The tension in the air was palpable as I stood on the prow of our colossal ship, lightning surging and crackling like an untamed beast in the skies above.
The chaos of my storm continued to rage, a testament to my power, as yet another island trembled in its final moments. I allowed myself a chuckle as a distant figure emerged on the horizon, leaping from platform to platform with an urgency that was almost pitiful.
"Ah, it seems someone has finally decided to grace us with their presence," I remarked, my voice dripping with mockery. "And look who it is—the first of the Four Sweet Commanders, no less."
Katakuri's desperate approach was a sight to behold. Using his Mochi Mochi no Mi powers, he crafted platforms over the sea, each leap propelling him nearly a mile closer.
Yet, no matter how elegant or determined, his technique lacked the finesse of someone like Aokiji who used his ice logia powers to traverse the sea. The sheer weight of his desperation echoed in every heartbeat I could feel through the air, despite the miles that still separated us.
Turning slightly, I cast a glance at Dora. The giantess sat at the ship's bow, her awe-struck expression reflecting the sheer scale of destruction she had witnessed.
"What say you, Dora? Shall we sink another one? Three is a far better number than two, don't you think?"
Dora's eyes sparkled with childlike wonder. "Yes! One more! Sink it!" she cheered, her voice booming with excitement. Even Lucci, standing quietly nearby, could not fully mask the mixture of awe and dread in his eyes.
With a smirk, I raised my hand toward the next island. The air grew heavy with anticipation as the storm churned and coiled above, preparing to unleash yet another cataclysm. The clouds darkened further, rumbling with the fury of a god, until a voice roared through the chaos.
"Rosinante, stop this madness… NOW!"
Katakuri's voice carried over the storm as he broke into the lightning zone. The Sweet Commander wove through the deadly barrage of bolts with skill, his mochi-coated armor barely deflecting the stray strikes. Still, every step closer tested the limits of his endurance, the sheer intensity of the storm pushing even his formidable Observation Haki to its breaking point.
I turned my gaze toward him but made no effort to stop the inevitable. My hand came down in a commanding gesture, and the skies answered.
"El Thor!"
The heavens split open as a monumental pillar of black lightning descended, engulfing the island with an earth-shaking roar. The beam of pure energy was so massive, so blindingly bright, that even Katakuri faltered in his advance, shielding his eyes.
The ground trembled as the island splintered under the assault, chunks of its candy-like structure rising into the air before disintegrating into nothingness.
For a dozen seconds, the lightning held its form, a towering spear of annihilation that illuminated the seas for miles around. When it finally dissipated, silence reigned for a fleeting moment before the ocean surged in, filling the colossal crater left behind. Where once stood an island, now only the swirling sea remained—a testament to my unrestrained power.
Katakuri stood frozen on his mochi platform, his jaw tightening as he took in the devastation.
"Rosinante," he growled, his voice low but laced with fury, "we invited you to a tea party. What is the meaning of this?"
I turned to him, my expression calm yet laced with mockery. "Oh, forgive me," I said with exaggerated politeness. "I was invited, yes, but no one bothered to greet me. No guide, no escort. Strange, isn't it? The log pose pointed in a straight line, so naturally, we followed it. It just so happened that a few islands were in the way. Tragic, really."
Katakuri's sharp eyes narrowed as his gaze drifted to the horizon. Behind me, the faint silhouettes of islands that should have been visible were conspicuously absent. He didn't need my taunts to piece together the truth.
His mind raced, calculating the consequences. The three islands I had just obliterated weren't ordinary landmasses—they had been created by Big Mom's Soul Pocus, infused with fragments of her very soul.
Though not directly linked to her, their destruction would undoubtedly alert her to the disturbance. Katakuri's unease deepened, realizing that his mother's wrath would soon descend upon them all.
"Rosinante," he began again, his tone steadier now but still firm. "This… this is an act of war. Do you understand the gravity of what you've done?"
I stepped forward, my eyes gleaming with unrestrained confidence. "War?" I echoed, chuckling darkly. "Oh, Katakuri, your mother made her intentions clear the moment she decided to 'test' me.
Consider this my response—a slap on the wrist, if you will. And you should be grateful. Had I been serious, there would be nothing left of this so-called Totto Land."
Katakuri clenched his fists, his thoughts racing. He wasn't foolish enough to attack blindly; the overwhelming display of power had shown him the vast chasm between us. Still, his pride as the face of the Big Mom Pirates demanded he stand his ground.
"You underestimate Mama," he said, though the resolve in his voice wavered. "She will not let this go unanswered."
"Let her come," I said, my voice calm yet laced with undeniable menace. "But you already know the truth, Katakuri. Even she… cannot stand against me."
The storm above rumbled in agreement, as if the heavens themselves were endorsing my words. For a fleeting moment, Katakuri's mask of composure cracked, his unease plain for all to see.
As the storm loomed ever closer to Whole Cake Island, the first Sweet Commander realized one chilling fact:
This was no longer a tea party. This was the prelude to an apocalypse.
The moment was shattered by an earth-shaking rumble that echoed across the expanse of Whole Cake Island, reverberating through the very seas surrounding it. It was as if the island itself roared in anguish.
The disturbance was unmistakable. After the humiliation Shiki once wrought upon her territory, Big Mom had imbued all of Totto Land's islands with fragments of her soul. The death of so many homies—her creations, animated by her life essence—could not go unnoticed.
I couldn't suppress a smirk. The thought of Charlotte Linlin seething in fury was delicious. I imagined her face twisted in rage, her monstrous aura suffocating everything around her. The chaos I had sown was more than a statement—it was a declaration.
Katakuri's transponder snail buzzed to life, its insistent "Peri… peri… peri…" cutting through the tense silence. His gaze remained locked on me, wary, calculating. Yet, seeing that I had no intention of making a move, he reluctantly reached for the receiver.
"Katakuri…"
The voice on the other end rumbled with raw fury, a demon's growl that sent shivers through even the most hardened souls. It was unmistakably Big Mom.
"Let that bastard through. Don't stop him. To come to my territory, to challenge me?" Her tone seethed with unrestrained malice. "His death should not be simple; it must be anything but pleasant."
The transponder snail's eyes bulged as if amplifying her rage, and her voice grew louder, more guttural, as though she were speaking directly to me through the device.
"You little bastard! I know you can hear me!" she roared, her fury almost tangible. "If you're not a coward, come! COME to the main island! I'll be waiting for you, Donquixote!"
The air seemed to tremble as her voice escalated into a frenzied bellow.
"Maybe I'll be a gracious host, hmm? Perhaps I'll send you to the afterlife with a grand banquet! Come, if you DARE!"
The transponder snail abruptly disconnected with a sharp click, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. Even the omnipresent thunderstorm seemed to hold its breath.
Katakuri remained frozen, his hand still gripping the receiver. For all his stoicism, the weight of his mother's words was evident in his furrowed brows and clenched jaw. He knew the situation had spiraled far beyond his control. This wasn't just an affront to the Big Mom Pirates—it was a personal challenge to Linlin herself.
I let the silence linger for a moment, savoring the tension. Finally, I spoke, my voice calm and laced with amusement.
"Well, it seems your mother has rolled out the red carpet for me. How generous."
Katakuri's gaze snapped to mine, his lips pressed into a grim line. He didn't reply, but his silence spoke volumes. The Sweet Commander was torn between his duty to his family and the grim realization of the power I wielded.
"Tell me, Katakuri," I continued, stepping forward, the storm above crackling in response to my movements. "Do you think she'll be satisfied with just me? Or will her tantrum swallow this entire archipelago before the night is done?"
Katakuri's fists tightened, but he said nothing. He had no answer, and he knew it.
"Fine, then," I said with a smirk. "Let's not keep her waiting. After all, what kind of guest would I be if I didn't accept her… gracious invitation?"
I turned toward the heart of the Totto Land archipelago, Whole Cake Island, where the dark silhouette of Big Mom's castle loomed ominously. The storm above roared, echoing my intentions as the ship surged forward.
Behind me, Dora's awe had only deepened. She leaned forward, her giant frame towering over the ship's deck. "Are you really going to fight her?" she asked, her voice filled with both excitement and a hint of fear.
I glanced back at her, a wicked grin on my face. "Fight her? No, Dora. I'm going to annihilate her."
The ship pressed on, cutting through the storm-laden seas toward the heart of chaos. And in the distance, Whole Cake Island awaited, its ruler's fury promising nothing short of an apocalyptic clash.
*****
Marineford, Grand Line
In the dimly lit meeting room of Marine Headquarters, the air was thick with tension. Fleet Admiral Sengoku paced back and forth, his usually composed demeanor fraying at the edges. His hands were clasped tightly behind his back, and his stern gaze occasionally darted toward the intelligence reports sprawled across the polished table. Every Marine officer present mirrored his unease—save for one.
"Do we have any updates on the whereabouts of Donquixote Rosinante?" Sengoku barked, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.
Seated at the far end of the table, Vice Admiral Garp was an incongruous figure amidst the gravity of the situation. Oblivious—or perhaps deliberately indifferent—he busied himself with the snack tray. Crackers crunched under his grip as he tore open a foil packet with exaggerated care, his other hand dipping into a pile of cookies with childlike enthusiasm.
Sengoku's cheeks flushed crimson with fury, the vein on his temple pulsing ominously. "GARP, YOU BASTARD!" he roared, slamming both hands onto the table. The sound echoed, making several officers flinch. "Do you even understand the gravity of what we're discussing here?!"
Unfazed, Garp looked up with a lazy grin, a half-chewed cracker in his mouth. "Eh? Something about Rosinante causing a fuss in the New World? What else is new?" He stuffed another handful of crackers into his mouth, chewing noisily.
Sengoku's fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He glanced around the room, seeking allies, only to find Vice Admiral Tsuru shaking her head. She knew Garp too well to expect any different.
"Calm yourself, Sengoku," Tsuru said, her voice steady and pragmatic. "Getting worked up over Garp's antics won't solve this problem. We have orders from the Elders to consider, and they won't wait for us to settle our internal squabbles."
Sengoku exhaled heavily, rubbing his temples in frustration. The recent chaos caused by Donquixote family and its crew was unlike anything they'd dealt with before. What was once the relatively smallest faction among the Four Emperors had transformed into a juggernaut of conquest.
The most devastating blow came with the fall of the Elsar Kingdom—a nation that, while not affiliated with the World Government, had been a crucial ally. Despite the Marines mobilizing every available force from nearby bases, their efforts had been in vain. Elsar fell within days, and with it, every Marine reinforcement sent to defend it.
The losses were a bitter pill to swallow, even for a seasoned veteran like Sengoku. The reports detailed horrors—entire battalions wiped out, even before they could face their opponents, and the once-thriving kingdom reduced to a smoldering ruin. And at the heart of it all was Rosinante, leading the charge like a thunderstorm incarnate.
Sengoku's glare turned toward Garp once more, his simmering anger now bordering on volcanic. How did I ever think bringing him back to the Marines was a good idea? he wondered bitterly.
The room fell silent again, save for the maddening crunch of Garp's snacks.
Then came a soft knock at the door.
"Enter," Sengoku snapped, eager for any distraction from Garp's antics.
A Marine Captain from the Intelligence Division stepped in briskly, saluting before placing a sealed folder on the table. "Fleet Admiral, we've just received new intel regarding Donquixote Rosinante's location."
The room collectively tensed, all eyes on the folder. Sengoku snatched it up, but Tsuru held out a hand. "Allow me," she said, her calm voice cutting through the rising anticipation. She opened the folder, her sharp eyes scanning its contents.
Her expression shifted—widening eyes betraying her disbelief.
"What is it, Tsuru?" Sengoku demanded, his impatience boiling over.
She looked up slowly, the gravity of her findings evident. "Totto Land," she said. "Rosinante was spotted in the seas surrounding Big Mom's territory. If I'm not mistaken, he's heading there to attend her tea party."
The room erupted into murmurs, but Sengoku barely noticed. His mind raced. "The audacity… to enter Big Mom's territory so brazenly. Is he insane?"
Before he could continue, a loud, exaggerated crunch shattered the tension.
All heads turned to Garp, who was in the midst of devouring another packet of crackers. He paused mid-chew, glancing at the incredulous stares with a shrug. "What? You all look too stressed. Eat something. It helps."
Sengoku's face turned beet red, and for a moment, it seemed he might explode. Tsuru intervened with a sharp cough, drawing attention back to the matter at hand.
"This isn't a random visit; that one never moves without a reason," she said, her voice cutting through the murmurs like a knife. "Rosinante knows what he's doing. He's probably making a statement. And if I had to guess, he's about to provoke one of the most dangerous individuals in the world."
The gravity of her words settled over the room like a suffocating blanket. Sengoku closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "If Big Mom gets involved, this could escalate into a full-scale war."
"Or worse," Tsuru added, her voice grim. "The world will see this as a failure of the Marines to contain a rogue emperor. The Elders won't take that lightly."
Garp leaned back in his chair, casually tossing a cracker into his mouth. "You worry too much, Sengoku. Let the boy have his fun."
Sengoku snapped, his roar echoing across the room. "GARP! I SWEAR—"
The atmosphere in the meeting room crackled with tension as Vice Admiral Tsuru's voice sliced through the mounting chaos.
"Enough, both of you," she said sharply, her tone commanding immediate attention. "Don't you realize the gravity of our situation? Sengoku, you should know better."
Fleet Admiral Sengoku froze mid-step, his fury temporarily quenched as her words cut through the fog of his anger. He took a deep breath, visibly forcing himself to calm down. After all, the reason for this emergency meeting was far greater than his irritation with Garp.
"Sigh... dragging this out will only make things worse," Sengoku muttered. He straightened, planting his hands firmly on the table as he scanned the room. "Let me get straight to the point. Admiral Agana has withdrawn from her post."
The collective gasp that followed was deafening. Even Garp, who had been nonchalantly munching on crackers, paused mid-bite, his ears perking up at the unexpected news.
"That's not all," Sengoku continued grimly. "With the recent death of Admiral Hazard and Admiral Raylene currently the sole active Admiral with Agana's resignation, the World Government has issued new orders. A replacement must be appointed immediately. They've also provided a recommendation."
The word "recommendation" hung in the air like a guillotine. Everyone present understood what it truly meant—a direct order from the Elders.
Eyes darted around the room. Of the four Admiral candidates, only three were present. Borsalino—code-named Kizaru—was away in the New World, acting as an escort for Dr. Vegapunk and the scientific division. That left the remaining three.
Kensei, the quiet and methodical "Black Horse," was experienced but lacked the raw power and presence needed for the Admiral position. That left two obvious contenders: Aokiji and Akainu.
Among the two, Aokiji—Kuzan—was the clear favorite in terms of skill, strength, and temperament. A quiet murmur ran through the room, most officers assuming that Sengoku was about to announce Kuzan's promotion.
But Sengoku's voice shattered those expectations.
"Admiral candidate Akainu," he declared. "Henceforth, you will discard your status as a candidate and assume the rank of Admiral. The official ceremony will be held two days from now at Marineford."
For a brief moment, there was stunned silence. Then, members of the pro-war faction—those aligned with Akainu's brutal philosophy of Absolute Justice—broke into murmurs of approval, some even smirking in satisfaction.
Sakazuki—Akainu—sat up straighter, his face set in a mask of grim determination. There was no arrogance in his expression, only a sense of inevitability, as if he had long known this day would come.
"And," Sengoku continued, his next words dropping like a thunderclap, "the now-vacant position of Admiral Candidate will be filled by none other than Vice Admiral Vergo."
If the room had been tense before, it now felt as if the air itself had been sucked out. Even Tsuru, typically unshakable, raised an eyebrow in surprise.
"Vergo?" someone whispered incredulously.
The name carried weight. Vergo, at just twenty-two, was already a force to be reckoned with. Nicknamed "Black Fist," a title that he had inherited from his late father, and called "Demon Marine" by pirates in the New World, he was a prodigy in both combat and leadership. Yet his rapid ascent—from the lowest rungs of the Marines to Rear Admiral, and now a candidate for future Admiral— and all that in a span of under a decade, was unprecedented.
Tsuru, who was suddenly caught off guard by Sengoku's abrupt decision even without consulting, connected the dots quickly. This must be the Elders' doing. Zephyr's son was a name that carried political significance within the Marines, and the Elders clearly saw him as a piece on their chessboard.
Meanwhile, Garp crunched on another cracker, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched his student, Aokiji. Kuzan's face betrayed no emotion, though the faintest flicker of disappointment passed through his eyes. Garp's gaze shifted to Akainu, whose body language radiated a sense of triumph, though he kept his composure.
Aokiji managed a weak smile, extending his hand toward Sakazuki. "Congratulations," he said softly.
Akainu accepted the handshake with a curt nod, his voice gruff. "It was only a matter of time."
The room buzzed with whispered congratulations and speculation about the promotions. The factions within the Marines—the hawks and the doves, the warriors and the strategists—seemed to shift ever so slightly as allegiances and power dynamics evolved.
But Sengoku wasn't finished. His expression turned grim once more as he raised a hand for silence.
"There is one final matter to discuss," he said, his voice carrying an edge that silenced the room instantly. "This concerns not only the Marines but the stability of the world itself."
A palpable tension gripped the room. Even Garp, mid-crunch, set his cracker down.
"One of the Five Elders," Sengoku announced, his voice low and deliberate, "will soon embark on a journey to Dressrosa."
The room erupted into shocked murmurs, some officers visibly recoiling.
"The Elders?" someone whispered, as if saying it too loudly might summon them.
"Why would they visit a pirate's territory?" another asked, disbelief etched on their face.
Sengoku slammed his hand on the table, silencing the room. "This is no joke," he said firmly.
"The World Government has decreed that we, the Marines, will provide an escort for the Elder during their visit. This mission is of the utmost importance. Their safety is non-negotiable."
The room fell into stunned silence. Even Tsuru's usually calm expression showed a flicker of unease. The Elders were not mere politicians; they were the living embodiments of the World Government's authority. For one of them to visit a pirate territory—even a nation like Dressrosa—was an act that defied convention and carried implications far beyond the Marines' understanding.
Garp leaned back in his chair, his face uncharacteristically serious. "Well," he said finally, his voice low and reflective, "this just got interesting."
Sengoku's voice carried a grave weight as he addressed the room. "I won't sugarcoat it. With how ruthless Doflamingo is, this could very well be an elaborate trap to lure the Elder into his den. And I don't need to tell you the consequences if even a single scratch lands on the Elder."
The tension in the room deepened, but one man broke it with a derisive snort. Garp leaned back in his chair, his mouth curving into an amused grin. He seemed lost in thought, clearly reminiscing about a certain incident—a time when his fist had nearly changed history.
If not for his concern for the Marines stationed at Marineford, the world might have witnessed the fall of one of the so-called Elders that day. Perhaps, Garp thought with a mischievous glint in his eye, maybe he should have ripped just a limb back then.
Sengoku's eyes flicked to Garp, his irritation barely masked. He knew exactly what his old friend was thinking, but he held his tongue. Commenting now would only escalate matters. He refocused on the task at hand.
"Admiral Raylene," Sengoku said firmly, "I want you to lead this mission. Take Kuzan and select four more Vice Admirals of your choice. This will be Admiral Agana's last mission before her resignation; she'll accompany the Elder as well, ensuring you have the necessary strength. Even if this is a trap, we'll have the firepower to counter it. But let me make this clear: not for a single moment should you let your guard down."
Admiral Raylene scanned the room, her sharp eyes assessing the gathered Vice Admirals. Few met her gaze. Many were hesitant, wary of what could very well be a suicide mission. Rumors about Dressrosa had been swirling like storm clouds.
The Dark King Rayleigh, the former Kuja Pirates Empress Shakuyaku, and other high-profile figures were said to be residing in the Donquixote stronghold. For some, stepping into that territory felt akin to marching into hell itself.
Raylene caught Kuzan's eye, silently seeking his input. Kuzan gave a subtle shrug, leaving the choice to her. Before she could decide, Tsuru broke the silence.
"Vergo will need to report to headquarters for his promotion ceremony anyway," she suggested, her voice calm but deliberate. "Why not include him? He's familiar with Dressrosa, as is Kuzan. Having both of them on the team ensures we have experience on our side."
Her logic was sound, but none knew Tsuru had another motive. Vergo was a rising star, and giving him exposure on a high-stakes mission like this would solidify his loyalty and hone his potential as a future asset for the World Government.
"In that case, put my name down as well."
The voice that spoke next was the last anyone expected.
All heads snapped toward the speaker as if on strings. Garp, still seated, nonchalantly digging into his nose with his pinky, offered a wide grin.
"No," Sengoku snapped instantly, his voice rising an octave. "Absolutely not. Over my dead body!"
The tension exploded as Sengoku slammed his hands on the table, his patience finally snapping.
Everyone in the room could see why. They all remembered what had happened at Marineford. Garp, with his unpredictable nature and his infamous distaste for authority, was the last person Sengoku wanted near an Elder. Who knew what havoc he might unleash?
But Garp was unbothered by the outburst. He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms as if Sengoku's fury was nothing more than a passing breeze.
Tsuru, however, spoke before Sengoku could launch into a full tirade. "Sengoku, calm yourself," she said evenly. Her eyes remained fixed on Garp, studying him carefully. "I understand your concerns, but Garp has a point."
"A point?" Sengoku echoed, incredulous. "Tsuru, have you gone senile? It's Garp we're talking about! Garp!"
Tsuru ignored the outburst, her tone unyielding. "Listen. If Garp is part of the security detail, even someone like Doflamingo would think twice before making a move. Garp's reputation alone will deter most threats. Besides, whatever else he may be, Garp is still a Marine. He won't compromise the safety of the Elder."
A murmur ran through the room. Tsuru's logic was undeniable. Garp was a wild card, yes, but he was also a force of nature—someone capable of standing against the worst the New World had to offer.
Sengoku looked as if he was on the verge of tearing his hair out. He jabbed a finger in Garp's direction, his face a shade of red that rivaled a Marine flag. "This lunatic has tried to kill an Elder before! You think I'm going to let him anywhere near one now?"
Garp grinned, unrepentant. "Relax, Sengoku. That was years ago. Besides, I'll behave."
"Like hell you will!" Sengoku roared.
Tsuru placed a calming hand on Sengoku's arm. "Sengoku," she said softly, her voice cutting through his rage, "you know as well as I do that Garp's principles wouldn't allow him to act recklessly. He won't put the mission—or the Elder—in jeopardy."
Sengoku's shoulders slumped, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. He glared at Garp one last time before letting out a defeated sigh.
"Fine," he growled, pointing a warning finger at Garp. "But if you so much as breathe in a way that puts this mission at risk, I'll make sure you never see another cracker in your life."
Garp chuckled, grabbing another handful of crackers from the tray. "I'll take my chances, old friend."
As the room began to settle, a palpable unease lingered in the air. The mission ahead was fraught with danger, and now it carried an unpredictable wild card in Garp. But for better or worse, the team was set, and the Marines prepared to face whatever awaited them in Dressrosa.