One Piece : Brotherhood

Marie Geoise, Red Line

The silence in the Room of Authority was thick, each of the Five Elders' faces locked in deep contemplation as they weighed the gravity of the situation.

Elder Mars had delivered the news of Ochoku's brutal death, and while a few of them dismissed it as typical pirate fare, Mars's expression remained taut with concern.

"It's not just that Ochoku died," Mars reiterated, voice hushed, his gaze steely. "Whoever killed him didn't just want him dead; they wanted us to take notice. The message was unmistakable—this was a reminder, and a threat."

Elder Ju Peter scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "Pirates are savages, Saint Mars. They're always trying to gain infamy through brutality. Ochoku's killer is likely just another of those low-life pirates trying to make a name for themselves by leaving a bloody calling card."

But Elder Mars shook his head. "No, I believe this goes deeper than that. Ochoku was a key player in toppling Rocks back then. He helped us avoid a man who might have challenged our rule. If he's dead now, and in such a manner… it might mean there's a larger scheme unfolding."

Elder Warcury, however, leaned back, unperturbed. "Look around, Saint Mars. Pirates murdering each other is hardly new. What we should be focused on is Flevance. Rosinante has arrived in the North Blue, and if he discovers the truth about the Amber Lead plague, our long-term plans will be at risk. We may need to eliminate Flevance to prevent any loose ends."

A flicker of annoyance crossed Elder Ju Peter's face. "And what are those troublesome Donquixotes even doing up there? Shouldn't they be hosting Queen Otohime's entourage right now? Instead, they're sticking their noses into North Blue, right where we need discretion."

Elder Nusjuro's face twisted with frustration. "If I'd known those two would be a thorn in our sides, I would have slit their throats the day they entered the Holy Land as children," he growled. "Since their rise, we've seen more setbacks in a decade than we've seen in centuries."

Elder Saturn finally spoke up, his voice measured and cold. "Enough about Ochoku, his death is insignificant. Flevance is our priority. If the citizens of neighboring countries believe the Amber Lead disease is spreading, they'll wipe out Flevance for us. Issue an order through our channels and release a discrete statement to the neighboring countries royalty on the disease's lethality. A subtle nudge is all that's needed."

He paused, his gaze sharpening. "Now, what about the devil fruit?"

A collective stillness fell over the room. Elder Saturn's tone had changed, now carrying an edge that even the most seasoned in the room didn't dare ignore. The mythical Zoan fruit they had long sought—rumored to bestow the abilities of the Sun God—was a relic with powers so profound it had remained a closely guarded secret within the highest echelons of the World Government.

For centuries, the Elders had hunted the fruit, spreading disinformation and even changing its classification in the Devil Fruit Encyclopedia to a mere Paramecia type to deter interest. But now, whispers had surfaced again, carried on the winds from the New World.

Elder Ju Peter shifted uneasily. "They're just rumors, Saint Saturn. That accursed fruit has a will of its own, like any Zoan type. It's unlikely it would reappear now after all this time."

Elder Saturn's gaze remained icy. "Rumors or not, Imu-sama expects us to act. The name of 'Sun God' has been spoken among the Giant Pirates. If that fruit has reemerged, then it could alter everything. One mistake—one failure—and the consequences for us all will be severe."

Elder Ju Peter flinched at the mention of Imu-sama, a shadow crossing his face. Even he, skeptical as he was, understood the weight of Saturn's words. Since their defeat of the last wielder of that fruit centuries ago, they had spared no effort to erase all knowledge of it from history.

The very idea that the fruit could surface in the hands of a rogue entity—especially one that might hold sympathy for the will of "D"—was a nightmare.

Elder Nusjuro cleared his throat. "The Giants have been attacking our outposts in the New World since they liberated the two stationed at Enies Lobby. They've been burning Marine strongholds, even attacking our bastions. And Egghead Island… it's dangerously close to Elbaf."

"Do you think the Giants have found it?" Elder Warcury asked, his voice low and tense. "They might know its power better than anyone besides us. If they're aware of its return…"

Elder Saturn's eyes narrowed. "If they possess it, they'll become more than a thorn—they'll become a real threat to our control over the seas. We've contained them for centuries, but the Sun God's will is something they revere. If they unleash its power, the world itself could shift. They could spark a rallying cry across all pirate crews in the New World."

The room fell into a heavy silence. They each understood the magnitude of what was at stake, the lengths they had gone to bury the fruit's history, to keep its secrets bound in shadow. The fruit's reappearance could destabilize their rule, could rekindle fires they'd spent centuries extinguishing.

Elder Saturn finally broke the silence, his grip tightening on his staff. "Our course is clear. We eliminate every lead, every rumor. If the fruit is out there, we must obtain it—or destroy it. But failure is not an option. Imu-sama has waited too long to see the end of Joy Boy's lineage and the will he left behind. We will not let this slip through our fingers again."

And with that, the room darkened further, the Elders steeling themselves for what was sure to be a brutal, unforgiving hunt—one that might stretch across the world, and leave ruin in its wake. For to the Five Elders, failure was not merely unthinkable—it was fatal.

Elder Saturn's staff struck the marble floor with a resonant thud, his face darkening. "The Nika Fruit must not fall into the hands of the giants. We need eyes within Elbaf," he declared, his voice heavy with authority.

The mention of Elbaf, a kingdom beyond the reach of even the World Government, cast a tangible tension across the room. While other nations bent under their influence, the giants of Elbaf stood apart, their fierce independence unyielding for centuries.

In terms of raw power, no kingdom could rival them. And now, with rumors of the Sun God Nika's resurgence, even the Elders could not ignore the potential storm brewing within that hidden realm.

Elder Nusjuro's face was grim as he nodded, considering the implications. "Dialogue is not an option with them, not since the incident on Punk Hazard. The giants have learned of the experiments we carried out on their people. They will not listen to reason—or threats. Those brutes never had a penchant for negotiation," he added, bitterness clear in his voice.

"But we do have John Giant. He's our one link to Elbaf, and he has a few connections with giants in his homeland; most of our intel about Elbaf comes from him. As a giant loyal to the World Government over his own people, he could get us new information from within."

Nusjuro's eyes gleamed with a kind of cold satisfaction. John Giant was a rare asset, a traitor to his homeland who, for his own reasons, had pledged his life to the World Government.

With his aid, they'd formed a squadron of brainwashed giants, fierce warriors bent to the Government's will. But now, more than ever, John Giant's connections could be pivotal.

"What if the fruit is already in their possession?" Elder Mars murmured, breaking the silence. The thought seemed to weigh heavily on his mind.

"If the Nika Fruit has truly ended up in the hands of a giant, we may be too late. A giant with that power… it could spell disaster. The fruit's potential only fully awakens in the hands of someone who understands its true legacy. They could unleash powers that even we have not foreseen."

Elder Nusjuro nodded. "From our most recent intelligence, it doesn't appear they've secured it. If they had, the news would have traveled fast, especially considering who would be the fruit's destined wielder. The giants believe the chosen one is none other than Prince Loki himself."

At the name, a hush fell over the room, and even Elder Saturn's face softened, acknowledging the gravity of Nusjuro's words.

Prince Loki—the youngest son of Harald—was a name that carried weight even among the Elders. Though the giants were known for their strength, Loki was revered as something extraordinary even within Elbaf.

Rumors said he was blessed by the gods, a child touched by divine power. Tales of his skill with weapons, his unmatched physical prowess, and his sharp intellect spread across the New World, creating a myth around him before he even reached adulthood.

The giants of Elbaf regarded him as a once-in-a-millennium genius, a giant who would reshape their destiny. He was adored, respected, and worshipped by his kin—a true symbol of hope and might.

"Loki…" Elder Saturn echoed the name, almost as if testing its weight. "If the Nika Fruit were to end up with someone like him, it would be worse than a mere disaster. It would be the realization of a prophecy for most, and they will rally."

Elder Warcury shifted uneasily. "The giants view Loki as their savior. They say he is a leader blessed by the gods, someone who could unite Elbaf and perhaps all the New World giants under a single banner. If he were to wield the power of Nika, it would solidify their loyalty to him beyond any doubt."

"Correct," Elder Nusjuro replied, his expression dark. "They call him 'God's Chosen.' If they have the fruit, there's little doubt it would go to him. Elbaf would be emboldened by his power, and their hatred for us would be inflamed. Loki has been trained not only in the ways of a warrior but also in the history of the giants' from the time when the ancient kingdom was around. He's fiercely loyal to his people and loathes the World Government."

Elder Mars clenched his fists. "Imagine it: a giant, blessed by both lineage and strength, wielding the powers of the Sun God himself. Elbaf's respect for him would become an unstoppable fanaticism. He could rally them with a call for liberation."

Elder Saturn's eyes narrowed, steely and resolute. "We must absolutely not allow it to come to that. We'll activate every asset, every pawn, to prevent it. If Loki gets his hands on that fruit, it won't just be the giants we're dealing with. It will be the spark of revolution across the seas. The tales of Nika have not faded entirely. Some hearts still remember the Sun God, and Loki could become their symbol."

The other Elders nodded in grim unison, feeling the weight of Saturn's words. The stakes were rising, and they all knew that if they failed, their power—carefully woven over centuries—might finally be unraveled.

"Then we proceed," Saturn concluded, his voice cold and final. "We'll use whatever means necessary to monitor Elbaf and prevent the fruit from falling into their hands. If we have to burn half of the New World to keep it out of theirs, so be it. No one will challenge the World Government. Not while we still hold the reins."

Elder Warcury leaned forward, his voice tense as he addressed Saturn. "Saint Saturn, speaking of the New World, what are we to make of this rogue situation? Three of our newly instated Shichibukai have launched a full-scale attack on Whitebeard himself, and without our authorization. The timing couldn't be worse, especially with Linlin and Kaido's forces converging on Wano as we speak."

Saturn's eyes narrowed, his face creased in thought. "Yes… Wano. The way Linlin and Kaido are drawn to that isolated land is suspicious," he murmured.

"There must be something hidden there, something even we are unaware of. Still, Wano's fate does not concern us—at least, not in the way some might believe."

Elder Mars, who had been listening quietly, nodded in agreement but couldn't hold back his curiosity. "But what would attract those two to Wano so suddenly? Are we missing something within its borders? If so, we need to know."

Elder Saturn's gaze flicked over the group. "For now, let them fight it out. The politics of Wano and the ambitions of Kaido and Linlin could prove useful in keeping each other in check. What truly intrigues me," he continued, pausing with a note of distaste, "is the issue with the Shichibukai. The whole reason we brought them into the Warlord system was to use their reputations to deter other pirates, maintain order, and keep a close watch on these troublesome souls. Yet for all three of them to suddenly unite against Whitebeard…"

Saturn's words hung in the air, laced with a mix of intrigue and frustration. For even the World Government, pulling these three chaotic personalities into any semblance of alignment had been a task of cunning diplomacy, manipulation, and, most of all, control.

Now, they were acting autonomously, taking aim at one of the world's greatest forces without any mandate.

"Their alliance is no coincidence," Saturn continued darkly. "We're missing something vital. A reason that even we haven't accounted for."

Elder Nusjuro's jaw tightened as he considered the implications. "Whitebeard's power is still formidable. If these three Shichibukai have truly joined forces, then there's a chance they're aiming to destabilize his empire in some way. Perhaps they're making their move to test us, to see if we would back them against such a force."

"Or," Elder Warcury interjected, "they're preparing the seas for something larger. With so many moving pieces, we may need to press Whitebeard's hand to ensure he doesn't gain the upper hand."

A grim smirk crept over Saturn's face, deepening the shadows across his scarred features. "Indeed," he agreed, his voice laced with cold authority.

"Order the Aegis Division to keep a close watch on Wano. They are to stir up as much trouble as possible within Whitebeard's territories, harassing his crew and stirring unrest among his allies. He won't have the time to reach Wano if his own holdings are under threat."

Saturn then directed his gaze to the others, his expression growing even darker. "Meanwhile, the Cipher Pol can be our messengers. Reach out to Kaido and Linlin, subtly, and offer them an opportunity to remove Oden from power if they're willing to aid our cause. The idea of Wano under Kaido or Linlin is far more palatable than Wano empowered under the rule of a man like Oden. Both have egos large enough to seize such an opportunity—and neither of them has the temperament to refuse a well-crafted offer."

Elder Ju Peter, who had been listening intently, chuckled. "A perfect proposal. Kaido and Linlin would never realize the manipulation behind it. A spark that ignites Oden's downfall without a single World Government hand raised. Quite the move, Saint Saturn."

A deadly glint in Saturn's eye betrayed a satisfaction. "Precisely. With Oden removed, Wano's chaotic potential is neutralized, and those who would dare challenge us are one step closer to elimination. We'll let the Shichibukai and Whitebeard clash as much as they like—it will only work to exhaust them. We'll let Kaido and Linlin set their sights on Wano, sparing us the trouble. This way, we gain without lifting a finger."

The Elders nodded, each calculating the layers of their plot. It was a move of shadowed elegance and ruthless precision, a plan to maintain the World Government's unyielding grip on power while orchestrating the chaos that would devour those who dared resist.

"See to it that it is done," Saturn commanded, his voice an ominous echo in the chamber. "And if any of the players on that board begin to see through our game, make sure they don't live long enough to say so."

Within the elegant, meticulously landscaped indoor garden of the Figarland estate, Saint Figarland Garling sat alone, savoring the stillness. Clad in noble attire befitting his status as Supreme Commander of the God's Knights, he exuded an aura of authority that made the carefully cultivated garden around him feel like a mere backdrop to his presence.

Standing silently behind him was a member of the God's Knights, posture rigid, awaiting orders or perhaps acknowledgment, though none would likely come.

A knock at the ornate door broke the silence. An agent dressed in a crisp, black suit entered with a deep bow. "Figarland-sama," she began, her tone deferential. "Lady Agana has regained consciousness."

Garling did not move, his gaze fixed on a blooming rose bush as though the report held no significance. He gave no sign that he'd heard her at all. The agent, noting his silence, bowed once more and quietly retreated, taking care to make herself invisible as she backed out of the room.

Watching her leave, the God's Knight dared to speak, his voice careful, bordering on hesitant.

"Commander," he ventured, "will you not visit your daughter?"

Garling's expression did not soften, nor did he shift his gaze from the flowers. The coldness in his eyes only intensified, sharpening as if the mere mention of Agana soured the calm atmosphere he had cultivated. When he finally replied, his voice was like steel, indifferent yet biting.

"And why," he began slowly, each word clipped, "should I trouble myself with a failure?"

The God's Knight blinked, stunned at the bluntness. Lady Agana was Garling's only daughter, a prodigy hailed throughout the Holy Land as a talent without equal. She had shown promise from a young age, groomed from infancy to bring honor to the Figarland name.

But Garling's expression betrayed not a trace of sentiment or regret. For him, she had become nothing more than a stain on his reputation.

"She couldn't even best a pirate, almost a decade younger than her age," he continued, his tone laced with contempt.

"After all the resources, the time, and the training I invested in her, she allowed herself to be brought to the brink of death. Rescued, no less, by a subordinate while the opponent's attentions were conveniently… diverted. That is no daughter of mine." His lips twisted in a slight, derisive sneer, one of the few cracks in his otherwise unshakeable composure.

The God's Knight held his breath, unsure whether a response would be wise. But Garling was not finished.

"She was meant to represent the strength of this family, to be my living testament." His eyes darkened, a flicker of rage smoldering beneath the surface, though his voice remained as icy as ever.

"A warrior without equal, trained to embody the authority and power of the Figarland name. And now? A 'prodigy' laid low by someone from the Donquixote family—an outcast no less." He spat the word out as if it were venom, his disdain for weakness more tangible than any blade.

For a moment, he fell silent, his gaze sweeping over the lush garden as though seeking solace. But the beauty around him was inconsequential in the shadow of his fury.

"A daughter who fails her purpose is worse than worthless. A disappointment. Nothing more than wasted potential and a blemish on this family's legacy."

The God's Knight shifted uneasily but held his ground, listening to his commander's words as if they held some grim, indisputable truth. The coldness with which Garling dismissed his own blood was as stunning as it was unsettling.

Here was a man to whom even family was a transaction—measured in power, in results, in absolute loyalty to the Figarland legacy. Any deviation from that standard was, to him, an unforgivable failure.

The silence stretched, heavy with Garling's unspoken condemnation. At last, he rose from the iron bench, brushing a stray leaf from his jacket as though even the slightest imperfection were intolerable.

"She is no longer of any concern to me," he concluded. "If she were to fail again, even survival would be unmerited."

As Saint Figarland Garling's voice echoed with cold finality, he didn't even glance back to see the reaction of his subordinate.

"And make sure her name is stricken from the list of prospective candidates for the God's Knights," he continued, voice hard as iron.

"We cannot allow a failure like that to sully the honor of the God's Knights or bring disgrace to the Figarland name."

The God's Knight inclined his head in acknowledgment. Despite his own awe for Agana's talents, he knew better than to question a command from the Supreme Commander.

"Understood, Commander. I'll see that it's done."

Garling's gaze settled on a nearby rose bush, its crimson blossoms in full bloom. He reached out, clasping one of the delicate roses between his fingers, examining it for only a moment before his grip tightened, crushing the flower and letting its crushed petals and sap drip between his fingers.

"I don't care who it is," he murmured softly, his voice laced with disdain. "I will never allow anyone to tarnish my name—the Figarland name—and the legacy we represent."

The ruined rose fell from his hand, its once-proud form now mangled on the garden floor, abandoned without a second glance.

Just outside the garden, hidden in the shadow of one of the grand marble pillars that lined the hallway, Agana stood frozen. She'd come here hoping for something—perhaps a word of reassurance or even the faintest hint of concern from her father. But as she listened, each word struck her like a blow, harder than any wound she'd suffered on the battlefield.

Unmoving, she watched her father's cold, indifferent face, her own expression crumbling. Silent tears traced down her cheeks, but she dared not make a sound. Perhaps, in his callous way, her father had chosen this moment, this place, deliberately. Perhaps he was well aware she was there, listening, absorbing every word of his unrestrained disgust.

To him, she was no longer a daughter, no longer the prodigy he had once nurtured. In his eyes, she was a tool that had failed its purpose, a tarnished weapon unfit for battle. And the cruelty in his tone left no room for negotiation, no trace of the affection she had once thought she'd seen glimpses of.

The God's Knight, ever watchful, noticed the tremor in Garling's clenched fist as he crushed the rose, a subtle yet terrifying sign of his resolve. His duty was to carry out the orders, but even he couldn't help the shiver that ran down his spine at the ruthlessness of the man standing before him.

Garling's eyes flickered back to the garden, as though he had finished with a trivial matter, and he turned to leave without a second thought.

In that single, dismissive motion, he had erased her from the future he once envisioned for her. The rose petals scattered across the garden were all that remained of any trace of warmth he might have once held for her.

Agana's fingers curled into fists as she pressed herself against the cool marble, feeling its unyielding solidity under her hands. The silent tears continued to fall as her father's figure retreated down the garden path, every step a reminder that she was no longer considered worthy, no longer part of the Figarland legacy.

She was alone, an exile in her own family, her identity fractured like the crushed rose left discarded on the ground.

*****

Notification:

✨ Up to Chapter 382 is now available on my Patreon! ✨

Join now to read the latest updates early and support the journey! Thank you for your continued encouragement! 🚀

👉 [Patreon : www.patreon.com/Silent_stiele]