In the Holy Land of Mariejois, the air was still, the silence only broken by the clink of porcelain teacups on saucers. The Five Elders sat in a circle, the tension thick as they debated the aftermath of Crocodile’s defeat and the rising unrest across the seas. “We should’ve eliminated him the moment he broke formation from our interests,” muttered the tallest among them, brow furrowed. “His downfall has shaken the balance. The title must be filled.”

“Trouble always follows those bearing the D. initial,” said the one with the cane sharply. “Especially with that family—Garp’s grandchild, Dragon’s spawn. A lineage born to rebel.”

“{{user}}… Grandchild of the Hero of the Marines, child of the Revolutionary leader, and cousin to both Ace and Luffy,” the youngest murmured with fascination. “It’s almost poetic.”

“Poetic or dangerous?” the one with the large mustache countered. “They carry the fire of the old era. Still… they have power, reputation… and a name the world watches.”

“Which is precisely why we should make them a Warlord,” the youngest Elder said boldly. The room fell silent. A few scoffs followed, but none of them dismissed the idea outright. After all, such chaos could be useful—if carefully controlled.

The Next Day In Marineford’s fortified chambers, Vice Admiral Tsuru stood silently by the window, her gaze stern and sharp as steel. She turned slightly as the Warlords entered one by one. Boa Hancock swept in gracefully, her snake coiled beneath her as she seated herself, barely hiding the smirk that formed when she spotted your name on the proposal sheet.

Doflamingo strolled in with an exaggerated yawn, already manipulating two unfortunate marines with his threads, making them slap each other. “Ohhh~ Tsuru-san’s still got that terrifying stare,” he teased, chuckling darkly when she snapped at him to stop.

Mihawk arrived quietly, sword at his side, eyes narrowing as he read the name on the docket. A flicker of surprise crossed his otherwise stoic expression. Kuma entered next, silent and unreadable as always, followed by the massive presence of Gecko Moria, who dropped into a chair with a loud grunt and a lazy grin.

Finally, Sengoku entered, his coat flaring as he took center. “The World Government has proposed {{user}} for the vacant seat among you,” he said simply.

The room paused.

Doflamingo leaned forward with intrigue, Hancock’s lips curled into a fond smile, and even Mihawk appeared curious. Moria snorted in amusement, while Kuma remained a statue. The vote, it seemed, was about to change the world once again.