The figure walked on the waves as he approached, and everywhere he passed, the surging sea submitted to his will.
The torrential downpour continued to beat down on every inch of the fortress, washing over the bodies of Golden Lion, Garp, and Sengoku. But the storm itself seemed to part for the newcomer. The curtain of rain was separated by an invisible barrier, forming a perfectly dry space around him. Rainwater slid down an unseen curve, and not a single drop touched his clothes, as if the world itself was naturally making way for him.
This miraculous sight brought a strange stillness to the chaotic battlefield.
The Marines fighting for their lives and the high-ranking officers watching from afar all had their gazes drawn to this man who walked against the storm. His arrival was so shocking that it even overshadowed the legendary battle between the three powerhouses.
"Who… who is that?"
"He's walking on the raging sea… Is he a Devil Fruit user?"
"It's him!" a Marine Rear Admiral said, his voice trembling with a mixture of dread and disbelief. "The 'Wave Guiding King,' Iron Kyle!"
The name was like a spark dropped into a barrel of oil, instantly igniting a commotion among the Marines.
"Why is he here? Didn't the World Government already revoke his bounty and recognise his neutral status?"
"What could he possibly want by showing up at Marineford at a time like this?"
"One Golden Lion was bad enough, and now another monster has come…"
Panic and despair spread faster than the cannon fire had moments before. Countless eyes, filled with fear, caution, and confusion, were focused on the figure who continued his slow, deliberate walk.
He seemed completely unaware of their stares, maintaining his unhurried pace as he passed through the chaotic outer edges of the battlefield and headed for the centre.
The three legends who had been fighting so intensely naturally paused their battle.
Garp slowly lowered his raised fist, the black Armament Haki receding from his skin. Seeing that the newcomer was Kyle, his expression became complex. Sengoku, still in his giant Golden Buddha form, also stopped his attack. His massive head turned slightly, his golden eyes locking onto Kyle, his solemn face filled with vigilance.
"Zehahaha…"
Golden Lion Shiki's wild laughter broke the momentary silence. He floated in mid-air, his eyes filled with an undisguised, manic excitement.
"I knew it! Kyle!" he shouted, his voice carrying a morbid expectation, as if he had just found a kindred spirit. "Are you here for Roger, too?!"
Kyle finally stopped. He stood at the edge of the devastated battlefield, facing the three of them from a distance, creating a tense standoff. He ignored the piercing gazes from Garp and Sengoku, instead raising his head to look at the Golden Lion in the sky. His golden pupils held no hostility, only a hint of mockery and a deeply hidden trace of pity.
"It's been a while, Shiki."
"What do you two think Marineford is? Your personal playground?!" Sengoku finally roared, his voice booming like a great bell from his Buddha form, making the very air hum.
Garp said nothing. He only looked silently at Kyle, his expression dark and unreadable. He clenched his fist tightly, then slowly loosened it. "This is not the place for you to be."
Kyle's gaze moved past the Golden Lion and landed on Garp and Sengoku. The playful look on his face slowly disappeared, replaced by an unprecedented seriousness.
The next second, both Garp and Sengoku flinched. A voice was speaking directly inside their minds, a strange effect of Kyle's Devil Fruit ability that allowed for a private conversation no one else could hear.
"…I will not interfere with Roger's execution."
It was Kyle's voice, clear and calm, yet it carried an undeniable weight.
"After it's over, I will collect his body and give it a proper burial."
The expressions on Garp's and Sengoku's faces instantly froze. The two exchanged a glance, and both saw the same shock and deep conflict in each other's eyes.
A burial?
How could they not want that for their old rival? They had fought him their whole lives, but a man like Roger deserved a dignified end.
But the higher-ups in the World Government would never agree. They had already issued their strictest order: after the execution, Gol D. Roger's corpse was to be paraded around the world as a warning to deter all the pirates stirring on the seas. It was the ultimate humiliation and a cold political statement.
Garp's fist clenched again, his knuckles cracking loudly from the sheer force. A surge of rage burned in his chest, nearly breaking through the dam of his reason. He and Roger had been chasing and fighting each other for decades. They were opponents who understood each other better than anyone, rivals who shared a mutual respect. To let Roger find no peace even in death, to have his body displayed like a trophy—it was a fate more painful than death itself.
But what could he do? He was a Marine Hero. Behind him were countless soldiers and civilians who depended on him for protection. The word "Justice" on his back was a heavy weight, so heavy that it sometimes made it hard to breathe.
Sengoku also fell into a deathly silence. He understood politics far better than Garp and knew all too well the filth that lay behind such orders. He knew this was a decision that could not be changed. Kyle was asking them to openly defy the highest authority of the World Government.
Their silence was the only answer they could give.
Kyle watched them quietly. He saw the suppressed anger and powerlessness on Garp's face and the grim resolve in Sengoku's eyes. The last glimmer of hope he held deep within his own eyes gradually faded, turning as cold as the deep sea. He had only wanted a simple reason to cause a scene at Marineford, but he didn't expect this. They weren't even willing to grant Roger that last shred of dignity. Perhaps chaos was the only path forward after all.
"Heh."
A faint, cold sneer escaped Kyle's lips.
He slowly raised his hand and gripped the hilt of the black-and-gold naginata on his back.
"Clang—"
The clear sound of metal sliding against its sheath was jarringly loud against the background noise of wind, rain, and thunder. The black-and-gold blade was drawn out inch by inch, its cold edge seeming to swallow all the light around it.
Kyle looked up, a dangerous smile appearing on his face. There was no warmth in it, only endless coldness and grim determination.