Marine Headquarters — Marineford Naval Harbor
A warship bearing the insignia of G-10 slowly pulled into port.
Its design stood in stark contrast to the standardized vessels of Headquarters — darker, heavier in structure, with an unmistakable aura of dominance. As the gangplank lowered, the entire harbor seemed to fall into a brief, instinctive hush.
Gern Reginald Sigmar stepped down first, Justice coat draped across his shoulders, his stride steady and unhurried.
To his left walked Tesoro, likewise clad in a Marine coat of justice.
To his right was Lipo, her head partially hidden beneath a Marine cap that pressed down over her ears.
And behind him—
Radiating pressure with every step—
Douglas Bullet.
The moment the Gern trio appeared, every gaze in the harbor locked onto them.
"Admiral Gern!"
"It's Admiral Gern!!"
Marines lining the dock, regardless of rank, snapped their backs straight and saluted with force, their voices edged with excitement.
Though it was rarely spelled out, Gern's prestige within the Marines had always been the highest. Among the four Admirals, he was the most renowned.
From the soldiers' perspective, this was the man who would nod gently to them… even smile.
But he was also "Heaven-Shaker" Gern.
The legend who personally captured the Pirate King, Gol D. Roger.
The man who carved out G-10 in the New World with his own hands.
The Calamity who stood alone against the Four Emperors.
His very existence symbolized the power and prestige of the Marines.
As Gern's group walked off under waves of fervent stares, another warship nearby finished docking. Two Vice Admirals stepped off.
"I was wondering what caused the sudden commotion," Onigumo muttered, exhaling a plume of smoke as he looked toward Gern's departing figure, tone layered with complexity.
"But seeing it like this… whether it's strength or prestige, Admiral Gern seems like the most obvious candidate for the next Fleet Admiral. The soldiers are practically all behind him."
"That's impossible."
Momousagi frowned reflexively, shaking her head with cool rationality.
"The Fleet Admiral position isn't decided by popularity alone.
Don't forget — Admiral Gern's foundation lies in G-10 in the New World.
Are we supposed to relocate Marine Headquarters there as well?
When he chose to permanently station himself at G-10 and carve it out independently, he distanced himself — voluntarily or otherwise — from the core of Headquarters' power."
She paused, lowering her voice.
"And besides… Admiral Gern doesn't seem particularly enthusiastic about absorbing officers from the traditional Headquarters system.
Look at the people closest to him — Tesoro, Bullet, even that girl Lipo. Which one of them is orthodox Marine stock?
That style of appointment… faces no small resistance inside Headquarters."
At the mention of "appointments," Onigumo seemed to recall something. He sighed, smoke swirling around him with a hint of regret.
"Speaking of that… Momousagi is unfortunate."
He gave a faint, wry smile.
"Back then, when everyone teased them, they got along so well.
When Fleet Admiral Kong officially reassigned Admiral Gern to the New World to establish G-10… if she had chosen to follow him at that time, maybe…"
Momousagi fell silent for a moment at the mention of her contemporary.
Finally, she let out a soft sigh.
"She wouldn't leave Vice Admiral Tsuru.
The bond between them… runs too deep."
"Some things," Onigumo muttered, "just aren't meant to be.
Or perhaps this, too, was the result of neither the Headquarters faction nor the Calamity faction being willing to compromise."
...
Fleet Admiral's Office
The door opened.
Gern entered alone, leaving Tesoro, Lipo, and Bullet outside to move freely.
Behind the massive desk sat Sengoku, fingers interlocked atop the polished wood, eyes fixed unblinkingly on the man who had just stepped inside. His expression was heavy.
"Hmm?" Gern clicked his tongue lightly, a habitual smile tugging at his lips, tone teasing as ever.
"An urgent summons from the Fleet Admiral — that's rare. What is it this time? Who do you want me to deal with?
I've already 'visited' Red-Hair.
Shall we move on to Kaido next? Or Big Mom? Just say the name."
"Sengoku," Gern began—
"Gern."
Sengoku cut him off directly.
His voice was steady. Stripped of pretense. Fatigue laid bare.
"Enough jokes. This time… I have no choice."
He inhaled deeply, then declared, word by word:
"A full-scale war is about to begin."
The smile on Gern's face gradually faded.
He walked to the sofa and sat down, leaning forward slightly.
"A public execution… at Marineford… of Whitebeard's most cherished son."
He shook his head slowly.
"That isn't a wise decision, Fleet Admiral."
"You're not a fool," Gern continued evenly. "You can see it.
The World Government is tossing you the hottest potato and expecting you to shoulder the full wrath of Whitebeard."
His gaze sharpened.
"Back then, those five old men put you in this seat because you were useful for balancing interests.
Now they think you're no longer 'useful' — or perhaps they've made other plans."
His eyes pierced straight through Sengoku's defenses.
"And if I'm not mistaken…
You called me here because you want me — and my 'Calamity' forces — to fully participate in this execution defense."
"Yes."
Sengoku did not hesitate.
He admitted it plainly.
"Impossible."
Gern's reply was just as decisive.
"If the Marines and Whitebeard enter full-scale war and I leave the New World, what happens to G-10?
Kaido. Big Mom. And Red-Hair Shanks — whom I humiliated not long ago.
Do you think they're men of principle?
Will they politely leave my rear base untouched?"
His voice hardened.
"G-10 already feels like a restraint to many great pirates in the New World.
Once word spreads that I've deployed to Headquarters for war, the probability of them forming a temporary alliance to strike G-10 is no less than eighty percent."
"You come," Sengoku began carefully, "and your Calamity members could—"
"Fleet Admiral Sengoku."
Gern cut him off again, his tone gaining weight.
"Please be clear-headed."
"I, Gern Reginald Sigmar, represent Marine order and strength in the New World.
And they are pirates.
In those waters, where the strong devour the weak, there is no such thing as honor.
Only naked deterrence through power.
As long as I stand there, I am a mountain they dare not cross."
He let out a cold laugh.
"If I'm not there?
Then G-10 becomes a massive, unguarded feast — irresistible.
Two, even three Emperors forming a temporary pact to carve up G-10's interests — you think that possibility is low?
Or do you believe they don't desperately want to rip out the nail I've driven into their sea?"
His words struck like frozen artillery shells, slamming into Sengoku's chest.
They exposed a brutal reality:
Gern and G-10 were no longer just another branch of Marine power.
They were deeply interwoven into the strategic chessboard of the Marines and the World Government.
Pulling Gern away by force could collapse the entire strategic balance of the New World — triggering a chain reaction of disasters even earlier, and far more uncontrollable, than the battlefield at Marineford itself.