"Desperate?" Rosen's voice was low, steady, carrying no triumph—only fact.
"That's right," Doll murmured from his post beside him, her eyes fixed on Judge's trembling hands. "After all, what you face now… is the highest masterpiece of Marine Headquarters."
Her tone wasn't mocking. It was recognition.
Vice Admiral Rosen was the product of many masters. Zephyr, the Navy's greatest instructor, had carved discipline and strength into his bones. Sengoku, the Admiral of the Navy, had trained his mind in tactics and the art of command.
And Rosen himself—
Rosen was something beyond precedent. A genius unmatched in the history of the Marines, perhaps in the history of the Grand Line itself.
Other kings prided themselves on three virtues—strength of body, cunning of mind, and sharpness of skill. Some were called "wise," though usually it meant they possessed one trait and fumbled the others. Kozuki Oden, for example, had courage and strength, but wisdom? His story ended in fire.
But Rosen…
Rosen was complete.
In Doll's eyes, he embodied every ideal: mind, body, skill, wisdom. All honed to their edge. All still climbing, improving, growing sharper each day.
For a man like Vinsmoke Judge, locked in a kingdom of failed science and stolen dreams, how could there be anything but despair?
Rosen's gaze pinned him. "To lead the 1st Branch Science Division. To take Germa's technology to its peak. To end this life you cling to as a pirate."
Judge's throat tightened. The words hit harder than any blow.
"The… the 1st Branch Science Division?" His voice broke with disbelief.
The Science Division. An institution spoken of with reverence. It existed only at Marine Headquarters, under Dr. Vegapunk's authority. No branch, not even the 1st Branch of the Grand Line—the strongest branch under headquarters itself—was permitted to have one. Science was sacred. It belonged to Headquarters.
But Rosen spoke of it as if drawing a line on a map. As if he would simply make one here, in the North Sea, as casually as breathing.
Judge's pulse quickened. His mind raced. Was this the true reason Rosen had plundered Heavenly Tribute? Was it all to bankroll something no branch in history had ever been allowed?
He clenched his fists. His breath grew shallow. Finally, he spoke. "Before I make my choice… there is one thing I must know."
Rosen tilted his head, calm, waiting.
"If I join you with doubts still in my heart," Judge said, voice tight, "then I would rather you kill me now." His eyes hardened, burning with the last remnants of his pride.
"What do you want to know?" Rosen asked. His tone did not shift. He carried no offense. For talent, he always reserved patience.
Judge's chest rose and fell. "You subdued the Seven Warlords of the Sea.
You robbed Heaven's Tribute. You now speak of founding a branch Science Division. None of this—none of it—are things a Vice Admiral of the North Sea should be able to do. Not even the Admiral of the Navy himself would dare."
He spoke louder, the words cutting across the office. "Tell me! What are you trying to achieve? What truth hides behind these acts?"
The silence after was heavy.
Douglas Bullet shifted on the sofa, his eyes narrowing, interest sharpening. Doll, arms folded, turned her gaze toward Rosen with the same unspoken question.
Indeed.
Subduing the Seven Warlords—yes, that could be written off as executing Headquarters' will. A mission, a mandate. But the theft of Heavenly Tribute? That was sacred to the Celestial Dragons alone. And the Science Division? That belonged only to Headquarters, never a branch.
Rosen had reached for both.
Why?
For the first time in years, even Bullet leaned forward, eager to know. Doll's brow furrowed. They were his right hands, and even they did not know.
Rosen met their eyes in turn. Calm. Composed. His smile, faint as ever, revealed nothing.
"Are you asking me what I truly want?" he said softly.
Judge's knuckles whitened against the table. Doll and Bullet said nothing, but their eyes demanded the same answer.
"If you must hear it…" Rosen's voice remained steady, smooth, unhurried. He spoke as though reciting a report. "…then this is the truth. I must have my own Marine Headquarters."
The air split.
Boom—
The words detonated in the minds of every listener.
Judge staggered back in his chair, eyes wide. Bullet's fists clenched on his knees. Doll inhaled sharply, her jaw tightening.
A thunderclap roared inside each skull. Their thoughts scattered. Their vision swam.
Not to become the next Fleet Admiral. Not to climb Headquarters' ranks and inherit Sengoku's seat.
No. Rosen was building his own.
In the North Sea—this forgotten, neglected sea—he would forge a new Headquarters, a power that belonged to him alone.
The audacity eclipsed reason. It was not merely ambition. It was heresy.
And yet—coming from Rosen's mouth, it sounded inevitable.
The silence stretched until Rosen's voice cut through again, smooth as steel drawn from a sheath.
"When I trained in Impel Down," Rosen said, his eyes distant, "Zephyr-sensei and Senior Borsalino both asked me a question. Why do you want to be a Marine? What is your dream?"
He raised one hand, tapping the armrest of his chair with each word, the sound rhythmic, steady.
"I never answered. Not because I refused… but because I did not yet know. Over time, I began to hear voices. I began to see what the Navy truly was. What the World
Government truly demanded. What pirates, kings, Celestial Dragons—what all of them meant."
The tapping stopped.
Rosen leaned forward, his gaze boring into Judge, Bullet, Doll.
"Loyalty that is not absolute," he said, his tone flat, "is absolute disloyalty. And justice that is not absolute… is absolute injustice."
The words vibrated through the room.
"The Navy Headquarters fights to maintain purity of justice. But chained as it is to the World Government, its justice will always be compromised. Bones broken, tendons still bound. They cannot separate. Not truly. Not ever."
Rosen's hand slid from the armrest. He stood, every movement deliberate, and crossed the office to the floor-to-ceiling glass. The North Sea winds pressed against it, rattling faintly.
Below, Marines trained under Captain T-Bone's sharp voice. Sweat glistened on their backs. Their shouts rang out in unison, iron in their tone.
Rosen's reflection looked down at them, his eyes unreadable.
"I do not intend to be an enemy of Zephyr-sensei. I do not intend to stand against Borsalino-senpai. Nor do I wish to fight the Headquarters that raised me. So—what am I to do?"
His hands folded behind his back as he spoke, every syllable deliberate.
"I searched for the answer here, in the North Sea. I saw the filth of the Donquixote Family, the weakness of the branch navies, the desperation of civilians abandoned by both justice and law. I pieced together intelligence, measured every current, every shadow."
His reflection in the glass stared back at him, steady as stone.
"And then I understood."
The words cut the silence like a blade.
"I must have my own Marine Headquarters."
His voice did not rise. He did not roar. He stated it as though describing the tide, or the rising sun.
Yet the weight of it was unbearable.
Judge's throat closed. His breath stuck in his chest. Bullet's lips twitched with something between rage and awe. Doll's hand flexed against her coat, nails digging into her palm.
The idea alone was a thunderstorm.
And Rosen stood calm at its center.