10:00 a.m., Marineford Headquarters.
Heavy, dragging footsteps echoed down the corridor.
KING leaned against the wall as he walked, every muscle screaming in protest. Each step felt as if his body were being torn apart and then rubbed with coarse salt.
The deep ache pulsed behind his eyes.
Although the system had repaired most of his internal damage, the fatigue lodged deep in his bones refused to fade.
Garp's "morning exercise" started far too early…
"I just want to… sleep…"
Grinding his teeth, KING forced himself forward and stumbled into the Logistics Chief's office.
His backside had barely touched the chair when the door swung open.
No knock.
Inside Marine Headquarters, only a handful of people entered without knocking.
Sengoku strode in carrying a stack of documents nearly as tall as his torso.
Seeing KING's half-dead appearance, Sengoku showed no irritation. Instead, his eyes behind his glasses sharpened with interest.
"Good."
He dropped the files heavily onto the desk.
KING's eyelids twitched.
"Garp's training is harsh," Sengoku said evenly, "but necessary. If you are to control power capable of tearing the sky apart, you must first learn to control yourself."
He glanced at the mountain of documents.
"But do not allow it to interfere with your duties."
His tone became firm.
"These are non-standard supply requests submitted by branch bases this quarter. As Chief of Logistics, you must oversee approval and allocation. Power and responsibility are inseparable."
A test.
Clearly.
Before KING could respond, Sengoku turned and left — not even bothering to close the door.
KING stared at the stack blocking his view.
His mind buzzed like a mosquito.
Forms filled with dense technical language blurred before his eyes:
Grand Line G-8 artillery requisition adjustments
North Blue supply redistribution request
Composite steel allocation for new warship production
His skull throbbed harder.
(What the hell is this…)
(This branch wants an extra hundred tons of cabbage? Approved.)
(New shells? Approved.)
(Hurry up… finish… sleep… AFK…)
Eyes closing, KING grabbed the heavy gold seal and began stamping blindly.
BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.
The office filled with dull, rhythmic thuds.
Among the stamped documents:
An emergency supply request from Smoker's fleet operating near Alabasta.
KING didn't read it.
He stamped it.
Then accidentally drew an oversized red circle around the quantity column.
Maximum allocation authorization.
Three times the requested volume.
Worse—
When he tossed the document aside, the seal landed atop another form:
Naval Science Unit requisition authorization:
Prototype deployment approval for the Seastone Capture Net System — a device designed to restrain Devil Fruit users.
The only existing prototype.
It now bore the Chief of Logistics seal.
Destination:
Smoker's fleet.
Thirty Minutes Later — Fleet Admiral's Office
Sengoku was pruning his bonsai when a logistics officer burst in, sweating and forgetting to knock.
"Fleet Admiral! Emergency!"
"How many times must I repeat this?" Sengoku said calmly, trimming a leaf. "Remain composed. If the sky falls, someone taller will hold it up."
"It's… Chief King's approval orders…"
The officer handed over the documents with trembling hands.
Sengoku frowned slightly.
"That boy made a mistake on his first day?"
He glanced casually.
Then froze.
The standard ammunition load request had been circled in thick red ink — large enough to include the unit notation.
Maximum supply authorization.
Attached:
Special equipment allocation slip.
Destination: Smoker's fleet.
Item:
Prototype Seastone capture system developed under Dr. Vegapunk's supervision.
Sengoku slammed his hand on the desk.
"Nonsense! Issuing prototype strategic equipment to a colonel? And this volume of supplies — is he preparing for a small-scale war?"
His voice stopped abruptly.
He stared at the seal.
Crooked.
Blurred from excessive force.
Then at the red circle.
A chill crept up his spine.
That man… would make such a careless error?
Impossible.
If accidental — why Smoker?
If random — why a Seastone weapon designed to counter Logia users?
This was deliberate.
"Alabasta…"
Sengoku walked to the sea chart.
His finger pressed onto the desert kingdom.
"Bring me the latest intelligence."
The officer handed over reports.
"Routine rebel activity… and Sir Crocodile has been active there, but as a Warlord, the government has restricted investigation…"
Crocodile.
Protected by the Seven Warlords system.
A stagnant pool beyond Marine jurisdiction.
Sengoku's anger faded.
Replaced by depth.
Understanding.
He looked toward the closed office door next door, as if seeing through the wall.
"I see…"
He removed his glasses and wiped them slowly.
"Well done… you saw further than I did."
The officer blinked in confusion.
"Fleet Admiral… should we revoke the order?"
"Revoke it?"
Sengoku slammed the document down.
"This is the optimal arrangement."
He tapped Alabasta on the chart.
"Smoker possesses the Smoke-Smoke Fruit. Effective, but lacking decisive finishing power. If he encounters Crocodile, the outcome is uncertain."
He tapped the allocation slip.
"Seastone — the natural enemy of Devil Fruit users."
"KING hasn't just provided supplies. He has provided the means to act."
Sengoku paced slowly.
"That tripled supply allocation ensures operational endurance and civil stabilization."
"He saw Crocodile's ambitions long ago. But he knew direct intervention was politically constrained by the Warlord system."
"So he placed the blade in Smoker's hand… through logistics."
"This is not supply authorization."
"It is strategic leverage."
Sengoku looked up, eyes filled with awe and unease.
"A declaration of war against the Seven Warlords system."
The officer swallowed.
"But if higher authorities question the allocation of prototype equipment…"
"I will take responsibility."
Sengoku signed the document.
"Load all supplies within two hours."
"Assign a dedicated escort vessel for the prototype."
"Inform Smoker: the tools are provided. If he still wanders aimlessly, he may return to the East Blue and fish."
"Yes, sir!"
The officer saluted sharply and sprinted out.
Sengoku looked out toward the sea.
A strange sense of relief settled in his chest.
"Garp… you didn't bring back merely a monster."
"You brought back a strategist."
"The Navy's future may truly rest in his hands."
Next Door — Logistics Chief's Office
KING lay sprawled across his desk.
Drool soaked through multiple documents.
In his dream, there was no Garp.
No paperwork.
He lay on the grass of Sabaody Archipelago while sugary donuts rained from the sky.
"Hehe… delicious… one more…"
Soft snoring filled the quiet office.
He had no idea he had just nudged the Grand Line toward upheaval.
All he knew was:
the sofa felt exceptionally soft today.
[Ding! Detected host sleeping during work hours and triggering high-level strategic impact due to "misunderstanding."]
[System judgment: High-quality slacking.]
[Reward: Conqueror's Haki proficiency +200]
KING scratched lazily and slept even deeper.