In the end, under the devastating assault of Jozu attack, the once-glorious and iconic buildings of Marineford were reduced to a smoking crater, a permanent scar bearing witness to the devastating power unleashed in this battle.
Meanwhile, the nine dragons descended slowly from the sky, landing amidst the chaos.
After their riders disembarked, the colossal beasts shimmered and reverted to their human forms, joining the rest of the crew.
"Hahaha! Jozu, you magnificent bastard, that move of yours was insane! You actually leveled their headquarters in one shot!"
"Forget the news headlines! The history books are going to feature Jozu!"
"That was terrifying! Even with the sunglasses on, my eyes are still killing me!"
"And that was just a few hundred beams focused together! Imagine if it were tens of thousands like that other time! You could probably wipe this whole island off the map!"
"Hahaha, we can't do that! Pops is still here. Can't risk accidentally hurting him!"
"Even if Pops weren't here, you know the rule! We loot all their supplies and treasures before we blow the place up!"
"Hahaha, that's our Plunder Squad for you!"
The scouting parties also returned from their raids, and seeing everyone gathered, they began boasting about how many warships they'd cleaned out and the sheer amount of supplies they'd acquired.
For a moment, the battlefield reached a bizarre stalemate, presenting two starkly contrasting realities.
On one side, the members of the Whitebeard Pirates were laughing and chatting merrily, gathered together to share their spoils and celebrate their victory.
It was as if this wasn't a smoke-filled, blood-soaked battlefield, but a joyous festival with cheers and hearty laughter rising one after another.
On the other side, it was a scene of utter hell.
Screams of agony filled the air as thousands of soldiers writhed on the ground, crying for help.
Some were burned, others were slashed and many had lost their minds from the sheer terror of the battle.
The entire base was engulfed in chaos and desperation, the air thick with the stench of blood and scorched earth.
Fleet Admiral Sengoku, Vice Admiral Garp, Staff Officer Tsuru and the Admirals all wore expressions as dark as storm clouds, their faces practically dripping with a cold, contained fury.
Standing on a high, crumbling piece of the old fortress wall, they coldly observed the scene, their hearts filled with a rage that burned hotter than Akainu's magma.
"Damn you, Whitebeard," Sengoku growled through clenched teeth, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.
"Who the hell is that man who just did this?!"
Kizaru, wincing from his own injuries, glanced at Jozu.
He grimly recalled the moment his own light sword had been shattered by the man's diamond form.
"That's Jozu," he said, his usual lazy tone gone, replaced by something hard and grim.
"He used to command their 3rd division. Seems like they've reorganized. They even have a dedicated 'Plunder Squad' now. They're the ones who've been hitting our supply ships with terrifying efficiency."
"Jozu…" Sengoku murmured, the name tasting like poison.
His eyes burned with a trace of pure hatred.
This name, and the face that went with it, were now permanently seared into his memory.
"Sentomaru!" he suddenly bellowed, his voice laced with urgency.
"Here, sir!" a hoarse voice responded.
Sentomaru came stumbling forward, one hand pressed to his eyes, which were still bleeding from the blast.
From his haggard appearance, it was evident he had suffered considerable injuries, yet he stood his ground with extraordinary resilience.
Seeing his subordinate's state, Sengoku's expression grew even more solemn.
He looked at Sentomaru with grave seriousness. "I'm transferring full control of the remaining Pacifistas to my command."
Then, he took a small, reinforced vial from his pocket and handed it to Sentomaru.
It contained a few drops of dark red liquid.
"And this," Sengoku continued, his voice low, "Take this blood sample. Get it to Dr. Vegapunk. Tell him to analyze it with the highest possible priority. This is more important than anything else right now."
Taking the vial, Sentomaru couldn't help but feel a surge of confusion.
"Sir, I'll deliver it immediately, but… what is this?"
Sengoku's gaze was as heavy as lead.
"It's Whitebeard's blood."
At those words, Sentomaru froze.
The small vial in his hand suddenly felt like it weighed a thousand tons.
For any Marine, obtaining such a sample was an unimaginable feat.
Blood from one of the Four Emperors, a monster like Whitebeard… it was the stuff of legends.
But… was it worth it?
Sengoku lowered his head, his eyes filled with a complex storm of regret and resolve.
He too, hadn't anticipated things would escalate to this extent.
To obtain a few drops of Whitebeard's blood, they had paid a price that would cripple the Marines for years.
Their headquarters was a crater.
Tens of thousands of their soldiers were severely injured—many would never fight again.
Kizaru was on the verge of death's door.
The price was devastating.
Sentomaru stared at the blood vial, feeling its weight multiply.
He looked at the ruins around him, at the screaming men, and knew the price they'd paid was far, far too great.
He took a deep breath, an overwhelming sense of duty settling over him.
He had to complete this mission.
He had to make their sacrifice mean something.
"I'll set out immediately!" Sentomaru declared, his voice firm.
He carefully placed the vial into a specially designed, shock-proof container.
Then he turned to Sengoku with a resolute gaze.
"The remaining Pacifistas are yours to command, sir."
Sengoku gave a slight nod, watching as Sentomaru turned to leave.
But this exchange did not go unnoticed.
From across the battlefield, Ron's sharp eyes had caught the entire interaction.
He saw Sengoku, the vial, Sentomaru's urgent departure.
The pieces clicked into place instantly.
'A blood sample... Sentomaru... Vegapunk.'
An uneasy premonition tightened in his chest.
"Whether Vegapunk can decipher the secrets in that blood or not," Ron whispered to himself, his expression hardening.
"I can't just stand by and let you deliver it."
As soon as the words left his lips, he acted.
He swiftly raised his arm and a powerful surge of Haki gathered in his palm.
A pinpoint of light erupted from his fingertips, instantly solidifying into the shape of a flawless, tangible longsword.
With a mere flick of his will, the blade of pure energy began to expand, growing impossibly long and wide, stretching further and further until it was a hundred-meter monolith of light, barring Sentomaru's path to escape.
"Hmph!"
Sengoku snorted coldly, instantly appearing between Ron's colossal sword and Sentomaru, his body radiating an immense pressure.
His gaze was as sharp as a blade as he stared directly at his new opponent.
"Ron, Vice-Captain of the Whitebeard Pirates," Sengoku's voice boomed, carrying a mix of gravity and challenge.
"They call you the youngest Great Swordsman in history. Let's see if that title was earned!"