As one bizarre pirate ship after another surfaced on the distant horizon, Sengoku could hardly believe his eyes. His breathing turned heavy. His fists clenched without him even noticing.
First came an imposing vessel with a yellow-brown, crocodile-shaped figurehead cleaving the water. At its bow stood a one-armed man with a golden hook, slicked-back hair, and a fur coat like some back-alley boss—one of the Shichibukai, "Sand Crocodile" Crocodile.
Then a ghost ship drifted into view, its deck webbed with fractures and eaten through by rot, dead silence hanging over it like a shroud. Perched high on the ruined mast was a pale figure with a massive serrated blade slung over his shoulder—another Shichibukai, "Moonlight" Gecko Moria.
Next, a steel submarine split the waves like a polished dagger. A blond youth climbed up from the hatch at an unhurried pace. Military uniform. Muscles drawn taut. An aura of iron and violence that felt almost physical—"Demon Heir" Douglas Bullet, also among the Shichibukai.
And then there was the coffin-boat: a skiff that looked as though a stiff breeze could tip it over, green candles swaying atop it. A lone swordsman stood silently within, an enormous black cross on his back. The pressure rolling off him was razor-sharp. "Hawk-Eyes" Dracule Mihawk.
With Donquixote Doflamingo—the "Heavenly Demon," soon to become Vice Commander of the Knights of God—and Fisher Tiger, the "Blood Shark" who'd been stripped of his title for attacking the Holy Land, out of the picture, the remaining four of the six Shichibukai were all closing in on Red Port.
Even an idiot could put it together.
These arrogant pirate lords had accepted the World Government's invitation to watch the ceremony in Mary Geoise.
Damn it.
Sengoku bared his teeth, eyes shot through with blood as anger surged hot enough to burn.
I'm the Marines' top executive. The Government's military pillar. I've earned merit on merit for them and for the Marines—
And these scum get treated as more important than I do?
They're hired dogs meant to keep pirates in check. What right do they have to a formal invitation?
"Kishishishi… Marines, move it. You're an eyesore."
Moria's laugh crawled across the water like a curse.
The ghost ship had already pushed into the Marines' security perimeter. Gecko Moria sat hunched atop the mast, a jagged greatsword across his shoulders, violet arcs dancing along its edge. Black shadows writhed beneath his hull, swelling and twisting like living things.
Those shadows shoved the ship forward with disgusting ease—straight through the narrow gap between two battleships. The wake nearly rolled both vessels.
"Damn it!"
"Gecko Moria!"
"He didn't even file for inspection—he's charging right through!"
"We'll settle with him later!"
"Don't be stupid! He's Shichibukai—he must have the Government's invitation!"
Voices erupted across the decks. Marines stumbled as the ships rocked, scrambling to keep their footing, decks tilting under them.
Before anyone could steady themselves, a shadow flashed overhead.
They looked up just in time to see the submarine erupt from the sea like a launched shell, sailing over the blockade line before crashing back down with a deafening splash.
Water exploded outward. Marines on three nearby battleships were drenched head to toe, coughing and sputtering like drowned rats.
"Kahahaha! Sorry, Marines—no patience for your checks!"
Douglas Bullet's blond hair whipped in the wind as he laughed, all teeth and arrogance.
"If you want a fight, come get one… but if you're serious about stopping me, you'd better go fetch Darren first!"
Bastard.
Teeth ground all along the line. Tempers flared.
And then—
A vast dark yellow spread across the sea like a stain.
"Sandstorm: Blast Away!"
A low, cold laugh followed, and a colossal sandstorm erupted, roaring across the water. The gale punched into the battleship cordon, slamming vessels aside and throwing the formation into chaos.
In the turbulence, Crocodile's ship glided forward as if the storm itself were clearing his path. Behind him, spiraling sand coiled into the shape of a massive crocodile.
"Don't block my way," Crocodile said flatly, lighting the cigar between his teeth.
Marines' eyes went red with fury.
"Bastard!"
"They're getting way too cocky!"
"Fight them!"
"Damn them!"
One Marine officer, face flushed with rage, rolled his sleeves up and started forward—
Then he met a pair of eyes.
Hawk-like. Icy. Merciless. So indifferent to life it made the blood in your veins feel sluggish.
That gaze swept over them like cold water. Their anger snuffed out on the spot.
Breaths caught. Throats worked. No one dared to move as the coffin skiff drifted past, quiet as a funeral.
The moment those eyes touched them, it felt like needles pricked at their skin, like thorns sliding under their uniforms. As if Mihawk could cut them in half at any moment—and it would take him less effort than blinking.
Sengoku watched it all with his entire body trembling, rage packed so tight behind his ribs it hurt.
The Shichibukai hadn't caused real casualties. They'd stayed just far enough inside the line to humiliate the Marines without handing Sengoku a clean reason to strike.
And more than that—the inauguration ceremony was about to begin. If he started a fight with the Shichibukai now, the Gorosei would bury him without hesitation.
Especially with the Marines' reputation in their eyes already in the gutter.
"Terrifying, the Shichibukai…" Borsalino murmured, scratching his head as if mildly inconvenienced. "They don't seem to respect you much, Admiral Sengoku."
Sengoku: "..."
Borsalino went on, voice light. "If Darren were still around, the Marines wouldn't have to swallow this kind of humiliation, huh?"
Sengoku: "..."
"Borsalino."
"Hm? Admiral Sengoku?"
Sengoku's face darkened to an extreme. Without the slightest change in tone, he said, "You know, you could've kept your mouth shut."
Borsalino raised both hands, wearing a pained expression. "But as your adjutant, it's my duty to offer essential information and advice."
Sengoku: "..."
He turned his back on Borsalino and spoke like he was grinding the words down between his teeth.
"After this ceremony is over, I'll recommend you for promotion to Marine Headquarters Admiral. You've grown enough. Remaining as my adjutant is no longer appropriate."
Borsalino put on a look of reluctant sorrow. "How could I possibly accept? I was hoping to stay by your side and keep learning from you…"
"There's no need," Sengoku said coolly. "I don't have anything left to teach you."
"But—"
"Don't make me start cursing."
"…As you wish, Admiral Sengoku."
To be continued...