Every detail of the council chamber reflected the dignity and grandeur of royalty.
Heavy golden velvet curtains covered the tall windows, shielding the room from the bright afternoon sun. Only a few thin rays slipped through the gaps, casting scattered patches of light across the floor.
Incense drifted lazily through the air, its rich fragrance mingling with the unmistakable atmosphere of an old seat of power, one shaped by generations of authority and tradition.
The elderly king sat upon an ornate throne, his slightly hunched posture betraying the weight of age.
As he had done countless times before, he leisurely sipped from a delicate porcelain cup of black tea trimmed with fine gold. The surface of the tea rippled faintly as he raised it to his lips, enjoying the brief moment of peace.
He was preparing to hear the finance minister's detailed report on the amount of Heavenly Tribute the kingdom would be required to pay this year.
Then the doors burst open.
The captain of the royal guard hurried into the chamber with an urgency bordering on improper conduct.
Sweat covered his forehead, and anxiety was written plainly across his face. In his hands was an emergency edition of the newspaper, still carrying the scent of fresh ink.
He approached the throne, bowed deeply, and immediately presented it to the king.
The king frowned.
His previously relaxed expression turned displeased as he gave the guard captain a sharp look, clearly irritated by the interruption.
Then his eyes landed on the front-page headline.
His entire body froze.
The royal signet ring on his finger accidentally struck the porcelain teacup.
Clink!
The sharp sound broke the silence of the chamber.
"This… this is impossible…"
The king's voice had gone dry.
His hands began trembling, causing the newspaper to rustle uncontrollably between his fingers.
He stared at the article again and again, unable to tear his eyes away from the blurred yet unmistakably shocking photographs.
Kizaru, trapped helplessly in Diamond Jozu's grasp.
Katakuri escorting Fujitora away as a prisoner.
Burning Marine warships scattered across the sea, thick black smoke pouring into the sky.
Every image struck at beliefs the old king had held unquestioningly for decades.
The finance minister standing nearby watched him with growing concern.
"Your Majesty?"
He hesitated before carefully attempting to return to the matter they had been discussing.
"Regarding next year's Heavenly Tribute… should we continue according to the original plan?"
The candlelight flickered across the lavish decorations and murals lining the council chamber.
Yet the atmosphere had completely changed.
"Heavenly Tribute?"
The king's head snapped upward.
All color drained from his wrinkled face.
His eyes widened, disbelief and alarm filling them.
As though the newspaper had suddenly burned his hands, he threw it onto the long council table studded with precious stones.
Slap!
The light sound somehow echoed through the silent chamber like thunder.
His voice rose sharply, trembling with agitation.
"Why the hell are we still talking about the Heavenly Tribute?!"
Every minister in the room stiffened.
The old king planted both hands against the heavy table and slowly pushed himself to his feet.
Age had weakened his body considerably, and the effort made his arms tremble, but he still leaned forward and swept his gaze across the confused officials before him.
"Quickly! Reassess our entire relationship with the World Government!"
His voice thundered through the hall.
Then one thin, bony finger stabbed repeatedly at the words printed prominently across the newspaper.
ETERNAL DIVINE KINGDOM.
"Immediately… immediately prepare the most valuable gifts we possess!"
The king's breathing grew heavier.
"Jewels! Antiques! Berries! Go through the royal treasury and bring out the finest things we have!"
His forehead was covered in sweat now.
Fear burned in his cloudy eyes, mixed with the desperate urgency of a man who had suddenly realized that the protection he had relied upon his entire life might no longer mean anything.
"We must…"
He struggled for breath.
"We must establish contact with the Eternal Divine Kingdom as quickly as possible!"
The last words came almost as a gasp.
Then, as though the outburst had consumed the last of his strength, the old king collapsed heavily back onto his throne.
The council chamber fell completely silent.
None of the ministers spoke.
Only the faint sound of the palace fountain could be heard through the windows, continuing to flow as though nothing in the world had changed.
On the long table between them, the newspaper remained spread open.
Its headline silently announced the end of an old order—
and the arrival of a new era filled with uncertainty.
The ministers exchanged uneasy glances.
They all understood the same thing.
From this moment onward, kingdoms across the world would have to reconsider where their loyalties truly belonged.
...
Information traveled through the underworld with astonishing speed, almost always staying one step ahead of the so-called legitimate news networks.
The criminal world had its own channels and rhythms, and even the smallest disturbance could spread through its hidden network almost instantly.
While the newspapers carrying news that would shake the entire world were still making their way across the seas, several heavily encrypted Visual Transponder Snail recordings had already appeared on the desks of the underworld's greatest power brokers.
The recordings had been carefully sealed inside elegant wooden cases, lending them an almost ceremonial air.
Inside those dimly lit offices, no one shouted in surprise.
There was no unnecessary discussion.
Only cigar smoke drifted silently through the oppressive stillness as powerful men and women absorbed what they had just learned.
The man known as the Shipping King, Umit, sat with a grave expression as he stroked his beard.
His eyes remained fixed on the enormous sea chart spread across his desk.
Then he picked up a red pen.
With one decisive stroke, he crossed out an important shipping route—
the direct route leading toward Marine Headquarters.
That single line severed more than a path across the sea.
It represented a connection he no longer considered reliable.
After a moment of thought, Umit frowned and picked up a blue pen instead.
His hand moved slowly across the map until it reached the regions bordering the territories traditionally controlled by the Four Emperors.
There, he carefully drew a new boundary.
When he wrote the words Eternal Divine Kingdom, the tip of his pen paused.
Umit stared at the map for several seconds.
Then he continued drawing.
The new circle was larger and far more prominent than any of the old territorial markings surrounding it.
The meaning was obvious.
A new power had risen, and the underworld would be foolish not to acknowledge it.
...
Elsewhere, in another luxurious office, the Loan Shark King, Du Feld, had just ended a call with an official from the World Government.
He calmly set down the receiver, a faintly calculating expression appearing on his face.
His slender fingers moved rapidly across a calculator.
Numbers flashed across the display.
Then every figure representing investments connected to Marine-controlled industries changed from green to glaring red.
Du Feld narrowed his eyes.
Without looking away from the screen, he made a small gesture toward the assistant standing respectfully nearby.
"Freeze every investment connected to Marine branches."
His voice was low and measured.
"And prepare a congratulatory gift…"
He paused.
"No. Prepare three."
The assistant looked up.
"Three, sir?"
"Three different values."
Du Feld leaned back in his chair.
"Make sure His Majesty Ron can clearly understand just how sincere we are."
The assistant immediately understood.
He bowed and hurried away, his footsteps gradually disappearing down the corridor.
...
In the Pleasure District, the woman known as the Queen of the Pleasure District reclined lazily across an extravagant sofa.
Stussy's graceful figure seemed perfectly at home amid the luxury surrounding her, every small movement carrying effortless charm.
Not long ago, she had once again tactfully declined another attempt at contact from CP0.
Whatever demands or pressure had accompanied the message, Stussy had brushed them aside with practiced ease.
Her slender fingers gently swirled the stemmed glass in her hand.
Deep-red wine rolled slowly around the crystal, catching the light in shifting reflections that matched the intelligence and calculation gleaming in her eyes.
A huge screen floated before her.
Names, records, and intelligence profiles flowed across it in a constant stream.
Stussy was selecting the finest intelligence operatives under her command.
Each had been chosen from among countless candidates and possessed abilities that made them exceptional even by the standards of the underworld.
And every one of them was being assigned to the same destination.
The Eternal Divine Kingdom.
"It's about time…"
Stussy leaned her head back slightly and murmured to herself.
A captivating smile slowly appeared on her lips.
"…that I made some new friends."
Her eyes narrowed with amusement.
"Preferably powerful ones."
...
Meanwhile, in a deeper and far darker corner of the city, the air carried a nauseating stench of rot.
This was a place built entirely upon greed and human suffering.
And here, the Organ Dealer Gibson ruled like a demon over his own little corner of hell.
His face was twisted with agitation, his eyes bloodshot with urgency.
He suddenly kicked over a refrigerated container filled with supplies marked for Marine orders.
The lid crashed against the floor.
"What the hell are you standing around for?!"
Gibson roared at his subordinates.
"Go find them! Find every pirate crew that's thrown its support behind the Divine Kingdom!"
His voice thundered through the cramped room as he waved his arms furiously.
"Ask whether they need the best medical supplies money can buy!"
One subordinate hesitated.
"And the price—?"
"Price?!"
Gibson practically screamed.
"We're not charging them this time!"
He jabbed a finger toward the door.
"Tell them it's free! A gift!"
His men immediately scattered to carry out the order.
That was how the underworld worked.
There was no room for sentimental speeches or hollow declarations of loyalty.
Only practical calculation.
Only naked self-interest.
The name Eternal Divine Kingdom had struck this ruthless world like a boulder dropped into still water.
The balance that had existed for years was breaking apart.
Invisible currents were already surging beneath the surface.
Old rules that once seemed unquestionable were being discarded without hesitation.
The familiar game board had been overturned.
And a completely new gamble had begun.
Every major faction was already repositioning itself, determined to claim whatever advantages it could before everyone else adapted.
The names Eternal Divine Kingdom and Ron now carried an entirely different weight.
Together with the earth-shattering news of the Marines' catastrophic defeat, those two names spread across the underworld like stones crashing into a once-calm lake—
---------
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