The ocean heaved as the Marine armada sliced through the blue depths, each colossal warship gouging the currents with reinforced keels that gleamed under the rising sun. Salt spray hissed along steel plating, and the Marines' banners—pure white with the tattered World Government crest—snapped like thunderous whips in the wind. At the prow of the lead vessel stood Vice Admiral Momonga, his broad shoulders braced against the railing, eyes cold and unyielding. His dark coat billowed behind him, and the massive anchor-shaped blade slung at his back caught every shaft of sunlight. He was the specter of every pirate's nightmares—and now, of Fish-Man Island's.
"Fish-Man Island has sheltered criminals for far too long," Momonga growled, his voice grinding against the cruiser's hull like iron on stone. He lifted a conch-shell megaphone, and the amplified rasp echoed off the waves. "Annihilate it."
A thunderous crack shredded the air as the lead ship's ram tore into the island's shimmering protective bubble. Fracture lines bloomed across its surface in blinding white, then met the crushing weight of water. Shockwaves rippled outward, turning tranquil canals into maelstroms. Angular coral spires splintered into floating debris. Glass domes shattered into a million crystalline daggers, and a terrified chorus of screams rose as torrents of seawater gushed into the outer districts.
Across the flooded coral avenues, columns of Marines poured ashore. Their white armor gleamed beneath green searchlights, rifles locked and loaded. A rhythmic clatter of polished boots on slick coral echoed through the ruins.
"By decree of the World Government," boomed a voice through ship-borne loudspeakers, "this island is under martial law! Lay down your arms—or be cut down!"
From the shadows of collapsed archways, the Fish-Man Defense Corps surged forward. Tridents arced in tight formations, their barbed tips gleaming with streaks of bioluminescent algae. Marines raised their sabers in response, edges flashing steel. Water roared as barrages of Fish-Man Karate slammed into the invaders, sweeping rows of soldiers off their feet. For every Marine toppled, ten more advanced guns spitting tracer fire, bayonets groping for flesh.
In the heart of Coral Plaza, Jinbe planted both feet on shattered mosaic tile, waves of determination radiating from his stance. Behind him, battered statues of ancient fish-god warriors watched impassively. "This is our home!" Jinbe's voice boomed, proud and unwavering. "We will never submit!"
He unleashed a spiraling torrent of Fish-Man Karate that exploded outward like a geyser. Marines soared through the air, armor dented, rifles flung aside. Yet the white tide pressed on, moving as one relentless force.
Above the clash, the Straw Hat Pirates descended into the fray. Zoro's bandana snapped free, and he spun three blades in unison, carving a gleaming arc through an onslaught of blue-armored troops. Each swing resounded like a bell of doom, leaving fractured bayonets and stunned soldiers in his wake.
Sanji ignited his Diable Jambe in a whirl of crimson sparks, rising on the balls of his feet. With a fiery roundhouse, he melted through a phalanx of Marines, scattering them like singed paper—and then crouched protectively over fleeing civilians, flames licking his heels.
Robin, eyes alight, whispered a soft incantation. From the rubble sprang two colossal arms of dark, flowering energy. They crushed enemy cannons as if they were brittle seashells, then reached back to hoist wounded fish-men to safety.
Franky transformed with a cacophony of hydraulics: his arms expanded into artillery barrels, his shoulders armored like a tank turret. He barreled through enemy lines, shielding the injured behind a rampart of steel.
High atop a broken coral spire, Luffy's scarred chest rose and fell in measured defiance. Haki shimmered like heat haze around his clenched fists. "You want a war?" he roared, voice carrying across the carnage. "I'll give you one!"
He launched himself into the maelstrom, his blackened fist colliding with Marine shields in a concussive boom. Soldiers reeled and crashed into submerged breakers, water churning red with seawater and blood. Still, the Marines advanced like the tide, and hope flickered thin.
A thunderous roar cut through the uproar as Vice Admiral Momonga strode into the plaza. Each step fractured coral beneath his boots. His anchor-blade swung free, humming with latent menace. Behind him, an entire company of Admirals formed a grim polygon of steel.
"Monkey D. Luffy," Momonga intoned through his megaphone, every word a hammer blow, "you are under arrest."
Luffy's grin split his face—equal parts daring and challenge. "You can try."
Then they collided: Momonga's colossal blade met the full force of Luffy's armored Haki. A shockwave blasted outward, toppling columns and sending shards of coral soaring skyward like deadly confetti. The ground heaved, trapping civilians beneath collapsed arches. Fire blossomed along the palace eaves, casting flickering shadows over the broken heroes.
And then—
The wind shifted abruptly, signaling a change on the horizon. A sudden gust tore through the plaza, unnatural, sharp, and carrying a biting chill that cut through layers of clothing. The atmosphere grew tense as the sky above the protective dome darkened ominously, casting deep shadows across the square. From the upper currents, a sleek, spectral ship descended like a phantom from a dream—its surface smooth and reflective, gliding silently without sails or the usual clatter of ropes and pulleys, announced only by the whispering wind. It was the Tenshū. The ship sliced through the water with a silent grace, like a blade through silk, and from its deck, figures emerged with an air of commanding presence that demanded attention.
At the bow stood Lila, her dark eyes glowing with a fierce inner light that seemed to illuminate her very soul. "You've made a mess," she remarked, her voice carrying an undeniable authority that echoed across the plaza.
Buzz stepped beside her, his arms a spectacle of flames that coiled and flickered like living serpents. "Let's clean it up," he replied, his tone brimming with fiery determination and an eagerness for the impending conflict. But they all know this place would be destroyed even more.
The crew descended upon the battlefield like a storm unleashed, each member wielding their unique powers with precision and deadly intent:
Lila extended her hands, and the air around her seemed to sharpen and howl. Invisible blades of wind slashed through the ranks of Marines, their uniforms tearing as flesh and sinew were severed in gruesome ribbons, leaving a grisly trail of blood and entrails on the ground.
Meanwhile, Buzz stood firm, his eyes narrowed with intensity. He thrust his arms downward, and the water beneath their foes erupted into a roiling cauldron. Steam hissed and billowed, rising in furious, scalding clouds that enveloped the Marines. Their skin blistered and peeled away, as if they were caught in the clutches of a boiling inferno, their screams echoing the fiery wrath of Buzz's unleashed power.
Gorren barreled through the front line, his towering stone fists plowing into the soldiers' shields with a thunderous impact that sent shards flying like splintered glass. Each swing left a wake of destruction, the sound of cracking metal echoing in the air. Nearby, Veyra cast her devil fruit with a focused intensity, her eyes glinting like frost in the sunlight. With a mere gesture, the ground beneath the Marines' feet transformed into a slick sheet of ice, freezing solid with a swift, crackling sound. The soldiers struggled in vain as the ice crawled up their legs, encasing them in a glacial prison that held them fast, their feet anchored as if rooted in iron.
Zin movements are fluid and precise. As he approached each adversary, his tonfa whirled through the air with deadly grace. With pinpoint accuracy, he targeted pressure points on their bodies, each strike as deliberate and exacting as a master surgeon's incision, leaving his foes crumpled and incapacitated on the ground.
However, Riven crouched atop a weathered rooftop, his eyes focused and unblinking. His sniper rifle was steady against his shoulder, and he carefully adjusted his aim with each breath. His bullets, glistening with a faint sheen of Haki, tore through the air with precision, finding their mark with lethal efficiency. Each shot rang out as a testament to his deadly skill and unerring aim, felling officers one by one from the shadows above.
Milo released a dense cloud of spice gas that twisted and churned through the air. The sharp, biting scent hit the enemy soldiers like a wall, causing their eyes to water and throats to burn. They stumbled around, blinking rapidly, trying to make sense of the blurring world around them.
Vexa wove through the chaos with a focused grace. She knelt beside injured comrades, her hands glowing faintly as she ran them over wounds, leaving behind smooth, healed skin. But when she encountered an enemy, her fingers brushed lightly against their skin, and a moment later, they dropped to the ground, writhing in silent agony, their muscles rendered useless by her touch.
Juno stood firm amidst the swirling chaos at the palace gates, her muscles taut and focused as she wielded her hammer with precision. Each strike of steel against the massive entryway of the fish kingdom reverberated through the air, sending sparks flying and reinforcing the barriers with an unbreakable resolve. Her armor haki infused the hammer with a formidable aura, allowing her to fend off advancing marines with swift, powerful blows. The clang of metal and the thud of bodies hitting the ground echoed around her, a testament to her unyielding strength and determination.
The Marines, overwhelmed by the onslaught, began to falter. Vice Admiral Momonga turned in disbelief, his eyes wide with astonishment and confusion. "Who the hell are—"
Lila landed before him, her cloak billowing dramatically in the fierce gale. "The storm you forgot to prepare for," she declared with steely resolve. She raised her hand decisively, her eyes locked on her target. "Tempest Cage."
A violent vortex of wind spiraled into existence, its currents sharp and relentless as they twisted around Momonga and his guards, trapping them in a turbulent cyclone of razor-like air. It was a fearsome sight, one that left them immobilized, struggling against the invisible chains of the tempest.
Luffy landed heavily beside the mysterious figure, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. "Who are you?" he asked, the flicker of intrigue lighting his eyes.
Lila stood with her back to him, her posture rigid and unyielding. "No one you need to thank," she replied, her voice clipped and distant.
Luffy's brows furrowed, his mind searching for recognition. "Wait… do I know you?" he questioned, his voice tinged with bewilderment.
She turned her head slightly, her words almost lost to the deafening roar of the storm. "You don't. And you won't," she said, her tone firm yet enigmatic.
The tempest continued its furious dance around them, its power unchallenged. In the distance, the Marines, realizing the futility of their efforts, began a hasty retreat. The island, for now, was safe, but the oppressive weight of impending conflict loomed large in the air, a silent promise of more battles yet to come.