While the Marines and the Big Mom Pirates were scouring the seas in search of Rosinante and his crew, a fleet of massive pirate warships slowly approached the outskirts of Birka Island.

But surprisingly, the residents of Birka Island weren't afraid. Because flying on the masts of those warships were the familiar black-and-gray dragon flags—symbols of their suzerain nation: the Gray Kingdom.

Initially, the people of Birka resisted becoming a vassal state. No one wanted to be under the thumb of pirates, no matter how powerful they were.

But as the Gray Kingdom waged wars across various seas, conquering and plundering, they brought back endless resources. Annual tribute gatherings between the vassal states became large-scale festivals of trade and cultural exchange. With each passing year, Birka seemed to rocket forward in development as if it had boarded a high-speed train. What was once a modest island now thrived with trade, infrastructure, and order.

Gradually, the people's view of their overlords changed—from resistance, to respect, to full-fledged loyalty to the Gray Kingdom.

Their pirate flag was as unique as the nation itself: a black and gray background, emblazoned with a golden wyvern. Clutched beneath its claws was a crimson-eyed, blood-soaked skull—a symbol of domination and dread.

Each division of the Gray Kingdom had its own distinctive battle flag in addition to the main flag. For instance, the First Division's corner bore an embroidered mammoth head, while the Second Division flaunted an explosion motif. Every division stitched its own insignia onto the golden wyvern banner, showcasing its individuality and strength.

"What's going on? Why are all five divisions back at once?"

"Yeah, last time this happened was for the annual tribute summit—but we're months away from that," one sharp-eyed Birka local observed.

"Something big must've happened. Usually, when the divisions return, it's just their flagship with a handful of guards. But look at this—every single ship is packed. Looks like they've mobilized their entire forces!"

As rumors swirled, the fearsome pirates disembarked from their warships. Their bloodlust and murderous aura sent chills down the spines of onlookers. The mere sight of the First Division's warriors—grinning with violent excitement—caused several civilians to faint on the spot.

Atop the clouded heights of Birka Island stood a not-so-grand yet elegant villa. Rosinante didn't care much for palaces; he preferred comfort and quiet. Using the unique shell technology of the Sky Islands, he had built a modernized sanctuary.

In the living room of the villa, Rosinante was seated at a table, calmly practicing calligraphy with a brush. Ever since he had begun learning Tai Chi, he had grown fond of brushwork—its flowing grace echoed the essence of martial harmony.

By the window sat another man, silent and unmoved by the hustle of the arriving pirates. This was none other than Charlotte Katakuri—the very person Big Mom was desperately hunting down.

The room began to fill as the division commanders entered one by one. None of them dared disturb Rosinante.

Just then, three women in matching maid outfits walked in, pushing a cart of afternoon tea. At the front was Shaxia, the maid commander of Rosinante's elite combat maid corps. Behind her were Nico Robin—also dressed in a maid outfit—and a young Shandian girl named Raqi.

Although the so-called "combat maid corps" had long been a one-woman unit, Shaxia had recently set her sights on Raqi. The girl, with promising combat potential and adorable charm, had been recruited as the second member.

As for Robin, she had been living with Rosinante as his younger sister figure. She wasn't meant to be a maid. But when she saw the maid outfit Rosinante had designed, curiosity got the better of her. She tried it on, found it cute, and simply decided to keep wearing it.

After pouring tea for the guests, the three maids quietly exited.

The division leaders took sips from their teacups as Rosinante finally put down his brush. A moment later, an oppressive yet awe-inspiring aura descended on the room.

The sheer dominance of it wasn't just any ordinary pressure—it was the aura of a king.

"Th-this aura..."

"There's no mistaking it!"

"Admiral-level presence!" the commanders murmured in disbelief.

Jack was visibly stunned. "I didn't expect you to be the first to break into Admiral tier…"

The aura vanished as quickly as it came. Rosinante walked forward and sat in the central seat of the room.

"These past two years, all of you got rich beyond your wildest dreams. Fat lords rolling in treasure!" Rosinante sneered, half-smiling. "If I hadn't announced an attack on Marineford, you all would've kept hiding your numbers and hoarding soldiers. Now look at you—all your cards on the table!"

"Captain, our First Division never lied in our reports," said Sol, grinning. "Last check-in, we had 3,363 men. Still the same."

"Bull. You ran into Kaido last time—that's the only reason you're not ten thousand strong by now!" Barth barked. "If you hadn't taken heavy losses, you'd be bursting at the seams!"

"And you Third Division guys are no better! You've got more men than we ever had during our peak. You hiding half your city's worth of soldiers?" another commander asked, squinting.

"Not too many," Burs said proudly. "Just 7,116."

"But the real fat cat is our dear Second Division Captain. Over ten thousand men and a bottomless treasury? I should've joined the assault on Angel Island!" Burs said with a mock sigh.

"Captain, we never meant to hide anything from you," said Raelmann, nervous now. "It's just—we've been expanding fast. You were off handling other matters, so we didn't report everything in time. Now we've got 13,000 men—most from Angel Island and Shandia. They begged to join us. We couldn't hold them back even if we tried!"

Rosinante's expression darkened.

"All vice-captains, listen up!" he barked. "Get to Bins right now. File full reports on your forces—headcounts, compositions, everything. Everyone must be registered. Create life cards for all of them. From now on, no one joins the Gray Dominion unless they're registered with HQ. Understood?"

"YES, SIR!" All the vice-captains sprang to their feet and rushed out to carry out the order.

"Captain… are we really going to attack Marineford?" Burs asked.

"What, you scared?" Rosinante raised an eyebrow.

"Captain, if you order it, I'll march into the Holy Land of Mary Geoise itself!" Burs declared fiercely.

"You might be an idiot, but I'm not," Rosinante rolled his eyes. "Attack the Red Line? That's suicide."

In this world where strength reigns supreme, the World Government had stood unshaken for over 800 years. Corrupt or not, their foundations were unimaginably deep. Surviving endless tides of rebellion and chaos wasn't luck—it was raw power.

God knows what monsters lurk within the Red Line. Attacking that place would be insanity.

"Truth is," Rosinante said, voice low, "we are attacking Marineford. And not just any attack. We're going to hit them so hard they'll never forget it. If any of you are afraid, now's the time to leave."

"A real war at last," Jack's eyes lit up with excitement. "I've waited so long!"

Everyone else groaned inwardly. "War maniac," they all thought.