The sea before the Red Line burned red with the reflection of dawn — but it was not sunlight that painted the waves.
It was fire.
Smoke rose from the horizon like a funeral pyre stretching across the Grand Line.
Warships lined the waters — the Marine Port of the Holy Land, built into the base of the Red Line like a shield of stone and steel. Its cannons pointed toward the horizon, its walls gleaming under the midday sun.
Marine ships stood in rows — a blockade of iron and arrogance. The flags of the World Government fluttered high above the masts, gleaming gold under the rising light.
They were there to protect Marie Geoise… but every soul aboard those ships felt the same chill.
They had heard the rumors.
The First Emperor was coming.
The ocean wind carried whispers of that name.
Nyx D. Ada.
The one who made emperors of the sea tremble.
————————
The air around the Red Line Port was heavy — thick with tension and salt.
Rows of Marine battleships floated in formation, their cannons aimed squarely at the horizon. The sun blazed overhead, glinting off steel and banners that bore the mark of the World Government.
Vice Admiral Kogane stood on the command tower, jaw tight, sweat rolling down his temple.
"Stay sharp," he barked. "She'll come from the front. That woman doesn't know the meaning of stealth."
A trembling ensign swallowed hard. "S-Sir… what if the rumors are true? That she destroyed a fleet in a single strike—"
Kogane cut him off. "Rumors don't sink ships. Men do. We hold this line."
But in the distance, the horizon began to darken.
"Report!" barked Vice Admiral Kogane, gripping the rail as the winds howled.
"Enemy sighted!" a marine lookout shouted, his voice cracking. "Black flag — crescent insignia! It's her! It's the Oro Jackson!"
Sirens blared across the harbor. Cannons turned, gears screaming under the weight of panic.
Vice Admiral Kogane slammed his fist on the railing. "All ships ready! Fire on sight! Do not let that vessel approach the Red Line!"
The command echoed across the port.
But it was already too late.
His voice died in his throat as thunder rolled from above.
The storm had arrived.
The sky went white.
——————————-
High above the clouds, Enel stood barefoot atop a dark stormcloud, his body glowing with golden light. His drums crackled and sparked as lightning danced across his shoulders.
"Behold the wrath of the heavens!" he roared, laughter ringing like thunder.
"Raigo!"
A sphere of lightning the size of a fortress descended — crashing into the front line of marine ships. Wood vaporized. Steel melted. Men screamed and vanished in blinding light.
"Retreat! Retreat! It's the lightning God Enel!"
Their cries were drowned by the roar of thunder.
Below, the sea itself roared as steam rose in pillars. The air reeked of ozone and fear.
Enel floated downward, electricity still crawling over his skin. "Pathetic marines," he sneered. "You think your cannons can touch us?"
————————
On the Oro Jackson, Ada's crew watched from the deck — the wind howling around them.
"Enel's enjoying himself," Fisher Tiger muttered, gripping his harpoon. His expression, however, was grim. "But the seas are still crawling with ships beneath the surface. I'll take care of them."
Ada nodded once. "Sink them. No survivors."
————————-
The ocean exploded.
Fisher Tiger dove into the depths like a spear, his strength rippling through the water. The shadows of marine battleships loomed above him — unaware of the monster below.
"Surface-born fools…" his voice echoed through the currents.
He swam beneath the largest ship, then ripped his harpoon upward. The hull cracked like a shell. The ship split in half — dragged into the depths by the raging whirlpool he summoned.
Sailors screamed as the sea devoured them whole.
He then launched himself upward.
"Coral Strike!"
The harpoon tore through the hull of a marine galleon, bursting through the deck like a spear. The ship broke apart as water flooded in, dragging its crew screaming into the depths.
"Tell your gods," he growled as bubbles rose around him,
"their sea has turned against them."
In moments, five ships were gone — swallowed by the ocean itself.
Tiger surfaced amidst the wreckage, his chest heaving. The burning ships reflected in his eyes like ghosts.
"Justice," he growled, "feels a lot like vengeance today."
———————————-
On the surface, chaos reigned.
Bullet grinned, stepping forward on the Oro Jackson's deck as cannonballs whistled through the air.
"Finally," he said, cracking his neck. "A real fight."
He leaped off the ship, slamming into a marine vessel so hard the deck caved beneath his feet. Soldiers drew blades — and he welcomed it.
"Colossal Arm!"
His muscles bulged, haki coating his fists black. A single punch sent a shockwave through three ships, tearing them apart in one motion. Flames and seawater burst skyward.
"Come on!" Bullet roared, his laughter drowning out the screams. "This all you've got?!"
———————
Far ahead, a new light cut through the chaos — not gold, but silver.
Mihawk moved through the air as if walking upon glass, his eyes cold and precise.
He drew Yoru, and the world went still.
With one swing, the horizon itself split.
The slash tore through three ships, splitting iron and cannon in a single breath. Flames erupted in his wake.
One marine captain dropped to his knees, staring in disbelief as the sea swallowed what remained of his fleet.
"That… that was just one strike…"
Mihawk landed silently on the nearest mast, Yoru gleaming crimson in the light. "You stood in the path of monsters," he said, voice calm. "That was your mistake."
He vanished again, moving faster than their eyes could follow. The sea became a graveyard of broken ships.
Then, in a blur of motion, he drew Yoru again.
A crescent slash of green energy carved across the sea, splitting a battleship's mast and slicing through another's hull. The port's main gate — a towering structure of iron — cracked in two.
Lilith whistled, leaning over the railing. "Yeesh, you guys really don't mess around, huh? I almost feel bad for them."
Okiku, standing beside Hiyori, only shook her head. "They knew whose waters these were," she said softly. "And still they came."
"Lilith," Ada said quietly, "contact Morgan."
Lilith blinked. "The bird guy? The one you told to be ready?"
Ada nodded once.
Lilith tapped her visual denden mushi, which crackled with static. "Oi, Morgan! You better be recording this, you feathered weirdo—"
A squawking voice answered, full of energy and disbelief.
"Recording?! I'm broadcasting! This is history in the making, sweetheart! The whole world's watching!"
Ada stepped into the frame, her coat fluttering in the burning wind. The flames from the destroyed port framed her silhouette — the black flag of her crew waving behind her.
She spoke slowly, her voice steady, echoing through every transponder snail across the world.
"To the people of the world— For centuries, you've been told that the Celestial Dragons are gods.
"That their right to rule came from heaven.
But what kind of gods trade children?
What kind of gods burn islands?
What kind of gods enslave the sea itself?"
"For too long, you've bowed to false gods.
To men who hide behind divine titles, who buy lives and call it justice. Who brand chains as holy, and murder as order."
The world froze.
Her voice carried through every transponder snail, into taverns, villages, kingdoms, even the cold halls of Mariejois itself.
Ada continued. Then she turned slightly, her eyes flicking toward the burning horizon — the Red Line's towering shadow behind her.
"You've seen what they did to those who opposed them. You've seen what they did to Fishman Island. How many more must suffer before someone drags those monsters from their throne?"
"And now, you'll see what happens when the sea fights back."
The camera zoomed slightly, the light of fire flickering in her eyes.
"We're coming for them. We will drag those gods down from their throne,
and the world will watch them fall."
She looked directly into the lens — her voice lowering, almost a whisper.
"Let this be known. The age of slaves ends tonight."
She then raised her right hand.
"This is your judgment."
The sea shifted.
The Marines panicked. "C-Captain, she's charging up an attack!"
Ada's fingertips glowed faintly, air distorting around her. The ocean's surface rippled violently — waves trembling like a living thing beneath her will.
"Pierce—"
Her voice carried through the roar of cannons and thunder.
"—Grand Path."
The world watched as the sea itself split apart.
A colossal beam of compressed force erupted forward, cutting through battleships, towers, and walls. The ocean was divided in two — a gaping line of death that tore straight through the Marine Port of the Holy Land.
Marines screamed as their vessels shattered, the waters turning black with smoke and splinters.
Ada's expression didn't change. Her eyes burned with an unnatural light.
On the transponder snails, marine operators shouted in panic.
"It's her! It's really her! The First Emperor—she's parting the damn sea!"
"Retreat! RETREAT!"
"The currents are tearing us apart!"
But it was too late.
The sound came a second later — a deafening, world-shaking boom that shattered the air. Ships vanished in an instant. The Red Line base — centuries old — crumbled like sand under a storm.
The feed shook violently. The image distorted.
Smoke filled the lens.
And then the broadcast went black.
Then the Oro Jackson sailed straight through the storm of wreckage, untouched, carried by the path Ada carved herself.