When Sengoku unfolded the newspaper, his pupils shrank to the size of needles. The paper trembled violently in his massive hands—hands that could shatter boulders, split mountains, and crush steel—now shaking uncontrollably.
"He's gone mad!" Sengoku blurted out, his voice cracking. "That damn birdman Morgans—he's completely insane!"
He slammed the paper down, veins bulging at his temples. "How dare he publish this!? Has he lost all sense of self-preservation!?"
The surrounding officers stiffened in alarm. Some rushed to snatch up the scattered newspapers, scanning the headlines—and then, as if struck by lightning, froze where they stood.
Sakazuki frowned, accepting a crumpled copy from a trembling soldier. He smoothed it open.
The headline of the World Economic News screamed in bold print across the front page:
"King of the North Blue, Rogers Darren, Declares War on the World Government—Celestial Dragon Holy Land Reduced to Ruins!"
Beneath it was a photograph that froze the blood in every reader's veins.
The Holy Land of Mary Geoise—symbol of divine rule—had become a blazing inferno. Entire palaces lay in ruins, flames devouring the city. The air shimmered with heat, and among the collapsed marble towers, the silhouettes of burning Celestial Dragons writhed in agony.
In the smoke-filled heavens above, shadowy outlines of colossal metallic airships hovered in formation, releasing torrents of fire and light upon the city below.
At their center, high in the sky, a single figure stood suspended in blue lightning—cold, godlike, surveying the carnage from above.
Beneath the image, the caption read:
"The Flying Fleet reappears—the most destructive weapon of mass annihilation in existence!"
"Supreme Commander of the North Blue, 'Thunder' Momonga, claims to be executing the orders of Rogers Darren, the self-proclaimed 'King of the North Blue,' leading a military parade above the Holy Land!"
The subsequent pages were packed edge to edge with text—military analyses, witness accounts, and speculative commentary.
There were charts estimating the Flying Fleet's firepower and manpower, calculations of its construction cost, and scathing criticism of the World Government's failure to protect the Celestial Dragons. The paper mocked the so-called "God's Knights" and the CP divisions for their complete collapse in the face of Darren's assault.
The World Economic News had turned the horror into spectacle—painting a mythic tale for a global audience, bold, sensational, and impossible to ignore.
The margins were littered with commentary from self-proclaimed experts:
> "The World Government must still have a hidden trump card."
"This has to be fake—no way anyone could bomb Mary Geoise!"
"Rogers Darren has doomed himself. The Fleet is marching toward destruction."
"Where did he get the wealth to build such a force? How did the Marines not detect it?"
Sakazuki's eyes darted over every line, his expression darkening with each sentence. His fingers tightened until the newspaper crumpled. Then, suddenly, he turned the page—only for the next headline to ignite the air.
"Rogers Darren Engages in Fierce Battle with the Gorosei!"
"Stripped of Rank and Power—What Awaits the Fallen Hero?"
"The World Government and Marines Face an Unprecedented Enemy!"
"Since Monkey D. Dragon, No Criminal Has Ever Shaken the World This Way!"
Hiss!
A burst of magma erupted from Sakazuki's hand, incinerating the paper into cinders.
He stood silently for a moment, then walked toward Sengoku, his boots hissing as they crushed charred rubble.
"So… this is what the Gorosei wanted?" His tone was cold as stone.
Sengoku didn't look at him. "Don't speak carelessly. The Gorosei's will is not for us to question. Our duty is to obey and enforce Justice as the Government commands."
His voice was steady, but his eyes flickered—just once.
Sakazuki caught it. A grim smile twisted his burned lips.
"Let's hope that's true," he said flatly. "Because if not… then we've created something far worse than a criminal."
He paused, the magma around his fists simmering quietly.
"I fought beside Darren. I know the man. Once he sets his mind on something—once he declares war—he's already prepared for the worst."
His eyes burned crimson, and even Sengoku felt a chill at the killing intent that radiated from him.
"Rogers Darren, in that state, isn't just strong," Sakazuki said quietly. "He's unstoppable. He'll use anything—any means—to destroy his enemies."
He turned on his heel and walked away, each step leaving molten prints across the scorched ground.
For a long moment, Sengoku watched that retreating back—rigid, scarred, unyielding—and a heavy dread filled his chest. It was as though a shadow darker than the smoke above Marineford had begun to settle over Sakazuki's soul.
Then—
"So, Admiral Sengoku," Borsalino drawled from the side, flipping the newspaper idly between his fingers. "How do we handle this little PR disaster?"
Sengoku didn't answer immediately. His gaze swept across the battered Marines standing before him—each one waiting, trembling, for their leader's decision.
At last, he exhaled, his voice low but firm.
"...Issue a bounty."
The air stilled.
"Former Vice Admiral Rogers Darren," Sengoku continued, his tone cutting through the silence like a blade, "has slaughtered Celestial Dragons, defied the authority of the World Government, and caused irreparable devastation. His crimes are beyond forgiveness."
He straightened to his full height, his golden epaulets glinting faintly in the dying sunlight.
"Effective immediately, all military rank, honors, and privileges are revoked. Rogers Darren is hereby declared one of the World's Most Dangerous Criminals!"
The words fell like thunder. Every Marine froze, hearts pounding.
Sengoku's next words were colder still.
"His bounty is set at—"
He drew a deep breath.
"—five billion berries."
The world seemed to stop.
To be continued...