Time seemed to freeze, the world sinking into a deathly stillness.
The Gorosei had returned to their human forms. The five stood unmoving, faces carved with shifting emotion as they stared at the spot where Darren and his companions had vanished. Rage, disbelief, and humiliation seethed beneath their calm exteriors, their fury so thick it felt like the air itself might ignite.
Not far away, Sengoku dragged himself from the crater that had swallowed him. Around him, the Marines—officers and soldiers alike—stood rigid, eyes averted, lungs locked in silence before the sight of the five elders' ashen faces.
Gone.
Just like that.
They couldn't comprehend it. Their operation—meticulously planned, absolute in confidence—had ended in total failure. Outmaneuvered and humiliated by a single Marine Vice Admiral.
More than four hundred Celestial Dragons had perished in what was supposed to be their "Hunting Competition."
The ultimate prize of that grotesque game, the Float-Float Fruit, had been taken by Darren.
The Gorosei themselves had descended to Felsek Island, even revealing their long-concealed "immortal" forms.
Half of Mary Geoise now lay in ruins, its sacred streets reduced to ashes beneath the bombardment of the North Blue Fleet. Over a thousand Celestial Dragons had perished in the Land of the Gods.
And still, that insolent Marine had escaped unscathed.
But what chilled them most wasn't his escape—it was what came after.
Through this battle, Darren had forced them to expose nearly every secret weapon of the World Government. Meanwhile, they knew almost nothing about him—nor about that mysterious Flying Fleet that had vanished into the clouds.
They remembered his words clearly, every syllable like a curse: "I'll make sure you Excellencies find no peace, day or night."
Now he had the intelligence. They had nothing.
He could strike anywhere, anytime. And the so-called Holy Land of Mary Geoise—once a fortress above the Red Line—was now an open target, defenseless against the sky.
Perhaps Darren had spoken the truth. From this day forth, the World Government would live under the shadow of the North Blue Fleet.
That elusive fleet would become their unseen nemesis, an eternal threat hovering above their seat of power—a specter over the Cross of the World Government.
In this clash… the World Government had suffered an undeniable, crushing defeat.
The five elders looked to one another, each seeing the same grim weight in the others' eyes.
Then, laughter split the silence.
"Ororororo! The show's over—and what a pitiful farce it was!"
"Mamamamama! The bug they thought they'd trapped turned around and bit them instead!"
Kaido and Big Mom's mocking laughter rolled across the battlefield, wild and merciless.
A massive shadow swept over the land as Big Mom, her voluptuous form astride a soaring Azure Dragon, rose into the sky.
"Gorosei!" she jeered. "You lost at God Valley back then, and now Felsek Island's the same story! The mighty World Government reduced to a joke! Mamamamamama!"
Her shrill laughter echoed endlessly.
The Gorosei's faces darkened, rage simmering beneath their stoic calm.
"Big Mom," Saint Warcury said, his voice cold enough to cut steel, "are you begging us to drown Totto Land beneath the sea?"
"Mamamama! You old fossils don't scare me. You've got bigger problems now!" she roared, sneering down at them. "From today on, I bet you won't even dare leave Mary Geoise!"
"Who knows when that Flying Fleet of his will descend again?"
"Live in fear, you decrepit gods! Choke on it!"
With a final cackle, the Azure Dragon beat its wings and carried her into the clouds, vanishing into the distance.
"Damn it!" Saint Saturn hissed, slamming his staff into the ground. His veins bulged like coiled serpents beneath his skin.
The others were no calmer. Their fury twisted their faces, the humiliation cutting deeper than any wound.
For centuries they had ruled unchallenged, gazing down upon all life. Never—not once—had they suffered such disgrace.
Darren, that Marine upstart, was something else entirely. Only now did they grasp the true scale of his strength and intellect—far beyond anything the current age had produced.
The Flying Fleet was proof of it: revolutionary in concept and execution.
And even together, the five of them had failed to bring him down.
A bitter thought surfaced among them—had they miscalculated? Had arrogance blinded their judgment?
They crushed the thought instantly. The choice was made; the path could not be undone.
Now, the only course left was to contain the damage—to manage the storm they had unleashed.
As for Big Mom and Kaido—they could be left for Marine Headquarters to handle later.
"That brat Darren…" Saint Saturn began, venom dripping from his tone. But Saint Nusjuro raised a hand, interrupting him.
"We'll discuss this back at Mary Geoise," Nusjuro said coolly, his eyes flicking toward the ranks of Marines standing nearby.
Saturn hesitated, then nodded in silence.
Seeing their restraint, Sengoku stepped forward, drew a steady breath, and saluted sharply.
"Your Excellencies," he said cautiously, "what are your orders for the Marines?"
"In my humble opinion, Darren doesn't intend to defect. Perhaps we could use that to open negotiations?"
"Negotiations?"
Saint Saturn's head snapped toward him, fury blazing in his eyes.
"Sengoku… are you suggesting we negotiate with Rogers Darren? The man who butchered Celestial Dragons, declared war upon us, and laid waste to half the Holy Land with his fleet?"
"Do you think we'll bow our heads to such filth?"
His voice was icy, venomous, every word a blade.
"Do you truly believe the World Government—the supreme authority of this world—so weak?"
"Or do you think eight centuries of our rule can be shaken so easily?"
To be continued...