Holy Land, Mariejois. Hall of Authority.
Around the heavy, ancient mahogany round table, the Five Elders sat, each with a copy of the World Economic Journal spread before them.
The bold, black, ink-still-wet headline stood out, stark and undeniable.
"WHITEBEARD PIRATES FULLY ASSEMBLED, TARGET—MARINE HEADQUARTERS!"
A smaller, equally important line below it added.
"Whitebeard Personally Debunks Rumors—Previous Surrender Claims Were Completely Unfounded!"
The atmosphere in the room, which had been tense and uncertain just days ago, was now relaxed, almost smug.
It was tinged with a palpable, cruel schadenfreude.
"Hmph. As I said," Saint Mars spoke first, his tone laced with mockery.
"That old fool Whitebeard would never bow so easily. I was genuinely worried the seas might spiral out of our control for a moment."
"Indeed. With Whitebeard's ridiculous pride, how could he ever allow a word like 'surrender' to be associated with his name?" Saint Shepherd stroked his golden beard, the scar on his chest twisting.
"Now, the Marines are in for it! Hah! Does that brat Sengoku truly believe he's grown wings?"
"Daring to hang up on us…" Saint Topman growled, the veins on his forehead pulsing.
"Do they really think a Marine force, severed from our funding, can still lord over the seas?"
"..."
After a brief satisfied silence, Saint Saturn scanned the room.
"What are your thoughts on the outcome of this war?"
"Tch— an enraged Whitebeard, fighting to save his 'son'? He'll stop at nothing," Saint Nusjuro said, cutting straight to the point.
"But Whitebeard is old," Saint Topman countered, nodding slowly.
"Victory will go to the Marines. Sengoku has planned this himself, leveraging the home-ground advantage of that fortress. He'll win."
"However…" Saint Mars interjected, a cold smile spreading across his face.
"Whitebeard's final, dying counterattack will be utterly, beautifully frenzied. A cornered beast fights hardest, let alone the 'World's Strongest Man.' Even if the Marines win, it will be a pyrrhic victory. A ruin."
"After the war ends…" Saint Shepherd began, counting off on his fingers, one by one, savoring each point.
"Repairs to their precious headquarters. Compensation for the thousands of casualties. Recruitment and training of new soldiers. Not to mention replacing those expensive Pacifistas and warships… All of this requires money. Vast, vast sums of money."
"And without our funding, where, precisely, will Sengoku scrape together that much?" Saint Mars's voice dripped with smug satisfaction.
"When that time comes, he'll have no choice but to crawl back to Mariejois, on his hands and knees, begging."
"Exactly," Saint Nusjuro nodded, twirling his cursed blade, Shodai Kitetsu.
"We'll let him stew for a while, of course. The Marines must be reminded, once again, who truly rules these seas. A disobedient dog must be starved. Starved until it whimpers and grovels at its master's feet. Only then will it remember its place."
The Five Elders exchanged satisfied, knowing glances.
"HAHAHAHA!"
Unrestrained, arrogant laughter echoed through the ancient Hall of Authority.
Everything was proceeding exactly as planned.
Fight! they all thought.
Fight until you've bled each other dry! The World Government's supremacy remains, as always, unshakable!
.....
New Marine Headquarters. Marineford.
"Snap— Snap—"
A brand-new, crimson-and-gold flag fluttered fiercely in the sea breeze.
Beneath it, tens of thousands of New Marine soldiers stood in immaculate, perfect formation.
Their ranks were a fortress of steel and unified will, silent, yet brimming with a terrifying, world-shattering power.
The air was thick with the electric tension of impending battle, but even more palpable was an indescribable, almost joyful excitement—the thrill of knowing, with absolute certainty, that they were about to witness, and make, history.
Today would be a day etched into the annals of time.
According to the latest intelligence, their "sacrificial target"—the Beasts Pirates, led by the "World's Strongest Creature," Kaido—was now charging toward them at full speed, lured in by the false news of a Whitebeard-Marine war.
In front of the headquarters building, a massive, solemn, and dignified platform had been erected.
At its very top, the new flag of the New Marine, a golden seagull holding the scales of Justice on a blood-red field, snapped in the wind, a symbol of a new, more righteous order.
Below the flag stood a solitary, ornate, and empty seat. It was untouched, untouchable.
No one dared covet it.
That was Mike's seat—the founder, the financier, the Supreme Leader of the New Marine, the source of all their miracles.
Further down, nine seats were occupied by the new five Ministers and their Vice Ministers: Sengoku, Garp, Tsuru, Zephyr, Rayleigh, Akainu, Kizaru, Kuzan, and Issho.
Though their personalities were a chaotic mix, they now sat as one, a unified council of legends, silently waiting for the grand parade to begin.
A tier lower, seven seats marked the positions of the New Warlords of the Sea.
Whitebeard sat imposingly in the center, his massive form exuding a calm, revitalized power, with Marco, Ace, and his other commanders standing faithfully behind him.
Beside them, Dragon, the Commander-in-Chief of the New Revolutionary Army, sat with a profound, unreadable gaze, his mind fixed on the future.
Sabo stood behind him, his eyes occasionally, joyfully, drifting toward Ace, the reunion of the sworn brothers now complete.
After a long, deep, and mind-altering conversation with Mike, all old grievances had vanished like smoke.
Dragon had seen the New Marine's grand vision: a future free of oppression, where the people truly governed themselves.
It was his dream, but perfected, amplified, and, most importantly, funded.
"Mike-san is truly… magnificent," Dragon marveled inwardly.
Lower still, at the base of the grandstand, was a massive, newly constructed execution platform.
On it, tightly bound in Sea-Prism Stone, were the legendary pirates of the old era: "Demon Heir" Bullet, "Golden Lion" Shiki, "Red Count" Redfield, and the other horrors of Impel Down's Level 6.
Beside them, looking utterly wretched and pathetic, were the several Celestial Dragons who had been captured on Sabaody.
Pale, trembling, and having long since soiled themselves in terror, they were now just common criminals awaiting the guillotine.
In the Warlords' section, Boa Hancock cast a single, cold glance at the trembling, blubbering "gods."
Her beautiful eyes held not a single trace of pity—only a deep, satisfying, and ice-cold disgust.
"Hmph."
With a light scoff, she averted her gaze, refusing to look at the vermin any longer.
She raised her head, her gaze traveling up, past the admirals, past the legends, to the highest point of the platform—to that single, empty seat.
An image surfaced in her mind.
That face—a face she had met only once, yet could never forget.
A faint, lazy smile, yet radiating an indescribable, absolute sense of reassurance and power.
The leader of the New Marine… Mike.
Hancock had to admit, she had never encountered a man with such impossible, overwhelming charisma.
A man who could casually produce trillions of Belly, who could make Whitebeard willingly join his side, who could transform the entire Marine Headquarters overnight, and, most importantly… a man who was now about to declare total war on the World Government and eradicate the Celestial Dragons for good.
'What,' she wondered, her heart beating with a strange, unfamiliar anticipation.
'is he doing right now?'
....
At the very top floor of the headquarters building.
Mike stood alone before the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out not at the assembled army, but at the clear, blue sky above.
He was casually tossing a small, black, metallic sphere, no bigger than a baseball, from hand to hand.
It was cold to the touch, and hummed with a latent, terrifying power.
[Death Star Controller: The host can use this controller to manipulate the Death Star located in the cosmos.]
[The Death Star looms, annihilating the universe, plunging all into silence!]
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A Death Star was a gargantuan space station armed with a planet-destroying superlaser powered by kyber crystals. (Star Wars)
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