The first shaft of dawn knifed through the ragged clouds and fell across shattered Marineford.
Where absolute justice and order once stood, only broken walls remained. The scar carved by Dragon Deposed split plaza, bastion, and the town beyond like an ugly abyss.
Marines moved in silence through the wreckage, clearing stone and carrying the wounded. The air smelled of rain-wet earth, iron, and a heaviness that would not lift, a weight called humiliation.
In a makeshift medical tent, Kuzan lay with his waist swaddled in bandages, listlessly crunching ice to numb the burn that raged inside him.
"Tch… hurts like hell…"
On the next cot, Borsalino wore a comically oversized ice pack on his head. Whether he was asleep or simply out cold, no one could say.
Sakazuki was the only one not lying down.
Bare from the waist up, the ghastly wound across his chest had been bound in layer after layer of gauze. He had refused anesthesia and painkillers. He stood rigid in the tent's mouth, staring at the gouge that cleaved Headquarters in two. His eyes were so dark they might drip.
Not far off, Vice Admiral Tsuru handed a freshly compiled casualty report to Sengoku, who sat on a slab of broken wall with his brows knotted tight.
"More than a third of Headquarters has been destroyed beyond repair. One hundred and thirty-seven officers at or above the field rank are seriously injured. That doesn't include the three warships sunk by the Golden Lion's fleet."
Tsuru's voice was as even as ever, but fatigue threaded every word.
Sengoku glanced at the report and crumpled the paper in his fist until it squealed. The Buddha's golden glow had long faded; his graying hair looked windblown and old.
"Where's Garp?"
"Over there," Tsuru said, tipping her chin.
Sengoku looked and found Garp sitting cross-legged on a massive chunk of fallen rampart, tearing into a packet of senbei as if the world weren't burning.
Crunch, crunch, crunch.
"Garp." A vein throbbed in Sengoku's temple. "Of all times, you're eating?"
Garp bit down with a loud crack. "How're we supposed to rebuild on an empty stomach, Sengoku? Want some? They're good. I've got tea too."
"I'll eat your head." Sengoku nearly choked on his own breath.
A news coo dove from the sky and dropped a fresh-inked paper at Sengoku's feet.
The headline on the front page screamed in block-black type:
Tragedy at Marineford. The Soaring Admiral and the Wave Lord United. Marine Headquarters Laid to Waste.
The photos showed the island-long scar, the Golden Lion trussed in seastone, and a blurred side view of Kael's final, black dragon-shaped slash.
"Morgans, you ghoul," Sengoku hissed, shaking with rage.
It was only the beginning.
…
Grand Line.
In a bar, music and laughter died the instant the owner slapped a newspaper onto the counter.
"Hey, hey, look at this."
Every eye swung over. When the crowd saw the headline and the photos, silence fell like a dropped curtain.
"You've got to be kidding. Marine Headquarters… ended up like that?" A drunken bounty hunter scrubbed his eyes. Half his liquor fled.
"Golden Lion Shiki… that legendary pirate? He teamed up with the Wave Lord Kael?"
"Holy hell. The world's gone mad. First the Pirate King is going to be executed in public, now Headquarters gets torn apart."
The hush broke into a frenzy louder than before. Fear, excitement, disbelief fermentation in a single room.
Old order was collapsing. A new age howled toward them, wild and unknowable.
…
The Holy Land, Mary Geoise.
Inside the Chamber of Authority the air was as heavy as trench water.
The five elders who sat atop worldly power circled a table strewn with Marineford's damage report and the World Economy News.
"A disgrace without equal," said the bald elder with the blade, voice like ice. "On their own ground the Marines were turned upside down by two pirates. Where is the World Government's prestige?"
"The Golden Lion is contained. He's no longer a concern," the long-bearded elder drummed his fingers. "But that Kael Grylls… his fruit has been developed to a perilous extreme. And he was a crewmate of Gol D. Roger."
"This threat must be strangled in the cradle."
"Roger's execution is already delicate. Cancel the corpse tour."
"Kong has submitted his resignation, taking responsibility as Fleet Admiral."
"Hmph. Neat of him. This is not the hour for blame. Send the order. Reinstate the Wave Lord's bounty. No… draft a new one."
"How much?"
Silence. Then a voice:
"Three billion, one hundred and sixty million berries."
"So be it. Let every jackal on the seas hunt him. Leave him nowhere to stand."
Jackals, in unison: Us? Take down the Wave Lord?
…
Wave Lord Kael Grylls.
Former core member of the Roger Pirates. Master of all three colors of Haki. Suspected Logia user of the Ripple Ripple Fruit. Co-architect of the Dragon and Lion Uprising.
Bounty: 3,160,000,000 berries.
Dead or alive. Crimes unspeakable.
…
Marineford, temporary command.
Sengoku slammed a fist into the table hard enough to make the teacups dance. "Three point one six billion. Have the Five Elders lost their minds? Do they want every pirate alive coming to Marineford to make their name?"
The new poster had gone out faster and heavier than he'd feared.
"Ma ma, Sengoku, don't get so worked up." Garp waved lazily. "Bigger number makes our victory look heftier."
"This isn't about heft." Sengoku stabbed a finger at another brand-new column. "And you. What did you tell those reporters?"
The headline read: Exclusive, Marine Hero Garp: The Wave Lord Hasn't Peaked. He's Younger Than You Think.
Garp's words had been printed verbatim:
"Kael? Oh, he's strong. Monster-strong. I even thought about taking him as a disciple. Huh? This is going in the paper? Cut that part, cut that part.
Anyway, feels like he didn't go all out. He hasn't hit his peak. And the brat's got ways to slow aging, unlike us old geezers. My strength's about spent. Hahaha…"
Sengoku clutched his chest. He could feel his blood pressure detonating.
"Do you understand what that means?" he roared. "Now the world thinks a monster younger than Roger and Whitebeard, with scarier potential, has stepped onto the stage. With the old era about to close, you just lit a brand-new powder keg."
"I just told the truth," Garp said, digging in his nose, innocent as a saint. "You want me to lie?"
"I…" Sengoku choked.
He knew Garp was right. In that last exchange, the two of them had taken cuts even working together. Kael had simply chosen his moment and walked away. The ease of it did not feel like a man who'd emptied his tank.
Worse, Kael's presence had been that of a fighter in his prime, Haki still rising.
That was the part that chilled.
A man in his strength, able to withstand two legends combined, with depths yet unseen.
"Damn you, Garp," Sengoku sank into the chair and rubbed his pounding temples. "Are you trying to praise him to death, or are you… actually worried for the Marines' future?"
Garp didn't answer. He picked up another senbei. His eyes drifted, unbidden, to the sky that the slash had opened.
The storm was just beginning.
That afternoon, brand-new posters bearing the Wave Lord's face beat across the world on news coos' wings. In the photo his hair was black, his eyes gold, his expression calm. Behind him Marineford burned.
Ambitionists, schemers, titans, and the desperate looked up at that bounty and felt greed and fever kindle.
Far from the noise, in a calm belt where no wind stirred, a strange single-masted sloop rocked on a mirror sea.
Below deck, Kael's seated silhouette stirred. He opened gold eyes.
Dragon Deposed had taken a brutal toll. Only after a night's breathing had his strength fully returned. He stood, stepped out, and stretched until his joints crackled like falling hail.
He flipped through the latest paper and went black with exasperation.
Big News Morgans had learned the dark art of headlines. For circulation he'd print the devil's own gossip.
The Wave Lord Blots Out the Sun. Tricks the Golden Lion. Marineford a River of Blood.
Relic of the Old Age, Plague of the New. A Tyrant Bridging Two Eras.
Stark images. Hot-blooded prose. And there he was, painted as a master schemer with designs on the world, pulling strings from the shadows.
Slander.
I'm just a free little pirate passing through. What bad intentions could I possibly have?
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