CHAPTER 118: AFTERMATH AND RETURN
The island of Attia burned.
From his position high above, Satoru watched as the Buster Call reduced the once-peaceful land to a smoldering ruin. The ten warships continued their relentless bombardment, shells falling like rain, each impact carving another piece of the island into oblivion.
But some people refused to die quietly.
Satoru's Six Eyes caught movement along the shoreline—figures scrambling toward the water, desperate to escape the inferno behind them. They launched small boats, rafts, anything that might float. Some simply jumped into the water and swam.
The warships' gunners saw them too.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
Cannonballs rained down on the escape attempts. Boats shattered. Rafts disintegrated. The water churned red.
"We're not from this island!" someone screamed, his voice carrying faintly across the water. "We're not—"
A cannonball silenced him forever.
Satoru watched without expression. He knew the truth—these were criminals, planted by Dragon to take the place of the innocent. But watching them die, watching the desperate scramble for survival cut short by explosive shells... it still stirred something uncomfortable in his chest.
They were probably terrible people, he reminded himself. Murderers. Pirates. The worst of the worst.
It helped. A little.
After several waves of bombardment, the island had been transformed. Buildings were rubble. Forests were ash. The very geography had been reshaped by the sheer volume of explosives.
But Satoru's Six Eyes still detected life.
A handful of survivors, scattered across the island. Buried under rubble. Hidden in caves. Clinging to existence with desperate tenacity. All of them grievously wounded—none likely to survive much longer.
Still. Better to be sure.
Satoru rose higher into the air, positioning himself directly above the island's center. Below him, the warships had ceased fire, waiting for his command. The surviving Marines watched with a mixture of awe and curiosity—what was the Admiral planning?
Satoru raised his hands.
"Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue."
"Cursed Technique Reversal: Red."
The opposing forces gathered, swirling together, compressing into something far more destructive than either alone.
"Hollow Purple."
The sphere of void energy formed before him—larger than the one he'd used against Ember's fleet, larger than the one that had nearly erased White Fox. This was a true, full-power Hollow Purple, unleashed without reservation.
He flicked his wrists.
The sphere descended.
It struck the island's center and expanded—not exploding, but consuming. Everything it touched simply ceased to exist. Rock, soil, the bodies of the survivors, the very air itself—all vanished into the purple-white void.
The light was blinding. Even the Marines on the warships, miles away, had to shield their eyes.
When it faded, Attia Island was gone.
Not destroyed. Not ruined. Gone.
In its place was a massive crater in the ocean floor, surrounded by churning water that rushed to fill the void. A whirlpool formed, pulling at the surrounding warships, threatening to drag them down.
"All ships! Full reverse! Get us out of here!" Vice Admiral Brusno's voice rang out across the fleet, panic finally breaking through his disciplined exterior.
The warships strained against the current, engines working at maximum, slowly pulling free of the whirlpool's grasp. Satoru watched from above, ensuring no ship was lost.
Good. The evidence is gone. No one will ever know what—or who—was really on that island.
He waited until the sea had fully reclaimed the space where Attia once stood. When the last ripple faded and the surface returned to its natural state, it was as if the island had never existed at all.
Only the charts would remember. And soon, even they would be updated to remove it.
Satoru landed on the flagship's deck to find every Marine staring at him with expressions ranging from awe to terror. Even the Vice Admirals—veterans all—looked shaken.
"Admiral... White Dragon..." one of them stammered. "That power..."
"Mission accomplished." Satoru's voice was calm, professional. "The island is destroyed. No survivors. No evidence. Prepare to return to base."
The Marines snapped to attention, some still trembling. "Yes, sir!"
As they scrambled to follow orders, the Den Den Mushi in Satoru's pocket rang.
He answered. "Satoru here."
"Sengoku." The Fleet Admiral's voice carried something that might have been approval. "The World Government's observers have already reported in. They're... impressed. The mission was carried out with... thoroughness."
Satoru's eyes scanned the surrounding warships. His Six Eyes immediately identified the observers—agents in plain clothes, pretending to be ordinary sailors. He filed their faces away for future reference.
"The mission is complete, Marshal. The island no longer exists."
"Yes. I'm aware." A pause. "Your vacation... I know we cut it short."
"You did." Satoru's voice was flat. "I had ten days left. Ten days of rest you stole with this assignment."
Another pause, longer this time. When Sengoku spoke again, his voice was carefully neutral. "About that. I'm afraid I need to ask you to return to the New World immediately."
Satoru's eyes narrowed behind his blindfold. "Why?"
"The Beasts Pirates and the Big Mom Pirates are having... tensions. Territorial disputes. Their crews are clashing, and the entire New World is feeling the ripple effects. Your G-8 base is in a strategically vulnerable position—right between their spheres of influence."
Satoru's jaw tightened. "And no one thought to inform me of this earlier?"
"You were on vacation. And frankly, the situation escalated quickly. We didn't want to pull you back unless absolutely necessary."
Of course. Keep the Admiral relaxed while the base he built is potentially threatened. Perfect logic.
"I'll return immediately," Satoru said.
"Good. Keep me updated."
The line went dead.
Satoru stood still for a moment, processing. Then, without warning, he vanished.
The journey from the North Sea to the New World would normally take weeks. Satoru did it in seconds.
Each teleportation drained him further—his cursed energy reserves, already depleted by the Hollow Purple, dropped dangerously low. By the time he materialized at G-8, his breathing was slightly heavier than usual, a faint tremor in his hands that he quickly suppressed.
The base looked intact. Good.
But the atmosphere was wrong. Tenser. More serious. The Marines on watch jumped when he appeared, then immediately relaxed with visible relief.
"Sir! You're back!"
The word spread like wildfire. Within minutes, the entire base seemed to know—the Admiral had returned. The tension that had gripped G-8 since the Emperor tensions began started to ease.
Satoru found Claire in the command center, reviewing reports. She looked up as he entered, a rare flicker of guilt crossing her face.
"Sir. Welcome back."
"Why wasn't I informed?" Satoru's voice was calm, but there was steel beneath it. "The New World is on the edge of chaos between two Emperors, and no one thought to tell me?"
Claire met his gaze steadily. "The situation hasn't directly affected us yet. And with your ability to return instantly from anywhere, I judged that disturbing your rest wasn't necessary until it became critical."
Satoru stared at her for a long moment. Then, unexpectedly, he sighed.
"You're too considerate, Claire. It's going to get you in trouble someday."
"I'll take that risk, sir."
He moved to the window, looking out at the base he had built. His Marines moved with purpose and confidence—now that he was here, that confidence had visibly increased.
"In the future," he said quietly, "tell me immediately. Even if it hasn't affected us yet. I need to know what's happening in my territory."
"Yes, sir."
Satoru's eyes swept the horizon, toward the territories of Kaido and Big Mom. Somewhere out there, two Emperors were circling each other like sharks. And his base sat directly in the middle.
Perfect.
"Get me everything we have on the situation. Reports, intelligence, everything. I want to know exactly what those two are doing."
Claire nodded and moved to comply. As she passed, she paused.
"Sir? It's good to have you back."
Satoru's lips curved into a faint smile. "It's good to be back."
Outside, the sun was setting over the New World, painting the sky in shades of orange and red. Somewhere in that direction, Emperors plotted and armies prepared for conflict.
But for now, G-8 was safe. Its Admiral had returned.
And anyone who threatened his base would learn exactly why they called him White Dragon.
(End of Chapter)
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