Saint Ethanbaron V. Nusjuro's eyes, usually as sharp and cold as the blade he carried, now burned with a barely concealed anger, a clear sign of his dissatisfaction with the current, spiraling situation.
Shanks took the newspaper offered to him and began to read it carefully, his expression unreadable.
At that moment, Saint Marcus Mars voice rang out, grim and heavy.
"Devil Fruits are now being sold, Shanks. Openly priced, as if they were common produce in a market."
This statement landed like a bombshell, causing a new stir in the quiet, tense room.
Saint Topman Warcury, the Warrior God of Justice, interjected at this point, his voice was rumble with concern.
"One month from now, on the pirate island of Jaya, they will face pirates from all over the world to conduct this trade." His tone carried a deep, foreboding weight, as if he could already foresee the unprecedented chaos that was about to unfold.
Hearing this, Saint Jaygarcia Saturn's carefully maintained composure finally snapped.
His emotions flared up once more, his face contorting in a mask of pure rage.
"Damn that Ron!" he snarled. "He's clearly trying to muddy the waters of the entire world! To upset the very foundation of power!"
His voice rose to a near-roar, his worries not just about Ron's actions alone, but about the far-reaching, catastrophic consequences they would have.
"This trade must not be allowed to proceed! Otherwise, the seas will be flooded with a new generation of troublesome Devil Fruit users, and the pressure on the World Government will be unimaginable!"
The Five Elders' words painted a picture as dire as the sky collapsing.
To Shanks, their panicked predictions sounded like a prophecy: if he didn't intervene, the world would face a devastating disaster.
However, his own path was complex.
To maintain the world's delicate, fragile balance and to ensure the boy who had inherited his hat and Captain Roger's will had a chance to grow, he had to make a difficult calculated decision.
"Hmph!" Shanks finally scoffed coldly, placing the newspaper back on the table.
"I understand what you're saying." He met Saturn's furious gaze without flinching.
"Until you find your own way to deal with Whitebeard, I will keep him in check." He knew that only by maintaining this equilibrium could he buy more time for the next generation to rise.
He then added, his gaze turning cold.
"As for Kaido… I will keep an eye on him as well."
With Shanks' clear commitment, a collective, almost imperceptible sigh of relief passed through the Five Elders.
For now, a fragile pact had been forged.
*****
Wano Country.
In a secluded stretch of sea just off the coast of the closed nation, over a dozen Marine warships lay anchored in a tense, silent formation.
On the deck of the lead vessel, Admiral Akainu stood, his face as dark and furious as a thundercloud, his eyes fixed on the crumpled newspaper in his hand.
The paper carried the shocking news that had already begun to shake the world—Whitebeard had single-handedly stormed Marineford, emerged victorious, and had his bounty skyrocket to an unprecedented seven billion Berries.
This wasn't just a number; it was a symbol—the dawn of a new, chaotic era, and the crumbling of the old order he despised.
Akainu's breathing grew increasingly ragged, and the very air around him seemed to shimmer with heat.
His aura became dangerously unstable, like a volcano on the verge of a cataclysmic eruption.
"These relics of the old era…" he muttered under his breath, his voice a low, magma-like growl dripping with disdain and fury.
"To think they'd rely on one man's fading strength to usher in their so-called 'new times'... utterly laughable."
As he spoke, he clenched his fist.
The newspaper in his grip was instantly consumed by a black, magma-like substance, combusting under the extreme temperature and disintegrating into fine ashes that scattered on the wind.
"Pirate King? Nothing but trash," Akainu sneered coldly, his gaze shifting toward the distant, mist-shrouded land of Wano.
Just days ago, that place had been the centerpiece of a flawless, meticulously laid trap targeting Whitebeard—a grand strategy with seemingly no weaknesses, designed to finally eliminate the old Emperor.
Yet now… all of it had been torn to shreds by a single battle that had taken place halfway across the world.
The thought made Akainu question his own superior, Fleet Admiral Sengoku.
'Have you started losing your edge too, old man?' he thought, the words betraying his deep dissatisfaction.
Beside him, Vice Admiral Momousagi (Gion) watched the scene unfold, her brow furrowed, her piercing eyes filled with a grim understanding.
She knew words would be futile here; nothing could alter the reality they now faced.
After the battle at Marineford, She immediately come here for Akainu.
Staying here any longer was pointless.
Worse, it risked missing critical opportunities to address the new, more pressing crises that were now exploding across the globe.
The news of the Devil Fruit auction had triggered countless small-scale wars.
Weak nations had become prey to greedy pirates, their societies thrown into chaos.
Faced with such dire circumstances, Momousagi felt the heavy weight of her duty.
Stepping forward, she clasped her hands respectfully, her tone urgent but professional.
"Admiral Sakazuki. The Whitebeard Pirates will not be coming to Wano. Waiting here any longer would be a waste of our strategic resources while the rest of the world is in chaos. We should—"
She didn't need to finish her sentence.
Akainu snorted coldly, suppressing the restless magma in his heart.
After giving the direction of Wano one last, deep, frustrated glance, he issued a single, expressionless order.
"Turn the fleet around."
"Yes, sir!" Momousagi nodded gratefully and immediately turned to relay the command.
Soon after, over a dozen warships began to retrace their path, leaving long ripples on the sea as if lamenting a grand battle that had ended before it ever began.
*****
Onigashima.
The usual raucous atmosphere of the Beast Pirates' stronghold was suddenly silenced.
The sky, once clear, was abruptly shrouded by a mass of dark, swirling clouds, as if the entire world had been swallowed by an oppressive darkness.
With a low rumble of thunder that was not thunder, streaks of crimson-black lightning struck down like the swords of angry gods, dyeing the sky in apocalyptic hues.
A powerful, invisible shockwave swept across the island.
The countless underlings of the Beast Pirates, who had been drinking and laughing moments before, simply froze, their eyes rolling back in their heads before they collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
In an instant, the island of demons was rendered utterly, eerily silent.