"More than a hundred every day?"
Beckman sucked in a sharp breath. Those few casually spoken numbers were far more than just numbers.
Ten thousand aircraft, three hundred people each.
That meant that if Rosse wanted to, he could air-drop three million fully armed Marine soldiers onto any island in the world within just a few hours.
And they could produce more than a hundred of these terrifying strategic transport machines every single day as easily as making dumplings with their eyes closed?
The hovercar they were riding in, the giant steel birds flying overhead... and all the trump cards he still wasn't qualified to see, their numbers could only be even greater, even more unbelievable.
The gap was simply too huge.
"That thing flying in the sky... I think we've seen one before?"
Hongo, who had been speechless the whole time, finally came back to his senses.
His expression was complicated, carrying a trace of reminiscence as he hesitated.
"But it was too far away, and it was moving too fast. We thought it was some legendary ancient giant bird, or some unknown flying Mythical Zoan..."
"Oh? Really? Then this old man is willing to bet you definitely didn't see it in the East Blue or the first half of the Grand Line."
Borsalino turned around with a grin, the lenses of his glasses catching the light.
"How do you know? We were in the South Blue back then," Hongo froze.
"Because...", Borsalino shrugged, "Because of that brat named Luffy. Those specific regions, the East Blue and the first half of the Grand Line, absolutely aren't allowed to have anything that surpasses its era."
The air inside the vehicle froze completely.
Beckman's fingers, holding his cigar, suddenly trembled. Half the ash dropped onto his pant leg, but he didn't even notice.
A chill unlike anything he had ever felt shot from the soles of his feet straight to the top of his head.
"So you really sealed off and isolated the East Blue and the Grand Line all this time?", Beckman drew a deep breath.
He had long suspected it, but he still couldn't help confirming it.
The gap between the East Blue and the other three seas was simply too great.
"Take a guess," Kizaru grinned obscenely.
But Beckman already knew the answer.
"What was the point of turning those two seas into backward lawless lands? Just to create an adventure park for Luffy? Just to watch relics of the old era like us kill each other like monkeys?"
Beckman stared at Borsalino's half-smiling face and asked word by word, "Answer me, Kizaru. Since when did your World Government know there was something wrong with Luffy?"
"Heh! Heh! Vice Lord Aizen likes to say something. I think I'm finally starting to understand why he always repeats it."
Borsalino spread his mouth into his usual carefree grin.
He slowed the vehicle, slightly turned his head, and looked down at Beckman in the back seat with eyes hidden behind amber lenses, amusement flickering in them.
"Mr. Beckman, when exactly did you start having the illusion that the World Government didn't know Luffy was the Chosen One?"
"When... Could it be..."
Disbelief appeared on Beckman's face.
Right now, he didn't even have time to pay attention to this Vice Lord Aizen Borsalino mentioned.
What the other man had just said was too shocking.
"You thought it was ten years ago, when that brat accidentally ate the Gomu-Gomu no Mi?"
Borsalino let out a long, drawn-out sound, "No, no, no. That's not it. Long before that child was even born, His Majesty Rosse had already foreseen all of this while sitting upon the throne."
Those words were like an icy spike that instantly pierced every one of Beckman's thoughts.
Seeing Beckman frozen in almost rigid shock, Borsalino secretly felt delighted.
A few days earlier, when the man named Aizen Sosuke had been ordered to integrate all of the World Government's intelligence forces, the ease with which he controlled everything had left people without even the desire to resist.
Compared to that, teasing these two pirates today wasn't even worth mentioning.
"A prophecy?"
Beckman recovered from his suffocating shock and took a hard drag on his cigar, trying to suppress the trembling in his heart with nicotine.
He thought of one possibility. There were quite a few prophets in this world.
And the eight-hundred-year grudge between Nika and the World Government had long been recorded in those ancient stone tablets and prophecies.
"A prophecy? Those things can only vaguely catch fragments of the future."
Borsalino shook his head. His tone carried almost reverent awe.
"His Majesty Rosse's power has long surpassed the limits of your imagination. On his chessboard, time isn't a line moving forward. It's a book whose ending has already been written, one that can be opened and read at will."
"The main story was already decided before the story even began. What he wants to see are simply the countless side stories."
Borsalino stepped on the accelerator again. The hovercar weaved through traffic like a river of stars, speeding toward the place prepared for the two of them.
There had once been a time when Borsalino also thought Rosse was simply someone with a sharper mind and more terrifying strength.
But ever since Rosse began conquering other worlds, he had completely understood.
The man sitting upon the throne no longer belonged to the species called humanity.
"His power really is strong enough to make people despair."
Beckman rested his hands behind his head and looked at the scenery passing outside the window, forcing himself to shrug.
"But as long as something exists in this world, it has a weakness. Who knows? Maybe when that god dozes off, this world will finally welcome the chaos it deserves."
He revered Rosse, but the pirate pride carved into his bones wasn't enough to make him kneel.
After that, Beckman and Hongo settled down in Reverse City.
———
[The Next Day, Reverse City Government Building]
Under Borsalino's guidance, Beckman and Hongo stepped into the magnificent administrative hall.
The splendid decorations didn't move Beckman.
What truly unsettled him was the experience of living in the apartment the night before.
Everything in that apartment was alive.
The smart curtains automatically adjusted the lighting according to the angle of the sun. The indoor artificial intelligence called Celesta responded to his needs based on his voice.
Even when he got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, the motion-sensing floor lights lit up one after another with a faint, warm glow that wasn't dazzling.
Comfortable.
Incredibly comfortable.
But disgusting.
Incredibly disgusting.
Beckman had the illusion that he was stripped naked and placed under a magnifying glass twenty-four hours a day.
He even suspected that thing called Celesta could monitor everything he did.
The moment he spoke, Celesta responded immediately.
To Beckman, this omnipresent thing that was called a public convenience service was simply the World Government extending surveillance into every household.
Even more terrifying was what he had learned while chatting with his energetic neighbors during his morning walk.
This kind of life had already become standard throughout the South, West, and North Blues.
Even every newly enlisted Marine soldier was issued military-grade Celesta AI.
Beckman found it hard to imagine what it would take to shake a World Government like this.
"Sir, the applications for your identities have been approved. Here are your identity cards."
Behind the counter, a sweet-smiling young woman in a neatly tailored business suit handed over two cards glowing with a soft white light.
Beckman examined the feather-light little card in his hand, narrowing his eyes.
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
[World Government Citizen Identity Card]
— Name: Beckman
— Gender: Male
— Birthday: Sea Circle Calendar 14XX, XX month, XX day
— Address: Red Line - Reverse City - South District - XX Apartments - Room 1024
— Identity ID: 10020114XXXXXXXXXXXX
— Strength Certification: S Rank
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
"This card isn't just your only legal identity. It's also linked to your World Bank account. Whether you're eating, taking transportation, or going to that kind of place, you just swipe it," Borsalino added from the side.
"That's not right, is it?", Beckman raised an eyebrow as he recalled something from that morning, "When I saw you buying that seafood noodle soup this morning, I don't think you took out a card at all. Did you eat without paying?"
"My, Mr. Beckman really is observant," Borsalino kept smiling, "Actually, commercial districts have long been covered by Celesta facial recognition. You just pay with your face. I only thought old antiques from the old era like you might have trouble accepting such a science-fiction payment method."
"Tch! Being an antique doesn't mean being an idiot."
Beckman shook his head and put the card into his pocket.
He had already realized that in territory ruled by Rosse, he wouldn't be able to move through society at all without this card.
Without it, he couldn't even buy a bottle of water or get through a turnstile.
It was a form of social imprisonment even more complete than being restrained by force.
Everything was too orderly.
It might be a good thing for ordinary people, but for people like them who were used to freedom, it was hard to accept.
"Come on. I'll take you to get a toy every modern person needs, a cellphone."
Borsalino threw an arm around Beckman's shoulders as if they were old friends who hadn't met for years.
They arrived at a flagship store called "Celesta Digital."
The entire store covered several hundred square meters. There were no unnecessary decorations inside, only a few minimalist transparent display stands holding all kinds of faintly glowing electronic devices.
"Tsk! Tsk! As expected of development led by those noble lords. Even this store has a different feel."
Beckman looked around, his eyes constantly flashing with thought.
He wasn't an ordinary pirate. Behind the luxury, he could see the terrifying essence beneath it.
This kind of high-tech store conveyed an absolute sense of order.
Every stream of light, every arrangement of the displays silently declared that the pirate era of living by the blade had already been flushed into history's toilet like garbage.
"So, what level are you buying?", Borsalino headed straight for the counter.
"Since I'm already here, of course I'll use the best," Beckman curled the corner of his mouth.
"Hello, sir."
The enthusiastic saleswoman pointed to the exquisite device in the center display. It shimmered with deep blue starlight, and faint ripples seemed to flow beneath its surface as she sweetly introduced it.
"This is Celesta's current supreme flagship model, the 'Watatsumi Fruit Limited Collector's Edition.' It's not just a communication device, but proof of divine favor. It's named after the fruit of His Majesty Rosse, the God of the World. The price is 88,888,888 Berries."
"How much did you say?"
Beckman nearly choked on his cigar, his eyes almost popping out.
"For this little square thing, you want eighty million Berries?"
'What kind of concept is this?'
Back in the East Blue, two of these would be enough to buy Yasopp's head.
Of course, he knew that the value of Berries under World Government rule was probably different from that in a special place like the East Blue.
At the very least, pirate bounties certainly weren't worth nearly that much in practice.
Even so, the price was still absurd. "Sir, it's worth every penny."
The saleswoman patiently explained.
"Not only does this phone have top-tier hardware, but every future technological upgrade includes free hardware upgrades."
"And if the owner of this phone unfortunately dies or reaches the end of their natural lifespan, you may choose to reincarnate with your memories intact, or directly apply for an entry-level position in Hell's reincarnation system." [T/N: Wtf?]
"Huh? Reincarnate with my memories? Work in Hell?"
Beckman was completely dumbfounded.
He felt like his decades at sea had been for nothing.
This wasn't technology anymore.
'Isn't this obviously a scam?'
"Ahem! Just get him one of those hundred-thousand-Berries Celesta Seventh Generation models. He doesn't have the fortune to qualify for Hell's civil service yet."
Borsalino grinned as he patted the counter, then looked at the bewildered Beckman.
"Look on the bright side, old friend. You're not just buying a phone, you're buying a ticket to the future. I'll explain the rest later, including what it means for death to be only the beginning of a new life."
Half an hour later, Beckman was fiddling with the black device called a cellphone.
Under the saleswoman's patient, hands-on guidance, he finally figured out how to use it.
Simply put, with this thing in his hand, he could be sitting on the toilet and instantly learn that a noodle shop in the North Blue thousands of miles away had raised its prices, or that the Holy Land had gained another God-Chosen Princess.
Anyone could also post opinions online and look up information.
Whether it was Haki, martial arts, or a Devil Fruit encyclopedia, everything was publicly available online.
Beckman even found an app dedicated to teaching people. Its name was simple and direct: [The Strongest's First Lesson]
Beckman opened the app, his hand trembling.
Inside was a dense list of familiar courses.
[Armament Haki: From Basics to Mastery, 500,000 Berries per hour, taught by an A-Rank certified practitioner.]
[Marine Six Styles: Soru - Beginner Course, 100,000 Berries per hour, taught by a B-Rank certified practitioner.]
In the pirate world, these closely guarded core techniques could only be obtained through life-and-death tempering or master-disciple inheritance.
Yet in Rosse's World Government, they were openly priced and available for everyone to learn.
Looking at his own stunned reflection on the phone's screen, Beckman suddenly wanted to laugh, yet couldn't.
As an S-Rank powerhouse, he still stood at the top of the pyramid even by the World Government's current standards.
But in this era, he was no longer a famous expert known across the seas.
He could only work as an ordinary private tutor.
'This world... Is completely crazy.'
[T/N: This reminds me strongly of Hunter x Hunter World.]