"What!?" Sengoku shot to his feet, eyes wide in disbelief as he gripped the Den Den Mushi. "Say that again?!"
"Admiral Sengoku," came Aokiji's calm but weary voice through the Den Den Mushi, "I'll give you a full report once we return. Right now, we urgently need reinforcements. Many soldiers and officers are severely injured, especially Vice Admiral Momonga. If he doesn't receive treatment soon, his life may be in danger."
"I understand. I'll dispatch a team to retrieve you immediately," Sengoku replied with a grim tone, cutting the call the moment he finished.
"…I never imagined it would end like this," muttered Vice Admiral Tsuru, who had been standing quietly beside him.
"Tsuru… it seems your premonition was right," Sengoku said gravely.
"I didn't expect Rosinante's strength to grow this fast either… But oddly enough, that actually puts my heart more at ease now," Tsuru said, exhaling slowly.
Sengoku blinked in surprise. "At ease? Why?"
"With Rosinante's talent, it was only a matter of time before he reached admiral-level power. But to achieve it this fast means one thing—he's burned through some kind of shortcut. Either drugs… or some intense forced awakening. You know as well as I do, Sengoku—those with the Conqueror's Haki aptitude can break through to the admiral level with the right push. But the true difficulty lies in surpassing that level afterward."
Even the so-called three monsters of the Navy—Sakazuki, Borsalino, and Kuzan—had been trained personally by former Admiral Zephyr, benefiting from the Navy's elite systems and years of combat. And even then, they didn't become admirals until they were nearly thirty.
Rosinante? He wasn't even twenty years old yet.
Even someone as monstrous as Kaido didn't make admiral-level by that age.
So for Rosinante to already be at that threshold… it could only mean one thing: he had forcibly tapped into a shortcut, something that boosted him beyond his natural limits.
And using such a shortcut meant there would be a price—likely that his potential had already been consumed. From here on, it would be extremely difficult, if not impossible, for Rosinante to grow stronger again. He might never reach the true peak.
Sengoku listened carefully, his brow furrowing, and then slowly nodded. Relief crept into his expression.
If Rosinante was already this difficult to deal with, and his growth was now stunted… then they had narrowly avoided disaster. If he'd continued rising without limit, he could very well have become another Whitebeard-level threat.
"I see your point. For now, let's put Rosinante aside. The immediate priority is to retrieve Kuzan and the others. They are irreplaceable to the Navy. Tsuru, I want you to lead the retrieval personally. Make sure they return safely."
Tsuru nodded without hesitation. While it wasn't the most glamorous task, it was one that came with immense goodwill from the top brass—which was precisely why Sengoku entrusted it to her.
But before Tsuru could even reach the battlefield, rumors and leaks began spreading like wildfire. Whether it was a spy from the press within the Navy ranks or someone from the World Government letting things slip intentionally, the news hit the public like a tidal wave:
The Navy's greatest military operation—the Buster Call—had been obliterated.
While the reports were vague on the exact battle details, the headlines were damning enough: ten warships destroyed, over half of the elite ten-thousand-man force lost, and the island of Ohara wiped off the map.
In response, the World Government cranked its propaganda machine into high gear. They claimed that a traitor had ambushed the Buster Call—destroying all ten ships, annihilating the island, and even sinking the civilian evacuation ships. They painted Rosinante as a bloodthirsty mass murderer who had butchered all of Ohara's refugees.
Anyone with sense could see the distortion. The World Government had always been masters of rewriting history.
But the general public? Most believed it.
And those who didn't… slowly began to.
With each wave of relentless media coverage, Rosinante's name became synonymous with villainy. His reputation plummeted into infamy. Outraged civilians and mourning Navy families took to the streets, demanding that the World Government bring him to justice.
By the time Tsuru brought back Sakazuki, Kuzan, and the surviving officers, Marineford erupted in urgency. An emergency conference was convened at once. Every available officer stationed at headquarters was summoned.
Inside the Navy's war council chamber, the atmosphere was suffocating. Grim-faced admirals and vice admirals filled the room, exuding bloodlust and tension.
At the head of the table sat the current Fleet Admiral—Kong. Beside him was Sengoku, the Admiral of the Fleet's successor, along with former Admiral Zephyr, the heroic Vice Admiral Garp, and Tsuru, the mastermind behind naval strategy.
Sakazuki, Borsalino, and Kuzan—the "three monsters" of the next era—stood nearby, bruised and battle-worn. Alongside them were elite vice admirals like Doberman, Momonga and Onigumo.
There were also old-school legends—vice admirals who had served alongside Garp and Sengoku in their prime. Their sheer presence sent shivers down the spines of even veteran pirates. These men weren't here for ceremony—they had been called for war.
"Everyone," Fleet Admiral Kong's voice boomed through the hall, "I've summoned you all today to discuss one man."
The entire room stilled. Even the most arrogant of the vice admirals straightened their backs.
"You should've already heard the news. The Buster Call was destroyed."
The moment the words left his mouth, murmurs erupted throughout the chamber.
Some officers began scoffing at Kuzan and Sakazuki, muttering that they'd failed their mission.
After all, rumors had long circulated that the Navy was grooming these three—Sakazuki, Kuzan, and Borsalino—to be the next generation of Admirals.
But not everyone in the Navy was on board with that.
There were many in the vice admiral ranks with ambitions of their own—particularly the older generation who had lived in the shadow of legends like Garp and Sengoku. Garp refused promotion, Zephyr had stepped down, and Sengoku would soon become Fleet Admiral when Kong ascended to the position of Supreme Commander of all military forces.
That meant three admiral seats would be up for grabs.
Which ambitious vice admiral wouldn't want to fight for that spot?
These veterans had spent their lives battling pirates. Compared to that, why should they fear a few so-called "monsters" of the new generation?
Just as the room's voices rose into chaos—
"ENOUGH!!" Kong roared, slamming his fist on the table.
The conference hall instantly fell silent.
Well—almost.
A soft snore echoed through the silence.
Kong's forehead twitched. A vein bulged.
"…Garp, you bastard!"
"Eh? What, what? Is the meeting over already?" Garp jolted awake, rubbing his eyes.
"YOU SLEEPING IDIOT! We're in a critical meeting and you're NAPPING!?" Kong bellowed.
"Hahaha, come on, Boss Kong! I wasn't sleeping—I was meditating! Deep in thought!"
"Meditating, my ass! Reflect on yourself properly, damn it!"
The tension in the room broke slightly—but just for a moment.
The storm was far from over.