Chapter 60

Loya jumped up, pumping his fists. "Yeah! We'll show 'em! Don't worry, Zephyr. Whoever they send, I'll beat 'em to a pulp!"

THUD! Zephyr stumbled, cracking his head on a tree.

Once he got his bearings, he grabbed Loya, sputtering, "What the hell are you on about?! Kill them?! I'll kill you! Haven't I got enough headaches?"

Then Zephyr grinned wickedly. "But hey, leaving 'em half-dead is fine. What's a good spar without some pain?"

Loya sighed. "Whatever makes you happy, I guess."

Meanwhile, the Elite Camp courtyard was buzzing with a lively party. They were celebrating the Jerome brothers' breakthrough to master swordsman level, and Aludo's birthday to boot.

The Jerome brothers were an oddity, even in the wildly imaginative world of One Piece. They were practically identical in every way, save for their birth order.

As babies, if Jerome the eldest cried in his crib upstairs, Jerome the youngest would start bawling simultaneously, even if he was out shopping with mom. It freaked their parents out at first, but doctors found nothing wrong. The town eventually chalked it up to the brothers having some kind of telepathy.

They weren't far off. Countless sore losers could attest to the brothers' uncanny ability to know each other's cards, turning one-on-one games into unfair two-on-one matches.

When Jerome the eldest joined the Navy, Zephyr noticed their talent. With his training, they rocketed through the ranks, making the elite squad in just a year.

Now, with Hansa gone and the Elite Camp under fire, the brothers had trained relentlessly. They'd broken through to master swordsman level simultaneously, right in front of everyone.

It happened to coincide with Aludo's birthday, so the squad pooled their cash for a proper bash.

At the party, Aludo sported a goofy paper hat, his face smeared with multicolored jam. He had Simon in a headlock, using his massive fist to smash cake all over the poor guy until he was as colorful as Aludo.

Aludo grumbled, "Hmph! That's what you get for throwing me!" Then he broke into a goofy grin, licking his palm. "Hehe! So sweet!"

Simon bolted the moment Aludo let go. He'd underestimated Aludo's progress with Shave. Lesson learned - no more cake-throwing pranks.

The Jerome brothers sat at the table, contentedly munching oversized fruit gummies. For once, their usually stoic faces showed a hint of joy.

Suddenly, a group in black suits strode in, popping balloons underfoot as they approached. Their leader, sporting a top hat with a tie-wearing pigeon on his shoulder, demanded, "Which one of you is Christopher Loya?"

He snagged a piece of cake, chewing with his mouth open. "No wonder you're all losers, eating this sweet garbage."

"You bastard!" Aludo jumped up, fists clenched.

He didn't care about the ruined party, but nobody insulted his comrades.

Simon grabbed him, silently urging caution. Aludo reluctantly held back, but an odd aura flickered around his hands - barely noticeable Armament Haki.

The group, men and women of various builds, all wore matching black suits. Clearly not Navy, but able to waltz into Navy HQ's Elite Camp? Their identity was pretty obvious.

Simon wiped cream from his hair, revealing golden locks. He straightened up and asked with a smile, "You're from the World Government, aren't you?"

As soon as Simon uttered this, the elite camp members were stunned. These guys were from the World Government? What the hell were they doing here?

Everyone knew the Navy was technically under the World Government, but they rarely dealt with each other directly. This kind of thing was usually handled by the top brass. So why were these suits here, looking like they wanted to pick a fight?

Simon, sharp as ever, didn't wait for an answer. He knew these types. "You're not here on official business, are you? Coming to Navy HQ just to mess with us... Must be some kind of special mission."

He narrowed his eyes. "In the World Government, that usually means CP agents."

The black-suited men tried to keep poker faces, but Simon could see he'd hit a nerve. His mind was racing now, like he was channeling Detective Conan or something. Suddenly, he pointed at their leader with a smirk.

"I've heard stories about a CP9 prodigy from over a decade ago. They called him the strongest in CP9's 800-year history. Always acted high and mighty... That's you, isn't it? Rob Lucci?"

"Rob Lucci?!" The elite camp members gasped. This guy was the real deal!

Normally, new recruits wouldn't have access to intel on CP agents. But Simon was different. His family, the Westins, had been Navy loyalists for generations. They had dirt on everyone.

Simon had once told them Lucci's story like it was some kind of bedtime tale. A genius who mastered Rokushiki as a teenager, with a crazy battle record. Now, looking at the not-so-tall figure before them, everyone tensed up and gripped their weapons tighter.

Just as Simon guessed, these visitors were indeed CP intelligence agents. Not just CP9, but elites from other units too. And their leader was none other than Rob Lucci himself, the so-called "strongest in 800 years."

The Celestial Dragons must've pulled some serious strings to send this bunch.

Lucci gave Simon a cool glance. "Not bad, kid. Your intel's pretty good." Then he swept his gaze over the others. "But I'm not interested in wasting time on you small fry. I'm here for Christopher Loya. Where is he?"

"Right here, you bastard!"

Before Lucci could finish, there was a sharp whistle of something cutting through the air. A dark figure burst from the crowd, swinging a mace straight at Lucci's head.

The CP agents' silent stares and contemptuous attitudes made it clear they weren't here to make friends. Different organizations or not, calling them "small fry" and barging in like this? There was only one answer. These jerks came looking for trouble!

What's the one thing a gang leader can't stand? Someone even cockier than them.

So before Lucci could finish his smug little speech, Mingde snapped. He charged in, all righteous fury and swinging mace.

It didn't matter if they stood a chance or not. This was about pride! In the Grand Line, you either swing first or end up face-down in some back alley. That's just how it works.

Facing down Mingde's Haki-coated mace, Lucci just stood there. Cool as ice, not even flinching. Like he was daring Mingde to hit him.

"Something's off..." Simon muttered, grip tightening on his weapon.

Sure enough, the moment Mingde's mace should've connected, everything went sideways. One second he was charging full-steam, the next he was flying backwards like a rag doll, mace spinning through the air.

Simon didn't hesitate. A thin wire shot from his hand, weaving a makeshift net in Mingde's path. He anchored one end around a nearby pillar and yanked hard on the other.

"Aludo!" Simon barked.

"On it!"

Aludo's combat instincts were top-notch. He caught Simon's plan in an instant.

The wire net slowed Mingde for a split second before snapping. But that was all Aludo needed. His massive hands caught Mingde mid-air, absorbing the impact.

Aludo's feet carved deep grooves in the ground as he skidded back, but he held on tight. Better than Mingde splattering against a wall.

Minnie, knowing she wasn't built for strength, rushed to help. She took Mingde from Aludo's arms and gave him a quick once-over.

After a tense moment, she nodded grimly. "Broken ribs, broken arms. But he'll live. Get him to the infirmary, fast!"

Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief. A few cadets carried Mingde away while the rest drew their weapons, glaring daggers at Lucci.

The air crackled with tension. This wasn't just some scuffle anymore. This was war.

Suddenly, a cold voice cut through the tension. "Do you want to die?"

Tony's killing intent spiked, sharp as a blade. His hand moved to his sword, the air itself seeming to hum with deadly promise.

Meanwhile, in a spacious reception room at Navy Headquarters...

The big shots were all there, save for Kuzan, who was off on a mission to the East Blue. Each of these legends could make the Grand Line tremble with a single step.

There was Kizaru Borsalino and Akainu Sakazuki, two of the three Admirals. Joining them were Vice Admiral Tsuru, Chief of Staff; "Garp the Fist"; and Fleet Admiral Sengoku himself.

Opposite this powerhouse lineup sat a group in black suits, similar to Lucci's crew. World Government officials, here on "official business."

A bald official tapped his fingers impatiently. "Where's Zephyr? We've been waiting five minutes! Don't Navy officers have any sense of punctuality?"

The Navy brass remained stoic. Kizaru, lazy as ever, couldn't be bothered. Akainu, the good soldier, held his tongue in the presence of his superiors. Garp alternated between dozing and munching on rice crackers. Only Sengoku and Tsuru showed a hint of annoyance, but quickly masked it.

Rank-wise, even World Government lackeys weren't worth getting riled up over. If it were anyone else, they might've shown these suits what Navy authority really meant. But with Celestial Dragons pulling strings behind the scenes, they had to play nice... for now.

The bald official, annoyed at the lack of reaction, let out a dismissive "tch" and sipped his coffee.

BANG! The door flew open. In strode Zephyr, resplendent in his purple suit, cigar clenched between his teeth.

"Oi! Heard there was a meeting. I'm not late, am I?" He grinned, but his eyes promised violence.

This old tiger still had claws. If these suits had hurt his students... well, pirates had a funny way of showing up between Marineford and Mariejois, didn't they?

The bald official swallowed his complaints, wilting under Zephyr's murderous glare.

Sengoku pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated. "Right. Let's get this meeting started, shall we?"