The projection screen didn't show the expected roaring explosions or flashy Devil Fruit powers.
The footage shook violently, the person filming clearly unsteady.
The frame only showed a vast expanse of sea and a solitary, towering rocky island.
A split second later, a black line flashed.
Zero wind-up, zero flashy movements—just an ordinary-looking slash.
The upper half of the reef island, large enough to house a small town, slid diagonally away, the cut surface smooth as a polished mirror.
Only then did the delayed roar hit.
Even through the rough audio equipment, the sound rattled the windows of the conference room.
The footage ended there.
The whirring of the projector fan sounded especially grating in the dead silence of the room.
"A simple... slash?"
The scar on Vice Admiral Doberman's face twitched as he abruptly turned to Sengoku, his tone ringing with absurdity.
"Fleet Admiral, many of the giant Vice Admirals could achieve this level of destructive power. Can raw strength alone make someone a candidate for Admiral? Then wouldn't every giant from Elbaf be an Admiral? This is practically a joke!"
"Indeed."
Kizaru leisurely clipped a fingernail, blew the debris from his fingertip, and chimed in with a tilted smile.
"Strength is a good thing, but in the New World, relying solely on strength will get you killed. Without mastery of Haki or Devil Fruit powers, brute force like that just makes you slightly more advanced cannon fodder. Fleet Admiral Sengoku, could you have been influenced by Vice Admiral Garp's personal bias?"
The atmosphere in the conference room shifted instantly toward heavy skepticism.
Everyone present was a powerhouse who had clawed their way out of mountains of corpses and seas of blood.
They acknowledged the astonishing destructive power in the footage, but it fell far short of representing the Marines' highest honor—the rank of Admiral.
Many officers nodded in agreement, and the murmuring grew louder, mostly expressing dissatisfaction.
Elevating a rookie from the East Blue to such a position wasn't just against protocol, it felt like a direct insult to the veterans who had fought for decades.
"Only brute strength?"
Sengoku looked at the sea of skeptical faces, the eyes behind his glasses turning colder.
He didn't argue.
Instead, he pulled a few thin sheets of paper from a file and flung them onto the center of the round table like playing cards.
The papers slid across the smooth wood, stopping precisely in front of the Vice Admirals who had voiced the strongest opposition.
"Treasure Hunter Mad Tredy, bounty 60 million Beli, under World Government surveillance for holding clues to Pure Gold. Cause of death: bisected by a single slash."
"Arlong, leader of the Arlong Pirates, former officer of the Sun Pirates, physical strength ten times that of a human. Cause of death: cervical spine crushed by sheer grip strength."
With each name Sengoku read aloud, he tapped his finger on the table, the rhythm heavy and deliberate.
"If these small fry from the East Blue aren't enough to prove the point..."
Sengoku's gaze swept past the others, landing directly on Onigumo, who sat silently in the corner with a deep frown.
"Onigumo, last month you went to Foosha Village in the East Blue on a confidential escort mission. In your report, you only wrote one line: Warship damaged."
Sengoku's voice rose, carrying an undeniable authority. "Now, at this table, in front of all your colleagues, tell them—how exactly was your warship damaged? And how was your proud Eight-Sword Style broken?"
Whoosh—
All eyes instantly locked onto Onigumo.
Akainu, who had been staring at the documents, abruptly looked up.
From beneath the shadow of his cap, two icy glares fixed firmly on Onigumo's face.
Onigumo's teeth clenched around his cigar with a sharp crunch, biting it clean in half.
The severed stub fell onto his ash-stained uniform.
His face, usually etched with malice and severity, flushed a deep purplish-red. Veins throbbed visibly on his neck.
"I..."
Onigumo opened his mouth, his voice dry and strained.
He glanced around the room, taking in Doberman's stunned expression, Kizaru's mocking smirk, and Akainu's heavy scrutiny.
As a hardline Vice Admiral known for his unyielding stance, admitting defeat to a rookie felt worse than death itself.
But under Sengoku's piercing stare, he knew he couldn't hide the truth.
"I lost."
Onigumo squeezed the words out through gritted teeth, closing his eyes.
Though spoken softly, the statement plunged the conference room into absolute silence.
"What did you say?" Akainu's voice dropped dangerously low.
Molten lava began dripping uncontrollably from his right arm, burning several charred holes into the expensive table.
"You are a Headquarters Vice Admiral, proficient in Rokushiki and both types of Haki. You lost to an East Blue Marine trainee? This isn't some April Fool's joke, is it?"
"I didn't lose to Devil Fruit power, nor to any underhanded tricks."
Having started, Onigumo found himself pushing forward regardless.
He opened his eyes, a lingering trace of terror still visible in his gaze. "That day, I just wanted to test his mettle... I used Haki, I used the Eight-Sword Style with my devil fruit power. But he... he was like a beast that knew nothing of pain or fear."
Onigumo took a deep breath, trying to dispel the memory. "My Haki-infused slashes only left white marks on his skin. And his blade... that pure, nauseating killing intent directly crushed my sword momentum."
"That feeling... it was like facing Kaido in his youth. No, it was even more primal than that."
After speaking, Onigumo slumped back in his chair, completely drained.
A deathly silence filled the room.
Doberman, who had just scoffed about "mere brute strength," stood with his mouth slightly agape, unable to close it.
The smile froze on Kizaru's face, and the nail clippers clattered onto the table.
Even Aokiji, who had been sleeping, sat bolt upright, his gaze fixed intently on the photo of Zaraki.
A rookie who could defeat a seasoned Headquarters Vice Admiral in a direct confrontation.
Everyone present understood all too well what that meant.
"Even so..."
Akainu broke the silence, rising to his feet. His tall frame cast a heavy shadow over the table.
"Defeating Onigumo only proves he has strength at the peak Vice Admiral level. Admiral Candidate represents the world's highest combat power. It requires not just strength, but an unwavering commitment to Justice. A brat raised under Garp's lax influence—I don't trust his stance."
"Yee~ Sakazuki makes a point."
Kizaru picked up his nail clippers again.
Though his tone regained its usual laziness, his eyes held a clear note of seriousness. "He's too dangerous. Such uncontrollable power... if we grant him the high position of Admiral Candidate without proper tempering and observation from Headquarters, what if he gets in a bad mood one day and decides to tear Marineford apart?"
The focus of the dispute shifted from insufficient strength to being uncontrollable.
But that in itself was a form of heavy recognition.