One Piece : From Slave to Fleet Admiral

Seeing the usually composed Fleet Admiral so uncharacteristically emotional, Kizaru raised an eyebrow before chuckling.

"It's rare to see you this happy, Fleet Admiral Sengoku. Most of the times you lose your composure because of Garp-san."

At the mention of Garp, Sengoku's smile stiffened slightly as if recalling something unpleasant.

He growled as he clear his throat, "Don't bring up that bastard—no, wait. Inform Garp immediately that his vacation is canceled. He's to leave Foosha Village and head straight for the North Blue. If even a single coin of Jake's gift to the Marines goes missing, I'll personally tear the responsible party limb from limb!"

As he spoke, veins bulged in Sengoku's bloodshot eyes, his aura radiating an intese killing intent.

Kizaru could understand the outburst.

Lately, he'd often seen the Fleet Admiral's office lit through the night.

Higher rank didn't bring more privileges or vanity—only greater responsibility and duty.

At least, for those who truly upheld justice.

The ever-burning lamp in the darkness represented the shimmering light of justice from Marine Headquarters, but it also reflected the weariness and toil in Sengoku's heart.

He might be imperfect, perhaps carrying some sins himself, but a warrior with flaws remains a warrior, while a perfect fly is still just a fly.

Kizaru rose to his feet, saluting Sengoku with a smile as he said.

"This time, I won't allow any accidents to occur. Whether it's the gold or Jake, nothing unexpected will happen. You have my word."

Seeing the unusually serious Kizaru, Sengoku was momentarily taken aback before a faint, gratified smile appeared at the corners of his mouth.

He nodded, his voice softening.

"Thank you for your hard work, Borsalino. The future of the world will depend on you and the next generation. But at least before Garp and I retire, let us old timers bear the weight of this roof. After that, we'll have to rely on you."

Times were changing, and justice evolved with each generation's choices, but the justice that belonged to the people never wavered.

*****

Jake was currently piloting a small boat, his body crackling with azure-blue arcs of electricity as the vessel surged forward at tremendous speed.

This world had electrically powered boats and Jake had commissioned the craftsmen on Whitebeard's ship to build him this simple electric vessel.

When the boat was completed, Jake also understood how Ace's flame-powered boat from the original story came to be.

The small boat left a trail of blue light as it cut through the vast, boundless sea illuminated only by that single streak of blue under the dark sky.

Pica's location was on an island not too far from Flevance.

The island was called Carles, a relatively barren place where almost no one lived due to its harsh climate.

The surrounding residents all shared this belief, but unbeknownst to them, the Donquixote Family had secretly built a base on the island.

This base not only held slaves from various regions but also housed black market goods—Devil Fruits, firearms, heavy weaponry, rare plants and prohibited drugs.

Pica was the boss here.

Thanks to the power of the Stone-Stone Fruit, he not only had perfect home-ground advantage on this island but could also monitor any situation at will.

The slaves imprisoned here lived in conditions identical to Jake's own past.

In cramped cells, dozens of people were confined regardless of age or gender, without clean or sanitary conditions.

They lived alongside their own waste, devoid of privacy or anything resembling human dignity.

The rock-forged walls crushed all thoughts of escape, the dark stone smothering every last shred of their will to survive.

But on this day, a streak of lightning tinged with pale gold fell from the sky, shattering the meters-thick stone walls into fragments.

Moonlight poured down from above, its liquid radiance spilling into the filthy dungeon, bringing with it the hope of life.

Jake's arm was wrapped in Armament Haki, his pupils emitting a golden glow as faint blue arcs of electricity crackled around him.

Bathed in the moonlight, he looked no different from a divine messenger sent from the heavens.

Gazing at the crowd before him, Jake understood their despair better than anyone—and their desperate yearning for survival.

How could he ever forget what he had personally experienced?

He extended his arm, and a surge of pale blue lightning erupted from his palm, shattering the cages that imprisoned their freedom.

"Captain Jake of Marine Headquarters," he declared.

"I assure you all—you're safe now. Stay hidden here a little longer. Once I've dealt with the Pirates, I'll arrange for a warship to take you all back home."

Jake's voice fell, and the dungeon was first met with silence.

Everyone simply stared at Jake, their eyes still tinged with disbelief.

But after a brief pause, violent sobbing drowned the entire dungeon as their tears and anguish poured out in that moment.

The filthy, wretched world had finally shown mercy to these ordinary people before them.

They, too, now had their own hope, their own storybook to tell.

Watching their reactions, Jake didn't find it exaggerated or uncomfortable.

He understood them better than anyone, empathized with them more deeply than anyone could.

But just then, a shrill voice rang out, laced with unmistakable fury.

"Damn bastard! What have you done?! These are all the young master's wealth—slaves he ordered to be sold! Die!"

Along with the shrill voice came a massive fist over two meters tall, hurtling towards Jake's face.

Yet Jake showed no fear.

He simply looked at Pica and said softly,

"This isn't the place for a fight. Come outside with me."

"Who the hell do you think you're talking to?! I'll fight wherever I—"

Before Pica could finish, dazzling electricity erupted from Jake's body, paralyzing him.

A golden spear materialized in Jake's hand and in the next moment, the Armament Haki-coated spear wrenched Pica straight out of the stone.

With a single motion of Jake's arm, Pica was hurled onto the beach in less than a blink.

Watching Pica cough up blood on the sand, Jake's voice was cold.

"Get up and die."

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