-Real World-
According to the Sky Screen's timeline, the Mary Geoise Incident occurred approximately one year after the Dressrosa arc concluded. One year—barely enough time for the Pirate Alliance to finalize preparations, gather forces, and coordinate the most audacious attack in eight centuries.
The preview image had shown both sides of the coming conflict with devastating clarity. Buggy the Clown's Pirate Alliance—drawing cadres from four separate Yonko organizations—arrayed against twelve Marine Admirals. Not three. Not five. Twelve.
The scale was unprecedented. Historically incomparable. No previous conflict had concentrated this much top-tier combat power in a single location.
And now, finally, the Sky Screen had revealed those twelve figures in detail.
The preview images showed each Admiral standing in formation around Acting Fleet Admiral Artoria Pendragon. Their Marine justice coats billowed dramatically despite the still air—artistic embellishment, perhaps, or the natural effect of their combined Haki creating atmospheric disturbance.
What immediately struck viewers was the diversity.
Two female Admirals stood prominently in the formation—one appearing barely into her twenties, small and delicate with features that inspired protective instincts. The other was mature, curvaceous, radiating confidence and lethal grace. The contrast between them was stark: innocent youth versus experienced predator.
Loli and mature woman, some viewers thought crassly. The Marine's recruiting standards have become... interesting.
But beyond gender diversity, the racial composition was genuinely surprising. Multiple non-human species occupied Admiral positions:
A towering fishman with shark-like features, his body rippling with muscles that suggested strength beyond even normal fishman parameters. His Admiral coat barely fit across his massive shoulders.
What appeared to be a mink—or perhaps a giant mink hybrid?—stood nearly four meters tall, covered in distinctive fur and radiating feral intensity despite the disciplined military bearing.
Several others whose exact species remained unclear. Possibly modified humans. Potentially rare bloodlines. Maybe even artificial creations from Vegapunk's laboratories.
And of course, the three familiar faces: Sakazuki (Akainu), Kuzan (Aokiji), and Borsalino (Kizaru). The original three Admirals who'd defined Marine power for over a decade. Veterans among the new generation.
Additionally visible were two relatively recent promotions that some viewers recognized: Admiral Gin—the former subordinate who'd risen meteorically through ranks—and Admiral Smoker, whose distinctive features and perpetual cigars made him instantly identifiable.
That accounted for eight of twelve. The remaining four Admirals showed unfamiliar faces. Their names, abilities, and even basic biographical information remained mysterious. The Sky Screen had revealed their existence but withheld critical details, building anticipation for the actual broadcast.
Who are they? Where did they come from? What Devil Fruits do they possess?
The questions multiplied with each analysis.
The Pirate Alliance side presented similar mysteries. While major figures like Buggy, Douglas Bullet, and various Yonko commanders were recognizable, dozens of other individuals occupied prominent positions in the formation.
Rising stars who haven't emerged yet, analysts speculated. Pirates who'll achieve notoriety over the next five years and be recruited into the Four Emperors' organizations.
The fact that all four Yonko crews were contributing fighters suggested this wasn't a temporary alliance of convenience. This was coordinated, planned, unified action. The kind of cooperation that normally never occurred among pirates of that caliber.
What could motivate Kaido, Big Mom, and Blackbeard to work together? What leverage does Buggy possess that forces their cooperation?
More unanswered questions. More anticipation building toward the actual broadcast.
Interestingly, most viewers cared little about Kozuki Momonosuke's future incestuous scandal. A brother-sister affair centuries in the future felt distant and abstract. But the power classification system the Sky Screen had provided? That sparked immediate, passionate debate.
Previously, the world had relied on Marine bounties to evaluate relative strength. The system was crude but functional: higher bounty generally meant more dangerous. Comparing two pirates meant comparing their bounty values.
But everyone understood the system's fundamental flaws.
Bounties measured threat to the World Government, not pure combat capability. A weak pirate who attacked Celestial Dragons would receive an inflated bounty. A powerful pirate who avoided government attention might have a deceptively low price on their head.
The disconnect between bounty and actual strength created constant arguments. Was Pirate A stronger than Pirate B despite having a lower bounty? Did threat level correlate with combat effectiveness? The debates were endless and rarely conclusive.
The Sky Screen's four-tier system—King, Admiral, Vice-Admiral, Captain—provided something bounties never could: objective classification divorced from political considerations.
Clear. Simple. Understandable.
People could now discuss strength in standardized terms. When future historians wanted to evaluate a legendary fighter, they wouldn't deviate from this framework. The classification would become the accepted standard, referenced in textbooks and scholarly analyses for generations.
But the system also revealed uncomfortable truths through horizontal comparison.
Some individuals everyone assumed were roughly equivalent turned out to occupy completely different tiers. Others who'd been dismissed as weak were actually positioned alongside legendary fighters. The disparity between perception and reality was jarring.
Did we really misunderstand these people so completely? Or is the Sky Screen's classification flawed?
Most viewers leaned toward trusting the Sky Screen. It had been objectively accurate about everything else. Why would its power rankings be wrong?
-Real World - Mary Geoise, Conference Hall-
The Shichibukai's emergency meeting had been called to discuss the Mary Geoise preview. All six current members sat around the massive conference table, each processing the revealed information through their own filters and priorities.
The chamber was tense despite—or perhaps because of—the lack of overt conflict. Six powerful individuals, each with personal agendas, forced to coexist in close proximity. A painting of humanity in all its complicated glory.
Boa Hancock wore an expression of barely suppressed delight. The most beautiful woman in the world smiled like a child presented with her heart's desire—which, in a sense, she had been.
The Celestial Dragons suffering. Mary Geoise burning. The holy land of those disgusting "Gods" transformed into a battlefield of blood and fire.
It was the most beautiful vision she'd witnessed in years. Possibly ever. The people who'd enslaved her, who'd branded her back, who'd stolen her childhood and innocence... suffering. Dying. Losing everything they'd stolen over eight centuries.
The smile that crossed her features was genuinely radiant. Several male Shichibukai felt their hearts skip despite knowing better. Even understanding Hancock's nature—cruel, manipulative, sadistic when it suited her—her beauty transcended rational assessment.
Jinbei, being a fishman, remained immune to her charms. His attention was focused elsewhere entirely.
"That fishman..." he murmured, studying the preview image with intense concentration. "An Admiral. A member of my species reached that rank."
His emotions were complicated. Pride that a fishman had achieved something historically unprecedented. Confusion about not recognizing the individual. Concern about what this meant for Fishman Island's future.
We've never had representation at that level in the Marine hierarchy. Fishmen served as rank-and-file soldiers occasionally, but Admiral? Never. This changes everything.
Or did it? If this Admiral had no connection to Fishman Island—if he'd risen through Marine ranks while deliberately distancing himself from his people—then perhaps it changed nothing. Just another individual succeeding while his community continued suffering.
I need to know more. Need to understand who he is and what his loyalties might be.
"Fufufufu~" Doflamingo's distinctive laugh cut through the chamber's tension. The Heavenly Demon leaned back in his chair with exaggerated casualness, his grin visible behind those ever-present sunglasses.
"Crocodile," he purred with malicious glee, "you've been surpassed by your subordinate. How does that feel? Please, don't keep it bottled inside. Share with the group. We're all friends here."
Sir Crocodile's jaw tightened. A vein pulsed visibly on his temple. His hand—the one not replaced by his golden hook—clenched into a fist hard enough that knuckles cracked audibly.
The insult was calculated and effective. Doflamingo and Crocodile had maintained business relationships for years through necessity rather than friendship. Both organizations relied heavily on Devil Fruit users. Both controlled critical territories—Crocodile in Paradise (the first half of the Grand Line), Doflamingo in the New World (the second half).
But that professional relationship barely disguised their mutual contempt.
And now Doflamingo had perfect ammunition for mockery.
Galdino had been little more than a mid-level operative when Crocodile commanded the organization. His bounty had been embarrassingly low. Under fifty million. A joke compared to serious pirates.
Yet the Sky Screen showed Galdino positioned at Admiral class five years in the future. The same tier as Sakazuki. Equal classification to one of the world's most powerful fighters.
While Crocodile himself was ranked Vice-Admiral class. One full tier lower than his former subordinate.
Humiliating. Absolutely humiliating.
"It's obviously a mistake," Crocodile said through gritted teeth, his voice carrying forced calm despite the rage simmering beneath. "The Sky Screen got the classification wrong. There's no way that wax-manipulating idiot reaches Admiral level. It's impossible."
"Is it though?" Doflamingo's grin widened. "The Sky Screen has been accurate about everything else. Predictions, power assessments, historical details—all verified repeatedly. But suddenly it makes a mistake with your former subordinate? That seems... convenient."
He leaned forward, pressing the advantage.
"Maybe Galdino was always talented and you simply failed to recognize it. Wasted his potential with meaningless assignments. Perhaps following Buggy the Clown allowed him to actually develop properly. Makes you wonder what other talent you've squandered over the years, doesn't it?"
Crocodile's hook hand slammed against the table hard enough to crack the wood. "Shut. Your. Mouth."
"Gentlemen," Jinbei interjected tiredly. "This accomplishes nothing. We have more important matters to discuss than settling personal grudges."
But even as the fishman spoke, his mind kept returning to that Admiral in the preview. Who are you? Where did you come from? And why have I never heard your name?
Mihawk Dracule sat in perfect stillness at the far end of the table, his expression unreadable. The world's greatest swordsman observed the bickering with the detachment of someone watching children argue over toys.
But internally, he felt... disappointed.
The Sky Screen had revealed numerous new fighters. Shown future conflicts involving legendary combatants. But it hadn't identified any new swordsmen of note. No worthy opponents emerging to challenge his title.
And more frustratingly, it didn't assess my strength.
Mihawk believed he belonged at Admiral class minimum. Possibly King class—he'd fought Shanks to standstills repeatedly before the red-haired pirate lost his arm. That had to count for something.
But without a King-class reference point, I can't be certain. Marshall D. Teach in his Trinity state? Kaido in Joyboy Sun God form? What does that level of power actually look like in practice?
The Marine bounties for those two were the highest in recorded history. Surpassing even Gol D. Roger's legendary price. But bounties measured threat, not pure strength. The distinction mattered.
I need to fight them. Actually test myself against King-class opponents. Only then will I know where I truly stand.
The prospect was exciting and terrifying in equal measure.
Bartholomew Kuma held a Bible in his massive hands, his face as expressionless as ever. The Tyrant—as Marines called him—appeared to be reading scripture with his usual mechanical detachment.
But his thoughts were elsewhere entirely. Focused on someone the Sky Screen barely mentioned in its historical summaries.
Bonney. My daughter. Ginny's child.
Everything else—the power classifications, the coming war, the fate of the Celestial Dragons—felt abstract and distant compared to that single concern. Would his adopted daughter live well in the future? Would she find happiness despite the suffering her generation had endured?
I've lost everything else. My body. My freedom. Soon even my mind. But if Bonney survives and thrives, then perhaps my sacrifices weren't completely meaningless.
He turned another page of the Bible without reading it. The gesture was automatic. Comforting through familiar repetition rather than actual engagement with the text.
Please. Let her be safe. Let her be happy. That's all I ask.
Boa Hancock's attention shifted from enjoying visions of Celestial Dragon suffering to examining the mysterious fishman Admiral more closely.
"Jinbei," she said, her voice carrying that peculiar mix of command and seduction that was her default tone. "Do you recognize that Admiral? The fishman in the formation?"
The Sea Knight looked up from his contemplation, grateful for the distraction from his circular thoughts.
"No, Empress. I've been trying to place him since the preview appeared, but he doesn't exist in my memory. Every significant fishman in our community—every warrior, every merchant, every scholar—I know them. This Admiral? Complete stranger."
His expression darkened with something approaching grief.
"Which suggests he either originated from outside Fishman Island entirely, or he deliberately severed connections with his people after leaving. Either possibility is... troubling."
Hancock considered that. "You think he might be artificial? Something created in a laboratory rather than born naturally?"
"Possible. Vegapunk has created stranger things. But the alternative—that a fishman talented enough to reach Admiral rank felt no loyalty to his people—that's almost worse. It suggests Fishman Island has failed so completely that even our strongest abandon us."
The bitterness in Jinbei's voice was palpable. He'd dedicated his life to improving relations between fishmen and surface dwellers. Worked to integrate his people into the broader world while maintaining their culture and dignity.
If this Admiral represented the future—fishmen succeeding by abandoning their heritage—then perhaps all of Jinbei's efforts had been doomed from the start.
"King Neptune's leadership has indeed been... inadequate," Hancock observed with diplomatic understatement. "Perhaps Queen Otohime's return will change things."
"Perhaps," Jinbei agreed without conviction. "But how much damage has already been done? How many talented individuals have we lost because they saw no future on Fishman Island?"
The question hung unanswered.
Doflamingo, having exhausted the entertainment value of mocking Crocodile, shifted his attention to a different curiosity in the preview.
"The Five Elders," he said, addressing the room generally. "Did anyone else notice the beast silhouettes behind them? Those weren't shadows. Those were Zoan transformations."
That got everyone's attention. Even Kuma glanced up from his Bible.
"The Celestial Dragons aren't all useless trash after all," Doflamingo continued with evident amusement. "At least not the top tier. Those five old men have genuine power. Mythical Zoan fruits, I'd wager. Probably Devil Fruits collected over eight centuries and saved for leadership."
Mihawk nodded slowly. "Which raises questions about their ancestor. The one who's supposedly lived for eight hundred years."
"Imu," Hancock whispered the name like a curse. "The Empty Throne's secret occupant."
"Exactly," Doflamingo agreed. "If the Five Elders possess that much power, what does their master command? And more importantly—where is he during the Mary Geoise Incident? The preview shows the Five Elders fighting, but no sign of this ancient immortal."
Crocodile, momentarily distracted from his humiliation, frowned. "Sky Screen rarely omits important details. If Imu doesn't appear in the preview, either he's dead by then, or he's deliberately staying out of the conflict."
"Or," Mihawk added quietly, "he's the kind of threat that doesn't need to appear in combat previews. The kind of power so overwhelming that his presence would make the battle's outcome predetermined."
The chamber fell silent as that implication sank in.
What kind of monster hides on the Empty Throne? And why hasn't the world seen him in eight centuries?
Jinbei voiced another observation that had been troubling him. "Several Shichibukai joined Buggy the Clown's organization, correct? Yet they don't appear in the final battle preview. Why?"
It was a good question. The Mary Geoise Incident represented the culmination of years of planning. Every important fighter should have participated. Yet notable Shichibukai—people who'd presumably joined Buggy's alliance—were absent from the preview image.
"Perhaps they're not strong enough," Crocodile suggested. "If the baseline for participation is Captain class, some Shichibukai might not qualify."
"Or they died before the battle," Doflamingo countered. "Five years is a long time. People perish."
"Or," Hancock offered, "they're assigned to different objectives. The Mary Geoise assault might be only one component of a larger plan. Other forces could be operating elsewhere simultaneously."
All valid possibilities. None conclusively answerable with current information.
Ten more days, everyone thought. Ten days until the broadcast reveals everything.
The meeting continued, but the essential questions remained unanswered:
Who were the mysterious new Admirals?
Where did the fishman Admiral originate?
Could Galdino really reach Admiral class, or was the Sky Screen mistaken?
What was Imu's role in the coming conflict?
Why were some Shichibukai absent from the battle?
And most importantly: would the Pirate Alliance actually succeed in conquering Mary Geoise?
The answers waited in the future. Broadcasting in ten days. Until then, the world could only speculate and prepare for revelations that would shake civilization to its foundations.
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