Room of Authority, Pangea Castle
A heavy silence filled the Room of Authority, the sacred chamber where only the highest powers of the world dared to convene. But tonight, that silence had been shattered.
Elder Mars collapsed onto the luxurious couch, his trembling hand barely holding onto the black transponder snail as the call from the Marines cut off. His breathing was uneven, his once-composed demeanor shaken to the core.
"This… this cannot be happening…"
They had prepared for every possible disaster, every potential setback. That was why they had pressured for two Admirals to be deployed, why they had pushed for one of the God's Knights to move incognito, why they had even reached out to Saint Figarland himself for additional security.
Yet, despite all their contingencies, despite all their power and influence—Rosinante had still come out of the blue. And he had done the unthinkable.
"He slaughtered them..." Elder Mars whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. "Every single Tenryuubito who descended to the auction… they're all dead."
The weight of those words sent a shudder through the room. Across from him, Elder Nusjuro, the aged but battle-hardened swordsman, sat upright, his expression betraying a flicker of shock before hardening into cold fury. His piercing gaze sharpened as he bit out,
"What about the God's Knight we dispatched? And what the hell is happening in Sabaody right now?"
Mars inhaled deeply, steadying himself before delivering the next bitter truth.
"Garp is engaged in combat with Rosinante," he stated. "Admiral Raylene has already arrived with a Marine fleet, but as of now, the battle is... not looking good. According to our reports, if Rosinante chooses to flee—even Garp might not be able to stop him."
A beat of silence. A slow, dreadful realization began sinking in. Elder Saturn, whose cold, reptilian eyes had remained locked onto Mars since the moment the report began, spoke in a voice that was eerily calm, yet dripped with lethal intent.
"And the God's Knight that was dispatched?"
Mars hesitated. His fingers twitched. He wanted to avoid the answer, to delay it, to cushion the impact. But there was no sugarcoating the truth.
"He didn't make it."
The words fell like a hammer. A God's Knight—one of the most powerful warriors the Celestial Dragons had at their disposal, an elite among the elite, a personal shield to Imu-sama themselves—had been cut down. And not just that…
"Even with two Admirals fighting beside him," Mars continued, his voice low, "he stood no chance against Rosinante."
A cold chill spread through the room. The God's Knights were supposed to be untouchable.
Their strength was legendary, their loyalty unwavering, their combat abilities rivaling even the highest-ranking Admirals. They were the shadows of the Celestial Dragons, the fist of Imu, the ultimate deterrent against those who dared challenge the sanctity of their rule.
And yet—one of them had fallen, effortlessly, to a traitor. The implications were unthinkable.
Elder Warcury, whose face was twisted in barely contained rage, slammed his fist against the ornate table.
"No… no, this isn't happening." His voice was a near-growl, a mixture of fury and frustration.
"We cannot sit idly by! We cannot leave this to Garp—his personal relationship with Rosinante is too deep! If that boy tries to flee, Garp will not put in the effort to stop him."
His anger burned hotter, his voice rising with each breath.
"We need to dispatch our own forces. I don't care if we have to expose our true strength to the world—Rosinante must be eliminated. We should send another—no, multiple—God's Kn—"
BANG!
The door to the Room of Authority was flung open with brutal force, the impact sending a thunderous echo throughout the chamber. Every elder's head snapped toward the intrusion.
The very act of entering unannounced was an offense punishable by death, even for Celestial Dragons of lesser standing. Yet, the man standing in the doorway showed no hesitation, no fear.
The very air shifted as he stepped inside. He carried an aura of authority, but unlike the elders, whose power lay in the politics and ancient laws of the world, his authority was derived from raw, undeniable strength.
The Commander of the God's Knights. And he was furious. His very presence radiated anger, his body vibrating with barely contained wrath as he stalked forward. His piercing gaze swept across the five elders—five of the most powerful men in the world—and yet, at that moment, it was he who held the weight of command.
His voice was a snarl, venomous and sharp, as he thundered:
"Explain to me…"
His boots slammed against the marble floor, his killing intent thick enough to choke the air.
"Why is it that every time you request for one of MY knights to be deployed… they end up as NOTHING MORE THAN CORPSES?!"
A crackle of tension shot through the room. Even Elder Warcury, who moments ago had been ranting in frustration, fell silent. The God's Knights were the sword and shield of the Celestial Dragons. They were the strongest warriors under Heaven's Rule, second only to Imu-sama themself.
And yet… time and time again, their greatest warriors were being sent to die.
"How did Rosinante know exactly when to strike Sabaody?" the Commander continued, his eyes burning with barely restrained violence. "How is it that, no matter what precautions we take, he always seems to be one step ahead of us?"
Then, his glare hardened, his next words dripping with accusation:
"Which one of you is leaking information?"
A visible shift rippled through the elders.
"Which one of you is trying to betray Imu-sama?!"
A stunned, suffocating silence followed. The very idea of a traitor within the Five Elders was unthinkable, a blasphemy beyond words—but the Commander's words carried undeniable weight.
Someone… somewhere… had allowed this disaster to happen. And if the God's Knights were being played like pawns in someone else's game… Then heads would roll before the night was over.
The room was suffocating with tension, the air thick with barely restrained fury. Elder Saturn slowly turned his head, his cold, piercing gaze locking onto the Commander of the God's Knights, Garling Figarland. His usually stoic expression was twisted with something rare—pure, unfiltered rage.
His voice, when he finally spoke, was a rasping whisper, yet it carried the weight of centuries of authority.
"Weigh your words carefully before you speak them, Garling..."
The words were not a warning—they were a threat. Saturn's tone was laced with such icy venom that even the other Elders shifted slightly in their seats, sensing the brewing storm.
The accusation Garling had just made was unforgivable. To even suggest that one of the Five Elders—the pinnacle of authority in the world—would betray Imu-sama was not just insulting—it was blasphemous. And this was not just a general slander. This was personal.
Saturn's own kin—a warrior of the Saturn family, an elite among the elite of the God's Knights—had perished in Sabaody. And now, Garling dared to suggest that he, Saturn, had orchestrated his own warrior's death? Unacceptable.
Saturn's knuckles turned white as he gripped the armrest of his seat, his fingers digging into the ancient, lacquered wood, cracking it apart as if it were nothing but dried twigs. His eyes—usually empty and soulless—now burned with a fury so intense, so consuming, that even some of the other Elders subtly averted their gazes, knowing that if words alone could kill, Garling would have already been reduced to nothingness.
And yet, Garling did not back down. The Commander of the God's Knights stood firm, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword, the legendary blade that had once carved its name into the annals of history. His silver hair gleamed under the dim lights, his weathered face set in stone.
This was not a man who feared gods or devils. And that—more than anything—only infuriated Saturn further. The silence in the room was crushing, a battle of sheer willpower before a single blow was even exchanged.
Then, Saturn finally spoke again, his voice no longer a whisper, but a slow, seething growl—the sound of an elder who was on the verge of unsheathing his own claws.
"Are you suggesting…" his words dripped with venom, "…that I would sacrifice one of my own bloodline?"
He did not raise his voice. He did not need to. The sheer weight behind his words was enough to send an invisible pressure crashing down on the room.
"Tell me, Garling, to what end would I betray Imu-sama?" His fingers flexed slightly, his entire posture rigid with cold fury. "Do you think any of us—who have served Imu-sama for centuries—would suddenly turn our backs on everything we have built?"
A low, ominous chuckle rumbled from his throat, but there was no humor in it.
"Do not presume to question my loyalty."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Elder Nusjuro, the swordsman among them, subtly shifted in his seat, his hand moving toward his side as if preparing for the worst. Elder Mars remained silent, his face blank, but the tension in his jaw betrayed his unease. Elder Warcury, whose earlier frustration had now been entirely drowned out by the sheer hostility in the room, sat stiffly, his eyes darting between the two.
A direct confrontation between Elder Saturn and Garling Figarland was not something the world was prepared for. Yet, Saturn's rage was absolute. If Garling dared to say one more word, if he so much as implied the accusation again—
Then Saturn would not hesitate to bring this fight to bloodshed. A sharp crack split the air as Saturn's grip on his chair finally proved too much, the armrest snapping apart beneath his strength. He barely noticed. His unwavering glare remained locked onto Garling, challenging him—daring him—to repeat his words.
Then, his final warning came, a sentence dripping with lethal promise:
"The next time you make such an accusation… I do not care if you are the Commander of the God's Knights. You will feel my wrath."
The silence that followed was deafening. Garling, despite the sheer force of Saturn's fury, did not flinch. His grip on his sword remained relaxed, but his eyes were sharp—watchful. He did not apologize. He did not back down. But he did not push further, either.
Instead, after a long, tense pause, he merely exhaled through his nose and removed his hand from his blade. His expression remained unreadable, but his silence spoke volumes.
This battle—for now—had ended in a stalemate. But it was clear to everyone in the room:
The trust between the Five Elders and the God's Knights had begun to fracture.
The tension in the Room of Authority remained palpable, the very air thick with hostility. The clash between Elder Saturn and Garling Figarland had left behind a silence so oppressive that even the other Elders seemed reluctant to break it. It was Elder Ju Peter who finally spoke, his tone measured, though still carrying an undercurrent of unease.
"This is not the time to throw accusations around. We must address the immediate matter at hand. We had presumed Rosinante had fallen, yet it seems the brat was merely hiding all this time. Who knows what he has been up to… Maybe this is an opportunity to eliminate him once and for all."
His attempt to diffuse the situation was transparent, a veiled effort to redirect the storm elsewhere. Elder Nusjuro, ever the pragmatist, nodded in agreement, his deep voice carrying a hint of urgency.
"Yes. This threat must be eradicated before it grows out of control. If that boy is allowed to rejoin his brother in the New World, they will become a force that even we may struggle to contain. We must dispatch the God's Knights—"
"Absolutely not."
The words cut through the room like a blade, sharp, decisive, and dripping with authority.
It was Garling Figarland who spoke, his voice no longer tinged with anger but instead icy and controlled—far more dangerous than his earlier outburst. His sharp, hawk-like gaze swept across the Elders, daring any of them to challenge him.
"Unless the order comes from Imu-sama themselves, none—I repeat, none—of the God's Knights will be dispatched."
The sheer defiance in his words sent a ripple of shock through the room. The Elders frowned, their collective expressions darkening. This was not just a refusal. This was a challenge—one made blatantly, without any pretense of subservience.
Garling had always been ambitious, but never before had he so openly contested their authority. And yet, here he was, brazenly opposing them, making it clear that he would not allow his forces to be thrown away for their failures.
"You dare—" Elder Warcury snarled, his fist clenching, power radiating off of him in barely restrained fury.
But Garling did not flinch. He did not even acknowledge the threat. Instead, he continued, his voice now laced with mockery, as if he were speaking to fools who could not grasp the reality of the situation.
"If you wish to deal with Rosinante, then by all means—do it yourselves." His lips curled into a derisive smirk, his next words dripping with condescension. "Between the five of you, surely you can handle a 'little brat' as you like to call him."
The jab landed deep, the Elders' collective power had always been an unspoken deterrent, yet here was Garling outright mocking their capabilities, daring them to clean up their own mess.
But he wasn't done. His voice dipped lower, his tone like poisonous silk, wrapping around them like a noose tightening with every word.
"And while you're at it, you might want to prepare an explanation for Imu-sama… personally." A slow pause—one that sent an eerie chill through the room. Then, the final strike.
"You will have to answer for why so many of the God's Knights have perished… on missions that you sanctioned."
The unspoken accusation hung in the air, a dagger pressed firmly against their throats. This was no longer just about Rosinante. Garling was forcing them to take responsibility, to stand naked before Imu-sama and justify why the elite warriors of the Holy Order—warriors who should have been invincible—were dying in missions that they had ordered.
A bitter realization settled in the Elders' expressions. They could not refute it. The deaths of multiple God's Knights—warriors carefully selected from the purest bloodlines of the Celestial Dragons—was an unforgivable failure. And in the eyes of Imu-sama, failure was not tolerated.
It was punished. Garling knew this. He had planned this.
The guilt, the weight of repeated failures, the scrutiny of Imu-sama—it was all falling onto the Elders, while he remained untouched. The sheer audacity of his maneuver was brilliant—twisting their failures into his advantage while subtly elevating himself in the eyes of their unseen master.
He had planted a seed of doubt—a small, insidious thought that would fester in the back of Imu-sama's mind.
Perhaps it was not the God's Knights that were incompetent…
Perhaps it was the Elders themselves who were failing.
And if that doubt ever grew strong enough—if it ever turned into disfavor— Then one of the Five Elders might just find themselves replaced. And Garling would be there—waiting.
His work here was done. With a final sweeping glare, he turned on his heels, his long crimson cloak billowing behind him, his footsteps echoing across the marble floor as he made his way toward the exit.
His face, once twisted in fury, had now settled into a cold, calculating mask. But just as he crossed the threshold of the Room of Authority— A slow, sadistic grin curled on his lips.
The Elders might have thought this was their game to play—but he had just changed the board entirely. And soon, they would realize… They were merely pieces. And he?
He was waiting for the moment to claim the throne.
As Figarland stepped out, an oppressive silence descended upon the room. The weight of recent events crashed down on those who remained, suffocating the air with tension.
Finally, Warcury could take no more. He slammed his hands onto the grandiose table, rising furiously. His voice was sharp with rage.
"I've had enough of this," he snarled. "I'm going to end this personally. Perhaps I should have killed that brat back in Sabaody when I had the chance." His tone dripped with frustration as he turned, preparing to leave the Holy Land and deal with the matter himself.
But before he could take another step, a cold, calculating voice cut through the air like a sharpened blade.
"Tell me, Warcury," Saturn said, his piercing gaze locking onto him. "Are you confident in handling someone of Rosinante's caliber—someone who is currently matching fists with Garp himself?" His tone was calm but laced with an unmistakable challenge, daring Warcury to justify his reckless impulse.
Warcury paused for a fraction of a second, his scowl deepening.
Saturn, sensing the hesitation, continued. "Or do you expect Garp to simply stand aside while we attempt to execute his own protégé?" He leaned forward slightly, his fingers steepled as his ominous words filled the room. "Make no mistake—just because Garp wears the uniform of the Marines does not mean we have his loyalty. If you push too far, if you make one wrong move, do you truly believe you can defeat the likes of Monkey D. Garp should he turn his fists against you?"
The weight of Saturn's words sent a ripple of unease through the room. Warcury clenched his jaw, his fists tightening at his sides. He was a warrior, a force to be reckoned with—but Garp was a legend. To underestimate him was to court death.
Before Warcury could respond, Nusjuro, who had been on the verge of stepping forward himself, took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as he absorbed Saturn's reasoning. His voice was level, yet firm.
"He's right," Nusjuro admitted, his crimson eyes darkening with thought. "If we rush in blindly, we risk far more than just Rosinante. Have you forgotten that Whitebeard himself is stationed just a few hundred miles from the Red Line?"
A heavy silence followed his words. Even Warcury, despite his fury, could not ignore the sheer magnitude of the threats at play. Rosinante's true strength was still an unknown factor, but the presence of Garp and Whitebeard was not. And if one wrong step led Garp to turn against them, if the delicate balance of power was shattered, then this would no longer be a matter of eliminating a single traitor. They would be igniting a war—one that could shake the very foundations of the world.
For the first time since standing, Warcury hesitated. His mind raced, but he knew one thing for certain: the next move had to be made with absolute precision. Because in a world ruled by gods and monsters, even the slightest misstep could bring everything crumbling down.
****
"BLUE HOLE…!"
The very sky split apart as Garp appeared above me in an instant, his fist primed with unimaginable power. His arm, veined with monstrous muscle, gleamed with Advanced Armament Haki, infused so deeply that his skin took on a near metallic-black hue, darker than the void itself. But what truly sent a chill down my spine was the aura of Conqueror's Haki interwoven into his strike—a force of sheer will, an attack meant to not just break my body but crush my very spirit.
The air tore asunder, compressed under the sheer weight of his presence, the gravitational force of his strike distorting even the space around him. It was as if the world itself had acknowledged his attack, the very atmosphere screaming in protest as the devastating blow hurtled toward me.
But I did not falter.
"LIGHTNING NOVA…!"
I roared, my voice a thunderclap that drowned out even the raging storm that surrounded us. Adrenaline surged through my veins, my heart pounding like the drums of war. My very body felt like it was on fire, every nerve set alight by the unrelenting Haki coursing through me.
In my hands, Akatsuki gleamed, a blade that could cleave through worlds, its edge pulsating with the uncontrollable fury of black lightning. I could feel the weight of my will pouring into the blade, the sheer force behind my slash undeniable, unrelenting.
It was an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object.
The very world froze in the instant before our attacks met, the silence deafening. It was as if existence itself had paused to bear witness to the moment.
Then— The collision. A sound beyond mortal comprehension erupted across Sabaody.
BOOOOM!
Reality itself seemed to shatter. The very fabric of space trembled at the sheer magnitude of our clash. Lightning and Haki-infused flames erupted into the sky, spiraling like divine dragons seeking to devour the heavens. The air cracked and shattered as if glass had been dropped from the hands of the gods.
The seas— The seas screamed.
For miles upon miles, the ocean heaved and roared, churning into a chaotic maelstrom of destruction. Tidal waves hundreds of meters tall surged outward in every direction, powerful enough to swallow entire fleets. The very currents of the Grand Line were rewritten in an instant, twisted into a violent, chaotic spiral that sent ships careening uncontrollably.
And Sabaody— The once thriving mangrove island had become an apocalyptic wasteland. The massive mangrove trees, once reaching for the sky, were now nothing more than splintered ruins, their titanic roots ripped from the ground, sent hurtling into the storm-laden sky like mere debris. The once lively landscape was no more—only a crater-ridden battlefield remained, the very land crumbling under the aftershocks of our power.
The shockwave tore through the heavens, splitting the clouds apart with a force that could be felt across the entire Grand Line. And yet—despite the devastation, despite the sheer violence of our attacks— Neither of us moved an inch.
In the distance, beyond the shattered remnants of Sabaody, the assembled Marine fleet watched in horror. Onboard, Admiral Raylene, who had arrived with reinforcements, clenched her fists as she stared at the battle unfolding before her. Even with her rank, even with all the might of the World Government behind her, she knew—
She could not step onto that battlefield. This was no ordinary fight. This was a battle between forces beyond comprehension, a clash between a living legend and the strongest outlaw the Marines had ever seen.
And as the storm raged on, as the heavens trembled beneath the weight of our fury, only one thought echoed through the minds of every witness, every Marine, every pirate—
Would Garp stand victorious?
Or…
Had the era of the Marine Hero finally come to an end?