As Diarmuid had anticipated, the Gorosei possessed considerable strength, but they were far from the pinnacle. It stood to reason: how could a bunch of people who sat in offices all day compare to the Marine elites who lived on the front lines?
In terms of raw power, they couldn't match the Marine powerhouses. In terms of combat experience, their weaknesses were laid bare. Only their initial sneak attack had been somewhat impressive, arriving with grand fanfare and even managing to land a hit on Kuzan.
But by the time Diarmuid finished his fight and looked back, the others had nearly wrapped things up as well.
Gion, her hands crackling with electricity, gave her sword, Konpira, a stylish flourish before sheathing it with a crisp click. Before her lay a charred figure, whether it was a corpse was unclear, but it lay motionless on the ground.
On the other side, Sengoku, still in his massive golden Buddha form, held a comparatively tiny figure in his hand: the bearded Gorosei who had previously punched him in the stomach. Now, the elder looked small and helpless, struggling fruitlessly against Sengoku's grip.
"It's only because you're kind-hearted, Sengoku-san, that you haven't crushed him already. If it were me..." Diarmuid called out from a short distance away.
Before he could even finish his sentence, a violent shockwave erupted from Sengoku's palm. With a sound like a muffled explosion, a mist of blood sprayed outward.
Sengoku turned to Diarmuid with an inquisitive look. "What were you saying?"
Diarmuid's face twitched. He clicked his tongue and said, "I was going to ask: did you eat the Mythical Zoan 'Buddha' form, or is it actually a 'Shura' or 'Demon' form? That was a bit brutal, don't you think?"
Sengoku glanced at the blood-soaked mound behind Diarmuid, knowing a dead body was sealed inside. He chuckled. "You're not exactly in a position to lecture me on brutality."
It was true. Sengoku was a man forged in iron and blood. He might appear kind and approachable to his own people, but he never showed mercy to his enemies. After all, he was the one who personally authorized the Buster Call on Ohara. How could anyone who reached the rank of Fleet Admiral truly be "soft"?
Even the normally easygoing Kuzan was like a demon when he turned cold. Literally.
The curly-haired Gorosei who had shattered Kuzan earlier was now completely encased in ice. Kuzan didn't stop there; with a hint of vindictiveness, he delivered a sharp kick to the frozen statue. The fragile ice shattered into a thousand shards upon hitting the ground. Though no blood flowed, the scene was gruesome—the man had been effectively pulverized.
"Is the one on your end dead?" Diarmuid asked, looking at Gion.
Gion smiled and snapped her fingers. A bolt of lightning struck the charred body on the ground, blowing it to pieces. Now he was definitely dead.
Facing the Gorosei, enemies whose positions could never be reconciled, these hardened Marines showed no mercy. Killing them here was the simplest and most effective way to achieve the Navy's goals.
With that, the "Highest Authority," the Gorosei who had sat at the apex of world power for centuries, were completely wiped out. Judging by their ends, the bald Gorosei who had failed to escape earlier might have had the most "peaceful" death of them all.
Regrouping, Diarmuid and the others looked toward the distant castle.
"Now that the Gorosei are all dead, Imu should finally be making an appearance, right?" Diarmuid said with a smirk.
Sengoku and the others nodded.
"The Gorosei might not have been much, but Imu is likely a different story. The only thing I've confirmed so far is that she can use the Rokushiki," Diarmuid noted.
While Rokushiki was considered basic physical mastery for the elite, it was rarely the defining trait of a top-tier powerhouse. Moves like Flying Shigan looked flashy, but even Stussy could use them, and her overall strength was limited.
Diarmuid's assessment of Imu's power came from other factors.
First, at Pangea Castle, Dragon had barely leaked a hint of his presence before Imu detected him. Her Observation Haki had to be at an extraordinary level. Diarmuid believed that she, like himself, had caught that tiny flaw instantly, something the kneeling Gorosei had failed to do.
Second, Imu's decisiveness. She had attacked without hesitation, not even bothering to ask who the intruder was. Only someone with absolute confidence in their own strength acts with such finality.
The third and most crucial piece of information came from his "small talk" with the sword-wielding Gorosei. The elder had said: "It is she who has kept this world stable for eight hundred years."
Diarmuid had long suspected that Imu was an immortal shadow pulling the strings of Mariejois for centuries, but he'd had no proof. Even Doflamingo was in the dark. This one sentence confirmed it: Imu was an eight-hundred-year-old monster.
If you let a pig live for eight hundred years, it would probably turn into a spirit. Imu, a person who had ruled the world from the shadows for that long, was surely something far more formidable.
She had likely eaten more salt than Diarmuid had eaten rice. She had traveled further than all of them combined. In those eight centuries, she would have had the time to master things no normal human could. Her combat experience alone must be staggering. She might have even assumed various identities throughout history to stir the winds of change.
Being overly cautious against such an entity wasn't paranoia; it was common sense.
"Observation Haki, Armament Haki, Conqueror's Haki... Martial arts, swordsmanship, marksmanship, Fish-Man Karate, Fish-Man Jujutsu, Mink combat techniques, Elbaf techniques, Shandian arts... truthfully, I've lost track of how many things I have mastered. And that is only in combat," a crisp, magnetic voice, the voice of a sophisticated older woman, suddenly echoed in their ears.
It was the voice of Imu. Diarmuid had heard it briefly in the Empty Throne room. It was a voice that possessed a unique "aura"—noble, pure, and chillingly confident.
"Regarding culture, I wrote The Collected Poems of Gonia, The Universal History: Mariejois Edition, and The Three Thousand Lives. Even the Revolutionary Army's ideological text, The Balance and Redistribution of Power, was my work. I am also fluent in every language of every race in this world, even those that have gone extinct. Oh, and I am a great scientist as well. Dr. Vegapunk failed to follow my designs for the PX-Pacifista, so the two you just encountered were my creations. Of course, they are merely toys to me... So, Diarmuid, I am not limited to the Marine Rokushiki, nor are you truly the strongest Admiral."
The group stood stunned. The sheer breadth of her claims was mind-boggling.
Learning Fish-Man Karate was one thing, Koala had proven humans could do it. But Mink techniques? Didn't those require fur and the ability to produce "Electro"? Unless... she was being literal about the "fur" on humans.
And the culture? The thought of Dragon reading a book on revolutionary ideology written by his greatest enemy was enough to make one wonder if the man would cough up blood in despair. The "Jester" was himself all along.
This was a tyrant who had mastered poetry, history, science, and every language on earth. Diarmuid didn't doubt her; after eight hundred years, such achievements were an attainable, if mountain-high, reality.
"Can you hear us?" Diarmuid asked, frowning as he looked around the empty air.
After a brief silence, Imu's voice returned.
"You have been to Skypiea. Have you heard of the power called Mantra? It is very similar to Observation Haki," she said simply.
Diarmuid understood. Enel could hear everything on an island using his Mantra, but that was bolstered by his Rumble-Rumble Fruit. Imu didn't have that fruit, Gion did. How was she doing it? Then again, for an eight-hundred-year-old being, normal logic likely didn't apply.
Despite the conversation, the Marines had already spread their Haki across the Domain of the Gods, searching every inch of Mariejois. They still couldn't find her physical form.
"Do not bother looking. I am in the castle, watching you. If you wish to have an audience with me, then come."
Diarmuid and the others exchanged a glance, then nodded silently, advancing toward the ancient fortress.