For the first time since the Puffing Tom had left the waters of Water 7, Enies Lobby stood divided not by law and crime, but by gravity itself. With every soul drawn to a different corner of the island, with every breath hanging under the weight of an unseen and unheard drum.
On the rooftop of the Courthouse, three figures faced the tempest of nature with their cloaks snapping like banners. Dragon, standing like the wind's prophet; Cole, looking down at the marines with his quiet flames hidden under hood and shadow; and Cyane, with his blond hair slicked with rain, and eyes reflecting the storm. To the world, they were the legendary 3C's, appearing out of nowhere, yet their shared silence spoke the truth that only the wind and a very handful of people recognized: father and sons, bound by rebellion and the need to protect their family.
Yet it was noticed by everyone that not every member of the 3C's was on top of the courthouse. The maniac with the red hood is yet to be seen. He could be anywhere, he could be anyone; one can only hope they are not the target.
Across the chasm, perched high upon the Tower of Justice, two admirals stood as mirrored gods of justice–Akainu, his face half hot with molten lava and seething, and Akoiji, with his bored looking face colored in glacial blue. From that height of the tower, both of them stared down at the three across them, watching everything, their every move and preparing to rewrite justice to their own accord.
While below both of the groups, on the drawbridge's middle span, the clash of fates waited to resume. The Strawhat Pirates, slightly bruised and mainly tired and blood-stained, stood shoulder to shoulder with the surviving and conscious CP9 agents who were out of their blood. Steam was rising from the stones, thunders rolled across the sky, the bridge itself seemed to pulse beneath their feet, stuck between a heartbeat caught in victory and death.
On the Courthouse side of the drawbridge, the Galley-La men and the Franky Family gathered in tight knots, their weapons gripped, and eyes darting between the tower and the sky. Behind them, Paulie barked orders over the wind, Zambai cursed at the clouds and the marines surrounding them, and the rest looked ready to throw their lives into whichever abyss opened first.
Further back, at the edge of the island, two hulking silhouettes and the newly allied members of the ragtag group–Omio and Kashi–waited like living fortresses. Their invisible chains were gone, but the scars remained; they had chosen their side, and it was not the one that wore uniforms anymore. It was the one that aimed for freedom and stood against the World Government and the buster call it called for. And importantly, it stood against those who had tricked and used them for 50 years.
Between the courthouse and the main city, the Marines of Enies Lobby swarmed in confusion. Some shouting orders uselessly, some looking for places to hide from the buster call which demanded their life, others clutching rifles they no longer knew whether to raise or drop. The Buster Call had hollowed their discipline, the orders from the Magma Admiral chiseled their heart, and the speech of the Revolutionary Leader gave them hope, leaving them confused and in hollow fear, not knowing whether to die fighting for what they once believed, or risk everything and give a chance to life and live free with the Revolutionary Army.
To the far left of the great fence, Spandam fumbled with a small boat, his white cloak plastered in sweat and ice cold water. His trembling hands worked the oars as if each delayed stroke could erase his name from history's ledger. Or erase him completely. He wants to be remembered forever, and it won't do if he dies now. He'll be well-renowned just like his dad, Spandine. But reality hits hard as he finds it harder and harder to fight against the waves, his arms losing strength.
Beyond the fence, to the east, the Buster Call fleet loomed, creating a dark wall of battleships whose cannons angled toward the island, but unable to advance closer because of the great fence surrounding the Enies Lobby. Their orders were simple yet complex: obliterate the target–the island where their comrades stood, which is one of the pillars of the World Government, where several lives will be lost just for a group of ragtags–when the signal comes.
None of them questioned the orders aloud, none of them wished to know which comrade of theirs they will never hear from again, whose family they'll have to inform of their passing. Each Marine heard what The Revolutioary Dragon had said, but was too scared to act differently; they assumed a single Marine wouldn't make a difference anyway. Little did they know that that would be all the difference they need. Too bad nobody will act.
To the west of the fence, of the very island, a second army waited with their flags unfurled and waving proudly. It was the Revolutionary Army, the South Army of the Revolutionary Army to be exact, whose banners flapped under the drizzle; whose commander, Lindbergh, readied his inventions as they hissed and clicked; where Koala stood with her fists clenched, where Kuma's eyes searched for Nika and his hold stayed steady on his daughter. Behind them, the army was already preparing for the long-awaited war, the impossible: to turn a war into an awakening, into a storm that would wake the world and begin the overthrow of the World Government.
And amidst all of this, scattered and hidden anywhere and everywhere–on rooftops, on ships, in fallen ruins, on the island, in the cloudy skies–were the news reporters of Morgan beside their Den Den Mushi, their lenses fixed and their hearts racing. None of them realized that the snails had already started transmitting, that their blinking eyes were no longer recording for the world but they were broadcasting to it. From the Holy Land of Mariejois to the ends of the Paradise and New World, from the Blues to the ordinary seas, every voice that would matter soon would hear what was about to unfold.
History was about to be written, and the island would pay the price.
The winds howled, the thunder crackled, the seas churned like an unholy heart, and somewhere in its depths, Mother Sea herself stirred, watching her Nika stand proud and without any fear. Somewhere, Artebel and Aramai waited for the result, for this would be something that would either bring chaos or begin the end. As always, Nika was in the centre of it all, funny how some things never change.
The war had not begun yet. Yet the world was already listening.
But then suddenly the sky crackled, not with rain but as if with fury. Bolts tore through the clouds like veins of divine rage, painting the heavens in white scars. The sea below answered with its own madness, with her waves rising and collapsing in spasms that looked less like movement and more like wrath. The winds screamed across the island, dragging shards of ice, ash, and salt in a cyclone that clawed at the skin of every living thing that dared to stand beneath it.
Nature, which had been dancing, now felt frantic, one that no mortal could hope to endure peacefully, but only survive. The air was burning yet everything felt cold, the ground was shaking and shivering, and still the world watched through blinking snail-eyes as if it too was holding its breath.
Every lesser soldier froze in place, their sea-honed instinct screaming that something divine had been provoked. But not the admirals. Not the monsters who called themselves justice and came to personally deliver it.
Akainu stood tall on the Tower of Justice, his white coat thrashing like a wound against the wind. His face twisted in irritation. The molten steam bleeding from his skin hissed as the storm brushed past. His glare fixed on the distant rooftop of the courthouse, where Dragon stood motionless, eyes half-lidded, the hint of a smile on his lips. Beside him, two cloaked silhouettes of Cole and Cyane, waited like shadows.
That grin–Dragon's calm, knowing smirk–was enough to snap something inside the admiral.
"Tch… that smug face again." Akainu's voice cracked like volcanic rock. "You pests think this is your stage?" he gritted his teeth. "Then I'll gladly burn in it."
He raised his arm; magma roared through his veins like a living beast begging for release. The sky bled red as his fist ignited, and with a thunderous shoom, he hurled a massive molten punch across the chasm. The air warped, the world stank of sulfur, and the projectile carved through the storm straight toward the courthouse roof.
"Finally…" Akainu growled, his voice booming even over the explosion that followed, "…I can finish the rubbish of this world, the pieces of scum who dared to challenge its order. The 3C's… and their filthy revolutionary leader." Honestly, he had an inkling on whose side the 3Cs were but seeing it with his own eyes made his anger rise higher. Those Bastards had stolen so many indispensable documents, ruined so many marine bases, including Jonathans, it's just unforgivable.
Magma splattered across the rooftop, devouring tiles and cracking stone, but the figures he aimed for had already moved out of the way.
Dragon stood several meters above the explosion, carried aloft on a twisting spiral of wind, his cloak billowing like the wing of a demon. Cole and Cyane moved with him, one trailing flame, the other a blur of lightning. Together, they had dodged the strike with practiced grace as if they'd known it was coming.
Akainu's glare sharpened. "Dodge all you want. You'll pay for every bit of chaos you've spread. You think the world will remember you as saviors? No. It'll remember you as ashes." His voice dropped to a dangerous growl. "I'll make sure of it. And when I'm done, I'll find that maniac brat Cyra and melt him alongside you."
At the mention of Cyra, Dragon, Cole and Cyane froze in anger. That name–hidden Luffy's almost real self, the one neither the World Government nor even most of their allies had truly grasped–slipping from Akainu's mouth like venom angered them.
Dragon's expression darkened, and his calm smile twisted into something colder. The wind around him went feral, howling through the gaps of the courthouse roof, which the magma had caused, sounding like a chorus of ghosts wailing.
Cole's body steamed as he grew hotter with rage, his years of discipline stopping him from unleashing his devilfruit. Cyane's body pulsed with will. The air around both of them trembling under the sheer density of their Haki.
None of the three spoke but each of them felt the same white hot rage coil in their chest. Akainu's words had done what nothing else could: they'd touched the one wound none of them could ignore.
"Don't think you can move unchecked, Dragon." Akoiji's words cut through the storm, calm, sharp and merciless.
The sky erupted in that instant. The temperature plummeted in a second. The rain above them froze midair, every droplet turning to a needle of ice that whirled into deadly weapons, such as lances, blades, and shards of jagged frost. With a lazy motion of his hand, Aokiji sent the storm's frozen remains crashing down toward the three hooded figures.
At the same time, Akainu launched his counter-hymn of destruction. Magma fists, colossal and blistering, tore through the sky, each one so massive they lit the clouds in shades of orange and black. The heat vaporized the ice before it touched their targets, turning the battlefield into a boiling haze of steam. And annoying the ice admiral.
The admirals' partnership was less of a strategy and more a shared annihilation with fire and ice raining down from the heavens open above Enies Lobby. Too bad the duo's powers had weakened each other; the ice cooled the magma to stone and the magma heated the ice into water.
Below, on the drawbridge, almost no one dared breathe. The Strawhats and the remaining CP9 agents stood motionless, their eyes locked upward at the disastrous clash above. The world they knew—of blades, bullets, and ambition—looked meaningless compared to the forces that fought above them now.
Lightning split the sky; ice shattered; magma detonated against invisible walls of wind. Every impact shook the island to its bones. Yet not one of the five combatants looked down. Not once.
For Dragon, Cole, and Cyane, there was only the storm before them—their fury for the brother, the son, whose name had just been cursed and on whom the buster call had been called.
For the admirals, there was only duty. Ruthless, unyielding, absolute. To finish the troublemakers and erase them from history.
As for the others–specifically the Revolutionary Army–the first clash above the Enies Lobby was not just an exchange of power, it was a signal, which they effortlessly recognized from the far west. The flares of magma and ice that painted the clouds became their unspoken command to begin.
Within seconds, cannons roared across the western horizon. The South Army turned their aim toward the distant line of the Buster Call battleships looming on the eastern sea. Shells screamed through the air, cutting over the ruined skyline of Enies Lobby, their arcs desperate and hopeful.
But hope alone could not defy distance. The cannonballs splashed uselessly into the raging waters or the void surrounding the island, falling short of their targets. Each miss echoed like failure.
"Too far!" someone shouted. "They're beyond range!"
"If this continues, we might hit our allies!" someone else shouted.
Lindbergh's sharp voice cut through the noise, his mechanical wings on his back unfolding with a hiss of steam. "Then we fly there."
His goggles caught the light of an explosion as he turned to his team, a small squadron of South Army fighters strapped into strange contraptions of copper, brass, and windsteel. Steam hissed from exhaust vents, gears clicked into motion, and wings unfolded like predatory birds.
"Target: Buster Call fleet!" Lindbergh barked. "Mid-range assault! Drop payloads and retreat if hit. Keep your heads low and your courage high!"
"Aye! Aye! Commander!" Several voices shouted, readying themselves.
With a synchronized fwoosh, the air team launched into the storm, cutting across the smoke and lightning above Enies Lobby. They were the first humans to ever fly through a battlefield between two Admirals and the Most Wanted Criminals.
Fate didn't intend to make it easy though. Magma fists streaked past them like comets. One blast of Akainu's rage brushed too close; the shockwave alone shattered two of the winged machines, sending their pilots spiraling down onto the central island below. The survivors didn't stop. They dodged, rolled, and dived through the chaos, the glow of Aokiji's ice weapons flashing past their faces as frozen debris exploded midair.
Every second was borrowed time. Every breath was stolen from death. But they were soon to cross the hell and reach a striking distance.
"NOW!" Lindbergh gave the signal.
A rain of bombs fell upon the Buster Call fleet, the metal shells bursting into roaring clouds of flame and smoke. Battleships rocked, their decks thrown into chaos. Cannoneers scrambled to aim at the sky as their vessels erupted in small fires. The ocean itself began to boil under the clash of heat and impact.
"Return fire!" shouted a Marine officer, panic slicing through his voice.
Cannons roared upward, the fleet abandoning its assault on Enies Lobby in a desperate attempt to save itself from drowning. What was meant to be a perfect circle of execution turned into a storm of survival.
Above the chaos, Lindbergh steadied his wings, his eyes narrowed behind his fogged lenses, as the first goal was achieved. "Good," he muttered through gritted teeth as the attention of the fleets were scattered away from the main island for now.
Meanwhile, far above that fractured win, Dragon stood unmoving against the howling storm. To the untrained eyes, he seemed untouchable and invincible as each blast of cooled magma and spears of melting ice passed by as if by chance, grazing only empty air and shattered stone. But those who could sense the shift in the air knew better.
Every gust of wind that curled around him was alive. Every storm current that screamed past was his will.
Dragon's Haki pulsed quiet but absolute, folding the world's chaos to his rhythm. When an ice spear came too close, the wind bent, tilting its path a fraction to the left. When a molten boulder hurled toward him, a swirling gale twisted its heat away, sending it crashing harmlessly into the sea below. Each movement was deliberate, minimal, and impossibly calm, as if he was doing it intentionally to infuriate the Admirals across him.
Akainu snarled and cursed something indistinct from the Tower of Justice, his molten fury spilling over the edges like lava overflowing a mountain. Aokiji said nothing, his face a perfect mask of cold disdain but his fists clenched once, the frost spreading down to the rail beneath his boots. The once grand tower now half melting and half frozen.
Dragon didn't even look their way. His gaze was locked somewhere beyond the storm, on the horizon where the sea bled red and white under the light of burning ships. To his below, where his son stood with his strawhat shadowing his face, where he stood as if he was listening to the world's agony and was lost in it.
Beside him, Cole–Ace–exhaled sharply. "Tch. This is turning into a dance." His fire dimmed, cooling to embers under the rain. He cracked his neck, flexing the fingers that still twitched with restrained rage.
Cyane gave a brief smirk, his eyes flicking toward the ground below. "We're wasting time."
Dragon's expression didn't change. "Then go. Someone needs to snap him out of what he is lost in."
That was all they needed to hear.
Without another word, Cole and Cyane turned toward the edge of the roof. The wind roared between them like a living drumbeat as both crouched low. Then, in perfect synchrony, they leapt.
To those below, it was like watching two comets fall from heaven–bright, fierce and terrifyingly alive. Trails of wind and heat streaked behind them, their descent cutting through the storm like arrows. For a few seconds, everyone could see them, because their glow and sheer force was impossible to look away from. But then, just as the winds screamed loud enough to shake the bridge, they vanished. Not into the sea, or the smoke, or the island. It almost seemed that they simply ceased to exist before they even hit the ground.
Even the sharpest eyes–Zoro's, Robin's, Lucci's–found nothing. It was as if reality itself had agreed to hide them.
The onlookers froze, astonished. Chopper's ears twitched. Sanji's cigarette burned down to ash between unmoving fingers.
"They… disappeared?" Nami whispered, her voice barely audible over the roaring winds.
Usopp swallowed, his trembling hands clutching his slingshot. "W-What th-the h-hell ar-are th-they?"
Above them, Dragon remained on the courthouse roof, calm and untouched, the wind swirling around him in perfect rhythm. His gaze didn't waver. He had seen it too and yet, there wasn't even a flicker of surprise in his eyes. Just a faint, knowing smile, one of quiet pride, the kind only a father could wear.
But during this moment, there was a sharp crack of movement, with Rob Lucci snapping out of his trance. His eyes, sharp and predatory again, locked onto the Strawhats and the targets. His gaze first landed on Cutty Flam, standing defenceless and staring at the chaotic world, which no longer mattered to him–not the admirals, not Dragon, not the vanishing 3C's. Orders were all that existed in his mind.
Hence, Rob Lucci lunged.
Franky had barely turned before the impact hit in the form of Lucci's shoulder slamming into his chest with enough force to send him crashing onto the stone bridge. The cyborg's metal plating shrieked against the floor as Lucci pinned him down, claws digging into his arm.
The sudden violence tore everyone else from their stupor.
"CP9!" Lucci barked, his voice a whip through the storm. "Get your act together!"
The rest of the agents moved as if struck by lightning. Kaku's body twisted and stretched, his bones rearranging until the tall, lean figure became a monstrous giraffe, blades gleaming in all six hands.
"Rankyaku: Rumble Slash!"
Wind screamed as his six-sword technique sliced toward Zoro, who had already drawn his blades in one fluid motion. Their steel met midair, their sparks dancing, and splitting the wind, and leading Kaku's grin to falter.
"Too sloppy," Zoro muttered, brushing past him, blades spinning into a perfect parry.
Nearby, Jabra lunged for Nami, his teeth bared and claws ready, but she was faster–out of either fear or instinct. Her ClimaTact spun to life, and their end glowing blue with mysterious spheres.
"Thunder Tempo!"
Lightning cracked down, illuminating the rain-slick bridge. Jabra roared as the current tore across his fur, smoke curling off his skin.
At the edge, Usopp steadied his trembling hands and loaded two dials into his slingshot. "Let's see you handle this!" A blast of compressed wind shot out, followed by a burst of fire from his flame dial, the twin projectiles colliding midair into a searing whoosh that engulfed the space around Kaku and Jabra.
"Gyaaah! Too hot!" Kaku hissed, his swords glowing red from the heat.
The distraction was enough to let Zoro push forward, his swords a blur of silver. "Three Sword Style… Oni Giri!" The blow landed clean, sending Kaku flying off the bridge and into the roaring winds below.
"Got him!" Usopp shouted excitedly but it was too soon.
A gust of air split past his ear. Kaku was already back, using Geppo to leap through the air like a bird. He reappeared behind Usopp in an instant, with his blades raised and eyes dead serious. "Die, long-nose!" he uttered.
The strike came down, aiming to kill, and Usopp moved. Just barely.
His Observation Haki, raw but instinctive, screamed at the last possible second. He twisted aside, the blade grazing his jacket and slicing only a few strands of hair.
"Damn it!" Kaku growled, spinning for another hit.
The fight devolved into chaos once more with lightning, blades, flame, and wind clashing across the drawbridge while the sea below frothed like a living beast.
Lucci's eyes flicked between his agents and the unending stalemate. Kaku was struggling, Jabra was quite literally smoking, Kalifa was still reeling. It was a waste of time.
"Tch… useless," he muttered, stepping away after tying and throwing Franky to one of the agents.
With one powerful kick, he launched himself into the air, using Geppo to ascend toward the Tower of Justice, where the admirals waged war. He punched through the rain and landed at the roof of the Tower with a calm that was physically impossible for others. Rain spat off his coat. Heat and cold lashed at him. But he did not bow. He did not plead. He simply spoke, his voice tight and businesslike.
"Admiral Akainu! Admiral Aokiji! I have information from Spandam, the orders he gave before leaving!" he states. "Take Nico Robin alive if possible. Capture Monkey D. Luffy, he's to be kept as leverage. And retrieve the ancient weapon, Pluton's, blueprints from Cutty Flam, the cyborg at all costs. Bring them back. Deliver them. That is the priority."
For a beat the only sound was the storm, as if the heavens themselves were deciding whether to let those words stand.
Akainu's glare did not flicker. The molten blood under his skin thrummed like a drumbeat. "They'll all die," he declares flatly, as if that were a fact of the weather. "Whether they're taken or left, they will burn. Take them if you like but the island will be ash before I leave."
Akoiji's face stayed composed, an unreadable mask of frost, but his voice cut through like ice on steel. "The blueprints… that is something worth securing," he mutters, tone level, each word measured. "Robin… she could be collateral. I don't particularly care to save her from the sea's cleansing." He let the sentence hang, then shifted, softening nothing but the edge of his words with a practiced performance. "But if you insist on her being taken alive, then do it. As for Monkey D. Luffy, he would be a far more useful bargaining chip against the Revolutionary Army and–" he paused, eyes narrowing fractionally, "–against the 3Cs on the courthouse roof."
Akainu's laugh was a volcanic rasp. "Bargaining chips do not matter if everything will be ash. I do not bargain. I erase them from existence."
Akoiji's mouth twitched in what might have been a smile. "You never were one for diplomacy," he murmured. Then, deliberately, he adopted a tone of conditional compromise. "If the marine code sees sense in preserving leverage, if Command demands, then we take the hostages."
Their short argument snapped between them–their words like hot iron and cold steel clanging together above the island as their eyes glared into the others. Lucci stood between those two storms and made no move to interfere; his duty was to carry orders, not to arbitrate the higher powers.
Akainu's decision came quickly and mercilessly. "I don't care," he said finally, voice hard as obsidian. "So long as nothing worthless stands when I'm done." He drew in a breath like a bellows and, without another syllable wasted on debate, leapt across the chasm between the tower of justice and the courthouse.
He did not go all out, not yet. His full power would be like a hammer that would smash the island and vice admirals alike in a single heartbeat, and there were calculations even cruelty had to honor. Ignoring that Akoiji's ice, the cold weather and rain also lower his power. He surged with contained fury, his medium power enough to shatter forts and test defences. Magma bled across his palms as he descended, heat carving the rain into steam.
"Face me," he growled upward, and with that single challenge, Akainu launched himself toward Dragon, toward the courthouse roof, his body a comet of wrath aimed to split the wind.
.
At the center of the island, where smoke and rain met in choking spirals, the battle had already begun to shift. The first of Lindbergh's fallen soldiers had hit the ground hard but not in vain. Dazed, battered, and half-burned, they were immediately surrounded by the disoriented Marines of Enies Lobby, men and women who moments ago were supposed to be their executioners, but who now didn't know what to do anymore.
That time those Marines stood trembling, frightened for their lives and their comrades. Their rifles weren't aimed, they didn't know who to consider their enemies or allies anymore. But they watched, they watched as magma lit the sky and its pieces struck too close, as the ice shards threatened to pierce them. They watched as an odd number of revolutionaries fell from the sky, not knowing what their motive was.
The revolutionaries could have taken this chance to disarm them, but they chose not to. They chose not to threaten but to reason.
"You've seen it," barked one of the revolutionary soldiers, his voice hoarse but steady. "You know this isn't justice! It's a damn slaughter! You think they'll spare you when that Buster Call hits?"
"Then what are we supposed to do? Betray the Marines? The World Government? Die like we're supposed to?" one of the marines cried, his shoulders shaking and tears flowing ceaselessly from his eyes. He never wanted this, his wife and son were so proud to hear he was promoted to work to protect Enies Lobby and now he will probably never see them again.
"LIVE!" Hack, one of the revolutionary soldiers, answered, "Live for yourself, for freedom! Be free of the World Government, of your duties, and choose the justice of your heart! Live for your family and friends! Come join us! And evacuate this hellhole!"
The hesitation broke in the face of death, as the marines lowered their guns and weapons one by one. Each of them encouraged and motivated by the will to live and never turn back to the impartial horror of Buster Call.
Within minutes, chaos gave way to a strange, disciplined retreat. The Revolutionary Army took command, but not as conquerors, as rescuers. They directed the newly-turned evacuees, guiding them through shattered streets toward the Sea Train station that would soon be their only way off the doomed island.
"Keep the wounded in the middle!" yelled Koala, her soaked hair sticking to her face as she waved them forward. "You're fighting for your lives now, not their orders!"
The Galley-La workers hesitated at first, unwilling to abandon the island, their pride and their revenge. But they knew things were going out of their hands and if they did not leave soon, they would be dead. And someone had to protect the unconscious Iceburg, no?
And yet they needed a push, which came in the form of Paulie, who witnessed the state of the battlefield–the burning sky, the crumbling bridges, the fallen lava, the ice shards–he grabbed Tilestone, the guy who still wanted to have words with Lucci and the others, by the collar. "Oi! You wanna be carpenters or corpses?"
Tilestone grunted, avoiding eye contact, but he understood and hence, nodded. "Aye. Move it, boys!"
Even the Franky Family dug in their heels at first, snarling and arguing, their loyalty to Franky outweighing any sense of self-preservation.
"We ain't leavin' boss behind!" shouted Zambai, slamming his fist into the nearest wall.
The answer came from a trembling voice–Mozu or Kiwi, no one could tell in the storm.
"He'd tell us to live! If we stay, we just get in the way!"
That was the hard truth. They weren't strong enough to fight the others. They weren't strong enough to fight the Strawhats! And now having so many enemies, they would die or be in the way of their allies.
"Tch. Damn it… You're right." Zambai spoke, clenching his fists. He could only wish his boss to be safe and the Strawhats to look out for him too.
Reluctantly, the Franky Family turned, following the retreating line of the evacuees. Above them, the two giants, Oimo and Kashii, planted themselves like sentinels, shielding the evacuees from stray cannon fire. The ground quaked with each step they took, their enormous bodies serving as living walls as they herded the people toward safety.
.
High above the tower, Akoiji's gaze flicked down to the targets, to the ones who needed to be captured. All because someone had ordered that to happen. He glanced at the Marines who would rather betray the World Government than die; he can't exactly blame them. "How annoying," he whispered, letting a faint frown touch his lips. "Too many rats running free," he murmured.
He stretched out his hand and in an instant, his figure blurred and then he was gone.
A heartbeat later, frost bloomed across the drawbridge, crawling like veins through the cracks of shattered stone. The Strawhats felt it before they saw him. With the air turning sharp and dry, their breath fogging in unison.
He was there. The Admiral of Ice stood among them, calm as death, hands in pockets, the storm recoiling from his presence.
"Yo," he said simply. "You kids look busy."
His tone was light, almost conversational. And that made it worse.
Franky had been barely freed by Chopper and Robin and barely turned his head before Aokiji's shadow fell over him. "Tch, damn it, not you too–"
Aokiji remained unfazed. "You should've stayed out of this."
Before anyone could react, a wave of ice surged outward. It spread under their feet, creeping up boots, swallowing color.
Luffy, who had been standing unnaturally still, his eyes lost somewhere whose location no one knew, didn't even flinch as the frost reached him in seconds, crawling up his legs, his torso, then sealing him in glassy silence.
"LUFFY!" Zoro's shout tore through the wind.
"FUCKING DAMMIT!" Sanji shouted next, his cigarette snapping in two.
Robin, who had been fighting to push back a wounded CP9 agent, turned at the sound. Her hands began to blossom with petals, to protect and defend, but she never finished the gesture. Aokiji's cold reached her, climbing up her back, biting into her arms, freezing her mid-motion.
"ROBIN!" Chopper's and Nami's cries cracked into panic. Poor Usopp couldn't even utter a word as he watched everything unfold with wide eyes.
"Oi, bastard!" Sanji tried to kick forward, but Aokiji barely lifted a finger. Spikes of ice erupted from the ground, forming a cage of jagged spears between him and the frozen trio.
"Stay back," the admiral warned, his voice still infuriatingly calm. "Wouldn't want anyone else catching a cold."
He glanced around, surveying the chaos. Then, with casual indifference, he nudged Franky's frozen form with his boot. "Hm. Heavy."
He sighed, then lifted all three frozen statues–Luffy, Robin, and Franky–with effortless grace, ice creaking under his touch. The crew shouted, lunged, struggled, but he was already walking away.
"Don't worry," Aokiji said, not looking back. "They'll remain frozen until I'm done with them, even so, they'll remain cold as ice."
And just like that, he was gone, his silhouette fading into the curtain of falling frost as he rose back toward the Tower of Justice, the three captives gleaming like diamonds in his grasp.
While high above the collapsing island, the two forces of nature collided. One with magma and other with storms. Those two–Dragon and Akainu–were no longer silhouettes in the clouds, no, they were storms made in flesh. With magma and wind slamming against each other in violent harmony, and the air between them screeching as the pressure distorted reality itself. Every blow cracked the sky, every counter shattered the sea below into rolling maelstroms.
Dragon's cloak whipped violently around him as he braced against another molten fist. The impact sent shockwaves racing across the courthouse rooftops, scattering shards of tile and lightning into the air. He gritted his teeth, eyes narrowing as a sudden pulse in his Observation Haki brushed against the edges of his mind.
Just for a fleeting second, his distracted heart caught onto the familiar, radiant presence of his youngest, Luffy, nearer than he previously was. But it wasn't the same. No, his son's life force burned bright even through the storm's chaos… but it was colder than it should've been now. Too still. Too quiet. Dragon's head snapped toward the Tower of Justice, and through the fog and steam he caught sight of it. Of three faint shapes, glimmering like pale crystals.
His breath hitched. "Luffy…"
A heartbeat of hesitation. The heart of a father worrying about his child. And that was when Akainu struck.
"Die, you worthless criminal!" the admiral roared, hurling another wave of molten fury. Dragon barely dodged, wind curling around his arms to deflect the explosion. The resulting blast vaporized half the courthouse roof, raining molten debris onto the sea.
The Revolutionary leader steadied himself midair, his face unreadable. But deep behind that calm, his mind burned with worry. He couldn't reach Luffy now, not with Akainu pressing him like a rabid god of fire.
'So he's on the Tower now… frozen', Dragon thought, feeling his chest tighten. 'Luffy… what are you doing?'
The next blow came, and he parried it with a twisting gale that howled like thunder. Magma and wind clashed again, filling the sky with steam and smoke.
Dragon's jaw tightened, his expression hardening into resolve. He couldn't intervene. Not yet. But he believed in Luffy. But the fact that his son had defied death and even returned was enough to calm his heart. He couldn't afford to lose him. But he trusted Ace and Sabo, his brothers, to protect him, wherever they were.
"You're my son. You won't die that easily," he murmured, barely audible under the storm.
.
Far to the east, above the trembling sea, the battle of the skies raged differently.
The South Army was still at it, dropping bombs, dodging cannonballs, harassing the Buster Call fleet that refused to back down. The air was thick with smoke and steam, the sound of explosions and orders rolling endlessly across the waves.
Despite the chaos, the effort was working. The Buster Call's perfect formation had turned to disorder, its commanders scrambling to respond. Each new bomb from Lindbergh's team forced them to shift aim, delay orders, and hold their fire.
And even among the Marines, not all hearts were in the fight, or to obliterate the island.
On the leading ship stood Vice Admiral Garp, arms crossed, watching the madness unfold with a frown carved deep into his weathered face. At his side, the familiar pair of young Marines, Coby and Helmeppo, shared a single telescope, voices tripping over each other as they tried to process what they saw.
"Th-that's… that's Luffy-san!" Coby stammered, eyes wide. "He's–he's frozen solid! And a woman and a weird guy too!"
"What now, Garp-san? What is he doing up there?" Helmeppo asked, panicking as another explosion flashed across the island.
Both Coby and Helmeppo wanted to fight Luffy and Zoro, but not this way!
Garp's response was a low, unimpressed grunt. "He's being a damn fool, like always. Stop gawkin' and man the cannons, both of you!"
The old man didn't even glance at them, though the faintest twitch of his jaw betrayed something else beneath the bark. He grumbled, rolling his shoulders as if the weight of the world sat there.
"Can't even trust brats to focus on their jobs…" he muttered, watching another of Lindbergh's flyers dive past a rain of magma. "And Kuzan…" his eyes narrowed slightly, "what the hell are you thinkin', kid?"
He exhaled through his nose, the sound almost a growl. "Young people these days… reckless doesn't even begin to cover it."
Still, his gaze lingered on the Tower of Justice, where a small, frozen figure stood between the admirals, between the enemies who wouldn't hesitate to snuff his fire.
For all his grumbling, for all his discipline and loyalty, Monkey D. Garp's heart had begun to beat just a little faster.
.
"Dragon." Akoiji's voice, cold and deliberate, resonated from the top of the Tower of Justice. His breath forming fog around his lips, the frozen trio at his feet glinting under flashes of lightning. His gaze was calm, but his tone carried the weight of command.
"Your son is with me," Aokiji said evenly, voice amplified by the transponders still broadcasting to the world. "If you don't want this fight to end with his blood staining this island, you'll stand down. If you keep fighting, and I'll end him now."
Every Den-Den Mushi across the island turned its eyes toward him. Every ship, every base, every kingdom watching heard those words.
The Strawhats shouted. The winds stilled. The world froze, realizing the implications and threat behind the simple words.
Dragon's son. It was the declaration of what the warning from Akoiji meant. The declaration which rippled across every mind listening–Marines, pirates, civilians, mercenaries alike. Even the Strawhats and the revolutionaries who didn't know felt the air change as the truth hit them like thunder.
That Strawhat Monkey D. Luffy… the son of the world's most wanted man.
"Stop this meaningless fight," Aokiji continued, raising one hand. "Your son will be taken alive to Impel Down, most likely, considering his young age, but only if you choose this island as your death ground…" he shrugged, almost lazily, "otherwise I'll make sure his death sentence comes early."
From his palm, a massive shard of jagged ice began to form–pure, lethal, and pointed directly toward Luffy's heart.
Dragon's eyes widened. His Observation Haki confirmed what his instincts screamed, the ice wasn't a bluff. Kuzan would do it. He would actually kill his son, his family's sun.
But even as the shard gleamed above Luffy's still form, something strange began to happen. The frost that encased the boy's body began to melt. Tiny rivulets of water trickled down his arm, steaming as they met the cold air. The ice was melting. Fast. Too fast.
Beneath the cracking frost, faint golden warmth pulsed through his skin. Aokiji didn't notice. But Dragon did. And he smiled faintly through the storm. 'He's waking up.'
Akoiji raised an eyebrow at the smile which was displayed on Dragon's face. "Don't you care about your son? I suppose you truly are more heartless than I thought you'd be." he asked, raising the ice shard and going for the killing blow, but before it could fall, two shadows appeared behind him. Their presence only announced by the active Observation Haki.
Cole and Cyane.
Akoiji turned towards them, the ice shard still in his hands, while Akainu's molten eyes darted sideways, narrowing instantly.
"More rats," he snarled. "Or should I say 'the two bastards'?"
Akainu's gaze flicked toward Strawhat, still half-trapped in ice, as the words from Kuzan reverberated in his mind. Son of Dragon. Of a worthless criminal and a pirate on top of it. He deserves to die. Murder burned in his pupils. "Good. I'll crush all three at once."
Before he could act, Cole moved. But he didn't move to attack, no, he reached up, grabbed the edge of his hood and pulled it down.
Fire flickered at his fingertips, blocking the face for a moment, before reflecting off the smirk now fully visible on a very familiar face of a supernova pirate.
The world once again halted their breath, their eyes wide with surprise and fear.
"Looking for a bigger name, Admiral?" The newly unhooded Cole said, his voice dripping with confidence. "Then catch me instead."
Akainu and Aokiji both turned, disbelief momentarily cracking through their composure.
Cole's grin widened. "I'm not just the infamous Orange Wrath Cole, with a bounty of one-point-five billion… or Fire Fist Ace with one billion on his head. No." Ace straightened, flames curling up his wide spread arms. "I'm the adopted son of Monkey D. Dragon. Gol D. Ace. The biological son of Portgas D. Rouge and Gol D. Roger, the King of Pirates."
The words hit like a meteor. Across the world, Den Den mushi blinked in stunned silence. Every ship, every watcher, every Marine froze in disbelief at the sight of the unbelievable and impossible. Even Akainu, the master of fury, looked momentarily human in his shock.
Cyane clicked his tongue, low and sharp. "You just had to drop that bomb now, didn't you twin?"
"Like you aren't trying to hog the attention off me, huh 'twin'?" Ace replied without turning. "And well, someone had to buy you time."
Cyane smirked and vanished, his movement a blur of speed and control. In the next breath, he was beside Luffy, catching him just as the last shards of ice shattered away. Steam rose from Luffy's shoulders as he blinked groggily, the warmth of his body already radiating like sunlight.
"Ace-ni? Cyane-ni?" he mumbled, dazed. "You didn't have to do all that. I had it handled."
Ace groaned, dragging him back while glaring over his shoulder. "You're frozen half-solid and you had it handled? Idiot little brother!"
Luffy grinned weakly. "You worry too much."
"Shut up and run!" Ace spun, hurling a wall of fire between them and the admirals as Cyane sprinted toward the opposite ledge. Flames met frost, and the explosion tore through the top of the tower, turning the storm into a kaleidoscope of heat and smoke.
Above it all, Dragon's laughter echoed through the wind–soft, proud, and dangerous.
"My sons," he whispered. "So you've chosen your own storm to brave."
The blast faded into roaring winds and shattered stone. When the fire and smoke cleared, Akainu's fury was the first thing to fill the silence.
The admiral's molten form surged forward again, magma splashing with every step, his gaze was not fixed on Dragon anymore but on the three figures below. On the three dangerous criminals who dared to roam on the very planet.
"Gol D. Ace. His twin. And the brat of Dragon," he snarled, voice rumbling like the belly of a volcano. "Perfect. I'll finish what the others failed to do. I will erase every cursed bloodline that threatens justice."
He raised his arm, molten magma dripping from his fist as he swung it forward, but a gale ripped through the air before the blow could land. Dragon was there, wind coiling around him like armor.
"Enough," he said, his voice carrying like thunder. "You'll not touch them. You will not dare harm my sons."
Akainu sneered. "You protect them now, but you'll all burn together in hell!"
The two clashed again, leading magma and storm to devour the sky, with every impact shaking Enies Lobby to its core.
Meanwhile, Aokiji turned, his eyes narrowing on the three below, the brothers who had shaken the world with just their existence. He watched the youngest–Strawhat Luffy–closely, his gaze sharp despite the calm mask he wore.
"The way you fight…" he murmured, ice cracking under his feet as he took a step forward. "The willingness of Cyane and Cole to come for you. Your will. That impossible endurance… That very maniac smile… I should've seen it earlier."
He looked at the captain of the Strawhat Pirates directly, the storm's reflection gleaming in his eyes. "You're one of them. One of the 3Cs."
Luffy blinked, a grin curling on his lips even in the tension. "Heh. You just figured that out, huh?"
That simple, fearless response made the air feel heavier. Even Aokiji's calm wavered for a fraction of a second before he sighed. "So that's how deep this runs…" he whispered, making up his mind to go after the troublesome legend and finish it today.
But before he could move, he felt the faintest tug in his grasp, of Franky's body shifting. The cyborg was half-melted out of the ice, smoke rising from his joints.
Aokiji turned lazily toward him, voice still flat. "You. The blueprints. Hand them over now."
Franky's mechanical eyes flickered, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths. "You really want them that bad, huh?"
"Yes," Aokiji said simply, hand extending. "Now."
For a moment, Franky's lips twitched into what could've been resignation. He gave a slow nod. "Alright… alright, fine. I'll hand them over."
Luffy's eyes narrowed as Franky unlatched his stomach plate, his inner machinery glowing faintly blue. Inside, the waterproof case shimmering were the blueprints of the ancient weapon, Pluton, shining under the storm's light.
He pulled them free, holding them delicately in his metal hand.
Aokiji reached forward and Franky smirked. "One problem, though…"
With a flick of his thumb, a small igniter snapped open on his palm. And the blueprints burst into flame. And with it, Luffy burst off laughing, hiding the relief he felt at the action.
Aokiji's eyes widened a fraction, his outstretched hand freezing the air instantly but it was too late. The papers were ash, already scattered to the winds, to be never seen again.
Franky grinned, teeth flashing. "Whoops."
The next second, Aokiji's palm slammed into his chest. Ice erupted outward, hurling Franky across the platform and smashing him back-first against the floor, the metal beneath cracking. His breath left him in a grunt, pain flashing in his eyes.
Aokiji's voice was colder than the ice he conjured. "Idiot," he uttered, sealing Franky inside an ice sphere, trapping him once more, this time, completely. Then his gaze fell on Robin.
She, too, had started to thaw, barely conscious, her trembling hands pressed against the stone. But when she saw him approaching, her breath caught.
Aokiji's hand shot out, wrapping around her wrist and forcing her down to her knees. Ice spikes jutted around them in a cruel circle as he raised his voice, not to her, but to the world.
"Nico Robin," he said, calm but merciless, "the last survivor of Ohara. The Devil Child. The woman who holds the key to truth the world fears most."
Robin's body trembled, eyes wide as her gaze darted across the battlefield. She saw everything: Franky's frozen form. The Strawhats bloodied, still fighting desperately below. The collapsing island. The endless cannon fire.
And finally, the four silhouettes across the way. Luffy, her captain, looked blue and paler than the last time. Ace, Cyane and Dragon. All looking at her through rain and smoke.
Her vision blurred as panic clawed up her throat. Her breaths came quick, uneven, desperate. 'No… no, not again…'
"Stop running, Robin," Aokiji said quietly, tightening his hold. "Face what fate has in store for you."
The storm howled, but over it came another voice.
"Robin!" It was Luffy's voice, strong and unwavering.
She looked up through the chaos. His eyes, rings of gold, red, and storm-grey, locked onto hers.
"Robin," he said again, his tone softer now, "what do you want?"
Her throat constricted. She couldn't breathe. Couldn't answer.
Luffy took a step forward, the wind tugging at his hat, his expression unwavering. "Do you want to live?"
Her lips parted, but no sound came. Only gasps.
He repeated, shouting louder this time. "DO YOU WANT TO LIVE, ROBIN!?"
Tears blurred her vision. She nodded–once, twice–then again, harder, her voice cracking through the rain.
"I… I WANT TO LIVE!"
Her scream resonates throughout the entirety of Enies Lobby, to the ships past the great fence and because of the Den Den Mushi's, to the world.
The words broke her chains more than any weapon could.
But Aokiji didn't stop. With a sigh, he formed an ice saber, the blade gleaming inches above her head. "Then live," he murmured coldly, "in your next life." He brought the sword down, internally wanting to see what would happen next.
"STOP!" Luffy's scream tore the sky apart. The air pulsed, a wave of pure will exploding outward from him. Every mind, every soldier, every Den-Den Mushi froze. The sheer wave of Conqueror's Haki slammed into the battlefield like a divine hammer, bending the storm around him.
Even Aokiji paused mid-swing, his instincts screaming danger. Run.
That was all the opening Luffy needed.
With a blur of motion, he vanished using Geppo and Soru, combining into something faster and brighter. He shot through the air like lightning, his straw hat whipping free, dangling by its string. His hair flashed white as the storm caught the faint glow that danced along his body.
Aokiji barely turned before the air cracked.
Luffy swept in, snatching Robin from his grasp, moving faster than even an Admiral could react. The ice saber shattered mid-strike as a shockwave burst around them, hurling shards in every direction.
Luffy landed a few paces away, holding Robin tightly, his breath heavy but steady. He looked up, eyes blazing with fury and light.
"Touch her again," he said quietly, "and I'll kill you."
The world had gone silent for a breath. Even the thunder seemed to hold back, unsure if it should dare to interrupt their Kami-sama and what was about to happen. Luffy grabbed hold of the ice ball Franky was trapped inside and pulled him close protectively, his eyes never leaving Akoiji, as if daring him to move.
Far above the sea, on the bridge between justice and ruin, Garp stood aboard his ship, unmoving, with his fists clenched so tightly that blood traced the creases of his knuckles. He no longer knew what he needed to do.
Not too long ago he got a call from his friend Sengoku, it was a new mission just for him.
The 3C's. Cole, Cyane and Cyra, aka, Ace, Sabo and Luffy. His grandsons.
His orders, to capture them alive or dead.
He had known this moment would come. But he had prayed that fate would never leave him in the middle of this chaos.
If he ignored the order, Sengoku would have no choice but to brand him a traitor, an accomplice to the enemy he'd hidden for years. But to obey it… would mean… the death of his family. Sometimes being the 'Hero of the Marines' weighs more on his shoulders than he ever wished.
He looked toward the battlefield, toward the Tower of Justice, now half-collapsed and glowing red from the magma below.
He saw Dragon, hovering above the wreckage like a shadow torn from the storm itself. He saw Luffy, standing defiant even after all that had happened, Robin behind him, his eyes lit with something unearthly and the cyborg stuck in ice. He saw Ace and Sabo, their flames and fists trembling not from fear, but resolve.
His jaw tightened. The breath he took sounded more like a growl than a sigh. "Damn it all…"
He jumped.
The deck beneath him cracked as he launched himself into the air, soaring toward the crumbling island. His landing shattered what remained of the bridge between the Tower and the Courthouse, stone exploding outward in all directions.
When the dust cleared, Monkey D. Garp stood tall, his Marine cloak fluttering behind him, and his face darkened with sorrow. He didn't draw his fist. Not yet. But every muscle in his body screamed with conflict.
Across from him, Dragon turned slowly, his cloak whipping in the wind. His expression didn't harden but it didn't soften either.
"So…" Dragon's voice carried easily over the storm. "This is what you've chosen at the end, Father?"
Garp's silence was an answer in itself. The only sound was the storm and the distant hiss of magma meeting the sea.
A faint tremor rippled through the ground as both men raised their Haki. The air split between them as invisible pressure exploded outward, as Conqueror's Haki so dense that even the storm recoiled through the atmosphere.
Marines across the fleet fell unconscious instantly. Revolutionaries collapsed to their knees. The weaker CP9 agents dropped their weapons, their eyes rolling back. Only a handful remained standing.
Luffy. Zoro. Sanji. Ace. Sabo. Akainu. Aokiji. Jonathan.
The world held its breath. Garp's fist clenched, his Haki surging like an ocean in rage. Dragon's eyes glowed with calm defiance, the wind coiling around him like a serpent of judgment.
Two generations. Two kings. Two wills of D.
When their Haki collided, the sky shattered again, black lightning ripping through the clouds as if the world itself couldn't bear witness to the clash.