"Sengoku! Mind your tone—and rember your place!"
Saint Saturn’s voice cracked through the air like thunder. The five elders’ chests rose and fell heavily as they fought to contain their fury.
Negotiate? That damned Sengoku dared to suggest negotiating with that insolent brat, Darren!
Did he even grasp the enormity of his words?
Negotiate...
Were they supposed to simply overlook the hundreds of Elite Celestial Dragons massacred on Felsek Island? To ignore that half of Mary Geoise lay in ruins?
"As Admiral of Marine Headquarters, your duty is to uphold the authority of the World Governnt—not to sympathize with a traitor and murderer!" Saturn spat. "If you’d stopped that brat earlier, he’d already be dead. None of this would have happened!"
Sengoku stood frozen, disbelief flickering across his face. Anger rose within him, hot and sharp.
You senile fossils create this disaster, and now you expect to clean it up?
Even with your so-called four thousand years of wisdom, you couldn’t stop him. If not for his cursed immortality, he’d already be dust beneath Darren’s fist. And now you bla for your failure?
And you think I can stop him? With what? His Conqueror’s Haki alone dwarfs mine!
Suppressing the anger threatening to boil over, Sengoku’s tone hardened, low and steady.
"I am not defending Darren, Excellencies," he said. "But I must remind you—provoking him without absolute certainty of success will bring unimaginable consequences."
"Rogers Darren once served under my command. I know his temperant. Push him, and he will burn the world to ashes before yielding."
"Furthermore, as a Vice Admiral, he knows the Marine structure inside and out—the strongholds, the chain of command, even the Governnt’s hidden facilities. With his power and that Flying Fleet, he could raze our bases across the seas at will."
Sengoku t each of their eyes in turn.
"Excellencies, are you prepared to wake up one morning and find every Governnt stronghold erased from the map—save for the Holy Land itself?"
The chamber fell silent. The Gorosei’s expressions flickered, unease slipping through their masks of calm.
Sengoku exhaled slowly. For the first ti in his career, watching those ancient tyrants falter filled him with sothing dangerously close to satisfaction. It was like swallowing an ice-cold drink on a sweltering day—each breath tingling with relief.
He knew this was not the ti to speak so boldly. The elders were furious, unpredictable. One wrong word could destroy him.
But he couldn’t stop himself. Their arrogance would doom them all.
Darren’s power had already exceeded anything Sengoku had imagined. He would not—could not—stand against such a monster.
The true terror of Darren wasn’t just his strength—it was how well he knew them.
And who could say what other weapons he still kept hidden?
As these thoughts churned, Saint Saturn’s gravelly voice cut through his reverie.
"Sengoku," he rasped, "you make so fair points."
"But you’ve forgotten one thing."
The elders raised their heads, eyes gleaming cold and unyielding.
"We," Saturn said, "do not accept threats. Or negotiations."
Sengoku froze, then clenched his fists. "Excellencies, I must protest—"
"Enough." Saturn’s tone brooked no dissent. "The decision stands."
"Order all elite Marine units to return to Marineford imdiately. Seal the base."
His next words struck Sengoku like a thunderclap.
"No matter the cost—secure Toki within Marineford."
Sengoku’s eyes widened, his body stiffening as the aning sank in.
They intended to use Toki—Darren’s wife—as bait.
A chill crawled up his spine. This wasn’t just reckless—it was suicidal.
Did they not understand? Pushing Darren further would ignite a war unlike anything the world had ever seen.
---
At the sa ti, on the Red Line—within the Holy Land, Mary Geoise—
The world burned.
Flas devoured the streets, their crimson light turning the sky black with smoke. Screams echoed through the inferno as the air reeked of ash and blood.
Tens of thousands of guards rushed through the chaos, hauling buckets and hoses in a desperate attempt to contain the fire. dics sprinted across the charred streets, stretchers piled high with the burned and dying Celestial Dragons.
Yet amidst the carnage, the Enforcent Squad—led by the Knights of God—imposed order with an iron hand.
"Seal the gates! No one leaves!"
"Confiscate all communication devices! Smash every Den Den Mushi!"
"This is a gag order! Everything you saw tonight never happened! There was no Flying Fleet! The fires were started by the criminal Fisher Tiger during an infiltration attempt!"
Thud!
An Enforcent officer slamd a decree down before a trembling crowd of rchants and officials. His eyes were cold and lifeless.
"No Flying Fleet?" soone whispered, pale with disbelief.
"No bombardnt?" another muttered. "They expect us to believe one Fish-Man caused all this?"
The words spread in hushed murmurs, but fear soon smothered them. The Enforcent Squad’s rifles glead under the firelight. One by one, the citizens surrendered their Den Den Mushi and caras.
"Wait—what are you doing?! Put down that telegraph!"
A shout split the silence.
Figarland Garling turned sharply. His sword flashed once.
Slash!
Blood sprayed across the cobblestones as a man—disguised as a reporter—collapsed, nearly cleaved in two.
Garling’s steps echoed as he strode forward, his face twisted with fury. He seized the dying man by the collar, eyes blazing.
"What did you say?"
The reporter’s mouth curled into a smile, blood bubbling over his lips.
"Heh... You can’t bury the truth forever..."
"You... you’re all afraid..."
His laughter, wet and broken, filled the air.
"From this day on... the World Governnt won’t be the only one watching from above... Hahahahaha!"
Crack!
Garling twisted his neck, ending it with a sickening snap. His expression was dark and unreadable as he turned away.
A trembling officer stumbled forward, clutching the remnants of a shattered telegraph machine.
"F-Figarland Garling Excellency... the photos... and the transmission..."
"They’ve already been sent."
He swallowed hard, terror seizing his voice.
"We couldn’t stop it..."
To be continued...
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