CHAPTER 487: CHAPTER 487

Mary Geoise, Red Line

Inside the sanctum of authority, silence reigned. Not the silence of peace—but the heavy, suffocating quiet of calculated dread. Beneath the dim glow of the crystal chandelier and towering murals depicting the ancient conquests of the World Government, the Five Elders sat like grim statues around the porcelain tea table at the heart of the room.

Laid before them were four bounty posters—crisp, freshly printed, the ink still gleaming under the light. Each one carried a weight that bent the fate of the world.

[WANTED]

[EDWARD NEWGATE]

[DEAD OR ALIVE]

[5,102,000,000 BERRIES]

[WANTED]

[SCARLETT D. LACHLAN]

[DEAD OR ALIVE]

[4,212,000,000 BERRIES]

[WANTED]

[KAIDO]

[DEAD OR ALIVE]

[4,311,000,000 BERRIES]

[WANTED]

[DONQUIXOTE DOFLAMINGO]

[DEAD OR ALIVE]

[4,199,500,000 BERRIES]

They hadn’t been released to the public yet. Because to release them would be to admit something the World Government had never wished to acknowledge.

That these four names—these monsters of the sea—had become forces that could no longer be denied. Each bounty was not just a number—it was a seal of validation, a recognition of the threat they posed to the global order, at least that is what the elders wanted the world to believe.

"Maybe... we’re being too hasty," murmured Saint Marcus Mars, his fingers pressed together as he scrutinized the posters. His words broke the silence like a whisper in a tomb. "Whitebeard I understand—he has the strength to truly threaten us... undeniably apocalyptic, and there is the fact that he did meet Roger and his crew after they reached the cursed land, so the possibility of Whitebeard knowing our true secret is high. But the others?"

He narrowed his gaze. "Kaido? After what he supposedly did to the Marine outposts, we’d be legitimizing him, placing him on the same pedestal as Whitebeard. And don’t forget we still haven’t accounted for Shiki, who has all but vanished from our radar; that bastard’s devil fruit power is too troublesome to be left unattended."

There was a beat of silence.Then, with a dismissive scoff, Jaygarcia Saturn slid a rolled-up newspaper across the table. The front page bore the unmistakable emblem of The World Times, emblazoned with bold letters.

"THE DRAGON RISES — KAIDO BREAKS AN EMPEROR’S FLEET"

Saturn leaned back, his steepled fingers glowing faintly with unseen power. His voice was a bitter growl.

"This is what the world will discuss today. Not our policies. Not our proclamations. This. If we fail to respond, we are no longer masters of the narrative. We are no longer rulers—we are observers."

The others fell into a tense stillness. But then Saturn added something that shattered even that fragile calm.

"And Kaido... I believe he has awakened his Devil Fruit."

The room went deathly quiet. Even the ancient flames on the candles seemed to flicker in hesitation. For a moment, no one even dared to breathe.

Saint Ethanbaron V. Nusjuro’s eyes narrowed, his voice low and edged like the blade he was infamous for.

"You’re sure?"

Saturn gave a slow nod. "The signs are all there. Increased vitality. Near-limitless regeneration. The hybrid form described by survivors from the scout ships when Kaido started clashing with Moria—his increased size, elemental manipulation, and a near-immortal physique like us. All signs point to an awakened Zoan... and not just any Zoan."

Saint Ju Peter, whose mind was a treasury of devil fruit lore, shook his head slowly.

"No. That’s impossible." His voice carried the weight of centuries. "The Uo Uo no Mi—the Azure Dragon Fruit—is not something that can be awakened by strength alone. It requires understanding. It requires the wielder to embrace what the fruit represents: not just destruction, but dominion. Control over one’s true self—someone like Kaido could never achieve that. Isn’t that why we left him alive all these years...?"

He looked around the table with disbelief.

"It has been nearly seven hundred years," Elder Ju Peter spoke, voice cold and clipped, yet betraying a tremor beneath its calm. "Since one of our own last awakened that cursed fruit... and he was slain by that samurai from Wano."

He glanced at the bounty posters on the table, eyes narrowing at the one bearing Kaido’s name.

"Since then, we’ve passed the Uo Uo no Mi to two other wielders—each carefully selected, monitored, controlled. Neither made it past the first threshold. And Kaido? He was meant to be nothing more than a weapon of destruction. A beast without insight. So how...?"

A long, heavy silence.

Then Saturn—still half-shrouded in the shadow of the central lamp, his burn-scarred face half-melted into cruel permanence—leaned forward. His old yet sharp eyes gleamed with something rare, something ancient, something they had long thought forgotten. Fear.

"No," he said slowly, deliberately. "Kaido is more than a beast now. Something has changed; someone intervened and changed his fate."

The light flickered in the still air, as though recoiling from the truth.

"And that change... threatens to shatter the delicate lie we’ve spent eight centuries weaving."

He cast a shadow over the table, his finger tapping once—hard—against Kaido’s bounty poster.

"He now walks on a similar path we once did. Add to that he is also a wielder of Conqueror’s Haki, awakened and aware. That alone is dangerous. But worse—he may have begun to unravel the one true weakness behind his own immortality. That... cannot be allowed."

The others said nothing—but something shifted in the room. For the first time in hundreds of years, the Five Elders, gods in the eyes of men, felt the edges of mortality creep into the room like a cold wind.

Mars leaned back in his chair, fingers interlocked tightly, his voice low.

"That’s why we’ve guarded the secrets of Raftel so fiercely. Not just to preserve the myth of the Void Century... but to bury the truth of our own existence."

Saint Ethanbaron V. Nusjuro’s grip on his sheathed blade tightened.

"If Kaido has stumbled upon even a fragment of that truth, he becomes not just a threat—he may very well become the chink in our armor."

Saturn’s eyes narrowed.

"There was a reason we didn’t pursue the samurai from Wano all those centuries ago."

His voice was quieter now. Colder.

"He wasn’t just strong. He discovered the fatal weakness. He killed the last bearer of the Azure Dragon—the one who, like us, shared the gift of immortality bestowed upon us by Imu-sama."

A hush fell over the chamber like a death knell.

"And now," Saturn continued, "Kaido carries that same fruit. He may have awakened it fully. And unlike before... he’s no longer a mindless beast."

"Even if we’re reluctant to admit it... these four may be the only ones—besides Roger’s crew, who have been to Raftel—who truly threaten us," Saturn declared. He picked up Scarlett’s bounty poster, his scarred fingers sliding over the name.

"Take her, for instance—Scarlett D. Lachlan. She should be over seventy now. Yet she’s returned—reborn, seemingly. That defies nature itself. What kind of power is she tapping into? We cannot ignore it."

He dropped Scarlett’s poster with quiet force, the paper landing with a hollow thud. Saturn’s gaze drifted to the final poster—Donquixote Doflamingo. For a moment, the elder’s face contorted in bitterness and unease.

Unlike the other three, who—despite their power—still operated under some rough code of piracy, Doflamingo’s arrogance and cunning struck deeper, the little bastard never played by the rules.

"It’s clear someone is guiding Kaido up the ladder..." Elder Warcury flipped through the pages of the World Times, each headline boasting of the three-pronged assault—Marines, Shichibukai, and Emperor—but Kaido still stood. Alive. Victorious.

"There is a puppet master behind all this," Saturn murmured, voice tight. "Until now we thought Garp and Whitebeard to be the only true threats to our power... But there seems to be an architect from the past strong enough to fracture our centuries of dominance, someone who knows more about us than should be known."

Saint Nusjuro exhaled slowly, turning his blind gaze to Elder Mars.

"Have we made contact with Agana? If Doflamingo has truly been repelled by Kaido, this is our chance. A weakened Doflamingo—perfect for his removal."

But Mars never opened his mouth. Before he could respond, Saturn’s deep voice cut in, halting all debate.

"I’m afraid... That choice is off the table."

Nusjuro’s voice wavered. "Why? We may as well not get another chance like this in the future. If she fails, so be it—we sever ties, feigning ignorance of the matter. The cost is negligible."

Saturn’s sigh echoed through the chamber. Then he spoke two words that froze even the century-old monsters to their cores.

"Domi Reversi."

A ripple of shock passed through the room. The term was ancient, whispered in dread—the power to forge devil contracts under Imu-sama’s direct command, twisting kings, heroes, and pirates into permanent slaves, granting them cursed immortality and monstrous power... at the cost of their very souls.

"Imu-sama has decided to enact the Devil’s Contract on both Doflamingo and Rosinante when the time is ripe, so killing either of them is now out of the picture." Saturn continued, voice low and cold.

"Why... why would Imu-sama bestow such a favor upon them?" Elder Warcury’s voice broke the tense silence like a jagged stone against glass. He stood, hands trembling, eyes wide with disbelief. "Those two... troublemakers. Yes, they’ve stirred the waters, but it’s not the first time we’ve faced rebellion. So why... why them?"

His words echoed off the high obsidian walls of the Sanctum of Judgment. The other Elders remained still—stone-faced statues carved from centuries of unbroken certainty.

Then, with a deafening crack, Saturn brought the butt of his blackened staff down upon the polished marble floor, shattering it into a spiderweb of splinters. Dust curled upward like incense to the divine.

"Warcury... know your place."

His voice was calm—deathly calm—but beneath it throbbed a wrath older than nations. The firelight caught his half-burned face, casting shadows like demonic sigils across the walls behind him.

"Since when... has it ever been our place to question the will of Imu-sama?" He leaned forward, letting the gravity of his words crush the room.

"We are not sovereigns. We are not gods. We are the blades at the side of a god whose shadow veils the world."

He raised his staff slowly, pointing it at the sky beyond the glass dome, where the Red Line loomed, crimson as blood beneath the moonlight.

"If Imu-sama commands that devils be crowned kings, then we kneel to their thrones. If Imu-sama demands monsters be spared, then we guard their lairs. If Imu-sama chooses to raise the very traitors who spit on our laws..."

His eyes glowed faintly—residual embers of the eldritch pact that kept them alive for over eight centuries.

"...Then we obey, for it is not our place to understand. It is our place to serve. To enforce. To survive."

Silence fell like a guillotine. Even Warcury, his pride wounded, dropped his gaze and stepped back. Saturn lowered his staff slowly, the cracked marble beneath them shimmering with fine fractures—like the world order they clung to.

"We are servants... never forget that. Priests of a forgotten age. If the god we worship commands that the devil walk free..."

He looked directly at the poster of Doflamingo and the rest of the Yonko.

"...Then we will make room in the temple."

*****

Foosha Village, East Blue

Just outside Party’s Bar, the village of Foosha was alive with flame, laughter, and the irresistible scent of roasted meat. A few tables were set around a massive firepit, easily large enough to cook a sea king whole, blazed against the twilight.

Crackling flames licked the iron spit that slowly turned the titanic haunch of a sea king, its golden-crisped hide sizzling with grease that hissed as it dripped into the coals below. Sparks danced in the air like fireflies.

This wasn’t an ordinary meal. This was a feast—Rouge-san’s feast, a spectacle she only brought out for one person.

Me.

The last time I’d visited Foosha, they’d learned a hard truth: a lamb won’t do. A cow won’t do. Even an entire boar was a side dish at best. I devoured sea kings like others did sashimi platters.

So tonight, Rouge lit up the colossal grill, dragging out the old contraption originally built by village smiths just to accommodate my appetite. This time, she even smiled while doing it.

The villagers watched in awe. But not with fear—not anymore. Ever since Shanks and his crew had made landfall, they’d realized this wasn’t a pirate crew that pillaged and ran. No, this was family. Loud, chaotic, insanely drunk family, but family nonetheless.

"How does someone eat that much and not burst...?" Little Sabo asked, wide-eyed, staring at his plate, which now held a slice of meat the size of a pie. The grilled surface was soaked in shimmering oil, steam curling from the tender flesh. Drool dripped shamelessly from his mouth—but the question was genuine.

Shanks, already halfway through his third tankard of rum, laughed like a cannon blast. "Burst? Kid, what are you talking about?! You only grow strong if you eat properly!" he bellowed, tearing a massive slab of meat off the bone with his teeth. Then he casually dropped another chunk—twice the size of Sabo’s face—onto the boy’s overflowing plate. "Eat up!"

Nearby, Little Uta was teasing Luffy, who at just over a year old was already showing signs of his lifelong love affair—with meat. His little arms flailed wildly as he tried to reach the skewered meat on Uta’s plate, mouth open like a hungry hatchling.

"Meeaaat!" he cried, voice muffled by the tiny tooth he’d sunken into a bone he’d stolen off Shanks’s plate.

Little Zoro, meanwhile, was attempting a stealth mission—sliding his hand toward an abandoned mug of rum. He made it halfway before Mihawk, seated behind him, raised a single elegant brow and smacked him on the head with a little stick he picked from the side, sending him rolling through the grass like a tumbleweed.

"Drink tea," Mihawk said, expression unchanged, "You’re still beneath sword and barrel."

Kuina, sitting beside Agatha and Makino on a quieter side of the pit, looked on with a curled lip. She had once admired her swordmaster for his unshakable discipline and elegance—now she watched him demolish meat like a starved wild boar, face glistening with grease.

"Disgusting," she muttered.

"Endearing," Makino corrected, sipping her sake and smiling.

Just then, Shanks turned to me, slapping his meaty hand down beside the plates. "So, Ross... Read the latest news? Says your brother got the crap kicked out of him by Kaido." His grin was pure provocation.

"Yeah, yeah," Buggy slurred, lifting a mug that was more froth than liquor. "I hope that bastard got what’s coming—hic!—for stealing that fruit in North Blue. You remember that, right? RUINED my month!"

He made to stand triumphantly but stumbled into a bucket, knocking it over and splashing his own boots in seawater. "Justice is served!" he declared, raising a half-eaten crab claw like a sword.

I shot him a glare. Buggy paused mid-rant.

"...Fine, fine," he grumbled, adjusting his wet boot. "I hope Kaido taught him a really painful lesson." He mumbled the last part, clearly still salty about the mythical Zoan that Doffy had lifted from under his nose. It still lay unused, and I already had someone in mind for it...

Meanwhile, Beckmann, seated near the fire with a calm expression and a pipe clenched between his teeth, leaned toward me with that analytical gleam in his eyes. Unlike Shanks and Buggy, he wasn’t here to joke.

"Rosinante... you didn’t have a hand in spreading that story, did you?" he asked. "The way it was written... Kaido looked glorious, like a fallen king rising again. Doflamingo looked like the one who retreated."

I smiled slowly, tearing a glistening chunk of meat from the bone and popping it into my mouth.

"Who knows?" I said, my voice casual. "All I can say is, the seas might be strangely peaceful for the next few years. People need time to heal... and others, time to prepare."

Shanks sprang to his feet, wobbling a bit from drink. "Peace?! Don’t tell me you’re surrendering!" he grinned. "Oh, I can see it now! Public execution! Marineford! Grand spectacle! Maybe you’ll even go out like Roger! Boom!" He mimed an explosion, knocking over a bottle.

"Wouldn’t you love to see my head roll," I said with a dry chuckle, ripping into another hunk of sea king.

"Oh absolutely," Shanks smirked, planting himself beside me. "I’d wear a black suit. Say a few words. Steal your boots and also your blades."

"Even so," Yassop next to Beckmann interjected, "you’re sitting here feasting like a king while your family’s out there bleeding. Or is it..." he paused, watching my reaction, "...that you’re afraid to face Kaido?"

Shanks tried to make a mock-scary face, puffing out his cheeks and flexing like a gorilla.

"Kaido’s gonna get yaaaaaaa!" he bellowed in a childish voice.

Even Uta sighed, hiding her face. "Dad... you’re embarrassing."

Buggy, who had somehow managed to wedge his foot into a lantern, gave up struggling and shouted, "Let’s just execute Shanks instead! He’s clearly the weakest pirate here!"

A beat passed.

"HEY!!" Shanks yelled, while ramming Buggy and bringing him down onto the sand while both rolled around trying to get the upper hand, and the entire party erupted in laughter for the first time that night.

As laughter erupted across the firepit and even Kuina cracked a small smile, I sat back, letting the warmth of the flame wash over me.

"Say... Brother Ross, who among you is the strongest?"

Little Ace asked the question out of nowhere, his mouth still half-full, grease dribbling down his elbow as he licked it clean like a wild cub who’d just tasted his first hunt. The entire table froze.

Even the fire seemed to crackle a little quieter.

Buggy, who had somehow ended up sitting cross-legged on top of a flattened Shanks, glanced over with wide eyes, the rim of his mug hanging from one ear. Shanks, lying spread-eagle beneath him, muttered, "Buggy, move or I swear I’ll drown you in the sea water."

But the silence broke again with another curious voice.

"Yeah! Big Brother Ross, tell us!" added Little Uta, eyes wide and gleaming. "Papa says he’s the strongest pirate ever—but he also says that while holding a sword in one hand and rum in the other... so I’m not sure anymore."

Shanks turned his head like a snail—slowly, dramatically—betrayed.

He pointed a wobbly, shaking finger at Uta. "You are my daughter—you were supposed to be on my side!" he sputtered.

"Shouldn’t have told me all those weird stories...," Uta shrugged sweetly.

"Buggy!! THIS IS YOUR FAULT!!" Shanks howled and grabbed Buggy by the collar, strangling him in a mock rage. Buggy’s legs flailed, his body now partially split down the middle, as he screamed, "She’s your daughter, not mine!!"

I leaned back, setting my mug down with a low thud, flames dancing in the reflection of my grin. Everyone was watching now—from Sabo and Ace to Kuina and Zoro, Makino, Mihawk, even Rouge from the side with amused smirks.

"Heh... that’s a no-brainer, little ones." I stretched my shoulders, cracking my knuckles for dramatic effect. Mihawk’s eyes narrowed instantly. Shanks stopped throttling Buggy mid-motion. Even little Zoro paused mid-bite, a suspicious look on his grease-smeared face. My grin widened.

"Even if all these morons ganged up and came at me together..." I stabbed a finger toward the crowd of infamy before me, "they wouldn’t stand a chance. Not. Even. Close."

A beat of silence. Then—all hell broke loose.

"YOU ARROGANT LUMP OF LARD!!"

"SAY THAT AGAIN, YOU DAMNED PEACOCK!!"

"I WILL PERSONALLY SHOVE THAT FIREPIT UP YOUR—!!"

Mihawk stood so fast his chair shattered behind him. Shanks, red-faced and drunk, charged at me with a slab of meat like a weapon, and Buggy, somehow still stuck halfway in the sand, was kicking the air and swearing vengeance while spitting wine like a leaky hose.

Even Little Zoro, not to be outdone, leapt to his feet and pointed his toy sword at me. "Yeah! My master could slice you in half with one fingernail...!"

"Tch," Kuina huffed, folding her arms with a smug smirk. "My master may look like a caveman right now, but make no mistake—he’s the strongest swordsman alive. Even if he eats like a beast."

Zoro glared. "Hey! Don’t insult my Sensei...! He is the strongest swordsman in the world!"

"Sit down, mosshead," she snapped.

Back at the center of the madness, I casually picked up another massive slab of sea king steak and took a slow, exaggerated bite—unbothered, unshaken, and grinning like a devil who knew he was right.

"Face it, kids..." I said between bites, "There’s no shame in admitting you’re in the presence of greatness."

Shanks lunged. Mihawk drew Yoru by half an inch. Buggy screamed, "GET HIM, YOU COWARDS! I’LL HOLD HIS LEGS!!"

And just as the brawl was about to explode—

"Meaaaaat!!" came a tiny roar from the sidelines as baby Luffy, now half-covered in sauce, managed to leap onto the table, grab a hunk of meat with both tiny fists—and promptly fell face-first into a bowl of gravy.

The entire party paused... then roared with laughter.

"That one’s going to be a monster, too, someday...I suppose." Shanks laughed, ruffling Luffy’s head while half his face was still smeared in gravy.