"Release the rookies!"
Clatter!
At the front lines, the Marine elite squads quickly parted to either side, clearing a wide central path.
Behind them were the second-wave rookies.
Their faces still carried the faint trace of youth.
In their eyes, a raw mixture of fear of war and greedy thirst for military glory burned.
"All units, pursue!"
Hawk's voice rang out again, steady and unshakable.
"Target: the remnants of the Whitebeard Pirates!"
"Leave none alive!"
One hundred thousand Marines roared in unison.
The chase began.
The seasoned veterans advanced in squads, formations unbroken.
They moved like coordinated packs of hungry wolves, silently tearing through the fleeing pirates, taking life after life with efficient, precise strikes.
The rookies, however, were different.
They surged forward like an uncontrolled torrent, shouting, screaming.
From the very first second on the battlefield, their formations fell apart.
No tactics, no coordination only raw courage and a burning desire for military merit.
...
On the execution platform, Hawk stood with his hands behind his back, his justice cloak snapping in the sea breeze.
The outcome of this battle was already decided.
Whitebeard was old, his strength severely diminished.
Now, with Admiral Akainu clinging to him like a shadow, he could barely protect himself, let alone his sons.
The strongest division commanders, Marco and Jozu, were incapacitated one unconscious, the other frozen and posed no further threat.
Other notable commanders were already fully engaged, tied up by Zoro, Sanji, and squads led by the vice admirals, unable to assist elsewhere.
The ice on the bay, continuously reinforced by Admiral Aokiji, had become an insurmountable wall of despair.
The pirate ships, the last thread of escape, had been reduced to burning wreckage under a full-force Meteor Volcano.
With Admirals Kizaru and Fleet Admiral Sengoku guarding Headquarters, Whitebeard's attempts at sabotage or chaos were impossible.
From the moment he ordered Ace's execution, the Whitebeard Pirates had already been marked for destruction.
Now, they were simply going through the final motions.
Hawk inhaled deeply, surveying the scene of chaos, blood, and death below.
He saw a rookie, hands trembling, plunging his sword into the chest of a gravely wounded pirate.
Warm blood splattered across his face. He froze for a moment, then, as if something had snapped inside him, erupted into manic laughter, swinging his sword toward the next target.
He saw another rookie, having felled one enemy, let his guard slip for an instant and was slashed across the thigh by a dying pirate, barely avoiding death.
An old soldier charged in, stomping the pirate's skull flat, then grabbed the rookie by his collar and berated him in the crudest language.
The rookie's expression showed no resentment only gratitude and relief at surviving.
Elsewhere, a rookie lost an arm to a surprise attack, screaming as medics dragged him from the battlefield, bidding a permanent farewell to war.
Meanwhile, some clever rookies had already established their presence in the training camps and now commanded their squads like vultures, hunting down isolated or wounded pirates, harvesting military merit with ruthless efficiency.
These rookies, with their youthful faces, had to personally decapitate enemies, witness comrades fall, to shed their innocence and transform into the ironclad Marines the Navy demanded.
Casualties were inevitable.
This was war, not a game.
Through precise tactics and careful planning, Hawk had minimized Marine losses.
Yet soldiers who had never felt blood or battle could not be called Marines.
How could they uphold justice over the seas?
At the same time, the entire world watched the war's conclusion.
In some tavern, a group of punks who had once bragged about sailing as great pirates and chasing freedom were now speechless.
Their eyes were glued to the live broadcast.
They watched the blood-stained ice, the pirates famed as emperors of the sea fall like harvested wheat.
"This… is the Navy's power?"
One muttered, voice trembling. "Whitebeard… the Whitebeard Pirates… just… lost?"
…
No one answered.
On the screen, the Navy's overwhelming, merciless brutality was on full display.
Twenty-two years ago, the Pirate King Gol D. Roger on the execution platform had ignited the world's passion with a single sentence:
"Do you want my treasure? Take it all if you dare. I've left it all there for you!"
That sentence sparked an age of great voyages, a world chasing freedom and dreams.
Now, through a bloody global broadcast, the Navy delivered a different message:
"Want to be a pirate? Want to chase freedom?"
"Then come, if you're not afraid to die!"
"The just Navy awaits you on the seas!"
The seeds of the "pirate dream" in countless young hearts were shaken to their roots.
Somewhere along the Grand Line, in a peaceful yet impoverished kingdom, the modestly dressed king and his ministers gathered in the palace.
"The Whitebeard Pirates… are completely defeated!"
The finance minister muttered. "Now the question is… will the Navy let them go?"
"No. Look at the Marine Rear Admiral commanding them there's not a hint of mercy in his eyes!"
The civil affairs minister pointed toward Hawk on the execution platform, shaking his head. "The Navy intends to annihilate the Whitebeard Pirates in Marineford!"
…
The king sank into his throne.
He recalled a letter he had received from his best friend, King Cobra of Alabasta, written in earnest.
Cobra had invited him to join a new, Navy-led alliance system, subtly noting that as a major food-producing nation, his kingdom could be among the first to join.
Membership promised generous benefits: economic aid, cultural guidance, and military protection from the Navy.
If he hesitated, the opportunity would vanish.
At the time, he thought Cobra was insane to suggest such nonsense.
Now, he realized just how wrong he had been.
"Cunning Cobra!"
"At the banquet after the World Conference, I even shielded him from the wine!"
The king sprang from his throne, a roar tinged with jealousy. "And now he quietly clings to the Navy!"
"Hurry! Find that invitation stamped with the Navy seal!"
"Immediately!"