Chapter 467: You Two, Fight It Out
The Holy Land, Mary Geoise
Atop the cloud-shrouded Red Line, the golden domes reflected the brilliance of the high heavens. The palaces of the Celestial Dragons hovered above the clouds.
At this moment, deep within the sanctuary in the "Room of Authority," the Five Elders sat at the five corners of the rectangular table.
The air was thick with cigar smoke and a chilling aura. The candlelight flickered slightly, illuminating those faces that had weathered the changing of eras yet remained unshaken.
Spread across the table was a stack of the latest classified documents. The photographs on top were illuminated in a shocking light—
Two charred corpses blackened by lightning, and a severely burned CP0 agent, wrapped entirely in bandages and currently undergoing emergency treatment.
The silence lasted for only three seconds.
"This is too presumptuous!!!"
"BANG—!!!"
Saint Ethanbaron V. Nusjuro slammed his hand furiously onto the table. The gold-rimmed teacup cracked from the vibration, shards scattering across the floor. Boiling tea snaked along the edge of the documents, dripping onto the photograph of the lightning-scorched corpse and emitting a barely audible sizzle.
He was livid, his voice echoing under the dome: "They have completely lost all fear of our majesty!!!"
"Even CP0, our most loyal eyes and blades—they actually dared to lay hands on them!"
"This is no longer rebellion; this is a naked provocation!"
Saint Shepherd Ju Peter slowly raised his head, the gaze beneath his blonde brow-shadow as cold as a blade of ice.
"Punk Hazard..."
"A few days ago, violent energy fluctuations were detected in those waters. Yet the dispatched CP recon squad was unable to gather any intelligence. Vegapunk..."
He paused, his eyes turning gloomy and cold. "He is also problematic."
Saint Topman Warcury's walking stick slammed heavily, the dull metallic sound echoing off the floor.
"The Marines—" he roared in a low voice, "have completely slipped from our control!"
"Sakazuki, Roy... that pack of 'wild dogs' have now become wolves biting their masters!"
He stood up abruptly, his cape billowing, his angry voice booming: "And with the annihilation of the pirates, the old order is collapsing!"
"Among those 'nations,' there are actually people who dare to refuse paying the Heavenly Tribute?!"
He gripped his walking stick tightly with both hands, his fury practically igniting the air.
"By what right do those ants—refuse the charity of the Gods?!"
His words exploded in the hall, echoing between the golden walls and reliefs. Saint Marcus Mars slowly raised his hand to halt the roaring. His voice was hoarse, yet steady and powerful:
"We must take action."
His gaze swept over the photos on the table as he enunciated every word:
"Over these past two years, although Roy has not taken direct action, the forces under his command have moved frequently, practically reshaping the entire Marine structure in the shadows."
At this, the four of them turned their heads almost simultaneously, their gazes landing on the final person at the end of the long table.
—Warrior God of Science and Defense, Saint Figarland Garling.
He still wore his sunglasses, hands folded, sitting quietly.
The candlelight reflected a cold glint off his lenses. His eyes couldn't be seen, but one could feel that oppressive pressure that seemed to pierce through the human heart.
A moment later, he slightly raised his head.
"I understand."
A vicious glint flashed in the pupils behind the sunglasses. "Since they have chosen to break away from the order of the Gods—"
"Then let them witness the 'Wrath of the Gods' once again."
Wind poured in from the high windows.
The candlelight flickered, casting five overlapping shadows that intertwined over the world map in the center of the round table—like five fingers, firmly gripping the entire ocean in the palm of their hand.
And this palm—
was slowly tightening.
Mary Geoise · God's Knights
Light pierced through the heavy glazed dome, casting onto the platinum-paved floor and making the entire grand hall look solemn and chilling.
—Headquarters of the God's Knights.
This was an area within the Holy Land where even ordinary Celestial Dragons dared not casually set foot. They held the authority to judge Celestial Dragons and were known as the "Blades of the Gods."
Shamrock sat on the long steps, sunlight falling on half his body, illuminating his cold, sharp face.
He was quietly polishing the longsword at his waist. The blade gleamed in the golden light, its edge reflecting his slightly narrowed eyes—
Cold, focused, yet unable to conceal a trace of restlessness.
Footsteps echoed from the end of the corridor.
Shamrock frowned slightly. His hands didn't stop moving; he merely raised his eyes and spoke flatly:
"What, something the matter?"
The tone was plain, but hidden within that indifference was an un-dissipated resentment.
The newcomer stopped behind him.
Red hair fluttered gently in the wind. Sunlight spilled through the high windows, illuminating that deep crimson hair—like blood, yet also like the setting sun.
—Current Commander of the God's Knights, Saint Shanks.
He quietly observed his older brother before him. The light in his eyes was too complex to describe.
It wasn't anger, nor was it hatred; it was more like an unavoidable helplessness.
He stood beside Shamrock, silent for a few seconds before speaking in a low voice:
"That matter,"
His tone was deep, carrying a rare seriousness and a trace of suppressed emotion.
"I hope you—do not do it."
Shamrock's hand paused for a fraction of a second.
The edge of the sword chimed softly in the air. The sound was crisp, yet as cold as shattering glass.
He slowly raised his head, the corners of his mouth pulling into a half-smile, his amusement freezing cold.
"Saint Shanks," he said coldly. "Since when did you have the right to meddle with the arrangements of the Five Elders?"
"Or are you saying you intend to defy even the will of the Gods?"
In that moment, the air seemed to freeze.
Shanks's expression remained unchanged. He simply stared quietly at the other man.
Marine Headquarters · Marineford
The afterglow of the setting sun spilled over the port of Marine Headquarters.
The giant warship slowly docked, its flags snapping fiercely in the wind.
Sakazuki stood at the bow of the deck, his cape whipped up by the wind. Enel leaned lazily against the railing, chewing on some fruit while humming a little tune.
"Tsk—taking a boat back is such a hassle~"
Sakazuki shot him a glance: "Stop your yapping. Come to the meeting with me."
The warship slowly entered the port. The soldiers on the pier lined up and saluted, banners held high.
They stepped onto the main bridge and headed straight for the Marine Headquarters conference hall.
—The heavy doors were pushed open.
Inside the conference room, the lighting was soft yet solemn.
At the center of the long table, Sengoku sat in the seat of honor, his white hair neat, his face composed.
On the left—Tsuru, Borsalino, Gion, Tokikake, and others took their seats in order.
On the right—were Garp, Zephyr, Kuzan, Roy, and other Marine higher-ups.
When Sakazuki and Enel pushed the doors open and entered, everyone gave a slight nod in greeting.
Sakazuki's expression remained as usual. He gave a slight nod in return, then took a seat next to Tsuru.
Enel didn't have an official seat; he simply leaned casually against the wall at the back of the conference room.
Sengoku tapped the table lightly. That single thud was like a heavy bell, instantly snapping everyone out of their thoughts.
He swept his gaze across the room, his expression exceptionally serious.
"Everyone, the main agenda for convening this high-level military meeting today—"
He paused, his tone deep and powerful: "Is the selection of the Marine Fleet Admiral."
The room went completely silent. People exchanged glances. Garp's motion of biting into a rice cracker halted, while Kizaru and Roy merely exchanged a smile.
Sengoku continued: "The successor for the Fleet Admiral will be chosen—between Sakazuki and Kuzan."
A few low gasps echoed in the conference room.
Sengoku's gaze swept back and forth among the crowd, seemingly suppressing something. Suddenly, the corner of his mouth twitched, and he smiled.
That smile made everyone instinctively shiver.
"I'm old, and I can't be bothered to overthink this. So, I've made a decision."
"We'll just go with Roy's suggestion."
"Eh???"
Roy froze, nearly jumping out of his chair.
"Hey, hey, hey! Fleet Admiral, we agreed not to bring me into this—!!"
Sengoku pretended not to hear him. He cleared his throat and continued to announce in a completely serious tone:
"Sakazuki, Kuzan—"
"You two~"
"Fight it out~"
The air instantly solidified.
The conference room was dead silent. In the next second—
"Pfft—" Garp spat out a mouthful of rice cracker crumbs.
Zephyr forcefully slapped the table, Kizaru nearly burst out laughing, and Gion was so startled her teacup trembled.
Even the usually stern Tsuru uncharacteristically facepalmed.
"NANI?!!"
Numerous mid-level Marines exclaimed in shock.
♧♧♧
-> 30 Advanced chapters Now Available on Patreon!!
-> https://www.patreon.com/c/Segais
(Just remove the hyphen to access patreon normally)
If you like this novel please consider leaving a review that's help the story a lot Thank you