"The shame of the Navy!!"
Those four words were like a branding iron, heated red-hot and pressed straight into Koby's soul.
When Gern Reginald Sigmar hurled him back to the ground, the pain in his body was nothing compared to the devastation that struck his spirit.
Koby lay sprawled among the shattered stones, eyes hollow, all focus gone. His lips moved unconsciously, whispering the same four words over and over as if trapped in a broken loop.
"Shame of the Navy… shame of the Navy…"
Nearby, Helmeppo—who had just been about to rush forward to help him up—froze mid-step the moment he heard what Gern had declared.
His entire body stiffened.
He did not dare take another step.
As a former "official's son" within the Navy system, Helmeppo understood with painful clarity just how severe this was.
Because who had spoken those words?
It was Gern.
The Navy's living legend. The foremost among the Four Admirals of Headquarters. Supreme Commander of New World strategy. The ruler of G-10. The man known as "Heavenquake."
The man who had personally captured the Pirate King, Gol D. Roger.
The man who, in this epoch-defining war, had successively defeated Edward Newgate—Whitebeard—and the Golden Lion, Shiki.
The man who had, almost single-handedly, brought the entire Legendary Era to its true and final end.
At this very moment, Gern's prestige, strength, and achievements had reached an unprecedented peak.
Put plainly—
Anyone with half a brain could see that after this war, the position of Fleet Admiral was already within his grasp.
He would become the unquestioned future leader and symbol of the Navy.
And now, this man—standing on the brink of ascension, soon to hold absolute authority—had publicly, personally nailed the title "Shame of the Navy" onto Koby.
What did that mean?
It meant that as long as Gern remained in the Navy—
As long as Gern's will dominated its direction—
Koby would never rise.
He would be forever pinned to the pillar of disgrace. Despised by his peers. Rejected by his superiors. He would likely never again be able to lift his head proudly in uniform.
His military career had barely begun—
And already it seemed to have reached its end.
And not just any end.
A humiliating one.
Helmeppo looked at Koby, who lay there like a body without a soul, then at Gern's retreating back, radiating cold authority.
His heart sank into ice.
From this moment on, the name "Koby" would be synonymous with "disgrace" within the Navy.
And all of it stemmed from his mistimed, naive "kindness"—
And the fact that he had dared to stand in front of a king about to be crowned.
The tide of the era rolled forward without pause.
It would not stop for a grain of sand's tears.
Koby's fate had been decided—
Sealed by a single sentence from Gern.
...
Meanwhile, after delivering that final verdict, Gern did not spare Koby another glance. He turned away, expression indifferent.
"Yahaha!" Enel stepped forward, wounds still marking his body, a grin stretching across his face. "I thought you'd just kill that clueless brat outright and send him off to meet his imaginary 'peace'!"
He tilted his head slightly, golden staff resting casually on his shoulder.
"Just now… you really meant to kill him."
As a master of Observation Haki, Enel had clearly sensed the murderous intent in that instant.
Gern shot him a sideways look. The faint crease between his brows deepened as he rubbed his temple, fatigue flickering beneath his composure.
"Anyone else could kill him," he said evenly. "But at that moment, I couldn't."
"Why not?" Enel scoffed. "He's just a brainless insect. Killing him would've been simple. Would've set an example, too."
"Admiral Gern was concerned about what he said."
A steady voice cut in.
Tesoro approached quickly, his elegant attire now stained with dust and blood. His expression remained calm, analytical.
He looked at Enel and explained patiently,
"That pink-haired brat's words were foolish. Ill-timed. He was even used by Red-Hair."
"But what he said about 'ceasefire' and 'wasting lives'…"
Tesoro's gaze swept across the battlefield—over Marines silently collecting their comrades' bodies, bandaging wounds, their eyes heavy with exhaustion and quiet resentment toward the brutality of war.
He lowered his voice.
"Those words… truly reflected what many soldiers were thinking, even if they didn't dare say it."
"So Admiral Gern couldn't kill him."
"At least not at that moment. Not in front of everyone."
"Because if he had…" Tesoro's tone grew grave, "the image Admiral Gern just established in the soldiers' hearts would instantly have been stained."
"The anti-war emotions buried in their hearts wouldn't have been suppressed. They would have found an outlet. A martyr."
"And then…" He chose his metaphor carefully.
"The thousand-mile dike would collapse because of an ant's nest."
Gern did not turn around.
But his silence confirmed the analysis.
He sought control.
Leadership.
Guidance.
Not rule by fear alone.
Killing Koby would have been easy.
But losing the hearts of the Navy—undermining the foundation of his future command—would not be worth it.
Public humiliation and absolute denial could sometimes destroy a person more thoroughly than death—
Without creating a martyr to be pitied.
Enel raised a brow. He had little patience for political calculus, but he did not argue further.
After all, divine justice was never this complicated.
He merely found it a shame he couldn't casually strike down the annoying brat.
...
And so—
At long last—
The Paramount War, which had nearly destroyed Marine Headquarters, Marineford, buried two legends of the old era, and consumed countless lives—
Finally, truly ended.
Sunlight spilled across the devastated battlefield, illuminating the wreckage and the exhausted figures scattered across it.
Gern leapt onto the execution platform and met Sengoku's gaze across the ruins below.
The two men exchanged a knowing look.
Sengoku, the current Fleet Admiral, gave a faint nod. He reached into his coat, preparing to take out his personal broadcast Den Den Mushi—
To officially declare the war's conclusion.
But Gern gave him no chance.
He drew in a deep breath.
His power activated.
Sound traveled through vibration—clear, irresistible—reaching every survivor's ears, echoing through every corner of Marineford.
"It's over!!!"
Three simple words.
They struck like thunder against every heart.
Marines gathering bodies. Bandaging wounds. Slumping in relief after surviving death's edge—
All instinctively looked up toward the source.
The tension that had wound tight inside them snapped at last.
Many collapsed where they stood, overwhelmed by a flood of grief, relief, and emptiness.
"All Marines!"
"The cannons of Marineford fall silent this moment—but the echo of justice will resound across the seas!"
"Every soldier who held the line today is a cornerstone of this era!"
"Our fallen comrades will shine forever as stars in the constellation of justice!"
"We have proven to the world—no pirate can trample justice!"
At that turning point—
Gern suddenly raised his right fist high.
Clenched it tight.
"So remember this moment—its glory and its pain!"
"The Navy will continue to stand like a lighthouse awaiting the dawn!"
"Justice!!!"
"Justice shall prevail!!!"
This shout was not merely a declaration of ending.
It was direction.
It was unity.
It was the strongest note sounding toward the future.
In that instant, it was as if some invisible switch had been flipped.
The Marines—tempered in blood and fire, clawed back from the brink of death—moved almost reflexively.
Dragging battered bodies upright.
Raising trembling arms.
Clenching fists.
A stream became a river. A river became a sea.
And they roared—
"JUSTICE!!!!"
"JUSTICE!!!!"
"JUSTICE!!!!"
Wave upon wave, the thunderous cry shattered the clouds, rolling across the ruins.
In that roar was mourning.
Confirmation of victory.
A vow for the future.
With absolute force, commanding presence, and flawless timing, Gern seized the right to define victory—
To consolidate the Army's spirit—
In the final moment of the war.
He gave Sengoku no opportunity to summarize in official terms.
Instead, he branded the war with his own mark.
The mark of "Heavenquake" Gern.
He redirected every emotion—
Toward the future he intended to shape.
In that moment—
Though he was not yet Fleet Admiral in name—
He had already become the true commander and spiritual pillar in the hearts of the Navy.
The horn of the New Era's full charge—
Was sounded by him.
And amid the resounding cries of "Justice"—
The curtain of the Old Era finally fell.