Far from Marineford, in the vast, open waters of the New World—
"VVRRROOOOOMMM—"
A deep, pressurized groan tore through the ocean as a massive black submarine breached the surface.
It rose like a leviathan emerging from the abyss, seawater cascading in rivers down its smooth, seamless, and utterly menacing hull.
This was the Nautilus, Mike's personal flagship.
And behind it, stretching to the horizon, was the New Marine's main assault fleet.
It was an armada of such scale it beggared belief.
Colossal warships, each one a floating steel fortress, stood arrayed in perfect, terrifying formation.
Their cannons, dark and hollow, bristled like the quills of a million angry porcupines.
Flags, bearing the new symbol of justice, snapped violently in the wind.
The sheer sight of it was enough to crush the morale of any nation.
And this... this wasn't even the New Marine's full strength.
This was just the hammer, aimed directly at the heart of the world.
The rest of their power had already been unleashed.
Dragon, the world's most wanted man and now the New Marine's Minister of Internal Affairs, had already led another massive fleet.
With him were Civil Affairs Minister Kuzan and Vice Minister Issho.
They had split from the main group, taking their ships on a different, broader mission.
They were heading toward the four "lesser" seas and the first half of the Grand Line, the so-called "Paradise."
Their goal wasn't just conquest. It was to coordinate.
They were there to fan the flames of the global revolution, linking up with the awakened populations on every island, in every kingdom.
Their mission was to intensify the liberation efforts, to act as the steel spine for the people's newfound courage.
The goal was to sweep away every last remnant of the corrupt old era in the shortest time possible.
The plan was simple: plant the New Marine's flag over every inhabited land and bring this chaotic, bloody age of pirates to a definitive, crushing end.
As for those pirates who, having just witnessed the New Marine's thunderous might and terrifying, god-like power... who had seen a Yonko drowned... and still chose to resist?
Only death awaited them.
The New Marine's message was simple: Surrender or die.
"Whoosh—"
Mike stood with his hands clasped calmly behind his back on the Nautilus's forward deck.
The salty sea breeze ruffled his clothes and hair.
He gazed at the distant, hazy outline of the Red Line, that impossible, world-spanning continent of red rock.
He felt an odd, dizzying sense of unreality.
Everything had happened so... fast.
Far, far faster than he had ever anticipated.
He'd just wanted to coast by.
Seriously.
His original plan was to find a nice, quiet desk job at a peaceful Marine branch, collect a paycheck, and avoid trouble.
From that humble ambition... to this.
He was now standing on the deck of the world's most advanced weapon, commanding a world-shaking force, sailing to the very doorstep of the World Government's seat of power.
All in just two months.
It was insane.
But...
This should be the final battle.
Once those arrogant, self-important, and frankly ugly eyesores at Mary Geoise were cleared away, he could finally kick back and enjoy the good life.
He could find a nice island, build a house, and maybe take a nap that lasted for a solid week.
"Ha—"
The thought brought a genuine smirk to his face, which was, of course, immediately interrupted by the sound of arguing.
Loud arguing.
Mike turned, an expression of pure, practiced resignation on his face.
On the opposite side of the massive deck, a geriatric shouting match was in full, glorious swing.
"NEWGATE! LET GO OF THE BOY, DAMN YOU! ACE IS MY GRANDSON!"
Garp's mustache was bristling with such righteous fury it looked like it might float away.
He was reaching out with a massive, Haki-darkened hand, trying to physically pull Ace out from behind Whitebeard's towering frame.
This was the chance Garp had been waiting for.
He didn't know or care where that other idiot grandson, Luffy, had disappeared to right now.
But Ace was here.
And Ace, by God, was going to wear the New Marine uniform and walk the true path of Justice!
Behind Garp, the other old-guard legends stood with varying expressions.
Zephyr looked like he was seconds from cuffing both Garp and Whitebeard.
Sengoku looked like he was nursing the single worst migraine of his 800-year career.
Tsuru just looked... done.
Further back, Akainu and Kizaru watched with grim amusement.
Kizaru even commented lazily, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Ooooh, my, my... such energy... Will they come to blows, I wonder~"
Akainu just grunted, looking like he wished both of them would fall overboard.
"GURARARARA—!"
Whitebeard's colossal laugh, now back at its peak, boomed across the water, frightening nearby fish.
His towering, rejuvenated figure stood protectively in front of Ace, showing zero fear even against an equally prime-restored Garp.
Nearby, Mihawk, Doflamingo, and Crocodile watched the show with undisguised amusement.
"GARP, YOU OLD BASTARD!" Whitebeard roared. "ACE IS MY SON! Calling you 'grandpa' is already giving you face, you dried-up cracker!"
"BULLSHIT!" Garp spat, refusing to back down an inch. He didn't care about generational titles—he just wanted to "discipline" Ace. Properly.
"He's my grandson! Of course he should follow me!"
"Follow you?! To learn what?" Whitebeard sneered. "How to eat donuts and pick your nose at the same time?! My son should follow me—that's the proper way!"
"HE'S MY GRANDSON—"
"HE'S MY SON—"
"..."
Ace, a world-famous pirate commander who was, by all measures, a terrifyingly powerful man, was stuck awkwardly between them, looking like he wanted the deck to open up and swallow him whole.
"Uh... Pops... Gramps... please? Everyone is... watching..."
Mike couldn't help it.
He laughed.
This was just too good.
Two living legends, with a combined age of nearly 150 years, fighting like toddlers over who got to raise the Pirate King's son.
This generational dispute was truly, deeply amusing.
It was in that moment of levity that Mihawk, who had been silently standing aside, concluded a private conversation.
He snapped his personal Den Den Mushi shut, pocketed it, and strode with his usual silent grace directly to Mike's side.
He leaned down slightly, his voice a low whisper that only the two of them could hear, and gave a brief, precise report.
After listening, Mike's eyebrow shot up.
The laughter faded, replaced by a glint of genuine, sharp amusement.
"Oh?"
"Shanks? Red-Haired Shanks wants to surrender?"
Mike's eyes flicked to Mihawk.
"And he plans to offer... Charlotte Linlin's head... as a gift?"
Mihawk, his face an icy, unreadable mask, just nodded once.
"Mm."
Mike's initial surprise quickly faded, replaced by a cold, clear understanding.
Shanks.
The man they called the "Conqueror of Favors," the ultimate politician of the seas.
He certainly knew how to read the tides.
He'd clearly seen the broadcast.
He'd seen Kaido's end.
He'd realized, instantly, that the old Four Emperors system had no place in the world the New Marine was building.
It was dead.
So now, he wanted to secure a stable, powerful position in the new era... by stepping over another Emperor's corpse.
'Big Mom's head, huh?'
'Not a bad "pledge of allegiance."'
However, Mike knew Big Mom wasn't stupid.
Far from it.
She had her own pillar—Katakuri, the backbone of her crew.
A brilliant strategist and warrior in his own right.
'No doubt', Mike thought, 'both sides are planning to ambush the other at this "alliance" meeting.'
The difference was... Shanks, through Mihawk, could contact him—the supreme leader of the New Marine—directly.
Shanks had an in. Big Mom didn't.
So, should he accept Shanks's surrender?
Considering this, Mike glanced sideways at Mihawk.
The swordsman's face was its usual stoic mask, but in those hawk-like golden eyes, Mike saw something he had never, ever seen before.
A faint, flickering emotion.
A plea.
Mike understood instantly.
This wasn't just a report.
Mihawk was asking for a personal favor. For his old friend. His rival.
How many years had those two known each other? Their relationship had always been a strange, complex thing, somewhere between mortal rivalry and deep friendship.
Mike even recalled Mihawk mentioning he'd gone out of his way to advise Shanks to stay out of this war entirely.
But who could truly remain untouched by the relentless march of time?
That Shanks could grasp the new reality that quickly, and decisively offer another Emperor's head as tribute...
Such vision, and such brutal resolve, proved exactly why he'd reached the pinnacle of this sea.
Mihawk... he had befriended Mike way back at East Blue's Branch 186.
He was one of the earliest core members to join, back when Mike's ambitions were... well, nonexistent.
And in all that time, he had never asked for a single thing.
Until now.
For this one, rare request... both sentiment and reason demanded Mike grant this favor.
"But..."
Mike's gaze swept across the deck, past the arguing old men, and landed on the ramrod-straight figure standing near the conning tower—Akainu.
When the New Marine's five Commander departments were first established, Sakazuki had been entrusted with two massive roles: Minister of Military Affairs, and Commander-in-Chief of the New World Army.
His entire purpose was to completely eliminate the remaining two of the Four Emperors.
Now that Shanks had voluntarily defected and even offered Big Mom's head as a "bargaining chip," there was no one—no one—more suited to handle this matter than Sakazuki.
First, it would satisfy his long-held, burning obsession of "eradicating evil completely" and finally settling accounts with the Four Emperors once and for all.
Second, it would fulfill the promise made back then—allowing the Commander-in-Chief of the New World Army to make his official, bloody debut in this new era and showcase the New Marine's thunderous methods.
The New Marine had already subdued one of the mightiest Four Emperors (Whitebeard) and annihilated another (Kaido).
Taking out the other two... well, this was more than enough to prove to the world, once again, the New Marine's unwavering resolve.
Surrender—or die.
Well, that settled it.
"Alright, Mihawk."
Mike gave a slight nod, his voice steady and final.
"Tell Shanks I've received his 'sincerity.'"
He paused, a faint smile touching his lips. "Big Mom's head is a fine gift."
"The New Marine will dispatch a fleet to assist him in dealing with the Big Mom Pirates. This operation will be led by—"
Mike's gaze finally settled, hard and clear, on Akainu.
"—Admiral Sakazuki himself."
The moment his name was called, an intimidating, crimson light erupted in Akainu's eyes.
The battle lust, the fierce obsession with "Absolute Justice" that had been pent up for so long, finally had an outlet.
Eradicating the Four Emperors was, after all, the duty of the New World Army's Commander-in-Chief!
Seeing Akainu's barely contained excitement—so intense it looked like magma might actually start to spill from the corners of his mouth—Mike added.
"Sakazuki-san. Recruit Red-Hair. Eliminate Big Mom."
He held Akainu's burning gaze.
"Make it quick."
"Don't miss the main course here in Mary Geoise."
Without the slightest hesitation, Akainu stepped forward.
He slammed his right fist against his left chest in a thunderous salute, a heavy, solid THUD that echoed over the deck.
"UNDERSTOOD!"
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