The Steel Kingdom of Goldenstein.
A nation whose very na was forged in iron, its steel industry the core of its strength. Not a great power of ten million, but a proud middle-sized state of more than a million, wielding real influence even among the mber nations of the World Governnt.
And it was Goldenstein that led the charge to withdraw.
Why?
"If I can't even protect my own woman, what kind of man am I?!"
The king of Goldenstein—one of the few who had withstood Im's initial burst of Conqueror's Haki in Mariejois—had suffered a humiliation he could never forgive. His queen, stolen by the Celestial Dragons and made a slave.
He had been a loyal tributary, never failing his Heavenly Tribute, even showing the Celestial Dragons honor when they visited. That very hospitality had destroyed him.
Five years earlier, when the Dragons passed through his kingdom, he should have seen it. They had set their eyes on his wife. At the ti, his title as a king of a mber state had shielded her. Or so he thought.
But the Dragons are fools only in na. Their attendants are not. If the Dragon's whims risked destabilizing tribute, they would bide their ti. Later, quietly, they would take her. And so they did. While he attended the World Summit, his queen endured sha only a hall away.
From that day, his loyalty turned to fire.
Goldenstein was no pauper state. Its steel supplied one-third of the Governnt's demand. It was wealthy, indispensable. And still, its king's queen had been defiled.
So he united with ten other nations—so broke under the Tribute's burden, so scarred as he was, others simply hungry for change. Together, they petitioned the White Wolves, the only force daring to rebel. They offered half their Tribute's value as yearly paynt, begging Magnus to shield them.
For the White Wolves, this was no trifling offer. Eleven nations. All in the New World. Together, they made up nearly half the Governnt's holdings there. If Magnus secured them, he would sever the World Governnt's grip on the New World itself. He would beco its true emperor. The White King.
So, at the turn of the year, Magnus left Wano and returned to Sphinx.
Roya, golden ring on his hand, voice grave. "If we take them in, the Governnt will strike. This could an total war." His eyes asked Magnus if he was ready.
Magnus only smiled. "That's why we must seize the narrative."
The Governnt was mighty, yes—but its power ca from the blood of its tributaries. The White Wolves, a pirate crew, had no image to lose. The Governnt did.
"Above all, the Marines must not move. If the Navy takes part, we lose."
Even weakened by Sebas's death and Rona's defection, the Marines were no joke. Kong. Ortega Siwen. Portman Nissen. Ardent. Four admirals still stood. Magnus could not face them all alone. Not without Rona, not without Harald.
And this ti, he would be defending.
"How are the newspapers we bought?"
"Strong. We've secretly taken three major presses. At any mont, we can bend public opinion."
"Good. The soldiers need seeds of doubt. Let them question orders. That's enough."
Lily, who managed the press for him, leaned in with a teasing smile. "Of course, Captain. But don't think a 'please' will cover my fee."
Magnus chuckled. She was invaluable—outgoing, savvy, respected in the underworld. Without her and the veterans, he could never have left to train the younger ones.
"Even if the presses are shut down, it doesn't matter. If we survive this, the White Wolves will stand as equals to the Governnt itself."
Not just in territory, but in talent. Newgate and Linlin grew monstrous by the day. In five years, Whitebeard would reach Admiral-level strength. Perhaps sooner, if he unlocked true future sight. That was the talent of those destined for crowns.
Magnus turned to Rona. "I need your help."
She rolled her eyes. "I knew you'd call here for this."
She was more than an ally—an Admiral-level force he could not do without. The White Wolves had only one top fighter: Magnus himself. Their true elite ca from allies—Rona, Harald. Without them, not even Magnus could stand against the eight-hundred-year-old giant of the seas.
But this was no trick. Rona's "new navy" was the true solution. They would guard the eleven nations, funded by their tribute, just as the Marines once were. Except without the parasitic Celestial Dragons.
As for Harald, Magnus hardly needed to beg. Elbaf had suffered famine from freak weather—failed harvests, empty seas. Harald needed help as much as Magnus. Their alliance would hold strong.
Then Lily brought fresh news. "I have word on that brat, Rocks. He's cornered in Magra Kingdom. Grindelwald has him pinned."
Magnus arched a brow. "Captured?"
"Not yet."
"Then don't worry. If he can't beat Grindelwald, he has no business challenging . He'll either return as my apprentice… or stay buried there."
For Rocks, Whitebeard, and others of such monstrous talent, an Admiral was not the end. It was the beginning.
Far away, in the sewers of Magra, a boy still sharpening his fangs. The one who would one day be called the Red Count. Baroric kicked the slumped figure beside him, clutching fat rats for their al.
"Oi. You alive?"
Half a year ago, he had made the mistake of befriending this lunatic. Since then, they'd eaten rats and fled death together. Sohow, he had grown attached.
"You've lost five tis. So what? Win the next one."
"Shut up." Rocks lay on his back, eyes burning. "Look closer. You can read , can't you? Do I look defeated?"
Baroric peered into his thoughts—and flinched. They blazed like fire.
Rocks grinned. "Didn't you notice? Each fight lasts longer. And this ti…"
Haki surged into his hands.
"I've mastered internal destruction with Armant. And glimpses of the future with Observation. Next ti…"
"Grindelwald dies."
(End of Chapter)
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