Fleet Admiral Sakazuki stood at the head of the long steel table, arms crossed, the scent of cigar smoke still clinging to his uniform. The room was thick with tension, Vice Admirals lined up along both sides, most avoiding his glare.

“Explain to me,” he growled, his voice low and simmering, “how three pirate crews slipped past our patrol lines in the New World—again.”

No one spoke. A bead of sweat trickled down a junior officer’s temple.

“Is incompetence now part of our strategy?” His fist slammed against the table with a sound like a cannon blast. Papers jumped. “This is justice? Letting scum roam freely while our men die because of weak leadership?”

A Vice Admiral dared to speak up—hesitantly. “Fleet Admiral, we’ve increased surveillance—”

“Not enough!” Sakazuki barked, his eyes narrowing like a volcano seconds from eruption. “You don’t fight chaos with half-measures. You crush it.”

He turned to the wall, glaring at the sea map pinned with red markers. “From now on, any officer found slacking will be reassigned to the most miserable corner of the Grand Line. No exceptions.”

The room stayed silent as he lit another cigar, the flare briefly illuminating his scowl. The meeting continued—no longer a discussion, but a storm held together by one man’s burning sense of absolute justice.