Marine Headquarters, Marineford.
The massive oval port thrummed with grim purpose.
"Hurry!"
"Move!"
"Get the ammunition and supplies aboard!"
"Anyone delaying the war effort will face court-martial!"
One order from the Admiral's office and the entire base moved as a single, ironclad machine. Hundreds of elite Marines swarmed the docks—loading crates, checking hulls, calibrating guns—every post manned, every eye fixed on the Great New World War ahead.
Units finished their preparations and filed onto the warships. On the pier, Headquarters' core officers stood in formation before Sengoku, rigid as spears.
"For this main-theater operation, six battleships will deploy," Sengoku announced, voice cutting cleanly through the wind. His Admiral's cloak, stitched with golden wheat, snapped behind him. "I will now name each commander."
"Battleship One—three thousand men. Commander: Vice Admiral Sakazuki of Marine Headquarters."
Sakazuki stepped out, saluted, and barked, "Yes, Admiral!"
"Battleship Two—three thousand men. Commander: Vice Admiral Borsalino of Marine Headquarters."
Borsalino gave a languid salute. "What a pain…"
Sengoku narrowed his eyes, then pressed on. "Battleship Three—three thousand men. Commander: Vice Admiral Kuzan of Marine Headquarters."
"Hahaha! Finally my turn!" Kuzan sprang from the line, eyes shining as he flashed a thumbs-up. "I won't let you down, Admiral!"
Sengoku stared at him for a beat. "…Next, Battleship Four."
His gaze swept the officers. Backs straightened; breath ran hot. To face the Beast Pirates, the Big Mom Pirates, and the Roger Pirates at once—the three strongest fleets on the Grand Line—commanding even a single battleship would be an honor that could define a career. Everyone felt the pull of promotion and politics.
The first three slots were untouchable. Those men were Headquarters' recognized "Monsters," with merit to match. But Battleships Four and Five—
"It has to be me. It has to be me."
Tokikake muscled to the front, flushing as he chased Sengoku's eyes left and right, his face broadcasting: Pick me.
"Battleship Four—two thousand men. Commander…" Sengoku's stare hardened as Tokikake hammed it up. "…Rear Admiral Tokikake."
"Yesss!"
Tokikake whooped, swaggered to Kuzan's side, then turned on the "losers."
"Hahaha! Envious, are you? Too bad—you ordinary clods could never grasp my genius!"
Sengoku: …
The officers: …
Flipping his hair, Tokikake planted a brown hat on his head, fished out a crumpled pack, and lit up with theatrical gloom. "Looks like you still need me—the genius Tokikake—to turn the tide…"
He struck a heroic pose and boomed, "Mediocrities! I, the genius, will protect you all!"
"No," Sengoku said flatly. "Rear Admiral Tokikake's… exceptional talent is needed at Headquarters. He will remain to secure our rear."
Tokikake's grin shattered. His strangled wail ricocheted around the pier as Sengoku delivered the verdict: "Rear Admiral Gion will command Battleship Four."
"For Justice!" Gion stepped forward, voice bright with steel.
Sengoku didn't spare Tokikake a glance. "Battleship Five—two thousand men. Commander: Rear Admiral Yamakaji."
His eyes settled on Yamakaji's square, earnest face, and his tone softened. "Don't let this old man down."
Yamakaji, who had expected nothing, froze—then saluted with sudden fervor. "Yes, Admiral! I won't fail you!"
Sengoku nodded. "I will personally command the flagship—five thousand men."
His gaze swept the ranks. "This battle's weight cannot be overstated. It may shape the world's fate for decades. We carry the banner of Justice—and we must secure final victory."
"Justice… will prevail!"
The words struck like a drumbeat. Dozens of officers and tens of thousands of elites felt the ground vibrate under their boots. A roar surged up as one:
"Justice… will prevail!"
Swish—swish—swish!
As if dragged aloft by that cry, battle fervor climbed into the clouds. Sails unfurled in perfect rhythm along the quay, white Seagull Flags billowing high.
"They're here!"
"Look!"
"The Shichibukai—and Vice Admiral Darren!"
"They've arrived!"
All heads turned.
Seven figures advanced in a line across the plain, each step steeped in insolent swagger. They were a gallery of extremes: one towering and corpse-pale; one cloaked in swirling yellow sand, golden hooks glinting; one in a wind-whipped pink coat, laughter curling like wire; one all brute force, long golden hair flaring around a feral grin; one radiating cool command with an outsized black blade across his back; one with crimson skin like banked embers, water coursing around him in shimmering bands.
And at their head—a man with tousled black hair and a razor-clean uniform, aura sharpened to a killing edge. Hands in his pockets, a lit cigar between his teeth, ember pulsing in the cold wind, he cut a figure at once defiant and unreadable.
Seven raw forces crashing into Marine order—a gang of hooligans storming a palace.
Yet their murderous pressure, almost a physical weight, threatened to eclipse even the tens of thousands on the docks. Confidence evaporated into held breath as the seven strode toward the harbor.
"Damn it," Tokikake ground out, jaw tight enough to crack a molar.
"That bastard stole the spotlight again," Kuzan blurted, eyes gleaming. "Hahaha! Even among pirates, Darren looks effortlessly cool."
Amusement flickered in Gion's eyes; a hint of a smile touched her lips.
Borsalino murmured, "Looks like all the fun is happening over there…"
Sengoku: …
Tsuru drifted two steps closer and sighed.
"It's like that brat Darren's blended right into the Shichibukai…" Sengoku's mouth twitched.
How could he not? They're all scoundrels and degenerates—and that damned Darren is the Marines' greatest disgrace.
"Well then, we'll be taking our leave, Admiral," Darren said, grinning around his cigar as he came up to Sengoku. He raised a hand.
Blue arcs crackled. The port erupted in shouts as bubbles surged to the surface and a small metallic submarine shot up from the depths.
Under Douglas Bullet's curses, the vessel groaned and twisted, reshaping into something like an ark-class craft. Sleek lines, a raked, needle-nosed hull—gasps rippled through the ranks.
"So cool!"
"This is insane!"
"They're sailing on that?"
"It's going to fly?!"
"Damn! If I'd known, I would've fought tooth and nail to get posted under Vice Admiral Darren!"
"Our Headquarters battleships look… so outdated!"
…
The murmurs only deepened Sengoku's scowl.
Darren led the Shichibukai aboard the hovering craft.
"Leave the Whitebeard Pirates to me, comrades," he called from the gangway, smiling down at the ranks below. "I'll await your good news."
The magnetic field around the vessel surged.
The metal ship bearing the seven Shichibukai punched into the sky.
For a heartbeat, the harbor fell silent.
Then—
"KILL THEM ALL!!"
"For Justice!!"
"For Vice Admiral Darren!!"
"Crush Roger!"
The roar struck like collapsing mountains and a rising sea, rolling into the clouds.
Sengoku's face darkened to charcoal.
To be continued...