet. The man now stood in a Marine's uniform, the plain cloth of a private hanging on his massive frame.
The Admiral felt conflicted. On one hand, he was relieved that Rosen's gamble hadn't failed. Bullet had chosen the Navy. But beneath that relief gnawed a faint unease.
The Grand Line had no phrase like sleeping on straw, tasting gall, but its principle still applied. Borsalino wondered if Bullet's choice was simply camouflage, a long, bitter scheme to one day strike back.
"It seems," Borsalino sighed,
"that even if I become a full Admiral, I'll never be able to clock in and out like a salaryman."
He shook his head. "Junior, you've made my life as an Admiral very troublesome."
He could only accept reality, Bullet had joined. Now his job was to keep the Demon's Heir under constant watch.
There goes my leisurely future, he thought.
Still…
"That's not bad," Sengoku murmured, his voice measured. "Headquarters gains a top-tier fighter. And Rosen gains a deputy worthy of a king."
Yet even as he said it, Sengoku's eyes narrowed.
He hadn't forgotten what kind of man Bullet was. This was the soldier who had once destroyed his own homeland, the Endless War Nation, in a fit of rage.
If he could do that once, he could do it again.
And if he ever turned his fury inward, it would be far easier to wreck the Marines from within than it had been to tear down his country. The damage would be catastrophic.
Sengoku's mind ticked rapidly, already shaping contingency plans: Bullet should never be left unsupervised.
Never dispatched without Rosen at his side.
Always paired with Admiral-level strength. Surveillance cloaked as "support."
Where Sengoku and Borsalino felt the weight of suspicion, Rosen felt nothing of the sort.
For one, he had Refined the Haki core, - 'Observation Haki Seed' could read the true emotions and thoughts of others. Bullet's intentions could not be hidden from him.
Second, Rosen's own strength was absolute. To suppress the Demon's Heir would be as simple as turning a hand. And he knew that with each passing day, his power only grew.
Yes, Bullet carried danger—but danger that Rosen would snuff out at the root if it ever flared.
Just as that thought settled in his mind, footsteps echoed across the deck.
The three turned.
A hulking figure in Marine uniform stepped into view. His presence was heavy, each stride deliberate. Bullet had boarded the warship. He halted in front of Rosen.
"I'm glad," Rosen said softly. "You chose the right path."
Bullet's eyes locked with his. The uniform didn't just change his appearance
—it had shifted his aura. The monstrous shadow that had clung to him seemed lighter, touched by something human. Like a man learning to turn toward the sun.
After all, this was not the Bullet of the future Rosen had known. He was only in his early thirties, still young, still full of vitality. He hadn't yet rotted away in Impel Down's Infinite Hell for decades.
That prison stripped men to bones and dust. One year there was enough to shatter will and body alike. Even monsters crumbled. Patrick Redfield had proved that—once a sea overlord, reduced to a husk of another era.
But Bullet still had fire.
"I didn't choose the right path," Bullet said flatly. "Nor did I choose the Navy."
His gaze sharpened.
"I chose you, Rosen."
He didn't hesitate.
"Let me be blunt: I will watch you. I'll see how you end this Great Pirate Era."
His voice surged with heat.
"If you break your word… if you fail to keep the Warlords, the Emperors, even Roger's legacy under your control… then I'll kill you myself. Because that will mean you betrayed me."
The words struck the deck like iron chains.
"Until then," Bullet continued, "I'll remain by your side. As a Marine."
"And as repayment for sparing me, I'll take responsibility for overseeing the Warlords of the Sea. That much, I promise."
He said no more. Bullet simply turned and strode to an empty space on the deck. Without another glance, he dropped into a routine of brutal exercises, his muscles flexing under the new uniform.
Even though he had never once slacked during his years in Impel Down, his body had still withered under seastone's suppression and the prison's starvation diet. Training had only delayed decay, not reversed it.
Now, back on the sea, free again, defeated by Rosen but not broken, he intended to make up for those lost years. His strength had stagnated. His spirit had not.
He knew the truth, though: at his level, new growth was nearly impossible.
Rosen's eyes flickered as streams of information surfaced in his mind:
…
[Through your battle with Douglas Bullet, combined with Refining of the Haki Core, your Haki has advanced significantly.]
[Aramament Haki : +42%]
[Observation Haki : +32%]
[Observation Haki: +38%]
…
Rosen exhaled slowly.
"So it's true," he thought. "The power of an Emperor is already the pinnacle of the seas. Even for me, progress has slowed."
His mind replayed the clash with Bullet. He could feel the difference—no longer leaps of strength, only careful increments.
"The higher you stand, the smaller the steps become. Like a man already on the peak of a mountain—where can he go but upward into the sky itself?"
That was how Rosen saw it.
And yet, perspective mattered.
If Bullet had known the truth that Rosen, in one battle, had raised his Armament Haki by forty percent, sharpened his Observation by thirty, and even pushed his Conqueror's Haki nearly forty percent…he would have been stunned.
Then he would have cursed him senseless.
Slow growth? This rate is monstrous!
For an average Marine with a power rating of ten, such increases might raise them only to thirteen. But for someone already standing at emperor-level whose power was counted in tens of thousands such gains were earth-shaking.
And this was only Rosen's Haki. Not his full strength.
The thought made Rosen's lips twitch faintly. But he said nothing.
On the deck, Bullet continued to push his body, sweat streaking his new uniform.
The Demon's Heir had given his answer.
...
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