The sea boiled with crashing waves, battleships lurching as desperate cries carried over the storm-tossed waters.
"Save them! Pull them up!"
"Too many fell overboard!"
"Don't get swept away!"
The gale tore apart the smoke and dust, unveiling the Marine flagship. Its bow had been obliterated, the dragon-bone structure beneath splintered and exposed. The ship looked ready to sink at any moment.
On deck, Sengoku and Borsalino stood with their palms raised, smoke curling around them as they braced against the aftermath. Behind them, Marines stumbled and staggered, barely able to stay on their feet.
"Damn it!" Sengoku spat, his bloodshot eyes following the silhouette of the battered Oro Jackson vanishing into the horizon. His fist clenched until his knuckles whitened.
They had finally cornered Roger's crew—only to watch them slip away again.
Now Sengoku understood Roger's final strike. It hadn't been about "Divine Departure" at all. Beyond forcing Garp into retreat, it was a feint—an attack to buy the time Roger needed to flee.
"That bastard Roger… he tricked me!" Sengoku's roar was raw, filled with fury.
On his dog-headed battleship, Garp was just as enraged, stomping and cursing as he barked orders to give chase.
"Kuzan, you coming or not?!"
Kuzan, still standing on a floating ice floe, looked hesitant. "Vice Admiral Garp… you won't hit me again, will you?"
"Tch! Come or don't! I don't give a damn!"
"I'm coming!" Kuzan blurted immediately, then hurried aboard in a few quick steps, scratching his head with a sheepish grin.
Garp gave him no more attention. "Sengoku, you handle the mess here! I'll chase that bastard Roger myself!"
The dog-headed warship heaved forward, sails catching the wind as it surged away at full speed, soon vanishing into the distance.
Sengoku could only sigh. He opened his mouth, but no words came. He knew the truth—he knew that Garp would never catch Roger. The Oro Jackson's air cannon could launch the ship miles in a single blast, and its base speed was unmatched. Garp's pursuit was a fool's errand.
But no one could stop him.
The urgent priorities lay here: rescuing the Marines who had plunged into the sea and rounding up what remained of Shiki's Flying Pirates.
"Admiral Sengoku," came a grim voice, heavy with menace. Sakazuki strode forward, his aura like a blade, eyes seething with fury. "We must immediately pursue Roger's ship."
Sengoku shook his head. "Let Garp handle it. Our fleet is crippled, too many vessels damaged. Even if we give chase, it would be pointless."
But as he said it, a shadow of unease crossed his eyes.
Time and again, since God Valley, Marine Headquarters had launched massive operations to bring down Roger's crew. Time and again, Garp had cornered them, forced them to the brink. And yet—every time—the Roger Pirates had escaped.
Every time.
Logic should have dictated their downfall. Even the greatest of pirates should have crumbled under the sheer weight of the Navy's power.
But Roger wasn't like other pirates.
If not for Darren's storm tearing Shiki's fleet apart, the Roger Pirates should have been annihilated today. Roger himself could not have overturned such impossible odds.
And yet, they had emerged with barely more than scratches on their hull.
This couldn't be dismissed as luck any longer.
Perhaps some unseen force… some fate itself… was guiding Roger.
Sengoku's hands clenched tighter.
Could Roger truly surpass Rocks? Could his crew really rival the Rocks Pirates at their peak? The very thought sent a chill down Sengoku's spine.
Sakazuki's voice broke the silence, grim and low. "And Darren…?"
Sengoku inhaled sharply. "Both Darren and Shiki can fight in the sky. No ship could ever keep up. They're far beyond our reach now."
His gaze flicked toward Borsalino.
Borsalino only raised his palms lazily. "Eh… long-distance flight isn't in my bag of tricks just yet."
Then, with a sly grin, he added, "But I wouldn't lose sleep over Darren."
Sakazuki's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What are you implying?" His voice dripped with menace.
Borsalino flinched theatrically, waving his hands. "Terrifying expression, Sakazuki! I'm only saying the obvious." His grin sharpened as he pointed from Sakazuki to himself. "Back at Marineford—even with you, me, Kuzan, and Darren together—we still couldn't pin Shiki down."
Sakazuki's arm crackled, magma smoldering with black smoke. "I know Golden Lion's power better than anyone. Darren alone can't bring him down." His voice shook with anger, the failure of today's operation still raw in his gut.
Borsalino chuckled, unfazed. "You sure about that? Do you even understand Darren's current strength?"
Sakazuki froze.
Borsalino turned away with a shrug. "Our problem at Marineford wasn't that we lacked strength. It was that Shiki can fly."
Sengoku's eyes flickered, realization dawning.
Stretching with a yawn, Borsalino smirked. "When it comes to hunting Golden Lion, overwhelming numbers won't help."
He tapped a finger to his temple, his smile sly. "The more men we send after him… the faster he runs."
Sengoku and Sakazuki stiffened, the weight of his words sinking in.
To be continued...