"What do you mean by 'extraordinary measures'?"Marcus Mars curled his lip in irritation, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Kill him, perhaps? And who exactly will take on that glorious task? You… or Nusjuro?"
The moment his name was spoken, Ethanbaron V. Nusjuro instinctively shifted half a step backward. His face darkened so much it looked as if water could drip from it.
"Don't be ridiculous!" he snapped. "Twenty years ago, when he was nothing more than a mere Marine officer, eliminating him would have been troublesome—but not impossible."
"But now?" His tone hardened.
"This is completely unrealistic! Have you all forgotten how he single-handedly turned Totto Land upside down?!"
Topman Warcury let out a heavy sigh and rubbed his temples, his voice filled with frustration.
"This is bad… very bad. The tail has grown too large for the dog."
He looked around at the other four elders.
"Think carefully. After losing effective control over the Marines, what forces do we still have at our disposal?"
"The God's Knights? Or perhaps the agents of Cipher Pol, from CP0 to CP9?"
A bitter smile appeared on his face.
"Honestly speaking, those so-called God's Knights… strip away that ridiculous aura of 'divine blessing' surrounding them, and their actual combat strength probably isn't even enough for Gern to slaughter alone."
"As for Cipher Pol… they're good at assassinations and intelligence work. But surrounding and killing 'Heavenquake' head-on?"
"That would be suicide."
At that moment, a glint flashed through the eyes of Jaygarcia Saturn.
"What about Borsalino?" he suggested.
"At least on the surface, he still follows the orders of the World Government."
"And we've just placed Ryokugyu into the Marines."
"Both of them possess Admiral-level strength. If they worked together and launched a surprise attack, they could certainly inflict serious damage on Gern."
"And once he's weakened," Saturn concluded coldly, "we can strike at the right moment and capture him in one decisive move."
The suggestion caused several of the others to hesitate slightly.
But Ethanbaron V. Nusjuro immediately shook his head, dousing the idea like a bucket of cold water.
"Kizaru isn't an idiot," he said firmly. "That man is slipperier than an eel. You want him to risk his life fighting Gern?"
"He'd find ten thousand ways to pretend to work while doing nothing."
"Hell, he might even switch sides on the spot."
He paused, his voice growing heavier.
"And besides… don't forget the loyal 'Calamity' elites under Gern's command."
"Gild Tesoro.Dracule Mihawk.Enel.Bartholomew Kuma.Douglas Bullet.And that Mink… the Snake Princess… the Ghost Princess…"
"They're not dead. They're simply stationed across the New World as deterrents."
"If Gern is attacked, what do you think their reaction will be?"
He counted them off on his fingers.
With every name spoken, the expressions of the other elders darkened further.
"And then there's that man who has never exactly been on good terms with us—Monkey D. Garp."
"Zephyr, whose influence still lingers."
"The newly promoted Issho, whose ideals clearly lean toward Gern."
"And the former Admiral Kuzan. Can you guarantee he won't act out of old loyalty?"
"Or how about that man who seems uninterested in anything these days—walking around in a Hawaiian shirt… Sengoku?"
"Do you really think he would simply stand by and watch while we attack the successor he personally chose?!"
Finally, Nusjuro spoke of the possibility they feared most.
The words seemed to squeeze through clenched teeth.
"And even… Sakazuki."
"That man is famous for absolute obedience to orders."
"But if Gern, in his capacity as Supreme Commander of the Marines, gave Sakazuki an order as well…"
"What do you think would happen?"
"That man already secretly admires Gern's strength and achievements."
"He even ran off to the first half of the Grand Line like he'd been hypnotized—convinced Gern will step down in five years and hand the position to him."
"So tell me…"
"Would he turn his guns on us and launch a 'Meigo' in our direction?!"
One rhetorical question after another.
Each one smashed the fragile fantasy they had briefly entertained.
The hall fell into a deathly silence.
The Five Elders looked at one another.
In each other's eyes, they saw the same thing:
Helplessness.
And a problem that seemed impossible to solve.
Gern was no longer the Marine officer they could manipulate at will.
He possessed terrifying personal strength.
He commanded an enormous group of top-tier fighters.
And through a series of calculated actions, he had gradually branded the entire Marine organization with his personal mark—transforming it into a vast community bound by shared interests and belief.
An entity nearly impossible to break from the outside.
The option of eliminating him through direct force…
Was, in practical terms, already sealed shut.
Kill Gern?
They simply couldn't do it.
Meanwhile, as the highest hall of power within the World Government sank into gloom and endless debate over how to deal with him…
Gern Reginald Sigmar had already set foot once again upon Egghead Island.
Compared to his first visit many years ago, the island had undergone earth-shattering changes.
Towering futuristic buildings pierced the sky in dense clusters.
Energy pipelines flowed across the island's surface and through the air like glowing veins.
Countless automated machines and prototype Pacifista units moved along fixed routes with mechanical precision.
This was no longer merely the secret laboratory of Dr. Vegapunk.
It had become something far greater.
A heavily fortified technological fortress of the future.
"Big Brother Gern?!"
A loud voice filled with excitement suddenly rang out.
Gern followed the sound.
Charging toward him was an enormous, heavily muscled man wearing a red sumo-style bellycloth, carrying a massive double-bladed axe, and draped in a Marine justice coat like a professional wrestler.
It was none other than Sentomaru.
Looking at the towering man—now even bulkier than himself—Gern couldn't help but recall the chubby little kid who had once followed behind him and Kizaru years ago.
For a moment, he blinked in disbelief.
"Sentomaru… you… got huge."
"Gotta get stronger to protect Uncle Punk better," Sentomaru replied with a slightly embarrassed grin. His voice had grown deep and rough with age.
But the smile quickly vanished.
He straightened his posture sharply.
His expression turned serious.
In a booming voice, he declared:
"Commander of the Marine Science Unit's Security Division, and Vice Admiral of Marine Headquarters—Sentomaru! Reporting to the Supreme Commander of the New World Marines!"
He delivered a crisp, powerful salute.
At that moment, a lazy voice drifted in from the side.
"Oh my~ Sentomaru-kun… that's rather hurtful."
The speaker tilted his head, hands tucked casually into his pockets.
"After all, I'm about the same age as Gern-kun. Yet you call him 'big brother,' while I'm always just 'old uncle.'"
It was Borsalino, who had appeared nearby without anyone noticing.
Sentomaru turned around and gave a simple, honest smile.
But his answer was unwavering.
"Old Uncle!"
"Ahh… how unlovable," Borsalino muttered with a helpless shake of his head, though there was no real annoyance in his eyes.
"Hahaha!" Sentomaru laughed heartily.
"Come on, Old Uncle, Big Brother Gern!"
He turned and began leading the way.
"Uncle Punk should be in the core laboratory right now. He told me before—if Big Brother Gern ever came, bring him straight to see him."
As Sentomaru strode ahead, guiding the path…
Borsalino and Gern walked side by side behind him.
The Admiral pushed his sunglasses up slightly and stared ahead.
Then, in an unusually calm voice—completely free of his usual teasing tone—he suddenly said quietly:
"Thank you."
Gern glanced sideways, surprised.
"Hm?"
Borsalino didn't look at him.
His eyes remained fixed forward.
"I'm not really sure why… but somehow… I feel like I should thank you."
He paused.
Then continued softly.
"Because… with you standing at the front…"
"…it feels like I don't have to carry so much of the weight… called justice."
"…Gern-kun."
It sounded less like gratitude—
And more like a quiet confession.
A release of a burden that had long weighed invisibly on his shoulders.
Borsalino might be lazy. He might prefer drifting through life.
But that didn't mean he was blind to the darkness of the world—or to the dilemmas suffocating the Marines.
And now…
Gern had stepped forward and shouldered the heaviest responsibility himself.
For those willing to follow him—including Borsalino—
He had created a sky under which they could breathe a little easier.
A sky where they might even choose a slightly lighter way of living.
Gern understood the meaning hidden within Borsalino's words.
But he said nothing.
He simply turned his gaze forward again, toward the depths of the futuristic corridor stretching ahead.
Some forms of greatness…
Required no words.