"Heh… I didn't expect this…"
Sabo looked at Gern and raised a hand to press down the brim of his hat. The shadow it cast concealed part of the emotion in his eyes, but the chill in his voice could not be hidden.
"So the man who now commands the power of the Marines and stirs the entire New World into turmoil—the 'Heaven-Shaker' Grand Commander—has the leisure to wander around… a mere Warlord's kingdom."
Gern paid little mind to the sarcasm in Sabo's words. Instead, his tone carried a faint trace of reminiscence.
"When you saw me as a child, you didn't look at me like that."
He studied Sabo calmly.
"You were just as nervous back then—like a startled kitten with its fur standing on end—but your eyes…"
His gaze sharpened slightly.
"They didn't carry this much hatred."
"Sabo."
"Don't call my name!" Sabo's expression darkened instantly as he cut him off with a sharp shout.
"If you truly remembered that brief 'acquaintance' you had with the three of us brothers…"
His voice trembled faintly.
In his mind flashed the reports of that war at Battle of Marineford, along with the image of Ace's death that had spread across the world.
In an instant, his eyes turned bloodshot.
"…then you wouldn't have stood on that battlefield and watched Ace die with your own eyes!!"
Before the final word had even finished echoing—
Blazing flames burst violently from Sabo's fists, as if answering the fury boiling inside his chest!
Orange-red fire surged and coiled around his arms, licking upward in spirals. The metal pipe in his hand glowed with heat, while the surrounding air twisted and warped under the rising temperature.
This was no longer symbolic flame.
It was real power.
He had fully inherited the ability—and the will—of his brother, Portgas D. Ace.
Facing the sight of Sabo engulfed in roaring fire, his emotions clearly on the brink—
Gern did not grow angry.
Instead, he simply smiled faintly.
It was the sort of calm, indulgent smile one might give to a younger generation throwing a stubborn tantrum.
Completely ignoring the scorching heat radiating through the corridor, he spoke in a level tone.
"Pirates and revolutionaries—those two ideas can blur together quite easily under certain circumstances."
He paused lightly.
"But Marines and pirates?"
"At least in terms of position, their opposition is perfectly clear."
As he spoke, Gern spread his hands slightly, as if to say I've done all I could.
"I believe that, before and after the Paramount War, I did the 'best' I possibly could from my standpoint."
He tilted his head a little.
"After all… I didn't personally strike the blow that killed Ace."
"Did I?"
"The hell kind of 'best' is that supposed to be—"
Before Sabo could fully spit out his rebuttal—
Gern abruptly changed the direction of the conversation.
His eyes sharpened, and he threw out a question so sharp it was almost cruel.
"Then let's phrase it another way."
"If I were about to execute a… hmm… let's say a somewhat 'kind-hearted' Celestial Dragons right now."
His gaze locked onto Sabo.
"Would you choose to save him?"
"!!!"
That single sentence struck Sabo like a direct mental blow.
The fury and resolve on his face froze instantly.
His mouth opened—
But it felt as if his throat had been sealed shut.
For a brief moment, he found himself unable to answer.
Or rather…
The instant Gern spoke the question, Sabo had already begun thinking about it instinctively.
And the answer surfaced almost immediately in his heart.
No.
He was Sabo—Chief of Staff of the Revolutionary Army.
The man personally trained by Monkey D. Dragon, the one widely regarded as his successor.
His position.
His convictions.
The countless soldiers behind him fighting against the tyranny of the World Government—
All of it meant he could never choose to save a Celestial Dragon.
No matter how "kind" that dragon might be.
If he ever made such a choice…
Within the Revolutionary Army, he would be branded a traitor.
His entire foundation would collapse.
He would be finished—forever.
Once Sabo reached that realization, his expression turned incredibly complicated.
Yet he still felt as though he had been caught in a trap of words.
Grinding his teeth, he forced out a strained response.
"Y-you… you're twisting the argument!"
"Twisting the argument?" Gern repeated.
As if he had just heard something unbelievably amusing, he laughed aloud.
The sound echoed through the empty corridor, dripping with unrestrained mockery.
"Little Sabo."
"You're accusing me of twisting the argument?"
"How interesting."
The smile vanished from his face in an instant.
"From beginning to end, you've been standing entirely on your own side—using what you believe to judge and demand things from me."
His voice grew colder.
"But tell me…"
"Have you spent even a single second trying to look at things from the position I stand in?"
As he spoke, Gern stepped forward.
Just one step.
Yet the invisible pressure that surged toward Sabo felt like a rising tide.
"I never asked you to understand my choices."
"But the question I asked you just now…"
"…was one I considered entirely from your position and circumstances."
His eyes locked onto Sabo's.
"So now tell me."
"Who, exactly… is the one twisting the argument?"
Faced with Gern's ruthless counter-question—one that cut straight to the essence of their opposing stances—
Sabo froze completely.
The logic was airtight.
He had been driven into a dead corner of ideology.
He simply could not answer yes to the premise of "saving a Celestial Dragon."
And so—
After a brief moment of speechlessness—
The fearless courage Sabo possessed—the same resolve that, in the original history, allowed him to stand before the Five Elders and even Imu without flinching—finally erupted.
He stopped trying to argue with words.
For the Revolutionary Army—
Action was the most direct answer.
"SWISH!"
Sabo leaned forward slightly.
His center of gravity lowered.
His right hand shifted into a unique configuration—his fingers moving with practiced precision.
The index and middle fingers curled together.
The gap between the middle and ring finger spread apart.
The ring finger and little finger bent together.
The thumb tucked inward.
In the next instant—
Armament Haki flowed across his hand.
He had assumed the opening stance of Dragon Claw Fist.
When Sabo lifted his head again, the confusion and conflict in his eyes had vanished entirely.
Only calm resolve remained.
His voice was steady.
"Then let's put aside every argument and every twisted premise."
"The Marines and the Revolutionary Army."
"These two identities stand in direct opposition."
"You have no objection to that, do you?"
Seeing Sabo adopt a battle stance without hesitation—
Even revealing a faint readiness to fight to the death right here—
Gern's gaze sharpened slightly.
Yet he did not become angry.
Instead, the corner of his mouth lifted in a faint smile—one that carried both mockery and a trace of amusement.
"Young people…"
"…really are arrogant."
He looked Sabo up and down, his tone almost like that of an elder addressing a reckless junior.
"Don't tell me…"
"You're actually thinking about killing me here."
Facing Gern's question—half teasing, yet laden with invisible pressure—
Sabo did not dodge.
Nor did he attempt to disguise his intentions.
He straightened his back.
The Dragon Claw stance did not waver in the slightest.
Meeting Gern's gaze directly, he answered with open honesty.
"That's right."
His voice echoed through the dim corridor.
"If it's possible…"
"…that's exactly what I intend to do."
There were no grand declarations.
No roaring anger.
That blunt honesty alone made his resolve clearer than any passionate speech could have.
Gern looked at the determined young man before him and remained silent for a moment.
Then—
He suddenly let out a low chuckle.
The laughter carried no obvious joy or anger.
After a long pause, the laughter faded.
And Gern spoke just two words.
"Very good."
Then his eyes turned cold.
"But have you ever considered this?"
"Even Monkey D. Dragon himself…"
"…wouldn't dare say such a thing in front of me."
His gaze fell on Sabo like a mountain.
"And who exactly…"
"…do you think you are?"
BOOM.
Conqueror's Haki erupted outward with Gern at its center.
The air inside the corridor turned thick and dark purple.
Even the light dimmed slightly.
This was not a simple shockwave.
What filled the space was something far more suffocating—
An absolute, all-encompassing dominion.
Before this overwhelming will—one that seemed capable of freezing and crushing even the soul—
Every technique.
Every ounce of determination.
All of it suddenly seemed pitifully small.
With his mere existence—
Gern silently delivered Sabo a cruel truth.
You want to kill me?
You are still far too weak.