-Real World-
Marine Headquarters, Marineford
The newly appointed head of the Intelligence Department had at least one consolation—his position was secure. In the wake of everything the Sky Screen had revealed, no one cared about his minor miscalculation regarding pirate bounties. Compared to the earth-shattering revelations cascading across the world, such administrative errors seemed laughably insignificant.
Until recently, only a handful of Marine brass and World Government officials had known of Nico Robin's ability to decipher Poneglyphs. Now that the Devil Child's capabilities were broadcast to every corner of the world, every ambitious pirate would be hunting her with renewed desperation.
The path to becoming Pirate King was simple in theory: find the One Piece. But that treasure remained locked away on Raftel, the final island that could only be reached by those who could read the ancient stone tablets scattered across the Grand Line. Without someone capable of interpreting the Poneglyphs, any crew's dreams of reaching the end of the Grand Line were nothing more than elaborate fantasies.
Ever since Gol D. Roger had opened the Great Pirate Era with his final words, countless souls had thrown themselves into the pursuit of that ultimate prize. Pirates rallied behind the strongest captains, forming crews and alliances all centered around a single goal. If a leader showed no interest in claiming the title of Pirate King, their subordinates would inevitably abandon them for someone with greater ambition. The oceans had been painted red with the blood of those willing to die for that honorary title.
Robin's public exposure had given every major pirate force a tangible target—the most crucial piece in the puzzle of their ambitions. Without the Devil Child aboard their ship, any crew was merely playing at piracy, destined to wander the seas forever without purpose or hope of reaching their ultimate destination.
The only exception among the Yonko was Charlotte Linlin's forces. Big Mom's deteriorating mental state meant that even with Pudding's three-eyed heritage potentially granting her the ability to read Poneglyphs, the Big Mom Pirates had effectively removed themselves from serious contention for the Pirate King title.
"Kuzan!" Fleet Admiral Sengoku's voice crackled through the Den Den Mushi with barely contained fury. "You created this mess—you clean it up! Capture Nico Robin immediately, and I don't want to hear any of your philosophical objections this time. If you fail this mission, you're finished as an Admiral. Those are direct orders from the Five Elders themselves."
The Fleet Admiral's grip tightened on the communicator as he continued his tirade. If only he had let Kuzan eliminate that little girl on Ohara all those years ago, none of this chaos would be unfolding now.
Intelligence reports from Marine surveillance ships stationed throughout the New World painted an increasingly troubling picture. The most dangerous pirates were mobilizing, with multiple Yonko crews beginning to resupply their fleets for extended voyages. The target was obvious to anyone with half a brain—they were all converging on Nico Robin.
Admiral Kuzan, currently cycling across the ocean's surface on his modified bicycle, was the closest high-ranking Marine to the Devil Child's last known location. Under normal circumstances, Sengoku would have dispatched multiple Admirals for such a critical mission, but recent events had stretched Marine resources beyond their breaking point.
The ancient weapon revealed by the Sky Screen—this "Terra" defied everything the Marines thought they knew about the world's power structure. The ability to transform humans into colossal titans capable of world-ending destruction was beyond their worst nightmares. The horrific scenes interspersed throughout the broadcast had lent a terrifying authenticity to what might otherwise have been dismissed as elaborate fiction.
Another scene shown in the future, the Straw Hat Pirates nor the Marine had apparently failed to prevent the Terra's activation. The "Rumbling" that followed had lasted for what seemed like an eternity, with massive titans spreading across the world to destroy everything in their path. Sky, sea, and land—nothing had been beyond their reach of annihilation.
The busiest department at Marine Headquarters, aside from Intelligence constantly fielding panicked calls from around the world, was the General Staff led by Vice Admiral Tsuru. The Marine's most brilliant tactical minds had gathered to analyze every frame of the Rumbling footage, desperate to extract actionable intelligence from the apocalyptic visions.
Vice Admiral Tsuru sat at the head of the conference table, her weathered fingers tracing paths on the world map spread before them. Her eyes tracked the titans' movements with the precision of someone who had spent decades reading enemy patterns.
"There's no need to debate Terra location," she said with grim certainty. "It has to be Dressrosa. Our old friend Doflamingo is the only one positioned to control such a weapon, and frankly, I'm not surprised he'd be willing to destroy the world."
The former Celestial Dragon's exclusion from his birthright had twisted his psyche beyond repair. Donquixote Doflamingo had always been capable of extraordinary cruelty, but this level of nihilistic destruction was breathtaking even by his standards. The Five Elders' apparent approval of his actions only confirmed what many had long suspected about the World Government's true priorities.
The Rumbling's path had taken it through Whole Cake Island—Big Mom's territory—before advancing toward Fish-Man Island. The implications were chilling: if the colossal titans had reached the Red Line, they were positioned to assault Mary Geoise itself.
Tsuru's analysis led to an inescapable conclusion that sent ice through every Marine's veins: What had happened to the forces stationed to protect the World Government's holy land? Had they all been crushed beneath the titans' advance?
Even Marine foot soldiers would be helpless against creatures of such magnitude. But the Marines' ultimate trump cards were their three Admirals—each a master of Logia-type Devil Fruits with power equivalent to natural disasters. If even they had failed to stop the Rumbling...
"The future is a terrible burden," Tsuru murmured, her usual composure cracking slightly. "Knowledge of what's coming isn't always the blessing we imagine it to be."
The three ancient weapons—Pluton, Poseidon, and Uranus—were legendary even among Marine leadership. Fleet Admiral Sengoku had already ordered the Intelligence Department to scour every historical archive for references to this "Terra," but their efforts had yielded nothing. The weapon seemed to have appeared from nowhere, or perhaps had been deliberately erased from recorded history.
The Poneglyphs were simultaneously the most valuable and most frustrating artifacts in existence. Currently, Nico Robin remained the only known person capable of interpreting their ancient script. Her word on any translation was effectively unquestionable—no one else possessed the expertise to challenge her interpretations. The alternative was to remain ignorant and hope the Rumbling didn't materialize at their doorstep.
The psychological impact of watching those titans crush everything in their path had already traumatized viewers worldwide. The Sky Screen's broadcast had planted seeds of terror that would grow with each passing day.
"Borsalino," Admiral Sakazuki's voice cut through the strategy room like molten rock, "if you had supported my pursuit of Buggy the Clown instead of letting him escape, perhaps this nightmare future could have been prevented."
Intelligence analysis suggested that if Infinity Castle truly possessed the same properties as Shiki's Float-Float Fruit, then the structure would remain airborne indefinitely unless its controller was eliminated. The strategic implications of having an aerial fortress capable of launching surprise attacks from above were keeping Marine strategists awake at night.
The character annotations displayed on the Sky Screen had proven invaluable for Marine intelligence gathering. No longer did they need to spend weeks confirming identities or speculating about Devil Fruit abilities—the information was provided directly, saving countless hours of analysis and guesswork.
The Paramecia-type Kuukan Kuukan no Mi and Paramecia-type Gasha Gasha no Mi had demonstrated applications that surpassed anything in Marine records. Such innovative use of Devil Fruit powers had never been documented within their ranks, forcing them to completely reassess their understanding of what these abilities could achieve.
Two Marine veterans possessed extensive firsthand experience with Douglas Bullet: Fleet Admiral Sengoku and Vice Admiral Garp had both fought the "Demon Heir" over twenty years ago. They vividly remembered his previous combat style—assembling massive mechanical constructs that Garp had demolished with a few well-placed punches. Bullet's reliance on external fusion constructs had made him predictable and ultimately vulnerable.
But the Bullet revealed by the Sky Screen was fundamentally different. Under Buggy's tutelage, the Gasha Gasha no Mi had undergone a qualitative evolution. Instead of creating cumbersome external weapons, Bullet now absorbed damage directly, converting harm into power like some twisted version of a Zoan fruit's regenerative properties.
"We severely underestimated Buggy the Clown," Sengoku admitted, his voice heavy with regret. "His understanding of Devil Fruit mechanics may exceed our own."
The Sky Screen had revealed precious little about the Impel Down breakout, but what glimpses they'd been given painted a bleak picture for Marine prospects. The organization that had maintained order across the seas for centuries suddenly seemed fragile and unprepared for the challenges ahead.
Fleet Admiral Sengoku stared out his office window at the bustling Marine base below, watching soldiers go about their duties with no knowledge of the doom potentially awaiting them. The weight of leadership had never felt heavier than it did in this moment, with the future stretching ahead like a storm-darkened horizon.
Could he truly guide the Marines through what was coming? The question haunted him more than any enemy ever had.