...
Shiki's remark, laced with full-blown sarcasm and indignation, voiced the words that many Marine officers and soldiers had bottled up inside and dared not say aloud.
The Five Elders' decision to recruit Zephyr's blood enemy as a Warlord of the Sea reeked, from any angle, of utterly cold political calculation and extreme indifference to Zephyr's suffering.
"Though I ain't exactly a saint myself, you old fogeys… you sure know how to play dirty, huh!"
Shiki spat, not bothering to hide his contempt for the Five Elders: "Pulling off such filthy business—aren't you afraid it'll freeze the hearts of your subordinates? Today you can prop up someone's nemesis as a Warlord for some bullshit 'balance,' so tomorrow could you sell off the family of any Marine hero sitting here?
Oh, right, you guys never really cared much about the lives of those beneath you anyway—didn't you fire on civilians before?"
The words were razor-sharp, yet they sent a bone-chilling shiver and faint resonance through many Marines, including some soldiers and officers.
Though bound by rank and discipline, they couldn't curse openly like Shiki, but the resentment, disappointment, and genuine sympathy for Zephyr's plight in their eyes were all too real.
The future revealed by the light screen acted like a mirror, reflecting the chilling logic behind certain World Government decisions.
"Golden Lion… harsh as it sounds, but…"
A young Marine Lieutenant couldn't help whispering to his companion; though he didn't finish, the meaning was clear.
Zephyr himself, watching the light screen trace his step-by-step path toward destruction, felt his facial muscles twitch slightly before twisting into an extremely bitter smile—worse than crying.
His clenched fists dug nails almost into his palms.
The murder of his wife and child, the gruesome deaths of his students, the pain of his severed arm, the collapse of his beliefs… these future shadows now coiled around his heart like chains.
The "Black Arm" he prided himself on, the "no-kill" policy and justice he upheld—in the script of the future, they ended in such ironic, tragic ruin.
"Hey! Zephyr!"
At that moment, a thick, powerful hand slammed heavily onto his shoulder—it was Garp.
This old friend set aside his usual rough edges, his face showing rare seriousness and concern: "Don't let that thing up there scare you! It's just a possible future—not set in stone!
Now that we know, we can avoid it! You're forever the good bro I, Garp, acknowledge—a tough-as-nails Marine through and through!"
Garp's words flowed like warm current, melting some of the ice in Zephyr's heart.
He looked up into Garp's eyes—eyes that usually sparkled with mischief but now brimmed with sincerity.
"Garp's right."
Sengoku's steady voice rang out as he approached alongside Tsuru.
Sengoku's gaze swept over the Marines gradually gathering around—his direct subordinates, Garp's men, young officers who once followed Zephyr or admired him.
Their faces showed no distance or disdain toward Zephyr due to the revealed future; instead, they were filled with indescribable, complex emotions—
Sympathy for the pain not yet occurred but already deeply felt, regret for the "fall" of their future mentor,
And even a surging impulse… to change that cruel fate.
"Admiral Zephyr…"
A Marine soldier with his arm wrapped in bandages spoke in a choked voice: "No matter what the future holds, you… you'll always be one of the teachers we respect most in our hearts!
If that pirate shows up again, we'll risk our lives to help you stop him!"
"Right! Teacher Zephyr! We believe in you!"
More soldiers chimed in; at first scattered, their voices gradually merged into a resolute wave.
They might be weak in power, unable to sway World Government decisions, but in this moment, they chose the simplest way to express support and trust for the hero before them.
Zephyr looked at the faces encircling him—some young, some weathered, yet all etched with sincerity and respect—and his eyes uncontrollably heated up.
He abruptly turned away, blinked hard, then turned back; though tear streaks remained, his face now wore the familiar rough, bold smile everyone knew.
"You brats…"
Zephyr laughed and scolded, voice a bit hoarse yet full of strength: "Sniveling like that—what a sight! I'm still perfectly fine right now!"
He roughly wiped his eyes with his sleeve, straightened his back, and swung his intact left arm forcefully: "Listen up! Since future me became a teacher and trained so many strong guys…
Then starting now, I'm getting to work!
With that, Zephyr pointed at the young Marine soldiers—especially those with promising talent and firm gazes: "You! You! And you! Once we leave this damn place and get back to Marineford… special training! I'll drill you all to death!"
Zephyr's tone was ironclad, brimming with unquestionable resolve.
The dark clouds of the future hanging over him seemed largely dispelled by this sudden, action-packed declaration.
He was no longer a passive victim accepting tragedy—he was a fighter actively rewriting fate!
"Nooo!!"
The Marines who moments ago were moved to tears and swearing loyalty now wailed exaggeratedly at words like "special training" and "drill to death."
Over-the-top acting, pained expressions—some clutched legs, some rubbed waists, some plopped down outright going "Ow ow ow."
"Teacher Zephyr! I just got injured!"
"My stomach hurts! Must be internal damage from that shockwave earlier!"
"I… I get seasick! Yeah! I get sick on this island!"
The solemn, touching scene instantly turned chaotic and lively, full of that unique Marine vibe—juniors respecting yet fearing superiors, bantering and messing around.
Even Garp couldn't help bursting into laughter; Sengoku and Tsuru stifled chuckles, shaking heads helplessly.
This "absurd" interaction precisely diluted the heaviness and despair from the light screen, dissolving the last knot of gloom in Zephyr's heart.
He laughed and cursed: "Bunch of spineless brats! Scared now? Too late! None of you are escaping!"
Watching the Marine side shift abruptly from tragedy to farce eased the tense standoff atmosphere just a bit.
On the pirates' side, many watched with subtle expressions.
Roger grinned widely, while Rocks pursed his lips and muttered: "Jeez…"
Elsewhere, Dragon—lying on a makeshift bed, his wounds freshly redressed by the Roger Pirates' doctor—watched from afar as Zephyr rallied, surrounded by his Marine comrades.
A faint, relieved smile crossed his pale face as he let out a soft breath: Uncle Zephyr… it's really good to see you like this.
"He is a good person."
A voice spoke near his ear.
Dragon turned slightly to find Roger had somehow squatted beside him, holding a fresh roll of clean bandage. His technique wasn't expert but careful enough as he changed the dressing on Dragon's abdomen.
Roger worked while glancing toward the Marine camp, eyes shifting between Zephyr and Garp, tone tinged with emotion.
"A bit like your old man—both the type who… have their own strict rules, stubborn as hell, but incredibly good to those around them.
Just sometimes too rigid, easy to get stuck in their ways."
Dragon paused, then said softly: "…Thank you."
The thanks was for Roger redressing his wound, but also for the assessment of Zephyr and Garp… and perhaps something more complex.
Roger waved it off, finished the bandage, and patted Dragon's shoulder (the uninjured side): "All done. Rest up properly.
The light screen's still going—watching your kid's adventures is pretty fun too. But…"
Roger looked at Dragon, eyes suddenly mischievous: "Your son's way better at causing trouble than you, hahaha!"
Dragon: "…"
The light screen seemed to sense the subtle shift in mood below and timely switched scenes, pulling everyone's attention back to the Straw Hat crew's adventure.
The story of the future continued, while the present at God Valley—shaken by future revelations—was undergoing unpredictable changes.
Zephyr's determination, the Marines' morale, the deepening awareness of the World Government's dark side among all factions…
Everything was like stones cast into the river of history, the ripples destined to spread to unknowable distances.
...