At Sengoku's command, the surrounding Marine warships completed their four-corner encirclement and unleashed a full Buster Call upon Lakan Gardo Island.
Cannon fire roared without pause.
The sky darkened beneath the dense barrage.
Shells rained down like a storm of iron judgment.
Garp's eyes bulged.
"Sengoku! You bastard!"
Without hesitation, he abandoned his clash with Bullet and shot toward the sector where the artillery coverage was thinnest, moving with explosive speed across the collapsing terrain.
Bullet, however, looked up at the descending bombardment and bared his teeth in a grin.
"Combine."
The power of the Gasha Gasha no Mi surged outward.
From the shattered remnants of buildings, broken warships, cannons, steel beams, and rubble, materials tore free and hurtled toward him in torrents.
In an instant, they fused around his body.
A colossal metallic giant took shape, towering above the ruins.
Bullet did not dodge.
He did not defend.
He stood firm.
The cannonballs struck and melted upon contact.
Like snow touching magma, they liquefied, merging seamlessly into the metallic colossus.
Each impact only made him larger.
He grew.
"Sengoku!"
Garp burst out from the barrage zone, unharmed but covered in soot and dust.
In a blur, he landed before Sengoku and seized him by the collar.
"Have you lost your mind?!"
Spittle flew across Sengoku's glasses.
For a rare moment, the Fleet Admiral looked awkward.
After all, the bombardment had not only endangered Garp, it had effectively strengthened their enemy.
In any other battle, such a move might have been called tactical.
Here, it bordered on assisting the opponent.
Sengoku pushed Garp's hand aside and said sharply,
"This is not the time for that! We will take him down together now!"
Without waiting for a response, Sengoku's body began to radiate golden light.
He transformed into his Hito Hito no Mi, Model: Daibutsu form.
The colossal golden Buddha descended from the sky, palm raised.
"Buddha Palm Impact!"
A massive shockwave erupted downward.
Garp clicked his tongue, but the fury in his chest had no outlet but forward.
He leapt.
The three titans collided once more.
In battles on this sea, the gravest taboo was facing a siege.
Even Rocks D. Xebec who had once stormed Mary Geoise itself, cut his way toward the depths of Pangaea Castle, and reportedly clashed with an Admiral during his retreat had ultimately fallen when confronted by the combined forces of Garp and Gol D. Roger.
Douglas Bullet, formidable as he was, had not yet reached such a pinnacle.
Still at only twenty-two years old, his strength was monstrous.
Even against the joint assault of Sengoku and Garp, he endured for hours.
Shockwaves shattered cliffs.
Metal giants collapsed and reformed.
The island, already ruined, became unrecognizable.
At last, exhaustion crept in.
A decisive blow from Garp shattered Bullet's armored construct.
Sengoku followed with a crushing palm strike.
Bullet fell.
When he awoke, it was only briefly long enough to feel cold Seastone cuffs snap around his wrists before darkness reclaimed him.
He was sealed within the depths of a warship's hold.
Destination: Impel Down.
…
The upheaval of the New World did not disturb Black's daily life in Mary Geoise.
He remained, in essence, under soft confinement.
Ironically, Bullet's capture produced far less stabilizing effect than the World Government had predicted.
In some circles, it even backfired.
To the established monsters of the New World, Douglas Bullet was still just a brash youth in his early twenties.
Rumors claimed that during his time aboard the Oro Jackson, he could fight Silvers Rayleigh evenly.
But rumors were wind.
No one knew how serious Rayleigh had been in those sparring sessions.
Bullet's most verifiable feat was his clash with Crocodile.
Crocodile?
The same pirate who had been crushed in mere exchanges by Whitebeard?
If that was Bullet's benchmark, then what did his defeat prove?
From a certain perspective, the Marines deploying both Fleet Admiral Sengoku and the "Hero of the Marines" Garp to subdue him seemed less like a display of dominance and more like overkill.
A sign of decline.
Under such interpretations, the seas did not quiet.
They grew louder.
Naturally, during this period, the Celestial Dragons could not be permitted to travel freely.
If some reckless pirate managed to assassinate one, the consequences would be catastrophic.
Still, there was good news.
Robin and Perona had gradually adapted to life in the Holy Land.
The awareness of hierarchy the subtle instincts of the ruling class had begun to take root.
…
Three months passed in the blink of an eye.
The Sea Calendar turned to the year 1500.
Within the System Space, Black clenched his fists.
Busoshoku Haki coated them in a dense black sheen.
But this time, it was different.
Within the hardened layer, dark currents pulsed faintly.
A low vibration hummed through the air.
Advanced Armament.
Internal Destruction.
Over the past three months, fortune had favored him.
He had drawn three elite Vice Admirals: Momonga, Doberman, and Onigumo.
Momonga and Doberman both yielded Busoshoku Haki ability cards.
Layer upon layer, they pushed his Armament to the threshold of internal penetration allowing force to bypass surface defense and erupt within the target.
Onigumo, meanwhile, dropped his most refined swordsmanship technique.
Black had no intention of wielding eight blades through his hair as Onigumo did.
But understanding could be absorbed.
Assimilated.
His swordsmanship now stood firmly within the realm of high-tier masters.
In mid-January, Aramaki whom Black had dispatched to the East Blue months earlier returned.
In his hands was a Devil Fruit resembling a blazing dragon fruit, its surface patterned with swirling motifs.
A Logia.
Black was pleased.
Not merely because of the fruit itself.
But because Aramaki had passed his third test.
Competence.
Discretion.
Obedience.
"Aramaki. You've done well."
Black reclined beside the transparent helmet display stands, lazily teasing Aida through the glass while Stella fed him slices of fruit.
He looked utterly at ease.
Aramaki stood respectfully to the side.
"Your Highness's intelligence was precise. The retrieval proceeded smoothly. I dare not claim merit."
Black smiled faintly.
"Merit belongs where it is earned. I will remember it. When the time comes, you will receive your reward."
At present, Black's overall combat ability had risen to a tier just below Admirals and Emperors.
Ability cards from ordinary New World pirates offered diminishing returns.
He had already decided…
Future low-tier cards would be used to cultivate subordinates.
Aramaki's ability was no longer in doubt.
But loyalty required continued evaluation.
His core nature inclined toward upholding the rule of the World Government and the Celestial Dragons as a whole.
Would that loyalty remain singularly directed?
Or would it fracture when faced with the Gorosei?
Black would not gamble carelessly.
Core secrets would remain concealed.
But lesser secrets could now be entrusted.
"I intend to send you back to sea," Black said casually, as if discussing the weather.
"Select promising youths. Train them."
"Establish an organization similar to CP."
"It will serve as my personal intelligence network."
He did not move from the lounge chair.
Yet Aramaki's pulse quickened.
"A CP-like structure… independent?"
"If so… why not simply utilize Cipher Pol directly?"
"Unless… His Highness possesses information that must not pass through official channels."
"The intelligence regarding this Devil Fruit… it did not originate from CP."
"There are other sources."
"Should I report this?"
"But he is a Celestial Dragon."
"If I misjudge…"
Aramaki's thoughts churned violently.
This was not merely an assignment.
It was a boundary.
A test.
And how he answered whether in words or silence would shape his future.