From the very beginning—his revelations about the World Government's secrets, his scorn toward the Four Emperors, his critique of the entire global structure—everything Leo had said had been leading up to one core issue:
The problem of the system.
Back in his original world, he'd developed something like an allergic reaction to that phrase. Social media was full of arguments blaming "the system" for everything. But as much as he once dismissed those people for twisting facts, he had to admit: sometimes, they were right.
Sometimes, the system was the root of the problem—regardless of which country it belonged to.
And in this world, the World Government was the most powerful system of all… and also the biggest threat.
Having read the manga, Leo understood what the public didn't:
The continuity and control of the World Government wasn't held together by clever policy or capable leadership, but by an ancient monster named Imu—a being who had lived for centuries, perhaps even a millennium. With Imu still alive and pulling the strings behind the scenes, the Five Elders, the World Government, and the Marines were merely pillars upholding a fabricated sense of global stability.
The truth was simpler—and darker.
People thought the Celestial Dragons possessed some secret weapon that made even the Admirals bow to them.
But in reality?
It was just that their ancestor, Imu, had never died.
With the ultimate power behind them, the Celestial Dragons had been spoiled for generations—turned into pigs in silk robes—yet nothing ever happened to them.
This world… was cruel. And painfully straightforward.
But Leo couldn't just blurt out the truth to Boa Hancock.
Not because he didn't trust her—but because that secret might very well be the greatest threat hidden in the One Piece universe. If Hancock knew too much before she was ready to stand with him, it could get her killed.
So instead… he credited the World Government's success to its structure.
"What does the World Government control?
The reins of kingship!
They command the Red Line. They control the safest sea routes in the world. They oversee most of the world's nations. They possess the largest intelligence network on the planet.
Their structure is formidable—layer after layer, training generations of powerful Marines loyal to the system.
Flawed as it may be… it's still terrifyingly effective."
He took his time breaking it down for Hancock and Gloriosa.
"Most people in the world support the Marines. They support the World Government.
Sure, the Government exploits them. But humans are creatures of compromise.
I used to be the same. When the Celestial Dragons gave me scraps of good food, I felt grateful.
When they gave me a little freedom, I began to fantasize.
When they entrusted me with their businesses, I started to feel… important."
"Ordinary people are no different. If a kingdom imposes heavy taxes but later lightens the burden just slightly, people praise the king and forget all the suffering that came before.
But when pirates show up, that internal discontent vanishes. They unite instantly—against a common enemy.
That's the difference between internal and external conflicts. Do you understand?"
Hancock's beautiful face showed traces of confusion. She seemed to grasp part of it—but not fully.
Gloriosa, however, the Empress of three generations past, had a pensive look in her eyes. She was following.
"Pirates, kings, civilians… they form a food chain.
Pirates prey on kings.
Kings exploit the civilians.
Civilians suffer under both… but when pirates come, they side with the kings.
The presence of pirates relieves internal tension, giving the Marines a reason to intervene—giving the World Government justification to meddle in national affairs."
"So tell me… are pirates really a threat to the World Government—or are they the perfect excuse for its existence?"
Leo was no revolutionary mastermind. In truth, he was just a petite bourgeois—someone with surface-level understanding of political theory, mostly from college electives. His arguments started clumsy and disjointed, but as he spoke, he found his rhythm.
"So, do I respect pirates? No.
Pirates are just blades—tools.
Even if you become Pirate King…
Even if you unite all Four Emperors…
Their combined strength, their potential… is still no match for the World Government, which claims to represent the will of the people."
"Pirates are born from desperation—born when people have no other way to resist oppression.
But once they set sail and escape the law, they often become exactly what they once hated.
And then, ironically, they become tools for the World Government—used to justify even more repression."
"Not all pirates head to the Grand Line.
Most don't have such lofty dreams.
Once free of their original kingdoms, they just plunder other towns and nations—becoming nothing more than new oppressors.
And then the Marines show up and clean them out."
"There's no real system in place to restrain local kingdoms. That's the real issue.
The World Government could've solved it—but instead, they collect obscene amounts of Heavenly Tribute each year and do nothing.
They recognize only royal authority—never intervening in national injustice.
It all looks hands-off and benevolent… but really, they're just leeching resources and leaving the mess to the local rulers."
"Is that normal? Is that just?"
His tone grew firm.
Word by word, he dismantled the illusion of the World Government—feeding the bitter truth to Boa Hancock in pieces. This was the reality he had come to understand. The cruel, invisible machinery that kept the world running—a truth ordinary people never saw.
"And the only way to change that…"
"Is to stand before the World Government—openly—and defeat them on their own terms.
Only then can ordinary people truly be free."
He looked at the woman lounging against her serpent throne.
Her expression unreadable.
And gently, softly, he extended his hand—verbally.
"So come with me, Lady Empress."