A fluctuating voice suddenly drifted in from the wind.
"Without the continuous energy supply from the 'Progenitor,' those inferior offspring reconstructed by the blacklight virus won't live for long."
"In about a week, the cells within them will wither and disintegrate due to energy depletion."
The voice paused, carrying a hint of undisguised mockery.
"If that so-called Science Unit of yours wants to study them, you'd better hurry."
Only when that voice completely dissipated into the wind and snow did Smoker snap back to reality, turning his head to look at Kuzan, who was straightening his tattered suit beside him.
"We're just letting him go like that?"
There was a hint of reluctance in Smoker's voice.
That man named [Abel], from the moment he appeared until he left, maintained absolute initiative, as if this ocean and this World were merely a backyard he could stroll through at will.
Kuzan brushed the ice shards off his shoulder, paused for a moment, and then asked nonchalantly: "What else? Charge up and keep him here?"
"Are you going to do it, or am I?"
Kuzan pointed to his newly healed shoulder, where the suit had completely shattered, revealing the fresh skin underneath.
"Besides, you saw it too."
"That ability to regenerate instantly, that method of pulling weapons out of thin air, and that last thing..."
Kuzan stopped there, a flash of deep wariness appearing in his eyes behind his sunglasses.
That red and white sphere.
By simply throwing it, he had sucked in the red-clad monster that had driven an Admiral of Marineford to the brink, along with all its tentacles and biomass.
That scene completely exceeded his entire understanding of Devil Fruits, Haki, and the power system of this World.
Even a Paramecia-type Devil Fruit shouldn't be this unreasonable. Just because you're classified as Paramecia, do you really think you're Superman?
Kuzan sighed, his tone filled with helplessness.
"Who knows if he has any other little toys in that four-dimensional pocket of his."
Smoker fell silent.
He really couldn't stop him.
Whether it was that madman calling himself [Deadpool] or this monster named [Abel], their very existence was a trampling of the common sense of this World.
However, with this, the pressure on the Marine side was about to increase.
Iron Fang Island had fallen, and the North Blue shipping routes were in turmoil.
Most importantly, the three CP0 members who had come to execute a secret mission under the highest orders of the World Government had all been killed or incapacitated in this disaster.
Who was going to take responsibility for this?
The World Government would absolutely not be able to accept this result.
Smoker could almost foresee the thunderous rage that would erupt in the Fleet Admiral's office when this battle report reached Marineford.
Fleet Admiral Sengoku was probably going to have a massive headache this time.
But that had nothing to do with a small Colonel like him; when the sky falls, the tall ones hold it up.
Smoker subconsciously glanced at Kuzan beside him.
"Hey, Smoker."
A lazy voice came from behind, breaking the deathly silence.
Smoker turned his head.
Kuzan was sitting on a protruding block of ice with no regard for his image, his tattered white suit jacket draped casually over his knees.
This top combatant of Marineford was currently looking up at the gray sky with a look of utter despair.
"Don't just stand there staring blankly, get the surviving soldiers out first."
"If they keep freezing, even if they weren't killed by the virus, they'll be frozen to death by me."
"Oh."
Smoker then remembered that during the initial outbreak of the battle, he had urgently evacuated and protected a portion of the uninfected Marine Soldiers with ice.
He acknowledged the order and was just about to turn to handle it.
"Oh, right," Kuzan's voice rang out again, "Reporting to Fleet Admiral Sengoku is also up to you."
Smoker's footsteps came to an abrupt halt.
He slowly turned around, staring at Kuzan with wide eyes, as if doubting he had heard correctly.
"Huh?!"
"You're the supreme Commander of this operation, aren't you! Shouldn't you be responsible for this kind of thing?"
Smoker's voice rose several octaves.
Let him report to Fleet Admiral Sengoku? Report what?
You want to make me bear the Fleet Admiral's thunderous rage all by myself? Where is your sense of responsibility as an Admiral?
"Ara ara, it's all the same, all the same."
Kuzan waved his hand, looking completely unconcerned.
He took a den den mushi out of his pocket and tossed it to Smoker without even looking.
"You, you're about to go to Loguetown to take command, so you should get used to handling this troublesome paperwork in advance."
Kuzan said righteously.
"Just consider it early training."
Smoker gripped the dozing den den mushi in his hand tightly, the veins on his forehead bulging one by one.
Looking at Kuzan's punchable expression of "I'm just too lazy to do it, what are you going to do about it," he took a deep breath, and then another.
In the end, all his anger turned into a gritted-teeth low growl.
"I got it!"
With that, he walked away without looking back toward the ice sculptures containing the surviving soldiers, his back full of tragic heroism.
Kuzan watched Smoker's back, the corners of his mouth curling into a smile.
"What an energetic young man..."
He sighed, lay back down on the ice, hands behind his head, and crossed his legs.
Sunlight spilled through the thick clouds, but there was no warmth on this ice field.
Kuzan closed his eyes, but his mind kept replaying those scenes that defied his understanding.
Genetic rewriting, Hive consciousness, cross-dimensional containment...
And that so-called...
"SCP Foundation."
"A troublesome World..."
A faint sigh dissipated into the cold wind of the North Blue.
...
Half an hour later.
As Kuzan's ability was lifted, the huge ice blocks began to melt rapidly, revealing the frozen Marine Soldiers inside.
Most of them still wore expressions of terror, their bodies stiff and lips purple, but fortunately, they were all still alive.
The surviving soldiers scrambled to drag their comrades out of the icy water, wrapped them in thick blankets, and sent them back to the ship's cabins.
On the deck of the flagship, Smoker and Tashigi were counting the numbers.
The atmosphere was terrifyingly oppressive.
A Marine Major with a pale face held the report, walked up to Smoker, and his lips trembled, unable to say a word for a long time.
"Speak." Smoker's voice was hoarse.
"Report, Colonel!" The Major straightened his body abruptly, his voice tinged with tears, "For this operation, the headquarters dispatched ten heavy armed warships and three thousand elites from Marineford..."
"Confirmed, survivors... 1,243 people!"
"The rest... are all KIA!"
Boom!
This number exploded in the minds of all the survivors like a heavy bomb.
The casualty rate exceeded half!
And this didn't even include the personnel transferred from various Bases in the North Blue.
These were the elite forces of Marineford! Among them were many battle-hardened officers of field rank!
Just a single skirmish, and with an Admiral in command, they had been beaten to such a state.
Tashigi covered her mouth, tears streaming down uncontrollably.
Vergo walked out of the shattered ice blocks expressionlessly; his Marine coat had been frozen as hard as an iron plate, but he seemed completely unaware of it.
He reached up to adjust the sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, his eyes hidden behind the lenses scanning the surroundings calmly.
The man from the Foundation and the madman the Young Master had specifically named were both gone.
The situation seemed a bit bad.