"What?!"
The sudden report left Fleet Admiral Sengoku utterly stunned. His eyes widened as he shot to his feet, snatching the Den Den Mushi with one swift motion.
Bass, however, remained remarkably composed, a barely perceptible smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Fleet Admiral Sengoku, it appears the Holy Land's concerns have manifested into reality."
Marineford Plaza.
The officers and over ten thousand soldiers who had mobilized immediately following Xayuki's imprisonment now stood in perfect formation across the plaza. Each wore a crimson ribbon tied prominently around their shoulder.
At the vanguard stood more than a dozen Rear Admirals and over thirty Commodores.
Facing this formidable assembly were three Vice Admirals from Marine Headquarters: Vice Admiral Momonga, Vice Admiral Strawberry, and Vice Admiral Bastille.
"Vice Admiral Momonga? Incredible! I never imagined Lord Momonga would stand with us!"
"Vice Admiral Strawberry? The hero who pursued the Sun Pirates! How could he be here too?"
"Lord Bastille! You're also fighting for Vice Admiral Xayuki? This is magnificent!"
Despite the excited murmurs rippling through the ranks, the three Vice Admirals maintained their composure. After surveying the assembled forces, Vice Admiral Momonga tilted his head slightly upward, his gaze drifting toward the night sky.
Momonga was a veteran Vice Admiral with decades of service. Long before Xayuki had even attained the rank of Ensign, Momonga had already risen to Vice Admiral and participated in numerous major operations. His reputation within Headquarters was impeccable.
Yet his rigid personality and unwavering adherence to protocol had left him isolated among his peers. Even at his elevated rank, he had few colleagues willing to engage with him. His inflexible nature had resulted in subtle ostracism from fellow Vice Admirals.
To Momonga, however, such treatment was inconsequential. He hadn't joined the Marines for camaraderie or political maneuvering. His singular purpose was ensuring that justice protected as many citizens as possible.
Thus, he had channeled all his energy into his duties, participating in every significant operation, including the legendary Battle of Edd War.
During one critical mission, however, tragedy struck. His elderly father fell gravely ill, desperately wishing to see his eldest son one final time before passing. Despite his younger brother's repeated calls to Marine Headquarters, the message was never relayed to Momonga in time.
In desperation, his brother sought out an officer rumored to "grant any request." To their astonishment, upon learning of the dying wish, then-Rear Admiral Xayuki personally commandeered a warship to their hometown, bringing Momonga's father directly to him.
When Momonga witnessed Xayuki carrying his frail father from the warship, he believed he was hallucinating. Even more remarkably, Xayuki had brought along a specialized medical team to ensure his father could share a few final, precious words with his son.
Though his father ultimately passed away, an unbreakable bond formed between Momonga and Xayuki. During their rare moments of leisure, they would engage in profound discussions about the Marines' future and the systemic corruption plaguing both the World Government and Marine Headquarters.
"Hey, hey, hey! What exactly is happening here?"
Suddenly, a familiar voice called out from behind the three Vice Admirals.
Turning, they saw two visibly intoxicated Vice Admirals—Onigumo and Doberman—staggering toward them. The pungent smell of alcohol wafted through the air before they even arrived, causing Momonga to furrow his brow in disapproval.
"Well, if it isn't Vice Admiral Momonga! Haha, and Strawberry and Bastille too? Come on, let's go grab a drink!"
Onigumo, with his arm slung carelessly around Doberman's shoulder, cast a brief glance at the meticulously assembled soldiers in the plaza. He then disentangled himself from Doberman and lurched toward Momonga, grasping his arm as if to lead him away.
Momonga remained immobile, instead turning his head slightly to look toward the Headquarters prison.
At that precise moment, floodlights suddenly illuminated the area surrounding the prison. A contingent of officers, each wearing the distinctive red ribbon on their shoulders, emerged in two perfect lines and stood at attention.
Seeing this signal, Momonga acted without hesitation. He firmly shook off Onigumo's hand, turned to face the assembled forces in the plaza, and commanded in a resonant voice: "All units, attention! Target: prison gates. Forward march!"
Whoosh—
Over ten thousand soldiers pivoted in perfect unison and began advancing rapidly toward the prison.
"What?"
The sudden development visibly alarmed Onigumo and Doberman, their expressions shifting instantly from drunken camaraderie to alert concern. In perfect synchronization, they demanded, "Momonga, what are you doing?!"
"Gentlemen, the times have changed."
Before Momonga could respond, Bastille—his massive broadsword resting ominously on his shoulder—turned and declared with unflinching conviction: "The Marines require a superior Fleet Admiral, and that individual can only be Vice Admiral Xayuki!"
"WHAT?!"
Onigumo and Doberman exclaimed in horrified unison.
After a brief moment of stunned silence, both men rapidly regained their composure. Onigumo, now fully alert despite his previous intoxication, took a defensive step backward, his eyes boring into Bastille. "Bastille, how dare you utter such treasonous words?!"
"Damn it," Doberman muttered, his complexion paling as comprehension dawned. "Onigumo, we must stop them! They're orchestrating a prison break!"
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Before Onigumo could react, a barrage of gunshots shattered the night. Bullets tore through the air, piercing both Onigumo and Doberman as the latter reached for his Den Den Mushi.
Immediately, a squad of soldiers swarmed forward, methodically emptying their magazines into the fallen Vice Admirals without the slightest hesitation.
However, as befitting their rank and reputation, neither Onigumo nor Doberman succumbed immediately to their injuries, despite their bodies being riddled with bullets.
"Damn it! Who authorized you to fire?!"
Seeing his colleagues lying in expanding pools of blood, Momonga rushed forward, his voice thundering with anger. "Stop wasting precious time here! Go and escort Vice Admiral Xayuki immediately!"
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Before Momonga could complete his admonishment, another volley of gunfire erupted.
Two officers, who had somehow materialized beside the fallen Vice Admirals, pressed their weapons against Onigumo and Doberman's heads and fired point-blank, methodically emptying their magazines.
"Vice Admiral Momonga, this is war."
After executing the two Vice Admirals, one of the officers—a Rear Admiral by his insignia—looked up at Momonga, his eyes burning with fanatical devotion. "Anyone who stands in Vice Admiral Xayuki's path is our enemy, regardless of rank or history."
Without awaiting a response, the Rear Admiral pivoted sharply and sprinted toward the main force, heading directly for the prison complex.
Momonga's heart sank as he gazed down at the lifeless forms of Onigumo and Doberman, his expression a complex mixture of resolve and regret.
While he fully supported Vice Admiral Xayuki, he hadn't anticipated that this uprising would result in such ruthless bloodshed among fellow Marine officers.
What truly shocked him was witnessing two formidable Vice Admirals—men he had served alongside for decades—meet their end in such an unceremonious manner.
The staccato rhythm of gunfire continued to erupt across Marineford. Throughout the dormitories and residential quarters of Marine Headquarters, the sounds of conflict echoed relentlessly.
It was unmistakably clear: officers and soldiers loyal to Xayuki were systematically eliminating all opposition, methodically clearing the path for Xayuki to seize the position of Fleet Admiral.
As gunfire reverberated through the night sky above Marineford, piercing alarms began to wail in response.
In that singular moment, the cacophony of gunfire and alarms merged into a harrowing symphony of revolution—the opening movement of a coup six years in the meticulous making.
~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~
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