Gern walked down the long corridor with Tesoro at his side.
Just as they reached the far end, a scene came into view — one so faintly ridiculous yet brimming with childlike innocence that it momentarily dissolved the tension lingering in the air.
Bored out of her mind, Lipo had apparently decided to turn Douglas Bullet into a human playground.
The towering mass of muscle stood utterly motionless, his broad back like a living mountain. Lipo scrambled up his shoulders using both hands and feet, then—
"Wheee—!"
She slid straight down the slope of his rock-solid back, landing lightly on the floor before immediately climbing up again to repeat the process.
Again.
And again.
Bullet's expression did not change in the slightest. He neither encouraged nor stopped her. He simply stood there, immovable as iron, allowing the absurd ritual to continue.
The sight was strangely discordant — yet oddly harmonious.
A faint, helpless smile curved across Gern's face. He shook his head slightly.
He raised a hand, about to call out to Lipo and Bullet, preparing to leave—
Then paused.
The raised hand slowly lowered.
His gaze shifted past the playing girl and the silent giant, landing instead on the shadowed corner of the corridor beyond them.
Someone was standing there.
A familiar dog-headed cap.
But beneath its brim, the usual bold grin and carefree confidence were gone.
In their place lingered a sorrow too heavy to conceal.
He stood motionless, his deep eyes fixed across the corridor — locked onto Gern.
It was Garp.
(Monkey D. Garp)
Their eyes met in silence.
No words.
The faint smile on Gern's face faded completely, replaced by his usual calm composure. He tilted his head slightly and gave Tesoro a look.
Tesoro understood immediately.
He inclined his head respectfully toward Garp.
"Vice Admiral Garp."
Then, without another word, he walked briskly toward Lipo and Bullet — clearly intending to escort them away and leave space for a private conversation.
Soon, the corridor fell quiet.
Only Gern and Garp remained — separated by a short distance, facing one another without speaking.
The silence was heavier than any shouted argument.
In Garp's eyes churned conflict, pain… and a faint trace of something almost like pleading.
Gern's gaze, by contrast, was calm as still water — so deep that no one could glimpse what truly stirred beneath its surface.
At last, as if exhausting every ounce of strength within him, Garp spoke.
"Gern…"
He hesitated.
"Come with me to see him."
A pause.
"Just… the two of us."
Gern fell silent.
Looking at Garp now, what could he possibly say?
Comfort? Promises?
He had given Ace a choice — because of a promise made long ago to Roger. He had even once entertained a bold idea: Luffy as a pirate, Ace as a Marine, Sabo as a revolutionary — a three-way balance across the seas.
But Ace was still Ace.
(Portgas D. Ace)(Gol D. Roger)(Monkey D. Luffy)(Sabo)
And Gern would never stoop to begging someone to join him.
Every step he took now was critical. There was no room for sentimental indulgence.
And if he were honest—
During that brief time he'd spent with Ace, he believed he had already taught him a lesson worth remembering.
In the end, Gern said nothing.
He stepped forward slowly until he stood before Garp, then lifted his hand and placed it firmly on the Marine hero's shoulder.
Garp felt the weight of that hand.
He met Gern's steady eyes.
The storm of emotions inside him condensed into a single, weary sigh.
Without another word, he turned and began walking.
Gern followed.
The two men left Marine Headquarters in silence, boarded a small specialized vessel, and sailed toward the colossal gate that symbolized absolute justice.
The ship followed a designated sea current, cutting toward the iron fortress known across the world as—
Impel Down.
(Impel Down)
Marine Headquarters lay not far from the prison. Through the special route of the Gate of Justice, it took barely two hours.
Soon, the massive structure loomed into view on the horizon.
...
When the small Marine vessel carrying Gern and Garp docked at Impel Down's port, they found the entrance already heavily fortified.
Having received strict orders from the World Government, the prison staff stood in rigid formation.
Warden Magellan.
Vice Warden Hannyabal.
Chief Guard Domino.
Behind them, ranks of fully armed jailers formed a human wall blocking the path.
(Magellan)(Hannyabal)(Domino)
Impel Down answered directly to the World Government. And the order from above had been unmistakable:
Before the public execution is formally announced, under no circumstances are the Marines permitted to transfer Portgas D. Ace. Especially forbidden are Garp and Gern from approaching him.
The reasons were obvious.
One was Ace's grandfather.
The other was the unpredictable "Heaven-Shaker" Gern — a man who had never cared for rules.
As Gern and Garp descended the gangplank one after the other, the invisible pressure they exuded made every jailer present feel their breathing tighten.
A Marine hero.
A Marine legend.
Magellan swallowed hard. Steeling himself, he stepped forward and raised a hand.
"Admiral Gern! Vice Admiral Garp! Halt."
Purple venom began to spread subtly around him as he prepared to carry out his duty.
"By the highest directive of the World Government, no one may approach the high-priority prisoner Portgas D. Ace until formal orders are issued!"
"Especially the two of you! Stop immediately, or—"
"Or what?"
Gern did not even glance at him.
His eyes swept calmly past Magellan toward the looming gates of Impel Down.
"If the two of us truly intended to do something here…"
His tone remained flat.
"Before your poison could even touch us…"
"This entire prison — including you — would already be at the bottom of the sea, Magellan."
It was not a threat.
It was a statement of fact.
The destructive force Gern and Garp could unleash together—
Against that, Impel Down's so-called impregnable walls were nothing more than a joke.
"!!!"
Magellan froze, hand still raised. Cold sweat broke out across his temples. His mouth opened, but no words came.
There was no anger in Gern's voice.
No bluster.
Only calm certainty.
And that certainty was far more terrifying than any roar.
Behind Magellan, Hannyabal gripped his trident tightly, body trembling. Domino adjusted her cap to hide the fear in her eyes.
The jailers stood as if petrified.
And they watched—
Watched as Gern and Garp walked forward without slowing, passing directly by Magellan, whose arm remained suspended midair in futile prohibition.
No one dared block them.
And no one could.