-Broadcast-
Securing Douglas Bullet's loyalty was cause for genuine celebration. Buggy the Clown rose from his elevated captain's chair with theatrical flair, raising his refilled wine glass high above his head. The movement drew every eye on the ship—his presence commanded attention effortlessly.
"Brothers!" His voice carried across the deck with practiced projection. "We became acquainted through combat—the best way to understand a man's character! From this moment forward, Bullet is one of us. Not just a crew member, but an officer of the Buggy Pirates!"
Cheers erupted from the assembled pirates. Buggy waited for the noise to subside slightly before continuing, his grin widening.
"He'll serve as an important cadre with authority second only to my own. And I'll tell you this right now—if any of you are stupid enough to provoke his bad temper or make things difficult for him..." Buggy's grin turned sharp. "...I will not intervene when he beats you bloody. Consider yourselves warned. Don't test his patience."
The precaution was delivered in a light-hearted tone, almost joking, but the underlying message was clear. The crew laughed and nodded, committing the captain's words to memory. Having someone of Bullet's caliber join their ranks was undoubtedly a massive boost to the Buggy Pirates' overall strength. Being part of such a promising crew—one that seemed destined for greatness—was an honor these former prisoners and outcasts took seriously.
To formally acknowledge Bullet's new status and save the man's considerable pride, Buggy descended from the elevated platform. He approached the massive warrior directly, extending his glass for a toast between equals rather than captain and subordinate.
"To new beginnings and old connections," Buggy declared.
Bullet raised his own glass, his scarred face showing something that might have been gratitude. "To strength and ambition."
Their glasses clinked together with a clear ring that somehow carried across the ship despite the ambient noise. Both men drank deeply, draining their cups simultaneously. The symbolic wine of brotherhood had been shared. Their relationship would be closer now—officer and captain, challenger and goal, old acquaintances reunited under a new flag.
There would be fewer secrets between them going forward. Both parties needed to be informed about important matters to avoid misunderstandings or conflicts arising from ignorance.
"I can have my officers remove the tracking marks we placed on you during our initial encounters," Buggy offered casually, setting his empty glass aside. "Everyone on this ship has freedom. I don't have the bad taste to constantly spy on my own cadres. That sort of paranoid micromanagement is beneath me."
Bullet waved the offer away with indifference. "Don't bother. The tracking mark doesn't affect me. If you can locate me at any time, that's fine. I lose some privacy, but it might play an unexpected role in emergencies."
He paused, then asked the question that had clearly been burning in his mind since accepting the recruitment.
"Since I'm on your ship now—officially one of your officers—I want to ask you something important." Bullet's voice was loud by nature, carrying easily across the deck despite not being raised. "You pursued me for weeks to obtain that Eternal Pose. So tell me honestly: Do you want to become the Pirate King? Like Gol D. Roger?"
The question hadn't been whispered privately. Bullet's naturally booming voice ensured that everyone on the ship heard it clearly. The effect was immediate—conversations died mid-sentence. Laughter faded. The noisy celebration quieted as every crew member turned their attention to the captain.
This was a profound question. One that cut to the heart of their purpose. These curious souls leaned in, desperate to hear how Lord Buggy would answer.
Did their captain aspire to Roger's legacy? Did he want that legendary title?
Buggy the Clown stood still for a long moment, the Eternal Pose held loosely in his fingers. The specialized navigational tool caught the light, its needle pointing unerringly toward a destination most pirates could only dream of reaching. With this instrument's guidance, Gol D. Roger's greatest achievement could theoretically be replicated. The final island would be accessible. The journey that ended the Pirate King's legend could be retraced.
But as Buggy's painted face split into a wider grin, it became clear his ambitions extended far beyond simple imitation.
He turned dramatically, his back to the ocean, arms spreading wide in a gesture that somehow encompassed the entire world. His Haoshoku Haki (Conqueror's Haki) rippled outward again—not crushing or violent, but present. An aura of absolute confidence and unwavering conviction.
"This Eternal Pose," Buggy began, his voice carrying that perfect theatrical quality that made every word land with impact, "records the location of Laugh Tale—the final island that Roger reached. With its guidance, the title of Pirate King and the legendary treasure ONEPIECE would be within our grasp. We could follow his exact path and claim his crown."
The crew held their breath, waiting for confirmation of their captain's goal.
Buggy's grin turned almost mocking.
"But that empty title? Pirate King?" He laughed—genuine, delighted laughter that held no reverence for the legendary position. "It means nothing to me! Being the Pirate King is Roger's dream, not mine! Why would I waste my life chasing another man's ambition?"
Confusion rippled through the assembled pirates. If not the Pirate King, then what—?
"What I want..." Buggy's voice dropped to something darker, more intense. His arms spread wider, as if trying to embrace the horizon itself. "...is THIS WORLD! I want to conquer this entire world completely! I want every island, every sea, every kingdom crawling at my feet! I want the Celestial Dragons torn from their thrones! I want the World Government shattered! I want EVERYTHING!"
The declaration hung in the air like a physical force.
For several heartbeats, absolute silence reigned. The crew stared at their captain with expressions ranging from shock to awe to disbelief.
Conquer the world?
The concept was so audacious, so impossibly ambitious, that most pirates had never even considered it. Being a pirate meant eating, drinking, fighting, and taking what you wanted. It was a lifestyle of freedom and violence, not political domination. The idea of overthrowing the entire established order? That wasn't part of the pirate dream.
But Buggy had just made it real. Spoken it aloud as if it were achievable. As if it were inevitable.
"The Celestial Dragons weren't always in power," Buggy continued, his voice carrying conviction that made the impossible sound logical. "They took control eight hundred years ago through force and have maintained it through fear and propaganda. But they're just humans. Weak, pathetic humans who've grown fat on inherited privilege."
His grin turned vicious.
"The World Government rules the ocean at minimal cost because people accept it as natural. Unchangeable. But I'm here to tell you—everything can be overthrown! The old order can be torn down and rebuilt according to our vision! Why settle for scraps from the table when we could own the entire feast?"
Something fundamental shifted in the crew's collective consciousness. Seeds of ambition that had never been planted suddenly took root. Why hadn't they thought of this before? Overthrowing the system and creating new freedom sounded infinitely more appealing than simply existing as pirates on the fringes of society.
"If Lord Buggy succeeds..." one pirate whispered to another, his eyes wide with dawning realization. "If we're there when it happens... we'd be nobles! Founding members of a new world order!"
"We could live in luxury," another added, the words tumbling out quickly. "Have estates. Command respect instead of hiding like criminals. It's a thousand times better than living on the edge of a knife!"
The logic was intoxicating. Those high and mighty "gods" in Mary Geoise? They were just people who'd seized power centuries ago. If they could become dragons ruling from above, why couldn't Lord Buggy and his loyal followers do the same? What made the Celestial Dragons special except their willingness to take what they wanted?
"The world..." Douglas Bullet's voice cut through the rising excitement, his scarred face showing genuine respect. "You have an ambition even greater than Gol D. Roger's. You've truly surpassed him in every aspect. It looks like I won't be lonely in the days ahead."
The Devil's Heir, who thrived on chaos and conflict, understood immediately what Buggy's declaration meant. The road to conquering the world would be impossibly difficult, filled with obstacles and enemies. But in the process, they would face the strongest individuals on the planet. The Yonko. The Marine Admirals. The World Government's secret weapons. Perhaps even ancient powers that had remained hidden for centuries.
Bullet's blood boiled at the thought. His fingers clenched and unclenched, imagining future battles. The sensation of fists connecting with flesh, of pushing his body beyond its limits, of growing stronger through constant struggle—it was intoxicating. He'd never felt this alive, not even on Roger's ship.
The crew erupted into cheers. Wild, enthusiastic celebration that shook the deck beneath their feet. They chanted Buggy's name like a prayer, their voices carrying across the water. The vision he'd painted was so grand, so compelling, that they couldn't help but be swept up in it.
None of them stopped to calculate the actual cost. How many would have to die to achieve such an impossible goal? How much blood would soak the seas before the World Government fell? What were the odds of survival for any individual crew member?
Those questions didn't matter in the heat of the moment. Each man convinced himself that he would be among the lucky survivors. That he would live to see the new world and reap its rewards.
They didn't understand the brutal mathematics of war: A general's success is built on mountains of corpses. The majority of casualties are always cannon fodder.
Moreover, overthrowing an eight-hundred-year-old order wouldn't happen through simple violence. The old forces would counterattack with desperate ferocity when threatened with extinction. If the Buggy Pirates couldn't withstand that retaliation, the ship would be destroyed and everyone aboard would die screaming.
Whether Buggy the Clown's ambition could actually support him to the end remained unknown. The current timeline provided no answers—only the intoxicating possibility.
For now, his first concrete goal was more achievable: landing on Laugh Tale. Buggy wanted to make up for the regret of missing that historic voyage years ago. He needed to see what Roger had found on that final island. To verify whether the legendary treasure actually existed or if it was metaphorical. Perhaps reaching Laugh Tale would solve the fundamental mysteries of this world—answer questions that Roger had taken to his grave.
Kozuki Momonosuke watched the frenzied celebration with an expression of barely concealed amusement. Unlike the crew members intoxicated by their captain's grand vision, the boy's perspective remained grounded in harsh reality.
Conquer the world? With this crew?
He'd counted perhaps two hundred people on the ship—maybe three hundred if he was being generous. That wasn't enough manpower to challenge a single Yonko's territory, let alone overthrow the entire World Government. The Marine alone commanded tens of thousands of soldiers, hundreds of warships, and multiple Admiral-level combatants.
The Buggy Pirates' current strength barely qualified as Shichibukai-level, and that was being charitable. They weren't even close to matching one of the Four Emperors' forces in size, resources, or overall power.
They're going to die, Momonosuke thought with clinical detachment. Most of them. They just don't realize it yet.
But despite his cynicism about their chances, one detail from the conversation had caught his attention. His father's words echoed in his memory—fragments of information shared during quiet moments on the Moby Dick, before everything had gone wrong.
"I remember Father mentioning that ONEPIECE was connected to Joy Boy somehow," Momonosuke murmured to himself, too quiet for anyone nearby to hear. "If I'd paid more attention, if I'd asked more questions... maybe I wouldn't be this powerless now."
The regret was bitter. Kozuki Oden's death haunted the boy constantly—not just the fact of his father's execution, but the manner of it. Boiled alive in oil while holding his retainers above the liquid. And then, after that heroic sacrifice, his reputation had been destroyed. Slandered as a coward. Remembered as a dancing fool who'd abandoned his people.
The injustice burned like acid in Momonosuke's chest. His father deserved better. Wano deserved better. And as Oden's only son, the legitimate heir to the Shogunate, he should be doing something. Fighting back. Restoring his family's honor.
But what could an eight-year-old boy possibly do against Kaido of the Beasts?
Lost in these dark thoughts, Momonosuke didn't notice Buggy's approach until the captain's shadow fell across him. The boy looked up, startled, to find the clown crouching beside him. The makeup-painted face was close—too close—and the eyes behind it gleamed with calculating intelligence.
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