The sky twisted like ocean waves.
On the deck of the Moby Dick, Vista's hands instinctively flew to the hilt of his sword. His face set into a severity he hadn't felt in years.
"Father," Marco said, standing up abruptly.
Edward Newgate remained calm. He put down his flask and raised his fist.
Bang.
The air in front of him cracked like a shattered mirror. It wasn't just a punch; it was a quake that shattered the atmosphere itself.
Boom!
A deafening roar tore across the sea. Shockwaves swept the water into towering tsunamis, clearing the path for the Whitebeard Pirates' mobilization. It was a summons—one that demanded immediate response.
From the depths of the sea, the sky was ripped open. Not by a sword, but by a tear in reality.
Snap.
Dozens of black voids opened in the sky, resembling the gaping maws of sea kings. These were the Gargantas—dimensional gateways.
"Those are the Navy's portals," a pirate captain gasped. "No ships. No travel time. Just... instant deployment."
This was the terrifying reality of the Black Hole strategy. The Whitebeard Pirates had gathered on Foodvalten Island for war, but the Navy didn't plan to meet them on the waves. They were coming straight through the sky.
The pirates gripped their weapons, sweat beading on their brows. They were legends of the New World, yet the sight of those voids made their instincts scream.
Then, they emerged.
From the largest portal, a figure stepped out clad in a black coat with the word JUSTICE emblazoned on the back. He wore no armor, only a Zanpakutō at his waist.
He didn't release a scrap of Haki. He didn't need to.
"Rosen," Edward Newgate growled, his gaze piercing the distance.
Just the sight of the man made Marco's phoenix blood run cold. It felt like standing at the bottom of the ocean, the pressure crushing his lungs.
Behind Rosen, four distinct figures emerged, walking on the air as if it were solid ground.
Admiral Sakazuki. Lava steamed off his skin.
Admiral Kizaru. Light glimmered lazily in his eyes.
Admiral Kuzan. Ice crystals formed and melted around his feet.
Douglas Bullet. The "Devil's Heir," a mountain of muscle and iron.
"Four Admirals...?" Jozu gritted his teeth.
"Look at the others!" Vista shouted.
Behind the Commanders, a thousand Marines stepped out of the void. They didn't float; they marched on air, their boots striking invisible steps. Their synchronized footsteps sounded like cannon fire, a rhythmic thud-thud-thud that shook the hearts of the pirates.
Rosen raised a hand. The marching stopped instantly. The silence was heavier than the noise.
The distance closed to a kilometer. The sheer aura of the Navy's elite pressed down on the harbor. It wasn't just fear; it was the weight of absolute order.
"It's like facing hell itself," Marco whispered.
Even in their youth, facing the Roger Pirates hadn't felt like this. Rosen's forces didn't look like a Navy fleet. They looked like a force of nature.
"Gurarararara!"
Edward Newgate laughed. His voice boomed, a sound of pure, unshakeable will. It cut through the oppressive atmosphere like a blade, rallying his trembling subordinates.
The world's strongest man stepped forward to the bow of the ship, raising his bisento. He stood as a shield against the Navy's overwhelming presence.
"Welcome to my island, Admiral Rosen!" Newgate bellowed.
Rosen floated forward, his expression cold and calculating. His eyes scanned the Whitebeard fleet with the detached precision of a predator.
"Edward Newgate," Rosen said, his voice quiet but carrying across the water with terrifying clarity. "You call this an island. I call it the grave of pirates."
Rosen raised his hand. Behind him, the three Admirals and Douglas Bullet flared their Haki simultaneously. The sky turned black with crackling lightning.
"Marines!" Rosen's voice rose to a command. "Show them the cost of defiance."
"YOSH!" A thousand voices roared back.
"Battle Stations!" Marco screamed.
The air split. The sea boiled. The war for the New World had begun.
—-