"Vivre Card?"
Saint Gawain pondered for a moment, finally recalling that it was the "GPS" of the One Piece world, a piece of life paper linked to the creator's health status. Even within the New World, it was made from rare materials. When fingernails or hair from the creator were mixed into it, the paper accurately reflected their condition: if the creator was in critical danger, the paper would shrink, and if they died, it would turn to ashes. If the creator recovered, the shrunken paper would return to its original size—quite remarkable.
However, to Gawain, there was one minor flaw: torn pieces of the vivre card would attract each other, which meant that leaving part of it behind would allow the World Government to track his location.
After thinking it through, Gawain nodded decisively.
"Perfect. I don't know how to make a vivre card yet. Have you brought someone to handle that?"
"Of course! I don't make them myself, but look over there—those CP agents in the corner. I don't like them."
Charlos' sister, Shalria, gestured toward a group of nervous CP agents grinning awkwardly from the shadows. Gawain waved them over.
"I'll leave the task of making my vivre card to you."
"It's no trouble at all, Saint Gawain! It is an honor to create your vivre card!"
The agents rushed over, and the lead agent carefully raised his hand.
"Saint Gawain, please hand me a small piece of your fingernail. Just a little will do."
"Hmm."
Gawain glanced at his hand, wondering where his nail clippers were—
Swish!
A black flash streaked through the air as Gion's dark Konpira blade sliced cleanly across Gawain's fingertip.
Without a word, Gion sheathed her sword and caught the tiny nail fragment midair, then presented it to the CP agents.
The lead agent, stunned at first, quickly recovered and saluted with newfound respect.
"Vice Admiral Gion… You wield a fine sword."
"You flatter me," Gion replied dismissively.
To her, the CP agents were worse than pirates. If someone asked which group she hated more—pirates or CP agents—her answer would be clear: the CP.
Why? Simple—one caused chaos, and the other tried to clean it up. It was a messy, hostile relationship.
Gion tossed the nail fragment to the agents, then turned away with her chin held high, unwilling to engage further.
At this moment, Shalria finally snapped out of her stupor. Her expression twisted in disbelief, her eyes wide, and her mouth agape as if she could swallow a whole pineapple.
She raised a trembling finger toward Gion.
"A… an assassin..." she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Her fear escalated as she looked toward Gawain.
"Be careful, Gawain-nii!"
Sharlia's voice grew louder, but Gawain calmly placed a hand on her bubble helmet, pressing down to silence her.
"Relax. This is my chief bodyguard from the Navy—Gion, a master swordsman wielding the black blade Konpira and a candidate for admiral."
Gawain smiled at Gion and lightly patted Sharlia's helmet.
"Gion, this is Sharlia, your typical Celestial Dragon girl. But I'll admit she's been good to me."
"I understand. I am Gion," the vice admiral said flatly, giving Sharlia a courteous bow.
Sharlia, now aware that Gion was only a bodyguard, brightened instantly. She grabbed Gawain's hand, examining it closely before muttering,
"So, you hired a Navy bodyguard? Why? The guards assigned by the Five Elders are far superior! And this lowborn woman—how dare she raise a blade at you! Not like me—I only want to protect you."
Realizing her tone was too sharp, Sharlia coughed lightly and continued,
"Let's replace her, shall we? Look how scrawny she is—she can't be that strong. Oh, and remember when my brother, Saint Charlos, disrespected you? I beat him up for you! I even took his prize—an ultra-rare slave he bought for 1.2 billion berries.
That slave would make a much better bodyguard than this lowly woman. Let's kill her, okay? There's no way she's cooler than a top-tier slave—"
"Stop!" Gawain pressed down on Sharlia's helmet once more to interrupt her.
"Do you even remember that Charlos is your brother?"
"Uh…?"
"Never mind. Where's the slave you mentioned?"
Sharlia beamed with excitement, completely forgetting about Gion.
"In the stables! Let's go see him!"
Gawain followed as Sharlia skipped happily toward the stables. When they arrived, Gawain saw the so-called "superior slave."
The sight made him frown—it wasn't someone he recognized.
"Gion, do you know who this is? What's his background?"
Gion gave a slight nod, glanced at Sharlia, then answered,
"Master, this is Zebul, a pirate born in the New World with a bounty of 530 million berries. He raided Whitebeard's territory recently and was hunted down by Marco the Phoenix, causing his crew to scatter.
It's surprising to see him reduced to slavery."
As Gion finished, Zebul, who had been silent and submissive, suddenly raised his head.
Ignoring Sharlia's scolding and Gawain's presence, Zebul fixed his gaze on Gion, sneering.
"Well, well. If it isn't Gion, the vice admiral too scared to enter the New World!"
He shifted his posture, standing tall despite the chains on his body. With a grin, he taunted,
"If you ever meet Whitebeard, tell that old fool something for me—
The New World pirates have grown rotten. If I get another chance, I'll invade his territory again! Why should Roger's legacy only belong to those old-timers?"
Shing!
In an instant, Gion moved. One swift motion later, she stood behind Zebul as a fountain of blood erupted into the air.
Zebul's severed head hit the ground and rolled a few times, his wide grin frozen in place. Even in death, he chuckled madly.
"Ka...hahaha!"
With a disdainful snort, Gion wiped her bloodied shoe on the dirt.
"Pirates claiming their ways are outdated… Aren't they all just trash obsessed with strength?"
Gawain pondered her words and murmured,
"True. Most pirates are garbage, but the more ambitious they are, the more they'll resent those above them.
Whitebeard, especially—he's sat on the throne of the seas for far too long."