"Rosinante..."
When Tsuru saw the name written in the report, she immediately understood.
Why Sengoku's emotions had spiraled out of control...
Rosinante.
Former Navy Headquarters Commander, Marine ID 01746.
That name and number were etched into Sengoku's heart like the deepest scar, both his softest spot and his most unbearable wound.
He wasn't just a subordinate. Rosinante had been the orphan Sengoku personally raised as his own, the child he placed all his hopes on for the future.
Within the Navy, Sengoku's code name was "Grand Rice Cracker." Rosinante's was "Little Rice Puff."
Those seemingly silly names carried a bond beyond master and disciple, beyond superior and subordinate. They carried the depth of a father and son.
Tsuru inhaled sharply, steadying her heart. She had hunted Doflamingo for half a lifetime. No one knew better than she the cunning mind of the Heavenly Yaksha.
Doflamingo was proud, ruthless, but never careless. Every move was deliberate. Planting an undercover agent in the Navy, letting him rise step by step to high command?
That kind of audacity, that foresight it had Doflamingo's signature all over it.
In an instant, Tsuru's doubts evaporated. She already believed most of the intelligence report.
And the fact that it had been delivered by Renn Hawk sealed it. Hawk was thorough, steady, and precise. If he said Virgo was the traitor, then it was almost certainly true.
"Fetch me Virgo's full service record," Tsuru ordered as she left the office, her tone sharp. "Every report, every financial transfer, every communication log. Everything. Use my clearance."
"Yes, ma'am!"
The soldier saluted and ran off at full speed.
Before long, the clatter of boots echoed back. He returned, staggering under the weight of a stack of files nearly half his own height. With a grunt, he dropped them onto Sengoku's desk.
Sengoku and Tsuru immediately began combing through the evidence.
No matter how careful a man might be, no matter how perfectly he thought he had hidden his tracks, traces always remained.
Virgo had been cautious, yes, but he could not outwit the Navy's two greatest strategists.
"Found it," Tsuru murmured, tapping a page.
"After being promoted to Vice Admiral, Virgo frequently requested leave, citing the need to care for a sick younger sister back home."
Her eyes hardened.
"But he has no sister. That family never existed."
Sengoku leaned in, his face darkening.
"And more damning still at the time Rosinante was killed, Virgo was listed on the Minion Island mission roster. He broke away from the main unit that day."
Silence.
The truth was no longer avoidable.
Sengoku's eyes burned into the file, yet all he could see was Rosinante's smiling face clumsy, awkward Rosinante, who always tripped over his own feet when nervous, who sometimes lit his own hair on fire when trying to smoke.
The son he had loved.
The son murdered under his very nose.
By a man wearing the Navy's uniform, basking in the Navy's honor, climbing all the way to Vice Admiral while hiding a dagger behind his back.
"Crack "
The armrest of Sengoku's chair snapped in his grip.
He rose slowly. He did not shout. He did not rage. His voice, when he spoke, was calm and terrifyingly steady.
He drew out a Den Den Mushi and dialed.
"Akainu."
Sakazuki's gravelly voice answered, "Yes, Fleet Admiral?"
"Return to Headquarters immediately. Until I'm back, Marineford is yours to guard."
Before Akainu could reply, Sengoku snapped the line shut.
"I'm going as well," Tsuru said, standing at his side. Her face, lined with age, carried only steel and gravity.
Within hours, a massive battleship the very symbol of Marine top power was being hastily outfitted at the docks.
Soldiers scrambled, confused and awed. They did not know what had happened, nor what was about to happen.
They only knew this: when the Fleet Admiral himself and the Grand Strategist Tsuru sailed together, it meant history was about to shift.
The horns blared as the colossal ship tore free of the port, waves foaming under its weight.
"Destination!" Sengoku's voice thundered across the deck.
"The New World. G-5 Branch."
His fists clenched at his sides.
"This Fleet Admiral will personally execute Virgo!"
Meanwhile, far from the seat of power, the lawless town of Mock Town lay steeped in vice.
On the surface of the Grand Line, it was infamous, a haven for pirates and criminals.
The night was alive with chaos.
Inside a seedy tavern, two drunken pirates brawled over a dancer. A bottle shattered across a man's skull, spraying blood and glass. The crowd roared with laughter, whistling and shouting bets.
"I've got money on Bottle Boy!"
"Idiot, One-Eye's fists are like iron!"
"Go for the jewels!"
"Stick him in the ass!"
The tavern owner polished glasses, unmoved. This was Mock Town. This was every night.
In the streets, a thief gutted a man in broad daylight for daring to chase him. Blood pooled across the cobbles, and no one blinked.
In this cesspool, survival belonged to the cruel. Violence was the law, and sin thrived unchecked.
But beyond the shore, steel and fire were waiting.
The G-3 branch fleet emerged from the fog like a beast of iron. Dozens of warships loomed, their cannons poised.
On the flagship's deck, Renn Hawk lowered his binoculars, the bitter stench of corruption heavy on the sea breeze.
Behind him stood Dane, Smoker, Tashigi, Zoro, Sanji, and the entire command of G-3.
Thousands of Marines waited, armed and ready, in rigid silence.
Hawk exhaled smoke and raised his hand.
Then he cut it down.
"Open fire."
The words were simple, merciless.
"BOOM!"
The heavens answered.
Hundreds of cannons roared. Black iron shells streaked through the night like falling stars, fiery tails cutting across the sky.
Death rained down upon Mock Town.
The first shell struck the central square, obliterating it in a geyser of fire. The shockwave flattened buildings and bodies alike.
The second fell, then the third, then a storm of iron and flame.
The tavern where pirates had cheered turned into an inferno, bodies reduced to charred husks in an instant.
Screams rose, but they were swallowed by the symphony of explosions.
Flames devoured the streets. Smoke shrouded the sky. The so-called paradise of pirates had become a blazing hell.
Renn Hawk watched, silent, as the town burned. He tapped his cigar, ash scattering to the wind.
"A lawless land?" he muttered, his voice low.
"In my presence, there is no lawlessness. Only a graveyard."
Behind him, the deck was silent.
Dane's face showed no reaction. He had long accepted this brand of justice, scarred by vengeance and hardened by blood.
Zoro gripped Wado Ichimonji, his eyes burning with battle-lust.
Sanji lit a cigarette, his smoke drifting into the acrid haze.
Tashigi's lips parted in shock.
Smoker's jaw clenched, eyes narrowing as realization struck.
This was no bluff.
This was Renn Hawk's creed made manifest.
"Slaughter Justice."
And tonight, Mock Town was his declaration to the world.
As the last salvo fell and fire consumed the ruins, Hawk flicked his cigar into the sea.
He turned, his gaze sweeping across the ranks of waiting Marines.
"Landfall."
His voice cut through the silence like a blade.
"Not a single pirate leaves alive."
—————————————————————————————————————————————————
Already drawn into the tides of this story? Share what pulled you in your words and reviews keep the fire burning. And every 300 Power Stones will unlock a bonus chapter, pushing the voyage forward even faster!
Renn Hawk's journey is only beginning, and the evolution of justice is far from over. Stay with Unbound Evolution and keep sailing ahead of the horizon!
[email protected]/_tey
Change @ to a.