There was no mercy or sympathy in Magellan's deep eyes, only cold determination.
For a brief moment, killing intent flashed through him.
Finishing off Queen the Plague here would eliminate a major threat to Impel Down. As long as Queen remained alive, his poisons, technology, and sheer destructive potential would always pose a danger to the prison's security.
At the same time, killing him would remove one of the Marines' most dangerous enemies and spare them considerable trouble in the future.
Magellan's expression hardened.
His hand slowly rose.
Deadly venom began gathering in his palm, writhing and condensing as though it possessed a life of its own. Gradually, it took the shape of a long spear radiating an ominous purple glow.
The weapon resembled a blade forged in the depths of hell.
Its point aimed directly at Queen's heart.
Then—
Just before Magellan could throw it, his Observation Haki suddenly screamed a warning.
The atmosphere across the battlefield had changed.
A crushing sense of danger swept over him so abruptly that his hand stopped in mid-motion.
Magellan raised his head sharply.
His perception spread across the vast bay, taking in every major shift throughout the battlefield.
What he sensed made even the famously cold and battle-hardened Chief Warden of Impel Down feel his heart sink.
In the distance, the fading sunlight reflected brilliantly from Jozu's diamond body.
The sight would almost have been beautiful—
If not for the man trapped helplessly in his enormous hand.
Admiral Kizaru.
Borsalino's once-pristine yellow suit was now covered in blood and dust. His body was badly wounded, his presence weak to the point of near collapse.
He had been captured alive.
Elsewhere, Katakuri was escorting Fujitora toward the Divine Kingdom's forces.
Heavy Seastone restraints bound the Admiral's hands.
Fujitora walked slowly, each step seemingly weighed down by exhaustion.
Farther away, Magellan could sense Momousagi's faint presence as well.
She had already been completely subdued.
And amid all that chaos, another familiar presence was rapidly disappearing into the distance.
Kuzan.
His freezing aura was retreating from the battlefield at tremendous speed.
Clearly, Aokiji had also been wounded and forced to flee.
Ryokugyu—
Dead.
Kizaru—
Captured.
Fujitora—
Taken prisoner.
Momousagi—
Defeated and restrained.
Aokiji—
Wounded and retreating.
Those disastrous developments crashed through Magellan's mind one after another.
The killing intent he had directed toward Queen vanished almost instantly.
A bone-deep chill crawled up his spine.
The Marines' supreme fighting forces had nearly been wiped out.
This war was over.
Completely and unquestionably lost.
Whatever glory or hope the Marines had carried into the battle had already collapsed into despair.
Magellan slowly lowered his gaze toward Queen.
The pirate lay unconscious at his feet, utterly helpless.
His breathing was weak.
One attack would be enough to finish him.
But Magellan's mind was already racing through the consequences.
Killing Queen might satisfy some of his frustration.
Strategically, however, it would accomplish almost nothing now.
Worse, executing a defeated commander while the Marines were already in full retreat could provoke the Divine Kingdom alliance into pursuing them without restraint.
If that happened, Magellan himself might be surrounded before he could escape.
As Chief Warden of Impel Down, he understood better than most that knowing when to act—and when not to—was essential.
On a battlefield changing this rapidly, one reckless decision could turn a defeat into complete annihilation.
"Hmph…"
Magellan released a quiet snort, unwilling yet perfectly aware of reality.
The venom spear in his palm gradually dissolved.
Its ominous purple glow faded away along with the killing intent that had gathered around him.
He stared down at Queen one last time.
For several seconds, Magellan seemed intent on burning the pirate's face into his memory.
Then he pushed aside every lingering hesitation.
"Retreat!"
His deep voice carried across the smoke-filled battlefield.
The command was directed at everyone still within reach—surviving Impel Down personnel and nearby Marines who had been left stunned by the sudden collapse of the war.
There was no uncertainty in his tone.
The decision had been made.
Before the final echo had even faded, venom surged violently around Magellan's body.
Purple liquid twisted and gathered around him until his entire figure was engulfed.
Then Magellan transformed into a rushing stream of venom and shot toward the retreating Marine fleet without looking back.
...
Magellan left without so much as a backward glance.
There was no hesitation in his movements, nor the slightest trace of reluctance.
And just like that, the massive siege carefully planned by Marine Headquarters to destroy the Eternal Divine Kingdom finally drew to a close after countless twists and reversals.
The battlefield that had once thundered with cannon fire, screams, and clashing weapons gradually fell silent.
All that remained was devastation and the faint stench of blood, lingering as proof of everything that had happened here.
Yet the oppressive shadow of defeat still hung stubbornly over the battered Marine fleet.
Once, this had been an awe-inspiring force.
Warships had sailed across the ocean in magnificent formation, banners snapping proudly in the sea breeze and projecting the overwhelming authority of the Marines.
That sight was gone.
Only a handful of relatively intact warships remained, dragging thick trails of smoke behind them like wounded sea beasts as they fled desperately toward distant waters.
Their decks were packed with terrified Marines.
Some bore blackened burns from cannon fire.
Others were covered in deep cuts left by blades during the brutal melee.
Every face carried the fear of defeat.
Their eyes reflected uncertainty over what awaited them next, mixed with the numb confusion of people who had somehow survived when so many others had not.
They crowded tightly together, as though the presence of another living person was the only reassurance they could still find.
The bay and surrounding waters presented an even more horrifying sight.
Broken planks floated up and down with the waves.
Once-brilliant Marine flags had been burned black and curled by the flames, hanging limply from shattered masts.
Weapons lay scattered everywhere. Some were half-buried in sand and debris, while others drifted aimlessly across the surface of the sea.
And among all that wreckage were countless fallen bodies.
Some had died still frozen in their final fighting stances.
Others lay curled upon themselves in pain, as though the agony of their last moments remained etched into their bodies.
Blood stained the shallow shoreline crimson.
It mixed with glittering fragments of ice still floating on the water and jagged black pieces of volcanic glass left behind where magma had cooled.
Together, they formed a scene so brutal that it was almost difficult to look at.
It was as though even the sea itself were mourning the battle.
...
Yet the most shocking result of the war was not the complete collapse of the Marine ground forces.
It was what had happened to their supreme fighters.
Three Admiral-level combatants—men and women who represented the very pinnacle of Marine power—had all fallen into enemy hands.
They had once been the pride of the Marines.
Symbols of strength that ordinary soldiers could believe in.
Now they were prisoners.
Only Aokiji had escaped.
Thanks to his decisive judgment at the critical moment, Kuzan had chosen to retreat before the situation became completely impossible.
Bullet had pursued him with everything he had, but ultimately failed to land the final blow.
Kuzan had suffered severe injuries, yet he had still managed to escape with his life.
The Marine Vice Admirals had fared only slightly better.
Momonga, normally composed and capable, was now exhausted and covered in wounds.
Strawberry's once-stern face had been twisted by pain.
Smoker's trademark white coat was stained with blood.
Hina, normally sharp and confident, looked similarly battered.
Each had suffered injuries of varying severity.
Some were wrapped in blood-soaked bandages.
Others could barely walk without stumbling.
More importantly, their morale had completely collapsed.
Even so, fate had left them a narrow path to survival.
Thanks to the desperate charge of the Marine main force and Kuzan's efforts to cover the retreat, the surviving Vice Admirals followed the fleeing army away from the battlefield.
Like travelers struggling through a violent storm, they clung to the retreating force and forced themselves onward through the chaos.
Eventually, they escaped.
Their battered silhouettes vanished into the distance through smoke and fire, carrying both the humiliation of defeat and the relief of still being alive.
The final outcome was almost absurd in its contrast.
It was filled with bitter irony and brutal strategic compromise.
The Divine Kingdom alliance had won completely.
Capturing several of the Marines' highest-level fighters was a spectacular achievement by any measure, leaving no doubt whatsoever about who had emerged victorious.
For Marine Headquarters, this was an unprecedentedly devastating blow.
Once news of the battle spread, its impact would sweep across the world like a tidal wave.
Every nation.
Every pirate crew.
Every major power.
All of them would be forced to take notice.
The Marines, meanwhile, had paid a price far beyond anyone's expectations.
Countless soldiers had died on this battlefield, their blood staining the sea itself.
Even so, they had barely managed to preserve much of their mid-level command structure and a portion of their remaining core forces.
It was like a lizard severing its own tail to escape death.
They had lost enormously, but at least they had preserved enough strength to retain some hope of rebuilding—and perhaps one day seeking revenge.
But this battle had also exposed something the Marines could no longer conceal.
Their apparent strength had hidden far greater weakness than the world had realized.
Now that weakness had been laid bare for everyone to see.
...
A cold sea wind swept across the battlefield with a mournful howl.
It tugged proudly at the banners of the victors, making them snap loudly above the ruined shore.
Then the same wind passed mercilessly over the remnants of the defeated—
Broken weapons.
Abandoned armor.
Silent corpses.
Everything left behind looked even more desolate beneath the gray sky.
High above the Eternal Divine Kingdom, Ron hovered alone like a god overlooking his domain.
His posture was straight and unmoving, while an invisible pressure seemed to radiate naturally from his presence.
His expression remained calm.
Yet beneath that calm was unmistakable authority.
Slowly, Ron looked down upon the vast battlefield below—
The battlefield of his victory.
Looking back on everything that had happened, this war had truly been monumental.