Far away from the Sabaody Archipelago, aboard a massive warship, a man clutching a telescope trembled violently as he witnessed the dark clouds and relentless lightning raging over the islands. The sight alone nearly made him collapse.
When he finally managed to steady himself, he rushed to report what he saw to his master—the shadowy lord of the underworld, the ruler of the dark world—Lord Fosfite.
Because this operation involved a staggering one trillion Berries, Fosfite had personally come to oversee it. But as a man who understood the risks of leadership, he wisely kept his flagship at a safe distance from the Sabaody Archipelago.
After hearing his subordinate's terrified report, Fosfite himself lifted the telescope to observe. When he saw the storm of lightning that devoured everything in its path, his expression darkened to the color of ash.
"Dark Thorn... you'd better not disappoint me," Forthfit muttered coldly, his voice low and dangerous.
At the same time, several New World pirates—who had been lurking in the distance, originally planning to swoop in after the slave army and mercenaries had exhausted the Grey Nation's forces—were now frozen in disbelief. The thunderstorm unfolding before them made even their hardened hearts skip a beat.
"Phew…" Shakky exhaled a long trail of smoke, her eyes widening at the lightning crashing down from the heavens. "Little brother," she said dryly, "if your people end up wrecking my bar, you'd better be ready to pay up."
Her bar sat in Zone 13—well within the lawless zone.
Before the battle began, Rosinante had asked Rayleigh to escort her out. He knew that once the storm of thunder began, anything within its reach would be consumed.
"Of course, I'll pay for it," Rosinante replied with a calm smile.
Laki, standing beside them, couldn't hide her awe. "These thunder strikes… they're terrifying. Just watching from here makes my skin crawl."
Rosinante chuckled. "That's only the beginning. The real storm—Ten Thousand Thunders—hasn't even started yet."
Even Rayleigh's eyes widened slightly at that. "Ten Thousand Thunders?" he murmured.
In Pica's palace, Enel stood with both hands crackling with electricity. Through Bins' wormhole, he poured more and more energy into the storm clouds, stimulating them with raw power.
At his command, the clouds unleashed their true fury.
The lightning multiplied endlessly. Bolts fell faster, denser, stronger—until the very sky became a seething ocean of electric rage.
"What—what's happening? The lightning's getting even stronger!" the Oni Warrior shouted, looking up in horror.
"We can't stay here!" someone barked. "Follow me! Head for Zone 1! It's the only area not covered by the storm—our only chance to live!"
The four swordmasters under his command nodded grimly, then sprinted toward Zone 1 at full speed.
"Run! Run for your lives! We can't fight this—no amount of money is worth this!" a mercenary screamed, hurling away his weapon as panic overtook him. Many others followed, their courage collapsing under the weight of despair.
Suddenly, a massive bolt tore through the sky. Unlike the others that vanished upon impact, this one connected heaven and earth, dragging a line of devastation across the ground like a farmer's plow tearing through soil.
"Lightning—take cover!" someone screamed.
But the next instant, the bolt struck.
The man was blasted off his feet by the shockwave—lucky enough to only be grazed. When he turned back, several others nearby had been turned into charred corpses.
He looked around, only to see more lightning raining down like a storm of death. His eyes filled with pure despair.
There was no escape. The entire lawless zone was a death field of thunder.
Wounded and hopeless, he collapsed to the ground. Another bolt swept over him moments later, ending his life in silence.
Even the strongest mercenaries—men who once boasted of conquering seas—froze in place as despair overcame them. The gap in power was too great. You can't outrun lightning.
And once Ten Thousand Thunders was unleashed, even Enel himself could no longer fully control it.
"If I could go back," one mercenary whimpered through cracked lips, "I'd never—never take a job involving the Grey Nation again…"
But before the last word left his mouth, a pillar of lightning consumed him.
If anyone had ever wondered what hell looked like—this was it.
Nearby, journalists who had been secretly observing were stunned into silence. Then, one by one, they grabbed their Den Den Mushi cameras and frantically snapped photo after photo, desperate to capture this apocalyptic scene.
Even these hardened reporters—used to chaos and death—trembled uncontrollably as they witnessed the destruction.
"The Grey Nation… they're monsters," one whispered, dropping his pen without realizing it.
"With this kind of power, they could destroy an entire country," another gasped. "Easily."
"Who in the world could possibly stand against such a force?"
A correspondent from the World Economy News Paper spoke solemnly, his voice shaking. "The Grey Nation's strength rivals that of the Whitebeard Pirates, Big Mom Pirates, and Beasts Pirates. They've become another Emperor-level power on the seas. In time, their system could grow to rival—even surpass—the World Government itself."
The other reporters froze, then broke into wild excitement.
This was history. The kind of news that would echo across the world.
"This is it—record everything! This is the story of the century!"
"A new Emperor rises on the seas—Rosinante of the Grey Nation!"
"We still don't know how strong he personally is, but his subordinates alone command world-ending might!"
"The Thunder God of the Grey Nation—power to destroy heaven and earth!"
The reporters scribbled feverishly, their excitement barely contained.
Meanwhile, Borsalino glanced toward Sakazuki. He wanted to joke—"Still think the attack isn't strong enough?"—but one look at Sakazuki's dark, furious face made him wisely stay silent.
The scene before them was nothing short of hell itself. Even Garp frowned deeply.
The dead weren't innocent civilians—they were mercenaries, warlords, and slavers. Monsters in human skin. Still, to see a hundred thousand lives wiped out so brutally… it unsettled even him.
Had they been civilians, Garp would've intervened without hesitation. But these people? Every one of them deserved this fate.
"It seems this is the true might of the Rumble-Rumble Fruit," Borsalino murmured. "They weren't exaggerating when they called it the most destructive of all Logia."
"Who would ever believe," Garp said grimly, "that this hellish scene… was caused by a boy barely in his teens?"
Tsuru's eyes hardened. "We must classify that boy as a strategic-level threat. Once he fully matures, even the World Government will have no choice but to compromise."