Chapter 292: Waves of Power and Shadows of Influence

“Karl, I’m exhausted.”

Karl hurried to support Charlotte Linlin, guiding her toward Cake Castle while signaling to Krell with a meaningful glance.

What he meant was clear: ‘I’m leaving, but someone needs to clean up this mess. It’s all yours.’

Krell flashed an ‘ok’ sign behind them. He’d handled situations like this more times than he could count—this was routine for him.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have earned the nickname ‘Head Steward’ everywhere he went.

Seeing Krell pick up on his cue, Karl was finally at ease and walked on ahead.

Watching their affectionate gestures, Ledfield couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

“Really? You two have to flaunt your love right now?”

“That reek of romance is unbearable.”

Classic case—people sour about grapes they can’t taste.

Ledfield snorted and shook his head, then unfurled his massive black wings and soared off, heading to his quarters deeper inside Cake Island.

The battle was over anyway, and since he had no intention of helping with the aftermath, he’d rather use the time to figure out how to handle the Ark Proposal.

“That was terrifying!”

“When do you think we’ll finally make it to admiral level?”

Now that the dust had settled, Borsalino lazed around, using a nail clipper to trim his nails like he hadn’t a care in the world.

Every admiral-class battle was an eye-opener for them—each one showed just what it really meant to be an admiral.

Only by glimpsing the heights above could you ever get the courage to climb higher.

“Borsalino, you’re too damn complacent.”

“Justice needs to be enforced with real power.”

Sakazuki crossed his arms, his gaze burning with longing for true strength.

If you wanted to get anything done here, absolute strength was a must.

The shock of today’s battle would take them all some time to digest.

In a world ruled by mystical might, brute force trumped politics every time.

Waves on the island calmed, but the sea beyond was far from peaceful.

The moment the fight ended, Morgans called back all his reporters.

These reporters looked every bit the part—grimy, messy, tired—but chasing a scoop meant standards went out the window.

He didn’t even let them catch their breath before barking out a question.

“Who got footage of tonight’s battle?”

“Especially the last fight!”

Seeing more than a dozen raised hands, Morgans cackled with delight.

They’d captured all the minor skirmishes, too, but once those distractions ended, they followed Perospero, Davis and the others.

They’d staked out near the lab and managed to film the entire showdown between Karl’s group and their opponents.

Of course, there was nothing from Borsalino—no one was fast enough to keep up with him.

“How could something this big just end like that?”

“Now this is real headline news!”

Morgans was set to work his reporters through the night until everything was sorted out and ready for print.

Thanks to their relentless efforts, at last, just before sunrise, they had all their material organized.

Soon after, a newspaper ten thousand words long was rushed to the headquarters of the World News Agency.

The moment it arrived, the HQ staff worked round the clock. In just an hour, they printed ten million copies.

As the sun crested the horizon, HQ members watched outside and immediately moved to spread the word throughout the entire sea using carrier pigeons. Time was of the essence.

They printed and distributed at the same time. (For reference, the One Piece world’s population is roughly 200–300 million.)

Bang!

Saint Woqiuli, always quick to anger, slammed the paper down on the conference table after reading its contents.

The room instantly fell silent.

Maybe everyone was trying to calm themselves while figuring out how to respond.

Saint Mars, in charge of historical issues and ancient weapon oversight, finally spoke up: “We have to find a way to punish Morgans.”

“If word of this gets out, the World Government’s reputation will take a nosedive.”

The main reason for their fury was the headline story: it blasted the World Government for repeatedly sending agents to seize civilian tech, sparking several battles—

Yet time and time again, they were driven back by the sheer numbers of the common folk, gaining nothing for all their trouble.

All in all, it painted the World Government as weak as ever.

That would only inspire more of the One Piece World to rebel.

Forget about the rising tide of pirates—local insurgence alone could drown the government.

Sure, the Revolutionary Army isn’t on the scene yet, but do you really think there aren’t any rebels out there?

Rebels exist, they’re just scattered and leaderless for now.

Thud!

Saint Mars tapped the table, zeroing in on the real problem.

“We can deal with Morgans later.”

“For now, the biggest concern is what to do about Vegapunk. How are we supposed to explain this to Lord Im?”

“None of you want Im to find out, right?”

Instantly, the room went pin-drop silent again. Even Saint Borg, who’d been about to speak up, swallowed his words.

Too many failures would only earn them Lord Im’s disfavor.

After that, it would be a much harder climb for any of their families to reclaim a seat among the Five Elders.

Compared to that, Morgans’ actions were child’s play.

Saint Derlin spoke, unhurried and calm: “If the underhanded method doesn’t work—”

“—then we’ll need to try something more direct.”

“Take a look at this.”

He laid a battered wanted poster faceup on the table. The damage made it clear he’d been pondering this for a while.

It seemed Saint Derlin had been wrestling with this problem long before now.

The paper showed a middle-aged man with a wild grin, surrounded by sketches of a blond man, a bespectacled man, and someone wielding twin axes.

Saint Nasujuro scrutinized the faces, pushed up his glasses and coolly asked,

“Are you planning to have them fight amongst themselves like dogs?”

“Aren’t you worried they’ll just join forces instead?”

These faces were familiar to all—they belonged to Roger, captain of the Roger Pirates, as well as Rayleigh and Jabba.

Roger’s strength was legendary—he and Garp had teamed up to take down Rocks.

Rayleigh and Jabba weren’t pushovers either; at the very least, both were freshly minted at admiral level.

Their firepower was a perfect match for Karl’s side. If these two powers went to war, it’d be mutual destruction for sure.

That was the World Government’s chance to swoop in and take the spoils.

Saint Derlin snapped his fingers and smiled. “Exactly. That’s the plan.”

“The New World is much too far from our base. Sending troops from here is simply impossible.”

“And as for small squads—you’ve seen yourselves, there’s no way they can break through the blockade set up by Karl and Charlotte Linlin.”

“So here’s my proposal.”

“We’ll use Morgans’ influence to send a message: elevate Shiki the Golden Lion, Whitebeard, and Karl to the title of Pirate Emperors.”

“Let the next generation rise up to challenge them…”

Saint Borg raised a hand to stop him. “Have you even considered the consequences?”