Before the towering, ink-black silhouette, the Gorosei bowed low, reverence deepening on their faces.
If such a scene ever reached the outside world, it would plunge the seas into unparalleled chaos.
A hidden sovereign, wielding unfathomable power and authority—seated upon the Empty Throne that even the Celestial Dragons dare not occupy—issuing commands to the Gorosei, the supreme authority of the World Government.
Could there truly exist a power and station above the five who sat at the pinnacle of that hierarchy?
"Yes, Great Imu-sama.
"An unprecedented crisis has arisen.
"The impoverished, chaotic North Blue has declared itself independent of the World Government's rule.
"Rogers Darren and his North Blue Fleet… have announced military protection over that sea.
"That brat's personal might rivals our own, and his strategic brilliance is astounding—he has turned the seas upside down."
They leaned forward as one, expressions devout, voices joined in a single plea:
"Please give the order… to snuff out this blinding lamp."
---
Somewhere in the New World.
Aboard the Moby Dick, the Whitebeard Pirates stood frozen, shock stamped across every face.
"What in the hell is happening…?"
"So from now on, the North Blue is truly outside the Government's jurisdiction?"
"This world's finally gone mad…"
Whitebeard sat in his chair, brows knit tight. He hadn't imagined events would veer so far, so fast.
A Marine brat who once couldn't take a single punch from him had grown into a towering tree, shaking the very foundations of the Government's political order.
"These youngsters…"
He exhaled a ribbon of smoke and tipped his head back, eyes on the endless blue beyond the rail, his gaze complicated.
"'King of the North Blue'…" he murmured, a slow smile tugging at his lips. "He's finally earned it."
While the crew buzzed in disbelief, a dark-skinned youth in a brown hat and a tumble of black curls watched the frozen screen of the Den Den Mushi from a shadowed corner. Heat burned in his eyes.
"This is… truly living."
His calloused fingers traced the sharp edges of his steel claws, and boundless ambition flared.
---
Marine Headquarters, Marineford.
Highest Military Conference Room.
The air was so heavy a pin drop would have sounded like a cannon shot.
Every officer sat rigid, eyes lowered to the shine of their own reflections. No one dared glance at Sengoku's face—dark as the bottom of a cauldron.
Even Kuzan, who'd been itching to talk, quietly retracted his hand under Sengoku's murderous glare.
Crunch.
The brittle sound cut the silence in two.
…
Veins stood out on Sengoku's forehead as he whipped around, eyes blazing, to find Garp with a half-eaten senbei jammed in his mouth.
"Garp, you fool! Would it kill you to stop eating for five minutes?!"
Garp froze, gulped the senbei, then slung an arm around Sengoku's shoulders with a sheepish chuckle.
"Don't blow a fuse, Sengoku… Handing the North Blue to that kid Darren's not so bad, is it? We're broke anyway. He protects the North Blue, their people live better, and we save money and trouble. Win–win, right?"
"Bahahaha!"
Having reached his grand conclusion, the dog-helmeted hero planted his hands on his hips and laughed to the ceiling.
Sakazuki's mouth twitched before he smoothed it out.
Borsalino pinched the bridge of his nose.
Black lines might as well have sprouted on every forehead in the room.
Then—
"Of course! Why didn't I think of that?!"
Kuzan thumped the table, eyes shining as he stared at Garp with open admiration. "Garp-san… you're so cool! To come up with that—"
"You two idiots!"
A roar split the room, and golden light flared.
Boom!
Boom!
Garp and Kuzan shot backward like cannon rounds, heads punching into the wall so only their legs stuck out, kicking weakly.
No one spoke. Fleet Admiral Sengoku stood in the form of a colossal golden Buddha, red-black lightning crawling over his frame.
Tsuru dragged a hand over her face.
"Transmit my orders! All remaining forces in North Blue waters are to withdraw immediately!"
With crimson eyes still smoldering, Sengoku faded back to human, turned on his heel, and strode from the room, breathing hard as he flung the order over his shoulder.
The officers traded uneasy looks—then let out wry, helpless smiles.
---
New World, skies above Coin Island.
One thousand meters up.
"Magnificent… So this is the Invincible Flying Fleet that nearly leveled Mary Geoise?"
Morgans stood on the flagship's deck, jaundiced eyes fixed on the shrinking island below. His tongue clicked, equal parts awe and hunger.
The fleet climbed, the cloud sea close enough to touch. An icy wind tore across the deck, rippling his feathers like water.
Sleek steel warships cruised around the flagship, weaving in and out of cloud like phantoms, a strange formation folding and unfolding in three dimensions.
Morgans knew little of command or tactics, but even he could see it—this formation breathed as one. In a sudden crisis, every ship could react in an instant.
The World Economic News Paper's headquarters could float on a giant balloon, true—but it couldn't touch this altitude or speed.
The gap in firepower was a chasm: tribesmen with sticks versus a modern army.
"Invincible is overstating it," Darren said, stepping out of the cabin with a cigar between his teeth. He grinned and offered Morgans another. "We simply hold the high ground."
Morgans accepted, chuckling. "Even Golden Lion Shiki, who ruled the New World for a time with the Float–Float Fruit, never commanded an aerial fleet like this."
"With a single threat, you tore the North Blue from the Government's jaws…"
"The Gorosei's so-called eight-hundred-year legacy—shattered."
"Darren-san, you've truly opened my eyes."
To be continued...