"Kill!!!"
Thousands of elite Marines surged forward like an unstoppable torrent of steel, roaring as they charged into the depths of Thriller Bark.
What greeted them was an eerie silence, cloaked beneath a dense, unsettling fog.
The air reeked of dampness and rot.
"ROAR!!!"
The silence was ripped apart in an instant.
From the shadows, from behind the ruins, from the windows of the towering castle—countless figures staggered forth.
Beasts of every kind, and even armored humans...
But without exception, their bodies were covered in grotesque stitching, their eyes vacant and lifeless, emanating the aura of death.
A zombie army!
"Open fire!"
At the command—
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The front-row Marines pulled their triggers without hesitation, unleashing a barrage of bullets that instantly shredded the dozen or so zombies at the front into pieces.
But the next second, an unbelievable scene unfolded before their eyes.
The zombies, torn and bloodied, slowly stumbled back onto their feet again, as if the gunfire had done nothing more than tickle them.
"What the hell?!"
"Are these things... immortal?!"
"Then how the hell are we supposed to kill them—"
Amidst the growing unease, a cold voice cut through the chaos.
"Out of the way!"
In a flash of motion, Sanji burst from the formation like lightning. His right leg traced a brilliant arc through the air, coated in a sheen of jet-black Armament Haki.
"Black Leg!"
BOOM!
The head of a massive zombie lion exploded into pieces under Sanji's sweeping kick.
Almost simultaneously, Zoro's figure appeared right behind him.
With no wasted movements, he unsheathed Wado Ichimonji. The blade was instantly wrapped in a deep, obsidian aura.
"One-Sword Style!"
A single flash of steel.
Another zombie soldier's body was cleaved cleanly in two.
Swoosh—
Just as the zombie collapsed, two shadowy wisps shot out from its corpse, vanishing into the thick fog in an instant.
"..."
"Oi, moss-head, you saw that, right?"
Sanji exhaled a smoke ring, his eyes sharp.
"Shut up, curly-brow. I'm not blind."
Zoro slid his blade back into its sheath, his voice low.
The two exchanged a single glance, and in that moment, they understood.
Armament Haki works!
"Everyone! If you can use Armament Haki—focus your attacks!"
"Everyone else, support them! Disrupt the zombies' formations!"
Sanji's voice boomed across the battlefield, loud and clear.
"Step!"
Without the slightest hesitation, the entire Marine formation shifted instantly.
The elite soldiers proficient in Armament Haki formed a new front line, their weapons all coated in a thin, jet-black sheen.
The rest of the troops fell back half a step, coordinating seamlessly to provide covering fire—aiming precisely at the zombies' joints to hinder their movements.
Up above, Hibari lay prone atop a crumbling rooftop. The barrel of her sniper rifle glimmered faintly, coated in Armament Haki as well.
She pulled the trigger.
Bang!
The haki-infused bullet pierced clean through a zombie's skull with flawless precision.
The creature fell instantly—and this time, it didn't get back up.
"Nice shot, Hibari!"
Kujaku's voice rang from below. The long whip in her hand lashed out like a black viper, slicing the air with sharp, lethal cracks.
Her whip shadows weaved into a pitch-black net, instantly entangling several zombies before ripping them apart.
Within seconds, the rhythm of battle shifted entirely into the Marines' favor.
...
High above the battlefield.
Two figures floated silently in midair.
"Not bad," Hawke murmured, the corners of his lips lifting slightly as he looked down at the coordinated maneuvers below.
They hadn't let him down.
Moria's zombie army, seemingly invincible, had glaring weaknesses.
First—salt imbued with the sea's energy.
Second—sunlight.
And third—the overwhelming force of Haki.
Without any guidance, his subordinates had relied on their own judgment to deduce the solution and adjust tactics on the fly.
Excellent.
This army was growing exactly as he envisioned—wild and relentless.
"…"
Beside him, Bartholomew Kuma watched in silence, but beneath his calm exterior, waves of shock were crashing violently.
This… this was a Paradise Branch Marine unit?
From identifying the zombies' immortality, to pinpointing their weakness, to adapting their battle strategy—the entire process was seamless.
No confusion.
No hesitation.
Only absolute, decisive execution.
Those two young men at the vanguard… their power was immense, but their judgment was even sharper.
And behind them, the entire Marine force moved like a single, living organism.
Orders were given, and instantly obeyed.
Defense shifted to offense without the slightest delay.
Every soldier's eyes burned with an unshakable will to fight and an unyielding belief in victory.
This cohesion.
This killing intent.
This steel-clad discipline...
In all of Paradise, there wasn't a single pirate crew that could stand against them!
"..."
Kuma's gaze drifted toward Hawke's profile.
This man—the creator of this formidable force—was the Marine Rear Admiral standing right before him.
He recalled what his old friend Vegapunk had said before Kuma left Egghead Island…
"The Marines are changing."
Could this man be the reason why?
Kuma's thoughts shifted to Hawke's earlier words aboard the ship—
"I'll take responsibility for you."
After a moment of silence, Kuma finally spoke, his deep voice calm yet tinged with concern.
"Rear Admiral Hawke…"
"The Paw-Paw Fruit's ability can indeed repel damage and fatigue."
"But…"
"Those expelled injuries and exhaustion… they don't just vanish."
"They must be stored somewhere—someone has to bear them. So…"
"Hah…"
Hawke turned to face him, a faint, knowing smile on his lips.
He extended his right hand, casually pointing his thumb toward his own chest.
"The wounds of my soldiers are mine to bear."
"Is there a problem?"
Hawke's tone was calm and effortless, as if he were speaking of something trivial.
"!!!"
Kuma's pupils constricted sharply.
His body froze.
Did Rear Admiral Hawke truly understand what he was saying?!
This wasn't just ordinary pain.
This was the agony and exhaustion of thousands of elite soldiers, clashing desperately against an undead horde—pain powerful enough to crush even the strongest steel-willed minds.
To let his men fight freely, while he personally carried the suffering of them all...
Could this be the terrifying secret behind this army's strength?!
At that moment—
"Gi-shi-shi-shi-shi—!"
An eerie, bone-chilling laugh suddenly echoed through the dense fog, sweeping across the battlefield.
Thud.
Thud.
Heavy footsteps approached from the depths of the castle shadows, each one reverberating ominously.
A massive figure slowly emerged from the darkness.
Nearly seven meters tall, grotesquely obese, his pale skin marred with gruesome stitches around his neck. His onion-shaped head sprouted two small horns, and sharp fangs jutted from his jaws.
The Shichibukai—Gecko Moria!
From his towering height, Moria looked down at the Marines locked in brutal combat against his zombie horde.
"Gi-shi-shi-shi! What a lively little party we've got here!"
"I was wondering who dared trespass into my domain… turns out it's just a bunch of worthless Marine trash marching straight to their deaths!"
Then his gaze shifted upward.
The moment his eyes locked onto the silent figure floating in the sky, his pupils constricted violently.
"Bartholomew Kuma?!"