Rosward Saint's shrill voice echoed across the seas.
"You worthless dogs! Hurry up and die for me!"
For a moment, the entire world heard what a Celestial Dragon truly sounded like when stripped of his bubble and pedestal.
At Marine Headquarters, Fleet Admiral Sakazuki's expression did not change.
"What a fool," he muttered coldly.
Vice Admiral Tsuru stood beside him, arms folded.
"If Buggy ever intended to release him," she said quietly, "CP0 would already have slaughtered every Marine aboard Fujitora's ship."
Sakazuki's jaw tightened.
"In the Celestial Dragons' eyes," Tsuru continued, "CP0 are their hunting dogs. The Marines are… little different."
"It is different," Sakazuki replied, voice low and resolute. "The Marines exist for Absolute Justice."
Tsuru glanced at him sidelong.
"And that is precisely why the Five Elders have their grievances with you."
Sakazuki's eyes hardened.
"As long as I sit in this chair, Marine affairs are decided by me. We can sacrifice everything for justice. But we will not sacrifice for the vanity of fools."
Tsuru studied him for a long moment.
"Under that magma," she said softly, "there is a heart colder than ice."
She turned toward the door.
"Where are you going?" Sakazuki asked.
"To watch properly," she replied with a faint smile. "It is not every day one hears a Celestial Dragon scream like that."
She paused.
"If you trust Fujitora, then remain here."
Sakazuki hesitated.
"…Leave the Den Den Mushi."
Tsuru's lips curved faintly. She placed the transponder snail on his desk and left without another word.
Even the Fleet Admiral wished to see how this would end.
Marine Headquarters — Sengoku's Office
Tsuru entered quietly.
Sengoku and Garp were already staring at the screen.
Rosward Saint, hands reduced to stubs and a single trembling thumb, continued shouting obscenities at CP0.
Without sound, the image would have looked absurd—almost comical.
But the context stripped away any humor.
"Did you calm Sakazuki?" Sengoku asked.
"He realized it himself," Tsuru replied. "Buggy never intended to release Rosward Saint."
Garp's chewing slowed.
"From the beginning," Tsuru continued, "this was execution."
Sengoku's eyes widened slightly.
He stood abruptly.
"Execution…"
Garp's gaze sharpened.
"Just like back then."
The room fell still.
"Today's date…" Garp muttered, thinking. Then his eyes widened. "It's the anniversary."
Sengoku removed his glasses slowly.
"The day Roger was executed in Loguetown."
Silence pressed down upon them.
Garp let out a long breath.
"That kid…"
Sengoku stared at Buggy on the screen—the cloak, the throne, the stage.
"To choose this day," he said quietly, "and to make the entire world watch…"
He exhaled.
"Even as an enemy, I must acknowledge his nerve."
Garp's voice was low.
"Roger would've laughed."
Kamabakka Kingdom — Revolutionary Army Headquarters
Emporio Ivankov stared at Dragon, who was fastening his dark cloak.
"You're heading out?" Ivankov asked. "Little Sabo isn't in immediate danger."
Dragon's eyes remained fixed on the broadcast.
"A storm is about to break," he said calmly. "If the winds shift, I must be there."
Memories flickered across his mind.
Loguetown.
The execution platform.
Among the crowd, one loud, weeping fool was crying so dramatically that it seemed deliberate.
Buggy.
Now that same man stood before the world again—this time not as a spectator.
But as an executioner.
Dragon stepped forward.
"Are you igniting the spark of a new era, Buggy?" he murmured.
A sudden gust swept through the chamber.
His figure vanished into the wind.
An Underground Chamber — Somewhere in the Grand Line
Sir Crocodile watched the broadcast from a dimly lit room, cigar glowing between his fingers.
Beside him stood Daz Bones.
"Mr. 3 has climbed high," Crocodile remarked.
Daz nodded.
"You should call him an Emperor's officer now."
Crocodile laughed.
"I didn't realize Baroque Works was so full of talent."
He stood, coat settling around his shoulders.
"Come, Daz."
"You intend to interfere?" Daz asked.
Crocodile's eyes narrowed.
"On this day, more than twenty years ago, I stood beneath Roger's scaffold."
His voice grew quieter.
"Many who watched that execution now rule the seas."
He exhaled smoke.
"Roger ushered in the Great Pirate Era."
He turned toward the exit.
"Today may mark the prelude to something else."
Aboard the Saber of Xebec
Blackbeard's laughter echoed, but there was irritation beneath it.
"Zehahahaha… I should have thought of this."
He stared at the screen, eyes gleaming.
"To turn an execution into spectacle."
Lafitte adjusted his hat.
"No one realized today's significance until now."
In the corner of the broadcast, Morgan had already overlaid an image of Roger's execution day.
The parallels were unmistakable.
Blackbeard's grin tightened.
"Full speed," he ordered. "Perhaps we can still arrive."
But even as he spoke, he knew.
Buggy had seized the moment first.
World Economic Journal — Headquarters
"Stop the broadcast?" Morgans squawked, feathers bristling. "Tell the Gorosei to choke on their own orders!"
News Coo scurried frantically across the hall.
"Relocate all transmitters! Activate backups!"
He slammed a wing against a desk.
"If a Celestial Dragon dies on air and I miss it, I may as well retire!"
He leaned toward the main screen, eyes shining.
"Burn it down, Buggy," he whispered. "Set the world ablaze."
Back on the Sea
Lucci's head remained bowed beneath Rosward's relentless cursing.
Then—
A Den Den Mushi vibrated at his waist.
He listened.
His expression shifted subtly.
When he raised his head again, something had hardened.
"My apologies, Lord Rosward Saint," he said evenly. "Your divine life cannot end at the hands of a pirate."
Rosward blinked in confusion.
"What nonsense are you—"
Lucci's gaze shifted toward Buggy.
"That clown," he continued, "never intended to release you."
The wind intensified slightly.
"He seeks to offer your life to the memory of Gol D. Roger."
The words carried clearly through the broadcast.
Across the seas, hearts skipped.
Lucci's eyes narrowed.
"Isn't that correct, Buggy?"
For a brief moment—
Buggy blinked.
"Huh?"
The reaction was almost genuine.
Inside, Lock's thoughts scrambled.
How did this spiral back to Roger?
He had chosen the date deliberately—but the connection had not been meant as a ritual sacrifice.
Or had it?
The magnetic current within him hummed steadily.
The world was already drawing its own conclusions.
The stage had been set.
Whether he acknowledged it or not—
The execution now carried a meaning far beyond a Celestial Dragon's life.
And every eye in the world waited for his answer.
---
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