Mike's speech was more than just a speech; it was a shot of pure, uncut adrenaline delivered straight to the heart of every officer in the room.
The atmosphere was no longer just fervent; it was electric, a roaring inferno of unified purpose that felt like it might blow the roof clean off the fortress.
The colossal, revolutionary ship of the New Marine, its parts meticulously assembled in the shadows over the past few days, had finally, finally, completed its construction.
With a sound like a thunderclap, it was finally setting sail.
"Dismissed!"
Mike's casual word, spoken at a normal volume, cut through the ecstatic noise with an undeniable authority.
"SALUTE—!"
A single, unified sound erupted as every officer in the room—admirals, vice-admirals, new and old—snapped to attention, their arms moving as one.
The deafening sound of their salute reverberated through the hall, a physical testament to their new, absolute loyalty.
Brimming with a passion they hadn't felt in years and a dream for a future they could finally believe in, the officers dispersed, their boots striking the floor with a new, urgent cadence.
The core leadership, however, remained.
Sengoku, Garp, Tsuru, Zephyr, Akainu, Kizaru, Kuzan, and the Shichibukai.
"Hmm—"
Mike watched the officers, now pumped up as if they'd all been injected with a high-grade stimulant, and allowed a faint satisfied smile to curl his lips.
This was the power of words.
A well-crafted speech, combined with the irrefutable, awe-inspiring promise of nearly infinite financial backing, was more than enough to drive these hardened soldiers into a righteous frenzy.
But he wasn't naive.
The road ahead was long, and the tasks were countless.
Annihilating the Beasts Pirates, as insane as that sounded, wasn't the hard part.
Not with the force he'd assembled in this room.
No, the truly hard part was minimizing their own losses.
This wasn't just a battle; it was a performance.
A debut.
The Summit War was a global stage, and the New Marine was about to make its grand entrance.
A flawless, overwhelming annihilation would send a very different message to the world than a bloody, pyrrhic victory.
And since this was a show for the entire world, they had to prepare for the inevitable critics—namely, the World Government.
The live broadcast of this war wouldn't just display the New Marine's might.
It would be a formal, public, and spectacular declaration that the Marines had completely, and violently, severed ties with their former masters.
The moment those five old men in Mariejois realized that their favorite, most powerful tool had not just slipped from their grasp but had been reforged into a weapon pointed directly at them, they would be so mad.
CP0, the God's Knights, maybe even the Five Elders themselves would descend upon them.
And, lurking in the deepest, darkest shadows of Pangea Castle, perhaps even the silent king of the world, Imu, would be forced to step into the light.
Mike pondered this silently.
His new military was, without question, the most powerful organization on the planet.
It encompassed the entire elite backbone of the old Marine, five of the seven Warlords, and, imminently, the full might of the Whitebeard Pirates.
But the territory they now had to cover was equally vast.
The New World, Paradise, all Four Seas... every last inch of the ocean was now under their jurisdiction.
And since the dawn of the Great Pirate Era, those seas had been overrun.
Every pirate crew, on every island, in every sea, needed to be purged.
Every region required a garrison.
Maintaining stability in their own backyard while locked in a death struggle with the World Government was the true challenge.
But these were problems for the professionals he had just finished recruiting.
"Sengoku-san," Mike said, turning to the man who had run the Marines for decades.
"What are your thoughts on this war?"
"Haa—" Sengoku let out a long breath, his posture, which had been relaxed, snapping back into the familiar form of the "Resourceful General."
"This war has already been announced to the world, and the timing, thanks to Kaido, is now perfect."
He paused, his sharp eyes sweeping over every high-ranking officer in the room—from his old friend Garp to his new "colleague" Akainu.
His voice was firm, resolute, and brimming with a strategic fire Mike had intentionally rekindled.
"This battle—the New Marine must win, and we must win decisively!"
"Kaido himself is not the primary issue," Sengoku's tone shifted, a trace of gravity entering his voice.
"But the moment our breakaway is made public, these seas will inevitably be thrown into turmoil. Those pirates who have been lurking in the shadows, the ones smart enough to fear the Four Emperors and the Marines, will suddenly grow restless. They will see the two greatest powers in the world—us and the World Government—locked in a confrontation, and they will entertain all sorts of ambitions."
Sengoku was right.
A power vacuum was the most dangerous thing in the world.
"Therefore," he concluded, "we must demonstrate absolute, overwhelming, and terrifying power. We must win this first battle so completely that it terrifies these lesser pirates into submission. Only then can we ensure stability across the seas while we deal with the larger threat."
"Hmm." Everyone in the room nodded, the atmosphere growing heavy and solemn.
Mike also gave a slight nod of approval.
He turned to Kuro. "How long until Kaido reaches Marineford?"
Kuro, who had been standing silently by, answered immediately.
"The Beasts Pirates' fleet will arrive in one day at the earliest, two at the latest."
"The timing is too tight," Sengoku shook his head, his brow furrowed.
"There are still countless deployments we haven't had time to arrange. We need to move our new assets, coordinate with our new Warlords, and prepare the 'stage' for the broadcast."
"That's a minor issue," Mike waved his hand dismissively, with an expression that radiated pure, unshakeable control.
"Delaying a war like this is actually quite simple." He smiled. "Especially when the two sides who were supposed to be fighting have already reached a certain… understanding."
He motioned for Kuro to step forward.
Kuro produced a large, ornate Video Transponder Snail, its eyes larger and brighter than a normal one, capable of projecting a high-definition image.
"Pururu Pururu… Pururu Pururu…"
Soon, the snail's eyes snapped open, and a massive, projected image of Whitebeard's face flickered to life.
"Gurararara! Mike, boy! You calling me—"
Whitebeard's hearty laughter cut off so abruptly it was almost comical.
His iconic crescent-moon mustache, which had been quivering with mirth, froze solid.
His smile vanished, replaced by a look of slack-jawed, profound shock.
What was he seeing?
Behind Mike, standing casually as if they were all old friends, was a crowd of shadowy figures.
He saw Sengoku.
He saw Tsuru.
He saw Garp.
He saw his old rival, Zephyr.
He saw all three of the Marine Admirals—Akainu?!
He saw "Hawk-Eyes" Mihawk, Donquixote Doflamingo, Kuma, and even Crocodile and his own man, Jinbei.
This... this lineup... was this the force they were planning to use against him?
'That's…' Whitebeard thought, his mind reeling.
'That's just plain bullying!'
"Whitebeard," Mike said, looking at the admiral's shocked expression on the projection, a small smile playing on his lips
. "Don't worry. The New Marine has no intention of going to war with you."
'Hah, old man, you got scared, didn't you? This is the power of the New Marine.'
"Our plans have changed," Mike continued, his tone all business. "The original agreement needs to be revised."
"Revised?"
"Yes. The original deal was for me to save Ace while you 'die gloriously in battle.' But if you die, even if Marco and the others join the Shichibukai, there will always be a thorn in their hearts. A rift. It will be difficult for them to ever truly integrate."
"..."
Whitebeard fell silent.
He knew Mike was right.
If he died at the hands of the Marines, even in a "staged" battle, his sons would never forgive them.
It was not a stable solution.
But his time was running out.
His illness was worsening.
Once he was gone, his foolish, wonderful sons would inevitably clash with the other Emperors to protect his territory.
They would get hurt. They would die.
That was the one thing he could not bear.
"So," Mike's voice interrupted his dark thoughts.
"My new proposal is this: you will personally lead the Whitebeard Pirates and directly join as the New Shichibukai."
"HUUHHH—?!" Whitebeard's entire body jerked.
He leaned forward so aggressively it looked like he was about to climb through the projection, his massive body filling the screen.
"It's a significant step down from your status as one of the Four Emperors," Mike acknowledged, his tone light.
"But… everyone gets to live. A happy ending, don't you think? Moreover, the New Shichibukai report directly to me. The Whitebeard Pirates can retain their independent structure. You can remain captain, or you can step back and let Marco or Ace take the lead. I have no objections."
"..."
Whitebeard fell silent again, his mind racing.
He had to admit, the proposal was… tempting.
Incredibly tempting.
It preserved his crew. It protected his family. It avoided a pointless, bloody war.
And most importantly… he wouldn't have to die.
Who would willingly choose death when they could live?
He still had so many "sons" to look after.
Who would want to leave them behind?
His gaze drifted, finding Jinbei standing in the background of the projection.
Jinbei met his gaze and gave a short, firm nod of encouragement.
With a soft, heavy sigh, the "Strongest Man in the World" let go of his pride.
"Fine!"