Ten minutes later…
Within a mysterious, otherworldly dimension…
The radiant golden glow slowly faded.
Sengoku's massive Buddha form shrank away, leaving him in his normal state—but his bloodshot eyes burned with barely restrained fury as they locked onto Charlotte Wilhelm.
The Fleet Admiral had lost.
For the sake of the Marines' future—for the thousands of lives still hanging in the balance—he had made his choice.
Resistance was futile.
Wilhelm would never let him leave this place alive unless he surrendered. And even then, survival wasn't guaranteed.
Gritting his teeth, Sengoku turned to his remaining conscious soldiers and barked:
"Stand down. All of you—lower your weapons."
Sengoku, Fleet Admiral of the Marines, stood motionless as golden light faded from his body. His clenched jaw betrayed the storm raging within - for the future of the Marines, for the tens of thousands of lives depending on his decision, he had reached his conclusion after agonizing consideration.
Resistance now would only postpone the inevitable. Charlotte Wilhelm held all the cards in this strange dimension. If Sengoku didn't surrender, neither he nor his men would leave alive - and their deaths would come regardless.
"Marines!" His voice cracked like thunder across the battlefield. "Stand down! Lower your weapons!"
A shocked silence fell before the outcry erupted:
"Sir?!"
"Lower our weapons?!"
"Admiral, you can't be serious!"
"They're pirates - they'll slaughter us all!"
"Damn cowards! Is this Marine justice?!"
Only the strongest had withstood the earlier Conqueror's Haki clash between Wilhelm and Sengoku's Buddha form. Now these elite officers stood with bloodshot eyes, fists trembling with barely contained rage.
Sengoku drew a steadying breath, his voice carrying the weight of decades of command:
"Listen to me!" The battlefield fell silent. "We've lost this battle. Justice isn't infallible - today, it has failed us." His gaze swept across his men, lingering on each face. "But mark my words: Justice will prevail in the end. The Marines will have the final victory!"
His voice grew stronger, ringing with conviction: "You are the Navy's finest. We've sacrificed enough today. Your duty now is to survive - no matter how bitter the taste. The world needs you alive!"
"This defeat rests on our leadership's miscalculations. The repercussions will shake the world." Sengoku's hands clenched unconsciously. "Without you, we risk plunging back into the chaos of the Great Pirate Era - worse than anything we've seen!"
He straightened to his full height, the very image of Marine resolve: "The people living in fear of pirates need your protection. That is our true purpose! That is why we serve!"
"SENGOOKU-SAMA!" The cry went up from a hundred throats.
Then, as his men watched in stunned disbelief, the unthinkable happened. The Fleet Admiral of the Marines - symbol of absolute justice - surrendered himself completely.
CLANK.
The seastone cuffs slapped into Sengoku's palms, thrown with precision by Katakuri. Without flinching, the Fleet Admiral snapped them around his own wrists, the dark metal swallowing the last remnants of his power.
Wilhelm wasted no words. With a flick of his wrist, the Transfer-Transfer Fruit's power activated—in an instant, Sengoku and every unconscious or surrendered Marine vanished from the pocket dimension.
Outside - The Victor's Welcome
The real world greeted them with a wall of steel and gunpowder.
Pirates and Homies stood in battle-ready ranks, weapons gleaming under the sun. Cannons, rifles, and blades—all trained on the suddenly reappearing Marines. The air hummed with tension, every finger tense on triggers.
Katakuri stepped forward, his towering frame shadowing Sengoku. His mochi-enhanced Observation Haki scanned the captives—no hidden tricks, no last-ditch escapes. Just the bitter taste of defeat.
"Process them." Wilhelm's voice cut through the silence. "Seastone cuffs for Devil Fruit users. Chain the rest and dunk them in seawater. Any resistance—put them down."
"YES, LORD WILHELM!"
The pirates surged forward, Hawkins' alloy chains clinking in their hands. Marines who had fought like titans minutes ago now stood hollow-eyed, shuffling into line like condemned men.
Big Mom's Triumph
"MAMA MAMA~!"
The ice trembled as Charlotte Linlin lumbered forward, her massive frame shaking with glee. She loomed over Sengoku, her grin stretching wide enough to swallow ships.
"My sweet Wilhelm~!" She cackled, saliva dripping. "To make this stubborn old goat surrender himself! Even his 'Absolute Justice' stinks of desperation now!"
Sengoku didn't flinch. Though bound in seastone and chains, his voice remained steel.
"Don't celebrate yet, Linlin. The World Government has weathered worse than you. Rocks fell. So will you."
"MAMA MAMA~!" She wiped tears of laughter. "Keep barking, fleabag! You won't live to see me claim the throne!"
In her mind, the pieces were falling into place. With Wilhelm's cunning and Katakuri's might, even Whitebeard—that relic blocking the path to the throne—would crumble. Roger's ghost? A footnote. The "All Nations" dream? Inevitable.
G-5 Base - The Aftermath
"Tsuru... WHAT DID YOU SAY?!"
Garp's roar shook the fortress walls. The Hero of the Marines stood frozen, fist half-crumpling the doorframe. Across from him, Tsuru looked decades older, her usual composure cracked.
"Sengoku's alive," she said, voice frayed. "But his vivre card... it's flickering."
Garp's face twisted. The man who'd laughed off cannonfire now looked like he'd taken a mortal blow. His hands shook—not with rage, but something worse: helplessness.
"I'm going." He turned, coat flaring.
Tsuru's arm shot out, blocking him. "Think, you fool! Even you can't storm Totto Land alone! The Elders are negotiating—"
"NEGOTIATING?!" Garp's laugh was hollow. "Those desk-rotted vultures sent him to die, and now they're begging for scraps?"
For once, Tsuru had no rebuttal. The silence between them said everything:
The Marines had lost more than a battle today.
Tsuru's nails dug crescent moons into her palms as she stared at the flickering vivre card. A shaky exhale escaped her lips.
"He's alive... for now." The unspoken but for how long? hung heavy between them.
Garp's face darkened like a stormfront. His usual boisterous demeanor shattered as he whirled toward the door—
"I'm bringing him home."
The words held none of his trademark laughter. This wasn't the reckless charge of the "Hero," but something far more dangerous: a man with nothing left to lose.
Tsuru's arm barred his path like an iron gate. "Think, Garp! Even you can't storm Whole Cake Island alone!" Her voice dropped to a whisper only decades of friendship could carry: "By the time you arrive, you'll be retrieving a corpse. Is that what Sengoku would want?"
Garp's hand crushed her shoulder—not in anger, but as a drowning man clings to driftwood. "Xiao..." The childhood nickname slipped out raw and wounded. "We swore oaths together. All four of us—you, me, Sengoku, Zephyr..."
The office walls seemed to press inward, heavy with the ghosts of their shared past.
Tsuru's resolve wavered for just a heartbeat before hardening. "The Marines can't lose both its Hero and Fleet Admiral in one week. Kong's already negotiating—"
"Negotiating?!" Garp's laugh scraped like gravel. "Those Celestial Dragon lapdogs sent Sengoku to die, and now they're groveling for his bones?"
For once, the Great Tactician had no rebuttal. The silence between them screamed louder than cannonfire.