"Justice must never yield to evil. No matter what happens, the Ancient Weapon can't fall into the hands of a villain!"
Akainu's eyes blazed with a chilling light, his voice sharp and forceful, conviction unshakable.
Aokiji froze for a second—then snapped, shouting, "Don't say something that stupid!"
"The stupid one here is you, Kuzan," Akainu shot back without hesitation, his tone icy and full of contempt.
At that moment, Vice Admirals Onigumo and Doberman stepped forward to stand beside Akainu, while behind Aokiji, Burning Mountain and Momonga moved up in support.
The tension was explosive. One spark—and the Navy's hawk and dove factions would come to blows.
The rivalry between the two factions was no secret at Headquarters. But until now, it had been confined to strategy meetings—heated arguments, clashing ideologies, but never actual combat.
Today, however, that line was about to be crossed.
What the hell are they doing?!
Sengoku's fury erupted. The crisis with the Golden Lion wasn't even under control yet, and now these two were about to tear each other apart?
In his towering golden Buddha form, Sengoku stormed toward the two admirals, his voice booming like thunder.
"What do you two think you're doing?!"
Aokiji was the first to speak. "Fleet Admiral Sengoku, Sakazuki wants to attack the Golden Lion!"
Akainu glared back coldly. "We cannot allow the Ancient Weapon to fall into a pirate's hands!"
Hearing that, Sengoku felt a splitting headache coming on.
Neither of them was wrong.
If the Ancient Weapon Pluton truly existed and fell into the Golden Lion's grasp, the world would face an unimaginable catastrophe.
But Aokiji's reasoning was also sound—if they provoked the Golden Lion now, he would destroy Water 7 in retaliation. The city housed hundreds of thousands; it would be a massacre.
To hand over the blueprints and save Water 7?
Or refuse and risk its annihilation?
That wasn't a question for Sengoku, or even for Fleet Admiral Kong. It was a decision only the World Government could make.
Sengoku's face hardened. "Your only job is to maintain the blockade around the area. That's an order."
He had hoped to use his authority as Fleet Admiral to suppress Akainu's defiance.
But Akainu didn't back down this time. "There are only seven minutes left."
"That's an order, Sakazuki!" Sengoku barked, his golden form trembling with anger.
Akainu met his gaze, then glanced briefly at Aokiji before forcing down his fury.
"If anyone in Water 7 even tries to hand over the Pluton blueprints," he said coldly, "I'll wipe the entire city off the map—along with everyone in it."
"You try it, and see what happens."
A voice like a growl cut through the air from behind him.
Garp.
The look in his eyes was terrifying—bloodshot, veins bulging across his forehead, fury radiating from him like a storm. He was no longer the easygoing old man everyone knew, but a demon in the flesh.
No one had ever seen Garp like this before.
He strode straight up to Akainu, grabbed him by the collar with one hand, and snarled,
"We are Marines. Our duty is to uphold justice—not to slaughter innocents while hiding behind that word! If I ever hear you spew that kind of madness again—"
His voice dropped into a deadly growl.
"—I'll kill you myself."
"Sakazuki… enough."
"Don't push it, Vice Admiral Garp's serious."
Onigumo and Doberman rushed forward, trying to calm Akainu down. Both were pale, shaken to the core by Garp's killing intent.
After all—Garp wasn't just any officer.
He was the Hero of the Marines—the living symbol of their justice.
Though he held only the rank of vice admiral, Garp stood as one of the Navy's greatest powers—the man who had once driven the Pirate King, Gol D. Roger, to the brink of capture countless times. His reputation alone commanded awe; even Fleet Admiral Kong himself had to show him respect.
"No one will shake my faith in absolute justice—not even you, Vice Admiral Garp."
Akainu's voice was cold as steel, unwavering. Not a hint of fear or hesitation showed in his eyes. The tension between the two reached its breaking point.
"You little bastard…" Garp was already furious, and Akainu's defiance was like oil on fire.
"Hold Garp back!"
Sengoku barked the order, and Tsuru, Zephyr, and Aokiji all rushed to restrain the enraged Garp before things turned bloody.
Meanwhile, high above, the Golden Lion watched the scene unfold from his floating island, lips curling in amusement.
"The Navy… fighting among themselves in public? How pathetic," he sneered, his laughter echoing across the sky.
—
Down below, Water 7 had descended into chaos.
The entire city knew that they stood on the brink of annihilation.
Citizens, merchants, shipwrights—everyone was desperate to flee. But they also knew the Golden Lion's warning: if even one person ran, the entire city would be destroyed.
Panic and despair spread like wildfire.
"Master Tom, please! Hand over the blueprints for Pluton!"
"We don't want to die! Master Tom, I'm begging you—give them to the Golden Lion!"
"Enough talking! Search the place! The blueprints have to be in here somewhere!"
"Yes! They must be inside—search every corner!"
Terrified shipwrights and citizens surrounded the workshop of Tom the Fishman, the legendary shipbuilder, desperate to break in and seize the supposed blueprints to save their own lives.
"Everyone, calm down!"
Iceburg struggled to hold the mob back, but the terrified crowd surged forward, smashing through the doors with sheer force.
Driven by fear, the citizens stormed inside, overturning furniture, ripping up floorboards, rummaging through everything in sight.
And then—
BANG!
A gunshot cracked through the air.
A group of men in black suits and sunglasses stepped out from the alley, each armed with submachine guns and faces cold as stone.
Behind them strolled a young man in a gaudy shirt, his face twisted with arrogance and sleaze—
Spandam, commander of CP5, and son of CP9's notorious chief, Spandine.
He snorted with disdain. "Anyone who doesn't want to die—get the hell out of my way. Don't interfere with our operation."
"Who the hell are you?"
"It's you who should get out of here!"
But reason had already fled the crowd. Fear and desperation had taken over, and emboldened by their numbers, they shouted back without thinking.
BANG!
Another gunshot.
Spandam didn't hesitate—he pulled the trigger and dropped a middle-aged man where he stood.
"AAAH!"
The man's wife, standing right behind him, screamed as his blood splattered across her face.
Spandam's tone was ice-cold, his voice carrying across the stunned crowd.
"I am an agent of the World Government. You are all suspected collaborators of the Golden Lion—conspiring to commit terrorism and treason. By the authority of the World Government, I hereby execute justice."
He raised his hand.
"Fire."
The CP5 agents opened fire in unison.
The roar of submachine guns drowned out the screams. Bullets tore through the crowd like a scythe through wheat.
Within seconds, the square was littered with bodies—men, women, and children alike—cut down in a merciless storm of lead.
The stench of blood filled the air.
And fear—cold, suffocating, absolute—ruled over Water 7.
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