The pale golden morning light fell gently over the steel hulls like a thin veil of gauze.
Under the glow, the cold, solid metal gave off a chilling gleam that made the heart tighten.
Every inch of those warships radiated authority and power.
One battleship after another was arrayed in perfect formation. Their massive gun turrets were all on high alert, ready to fire at any moment.
The dark cannon muzzles looked like the gaping jaws of savage beasts, prepared to spit out flames of destruction at any time.
On the decks, fully armed Marine soldiers stood in neat uniforms.
Their backs were straight, their gazes firm and sharp, and the weapons in their hands glinted with a cold light.
The entire scene was filled with an intense killing intent.
The pressure was so overwhelming that even the thick sea fog lingering over the water seemed to be driven back by an invisible force, retreating in panic.
"The weather is about to change…"
Iceburg frowned slightly and murmured unconsciously.
His fingers tightened around the window frame without him realizing it, his knuckles turning pale from the force.
As the respected mayor of Water 7, he possessed a sharp insight into military affairs and a deep understanding of the situation at sea.
He paid close attention to every movement made by the Marines.
In the past, it had been because of the blueprints for Pluton. Now, it was because of the increasingly severe state of the world.
He understood all too well that a fleet of this scale gathering here could not possibly be ordinary.
There had to be some major conspiracy or decision hidden behind it.
Every detail was like a piece of a puzzle, constantly assembling itself in his mind, only making him feel more and more uneasy.
Just then, a flurry of chaotic yet anxious footsteps sounded behind him.
The workers of the Galley-La Company had gathered in the corridor after hearing the commotion.
They crowded together, staring through the bright glass windows in terror at the frightening scene in the harbor.
Some widened their eyes, unable to believe what they were seeing.
Others sucked in cold breaths, their faces filled with fear and confusion.
"Those are… Marine Headquarters warships?"
A young worker asked in a trembling voice, disbelief filling every word.
"Why have so many suddenly come here…?"
Another worker echoed him, his tone heavy with worry.
"Look! Even a Vice Admiral's flagship has been deployed!"
No one knew who shouted it, but everyone's eyes immediately turned toward the grandest warship among them.
Its hull was larger, its decorations more elaborate, and its flag snapped loudly in the wind, displaying its special status.
Lulu's face flushed red as he desperately squeezed to the front of the crowd.
The wrench he had been gripping slipped from his hand and fell to the floor with a clang, producing a crisp, piercing sound.
Extreme panic showed in his eyes as he stammered, "M-Mr. Mayor… Are we going to war?"
There was even a trace of sobbing in his voice. Clearly, the sight before him had terrified him.
Iceburg remained silent. He did not immediately answer Lulu's question.
His gaze passed over everyone's shoulders and landed on the noticeboard by the harbor.
A Marine notice that had only just been posted there swayed gently in the morning breeze.
The paper rustled softly, as if whispering some terrifying secret.
And the three blood-red words, Kill Order, pierced his eyes like burning flames and branded themselves deeply into his heart.
Beside him, Paulie clenched a cigar between his teeth, his brows locked tightly together.
A long stretch of ash had already formed at the tip, but he seemed completely unaware of it.
He took a deep drag, slowly exhaled a cloud of smoke, and muttered, "Damn it… Even Water 7, a place that has always claimed neutrality…"
His words were filled with helplessness and worry, as if he could already see the storm that was about to arrive.
The once-lively workshop suddenly became terrifyingly quiet.
The shipwrights, who were usually loud, noisy, and full of energy, now seemed frozen in place, holding their breath.
They exchanged glances and saw the same fear in one another's eyes.
In the face of this iron-blooded decree, they realized that even this neutral city, famous for shipbuilding and long regarded as a safe harbor, would likely be unable to remain untouched by the storm that was about to erupt.
A heavy shadow hung over everyone's heart.
None of them knew what future awaited them.
...
Out on the distant sea, a majestic Marine warship lay quietly at anchor, its dark cannon muzzles gleaming with a chilling light beneath the morning sun.
At that moment, Iceburg bent slightly, his movements somewhat hurried yet careful, and slowly picked up the blueprint he had dropped.
The instant his fingers touched the paper, he discovered in astonishment that his hands were trembling beyond his control.
Those fingers, usually steady and powerful, now shook like leaves stirred by the wind.
He lowered his head and stared at the meticulously drawn warship blueprint.
Every line and every annotation on it contained his countless efforts and wisdom.
Yet now, across that perfect design, there was an accidental pencil mark.
The crooked line lay across the blueprint like a hideous scar.
It was not merely a simple mistake. It seemed more like a merciless prophecy from fate, faintly foretelling the bloody and brutal storm that was about to come.
The suffocating atmosphere seemed to have already filled the entire space, making it hard to breathe.
"No one can remain untouched by this war."
Iceburg murmured, his voice low and hoarse, like a heavy sigh rising from the depths of his heart.
He knew that once the curtain of war was raised, no one would be able to stay outside it.
Everyone would be dragged into that endless vortex.
In places everyone had overlooked, deep within hidden shadows, CP agents wearing specialized equipment watched every corner of Water 7 with sharp, well-trained eyes.
They were like hunters lying in wait within the night, refusing to miss even the slightest movement.
They remained on high alert at all times, closely observing every action taking place in the city.
As long as there was any sign of a mysterious figure possessing some unknown ability, even if it was only a brief and barely noticeable fluctuation of energy, those keen agents would detect it instantly.
Once such a situation was confirmed, they would report the intelligence without hesitation according to established procedure.
Then, with lightning speed, they would launch decisive action.
They would use all kinds of advanced tracking methods and carefully arranged strategies to lock onto the target, capture them successfully, and then send them at once to the mysterious Future Island, ensuring that no potential threat could escape their control.
"What a truly troublesome age."