"Whoooosh—"
The world... had changed.
It wasn't a slow shift.
It was like a dam breaking!
The will of the people, that single, tiny spark that Mike's broadcast had so carefully ignited, had found a global ocean of dry tinder.
And now, it roared.
"BOOM—!"
Deafening explosions erupted, one after another, from every corner of the world.
In kingdoms allied with the World Government, in towns groaning under the heel of a local tyrant, in ports forced to pay exorbitant "heavenly tributes."
This was the death knell of the old era.
Thick, black smoke billowed into the air, obscuring the skies, choking the sun.
But it couldn't obscure the fierce, dangerous glimmer of hope in people's eyes.
The old social order wasn't just crumbling; it was being torn apart with bare hands.
The sounds were a messy, terrifying, and beautiful symphony.
The desperate cries of nobles trapped in their burning mansions.
The thundering crash of a crowd using a battering ram on a city gate.
The agonizing screams of guards who chose the wrong side.
And weaving through it all, the thunderous cheers, the defiant shouts, and the raw, unbridled songs of people tasting freedom for the first time.
All across the world, countless towns, villages, and islands were living this exact same moment.
Those who had once suffered in quiet misery, oppressed by the powerful, exploited by the wealthy, and trampled on by the Celestial Dragons—they had finally awakened.
They were no longer silent. They were no longer enduring. They were no longer afraid.
They had erupted.
They had begun to resist.
Protests. Demonstrations. Strikes. Riots. Full-blown armed uprisings.
Every possible form of resistance spread like a wildfire, engulfing every corner of the globe faster than any ship could sail.
This... this sudden, violent, and total upheaval actually caught the New Marine off guard.
They were still mobilizing their fleets, preparing to launch their grand, systematic "liberation."
They were, in a word, too slow.
"This... this is just..."
A New Marine Rear Admiral stood on the deck of his cruiser, binoculars pressed to his eyes.
He stared at the port town they were assigned to "assist."
The town's main luxury villa, home to the World Government-appointed governor, was already a raging inferno.
He lowered the binoculars, his jaw hanging open.
"We haven't... we haven't even made a move yet. The people... they already overthrew the regime?"
A younger commander next to him grinned with a manic glint in his eye.
"Hey, doesn't that just prove what we're doing is right, sir?"
He pointed. "Look at them! They're outraged! And... holy crap, look! The local garrison! Those soldiers just turned their guns around and are helping the citizens storm the armory!"
"It really is... a new age..." the Rear Admiral whispered, a shiver running down his spine.
"Sir! What are you standing around for?" the commander yelled, slapping the railing.
"They're doing our job for us! Let's get down there and help! Hurry up and secure the port! Let's get that old, ugly World Government flag down and show them what a real flag looks like!"
"Right! All units, advance! Let the light of the sun illuminate the entire sea!!!"
With the people already in full-blown revolt and the New Marine forces now pouring in to "assist," the old world didn't stand a chance.
One town after another was liberated.
One kingdom after another was toppled. One island after another was seized.
The flag of the New Marine—that new symbol of freedom, hope, and prosperity—was planted in every corner of the world.
The will of liberation, like a cleansing spring breeze, swept across the sea that had endured 800 years of suffering.
...
And while the seas were undergoing this earth-shattering, revolutionary change...
"..."
The Holy Land. Mary Geoise.
Inside Pangea Castle, within the Chamber of Authority.
The atmosphere was so tense, so heavy, it was suffocating.
Five elderly men sat around a massive circular table.
The room was opulent, built from the wealth of a thousand nations, but now it felt like a tomb.
Their expressions, usually so calm and dismissive, grew increasingly grim, twisted with a rage they hadn't felt in centuries.
The only sound in the room was the still-broadcasting Den Den Mushi, playing the faint, distant sounds of cheering crowds from around the world.
Crack—!
A sharp, violent sound shattered the deathly silence.
Saint Jaygarcia Saturn's thick, ebony cane snapped in two as he slammed it against the priceless marble floor.
"Damn it all—!"
His furious roar, more beast than man, echoed through the chamber.
"These... these foolish, filthy... LOWLIFES!"
His bushy white beard trembled, not with age, but with a barely contained, apocalyptic rage.
The Five Elders had witnessed the entire spectacle.
They had watched the New Marine's grand, insulting debut.
They watched them parade their new power—the former Marine forces, the Admirals, Garp... and even absorbed legendary pirates into their ranks.
This lineup... this alliance of monsters... it was so formidable that even they, the men who had secretly ruled the seas for 800 years, felt a cold chill run down their spines.
They watched as Kaido's fleet was swallowed by waves.
They watched as legendary pirates were burned in magma.
They watched, in horror, as their allied kings—Cobra, Riku, Neptune—one by one, sang the praises of Mike and the New Marine... and publicly declared their secession from the World Government.
And then, the worst part: they watched as the oppressed, common people of the world rose up, shaking the very foundations of their 800-year rule.
All of it mercilessly, brutally, declared one undeniable truth: Under their governance, the seas had completely, and utterly, slipped from their control.
"Lowlifes! Filthy, ungrateful lowlifes!" Saint Shepherd Ju Peter slammed his fist on the table, leaving a deep, spider-webbing crater in the expensive mahogany.
"Those Insects! Insects who wouldn't even dare look us in the eye before! And now... now they dare to stand against us?!"
"Who gave them the audacity?! Who?!" Saint Marcus Mars seethed, his face beet-red.
"This... this is the end of the Tributes! The entire system! They're burning our Tributes, the fools!"
"Execute them!" Shepherd roared. "Execute them ALL! Every last one! Hang their heads from the walls of their own countries! We will let those vermin see what happens when they challenge the Celestial Dragons!"
"The New Marine..." Saint Topman's voice was a low hiss, squeezed through clenched teeth. Each word dripped with an icy, bottomless killing intent.
"And that boy... Mike..." The birthmark on his forehead grew a shade darker, crimson with fury.
"Suppress them," Mars said, his eyes glinting with a cold, predatory light.
"We must suppress them, and we must do it now. Otherwise... the seas will spiral completely out of our control."
"While Imu-sama still slumbers," Saturn growled, "we must crush this rebellion. Immediately."
"That comes later..."
A new voice cut through the rage.
Calm. Cold. Deadly.
Saint Ethanbaron V. Nusjuro.
His grip tightened around the hilt of his cursed blade, the Shodai Kitetsu.
Veins bulged across his whitened knuckles.
Though he was just as enraged, as the strongest pure combatant among the Five Elders, he was struggling to maintain his composure.
The others were reacting to the past. He was focused on the present.
He pointed a single, steady finger at the Den Den Mushi's screen.
The broadcast had finally changed back to the live feed from Marineford.
The New Marine's massive fleet.
It was... moving. And it was growing clearer.
They were advancing. Steadily. Unstoppably.
And their destination was unmistakable. They were sailing for the Red Line.
They were coming here.
Their dark cannon muzzles, hundreds of them, stared coldly at the city symbolizing the world's supreme authority.
They looked like the eyes of death itself.
"Contact CP0. Contact the God's Knights," Saint Nusjuro's voice was low, firm, and absolute. "Tell them to prepare for a defensive battle."
"The dignity of the Celestial Dragons... will not be challenged."
"The rule of the World Government... will not be shaken."
"Though the New Marine's forces are troublesome... never forget..."
He paused, his eyes sweeping over his four companions.
"We have all received the 'blessing' of Imu-sama. We have been made immortal. We are indestructible!"
"Hold. Nothing. Back!"
"Then..." Saint Saturn spoke, his voice dropping to a low, somber, inhuman growl.
Before his words even faded, a surge of inky black mist erupted from his body.
It was alive, churning and roiling, rapidly filling the entire Chamber of Authority.
Within the black fog, arcs of black lightning, just like Kaido's, darted like angry serpents, crackling with an ominous, otherworldly power.
"Prepare yourselves," Saturn whispered, yet his voice echoed in their minds like a demon's murmur.
"Crack—CRACK—CRACK—"
A spine-chilling sound of grinding bones, wet tearing, and dry cracking erupted from all five of them.
Saturn's body began to twist and contort, expanding and stretching at horrifying angles.
His fine, expensive clothes tore apart, ripped to shreds as his form changed.
In an instant, a terrifying monstrosity stood where he was.
Its lower half was a colossal, bristling spider.
Its head, a grotesque, horned bull.
Eight thick, spear-like spider legs glinted with a cold, deadly light.
On the bull's head, two massive, curved horns crackled with black electricity.
The Onigumo!
"Kekeke... KEEKEKEKE!" Saint Mars let out a shrill, eerie laugh, like the screech of a gargantuan night owl.
He spread his arms, and with a sound like tearing canvas, a pair of enormous bird wings unfurled from his back, blotting out the light.
His head became grotesque and terrifying, a massive beak opening to reveal rows of razor-sharp teeth.
But his body writhed and coiled like a serpent, exuding both agility and raw, ancient power.
The Itsumade!
"BOOM—"
Saint Peter's body ballooned rapidly, his spine snapping and reforming.
In the blink of an eye, he transformed into a gargantuan insect, a worm of horrific size.
Its skin was hard as iron, gleaming with a dark metallic sheen, covered in sharp barbs.
Its massive, gaping mandibles opened and closed, a meat grinder ready to devour the world.
The Sand Worm!
"Snort... GRR-RR-RUNT..." Saint Topman let out heavy, labored breaths as his body exploded outward.
He morphed into a colossal warthog, four massive tusks jutting from his mouth like curved blades.
His body was covered in dark, foreboding spots, radiating a savage, brutal strength that sent chills down the spine.
The Hoki!
"NEIGH—!" Saint Nusjuro let out a piercing, unholy whinny, like the roar of a skeletal warhorse.
His lower body instantly transformed, flesh melting away to reveal a skeletal horse's frame, its four thick-boned legs shimmering with an eerie, freezing white glow.
His upper body, horrifyingly, retained its human form, but now crackled with icy energy.
The demonic blade, Shodai Kitetsu, in his hand, began to emit an eerie, blood-hungry glow.
The Bakotsu!
All five of them, now fully transformed, were wreathed in the same black flame clouds as Kaido, burning fiercely like infernal fires from hell.
The sheer pressure of their aura cracked the very walls of the castle.
Their five voices, now demonic, layered, and monstrous, spoke as one.
"Today..."
"Let us make Mary Geoise..."
"...The New Marine's GRAVE!"
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