The banquet hall shimmered under golden chandeliers as the last notes of a soft melody faded. Graceful dancers, their movements light as falling petals, bowed low before retreating. The air was thick with the fragrance of wine and honeyed pastries, mingling with the murmured reverence of those too afraid to breathe too loudly in the presence of a Celestial Dragon.
At the head of the grand table sat Blake, poised and composed. A trembling pastry chef approached with both hands, presenting a delicate strawberry cake on a silver platter.
This was no ordinary dessert. Every seed on every strawberry had to face precisely upward a demand born from the Celestial Dragons' obsession with "the beauty of order." The last chef who failed to align the seeds perfectly had paid dearly; the supervisor beside him had sliced off his finger without hesitation.
Beside Blake, Stella, draped in a maid's uniform lined with lace and rubies, carefully lifted the jeweled silver knife. With practiced precision, she cut a perfect slice and brought it to his lips.
In the two months since she had entered Blake's service, Stella had grown accustomed to her new role. The unease that once shadowed her every movement had begun to fade, replaced by a quiet acceptance perhaps even pride in her place beside him.
Blake tasted the cake, savoring it briefly before turning his gaze toward the young man kneeling in the distance.
"What's your name?" he asked calmly.
The youth straightened, his voice clear yet trembling. "Your Grace, my name is Aramaki."
Blake's lips curved slightly. There were countless strong men upon the seas pirates, mercenaries, marines yet few he considered truly worth recruiting.
The old legends, like the crew of Rocks D. Xebec, were formidable but fractured. They were men of rebellion and pride, untamable wolves who would never bow to a Celestial Dragon. Rocks had only commanded them because they'd been young, reckless, and desperate for glory when they joined him. By the time of the God Valley incident, his so-called "crew" was already a powder keg of ambition and distrust.
And now, decades later, even if another supreme powerhouse arose, none of the world's emperors would kneel again.
Among those near Blake's age, most had already gone on to become the future Seven Warlords of the Sea men and women who, despite not matching the strength of the Four Emperors, were far more difficult to deal with. They strutted across the world as if invincible, refusing diplomacy and reasoning alike.
Even the Four Emperors weighed pros and cons before acting. The Warlords preferred to draw their swords first and think later.
They were, as Blake saw it, too stubborn for their own good. Even when beaten, they'd glare with defiance and say, "Do what you must." No words could reach them.
The only one among them with true cunning was Doflamingo, but his hatred for the Celestial Dragons ran deep enough to poison any alliance.
That left few real options.
Only the crew that Shanks would one day lead seemed composed enough to stand by their captain which meant they'd never serve a man like Blake.
After much thought, Blake concluded that the only recruitable future powerhouse worth claiming early was Green Bull Aramaki himself.
Aramaki was the same age as Doflamingo, just a year older than Blake. Now, he was still a spirited young man, his chest yet unmarked by the future tattoo that would one day bear the words "Death Within My Heart."
Rumor had it that the mark would come decades later, tied to a woman and a tragedy in prison. But for now, judging by his hairstyle and posture, Aramaki had already eaten the Forest-Forest Fruit, a Logia-type ability that allowed him to command nature itself.
Yet what truly impressed Blake was not his power it was his conviction.
To Aramaki, humanity's dominance was built upon trampling those deemed "lesser." He saw non-member nations as inferior stepping stones that allowed the World Government and its people to thrive. In his eyes, maintaining the order of the world meant defending the Celestial Dragons at any cost.
Blake found that attitude… refreshing. Ruthless loyalty was, after all, a rare virtue.
Recruiting Aramaki now came with another benefit: the World Government and the Five Elders were too arrogant to recognize potential in anyone outside their own circles. Even if Aramaki's strength blossomed later, they'd dismiss it as mere luck a "pet slave" Blake happened to find wandering the seas.
They'd never think to strip him away or fold him into their ranks.
"This," Blake thought with satisfaction, "is the kind of talent a Celestial Dragon truly needs."
He leaned back, amused. "Those other so-called transmigrators who dream of recruiting men like Zephyr, Moria, or Kuma… how do they even talk those people into it? Their entire natures are incompatible with us."
"Even if you spoke like a saint and acted like a savior, they'd still suspect you of manipulation. That's the reputation the Celestial Dragons have built over eight centuries."
He chuckled softly. "That's what you call public image."
Unlike others of his kind, Blake had no delusions of saving the world. He simply wanted to own it to change its masters, not its nature.
He stood, walking over to where Aramaki still knelt, and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
"Rise," Blake said. "From now on, as my vassal, you need not kneel so often. Tell me, are you a Devil Fruit user?"
Aramaki's eyes widened, his whole body trembling with excitement. "Yes, my lord! I am the wielder of the Forest-Forest Fruit, a Logia-type!"
Blake nodded approvingly. "Good. Starting tomorrow, I'll have these two Cipher Pol agents train you personally. Don't disappoint me."
Aramaki saluted sharply, his voice bursting with fervor. "Yes, Lord Blake! I won't fail your expectations!"
Watching the fire in his eyes, Blake smiled, deeply satisfied.
In the original timeline, Zephyr had once criticized Kizaru for relying too much on his Devil Fruit power. Yet Blake knew that wasn't fair. Kizaru's swordsmanship and martial skill were both world-class if anything, he simply fought too directly, too predictably. His power could have been far more subtle, far more creative.
By contrast, Green Bull was the most fruit-dependent of all the Admirals and likely the weakest. In both Mary Geoise and Onigashima, he'd relied entirely on his ability, barely using physical combat at all.
He was, as Blake put it, "a larger, greener Smoker."
Having him train under Cipher Pol agents while forbidding him from using his Devil Fruit would toughen him up considerably.
Blake spent three days in the Kingdom of Taya, enjoying its royal hospitality including, rather indecently, the company of its "special princesses." When he finally departed, he decided to take them with him as souvenirs of royal goodwill.
Truly, a man who left no gift unclaimed.
The Sanctum, his celestial ship, drifted lazily across the South Blue, escorted by naval vessels that kept pirates well away.
Beneath a parasol on deck, Blake reclined with a glass of chilled wine while Aramaki sparred furiously against two Cipher Pol operatives nearby.
Though his physique was naturally strong, Aramaki had long neglected his physical and Haki training in favor of his Fruit powers. Now, under Blake's supervision, he was rediscovering what it meant to fight like a warrior.
At only seventeen, he was growing rapidly perhaps even destined to surpass the version of himself that existed in history.
Blake, meanwhile, found his own growth slowing. Perhaps his good fortune had run dry; his most recent "draw" had summoned a nameless pirate who was defeated in a single strike. Since then, he'd been training his Haki the old-fashioned way through discipline and repetition.
It was progress, but slow. To push his Armament and Observation Haki to their next stage, he'd either need to defeat a vast number of skilled opponents… or get lucky again.
For now, he trained daily against a projection of young Kizaru not yet an Admiral, but still sly as ever.
Even so, the young Kizaru was annoyingly slippery, his movements oozing the same lazy cunning that would one day make him infamous.
Blake could match him blow for blow, but defeating him outright?
That, he realized with a smirk, was another matter entirely.