The smoke over the Enies Lobby courtyard had yet to clear. The air remained thick with the sting of sulfur and burnt ash, mingling with the sharp salt tang of seawater and the horrific scent of scorched flesh.
The three colossal towers that once symbolized the World Government's highest judicial authority, including the Tower of Justice and the two endpoints of the Bridge of Hesitation, now lay shattered and leaning like broken bones crushed beneath a giant's heel, stabbing upward into a dull, leaden sky.
Amid the rubble and collapsed masonry, small tongues of deep red flame still licked at charred beams and shredded fabric, crackling with faint, mournful snaps.
Several Marine battleships, battered to varying degrees, were moored at the ruined docks. Their hulls bore the scars of bombardment and fire. Survivors moved numbly through the debris, digging and searching. Their expressions were hollow, the look of those who had lived through catastrophe, weighed down by emotions too heavy to voice.
What they pulled from the wreckage were the torn, bloodstained uniforms of comrades; splintered armor worn by fallen guards; and occasionally, the soot-covered bodies of men in dark suits and sunglasses, members of the World Government's secret intelligence division, CP.
Vice Admiral Monkey D. Garp understood the source of all this destruction with painful clarity. It had all begun with his reckless grandson, Monkey D. Luffy, who stormed these grounds with his crew, tore Nico Robin from the government's grasp, and ultimately triggered the complete annihilation of the Buster Call fleet.
Garp stood silently at the edge of a surviving high platform of the Tower of Justice, his massive figure rising like a mountain.
The white coat upon his shoulders, embroidered with the word Justice, was stained with ash and dried blood. It hung heavily behind him.
He stood unmoving, his weathered face carved into something as unreadable and unyielding as stone. Only deep within his sea-dark eyes churned a storm capable of swallowing the world.
A shout suddenly rose from the ruins of what had once been an enormous plaza. Garp's gaze swept across the scene like a cold, focused searchlight.
A group of Marines were gathered around two fallen figures. Leading them stood a burly, hard-featured Marine Vice Admiral named Rickton, his hawklike eyes devoid of warmth. His expression belonged to someone carrying out a task with mechanical detachment.
At his feet lay two men: one, a lower-ranking CP agent in a torn, soot-covered suit, blood streaming down his face; and the other, a gaunt man in a shredded prison uniform, shackles still clamped around his wrists, ankles and neck.
The prisoner's skin was ghostly pale, as if deprived of sunlight for years. Curled up in agony, he coughed violently, each breath spraying flecks of blood. A large, charred wound spread across his upper back, clearly inflicted during the explosion at the Gate of Justice.
"Useless. You couldn't even hold onto a prisoner and let them escape in the chaos."
Vice Admiral Rickton's voice was cold enough to bite, dripping with contempt.
He ignored the CP agent's pain and the prisoner's dying breaths, his eyes sweeping the wreckage with icy indifference.
"Initiating the erasure protocol isn't just about destroying evidence. Every loose end must be eliminated. Including scum that never should have crawled out of their cages."
His gaze settled on the dying prisoner with the detached disgust one might show a stain. He lifted his boot slowly. The sole was crusted with mud, ash and dried blood.
He brought it down hard onto the prisoner's spine. The man's body convulsed, unable to defend itself from the agony.
"For absolute justice, filth like this must be removed."
Rickton's voice was emotionless, as if reciting a routine procedure.
"S... sir... stop..."
The injured CP agent, responsible for guarding this section, struggled to speak.
"The erasure order... is over... he won't live much longer..."
"The Eradicator Protocol has only one purpose. To wipe out everything."
Rickton's voice rose with commanding finality.
"Execute the order. Eliminate the last witness. No one who saw the fall of this government stronghold must walk away alive."
His boot came down again, aimed directly at the prisoner's fragile neck.
"Justice?"
Garp's voice erupted like a volcano breaking free after a thousand years, shattering the silence.
A deafening crack followed.
Conqueror's Haki burst outward, violent, unstoppable, fueled by righteous fury.
The air itself exploded outward from Garp, as if a massive boulder had slammed into a still lake. The platform beneath his feet split open, deep fissures spiderwebbing across the stone.
Every Marine and CP member around Rickton, weakened or injured, dropped instantly. Their eyes rolled back, and they collapsed like wheat cut down in a single sweep.
Rickton's raised foot froze midair.
The cold indifference on his face vanished, replaced by pure terror. His heart felt as though a colossal invisible hand had seized it, threatening to crush it into dust.
Garp trembled, not from fear but from a core belief that had guided his entire life: the duty to protect. Now it was being twisted, trampled and defiled in the name of justice.
The betrayal of that ideal ignited something buried deep within him, a long-suppressed fire roaring to life.
And beneath the lingering stench of smoke and debris, he could almost smell the chilling odor of the government's machinery of power, cold and merciless.
Just as his rage reached the breaking point, threatening to tear apart even his own reason, a mechanical voice thundered through his mind.
Ding. Host's emotional core is undergoing extreme fluctuation. Values have exceeded the threshold.
Ding. Emotional wave index: 300 percent. Critical surpass confirmed.
Ding. One Punch Core System adaptation complete. Initial activation in progress.
Unlocked ability: Serious Punch, 10 percent release. Emotionally driven power amplification.
A torrent of information and blinding heat surged through Garp, as if trying to rip him apart while imbuing him with overwhelming strength.
He had no time to question the source of this power.
Because the belief he had lived his entire life by, the path of protection, was being violated before his eyes.