At the same time, on the other side of God Valley.
The battle here was… surprisingly relaxed.
The famous blade Ace flashed in Gol D. Roger's hand, a streak of silver cutting through the air.
Three enemy soldiers rushed forward—
A thin line appeared across their throats.
They collapsed instantly.
"Hey, Roger! Can you take this a little more seriously?!"
A man wielding two axes swept forward, his strike blasting three charging enemies off their feet. His rough voice carried clear dissatisfaction.
"Sure, these guys are weak, but don't underestimate them!"
The man speaking was none other than the future Pirate King's right-hand man—
Scopper Gaban.1
He turned back and glared at his carefree captain, his voice booming.
Just moments earlier, a stray bullet had grazed past Roger's straw hat.
And Roger himself hadn't even blinked.
Because his mind wasn't here.
It had long since drifted away.
Ever since a moment ago—
From the center of the island, waves of Conqueror's Haki had been crashing outward.
Several terrifying wills had fused together.
And then collided head-on with something even older—
Something darker.
Something that did not belong to humans.
When those forces clashed—
The entire island of God Valley shook violently.
The smile vanished from Roger's face.
His eyes darkened as he stared at the torn sky in the distance.
Gaban finally sensed something was wrong. He rushed over in a few quick steps and lowered his voice.
"What's wrong, Roger?!"
Roger didn't answer immediately.
His Observation Haki spread outward—
But what he touched wasn't just power.
It was something deeper.
A trembling in his blood.
Within that vast and sinister presence…
There was a scent of destiny.
Familiar.
And exhilarating.
"That ancient… evil aura that erupted just now…"
Roger's voice dropped low.
There was even a faint tremor in it—one he himself didn't notice.
He murmured as if asking himself.
Or asking the heavens.
"…what exactly was that?"
He could feel it.
Something destined to oppose the Will of D.
Roger no longer hesitated.
With a flick of his wrist, the blade in his hand rang softly as it slid cleanly back into its sheath.
The motion itself was an order.
He turned sharply, eyes blazing as they swept across his crew.
The surrounding pirates stopped fighting and looked toward their captain.
Roger's grin slowly returned.
But this time—
The smile was filled with excitement.
And danger.
"Let's go!"
He roared at the crew.
"Let's go see what kind of monster showed up over there!"
Before the words even finished—
Roger shot forward like an arrow released from a bow.
His figure became a blur racing across the battlefield.
He was so fast that Gaban and the others didn't even have time to ask another question.
The crew members exchanged helpless looks.
But their eyes burned with the same excitement.
"Honestly… what a troublesome captain."
Gaban sighed.
Yet without hesitation, he grabbed his weapons and followed.
The entire Roger Pirates surged forward like a tidal wave—
Chasing their king.
Charging straight toward the heart of the storm.
…
Meanwhile—
On the Marine side of the battlefield, the atmosphere was completely different.
BANG!
A dull thud echoed.
The young Sengoku was slammed against a half-destroyed barricade.
A powerful iron grip seized his collar and lifted him halfway off the ground.
"SENGOKU!!"
The roar exploded beside his ear.
Monkey D. Garp's eyes were bloodshot, his usual laziness nowhere to be seen.
All that remained was raw, twisted fury.
He stared directly at Sengoku and demanded—
Word by word.
"Tell me!"
"Why has this island turned into THIS?!"
His voice trembled with rage.
An anger he could no longer suppress.
Sengoku's face twisted in pain.
He could feel the crushing strength in Garp's hand—strong enough to shatter steel.
He tried to push the arm away.
But it didn't budge.
"Garp…"
Sengoku forced the words out hoarsely.
"…I don't know!"
"I… I'm just following orders!"
"Following orders?!"
Those four words ignited the final fuse inside Garp's chest.
"Damn your 'following orders'!!"
He roared.
His other hand pointed toward the distant sky, where the battlefield churned like a stormy sea.
The aura there was twisted.
Evil.
Chaotic.
Violent.
"Our justice—!"
"Is this what it means?!"
"Standing here while those Celestial Dragons turn our territory into something so filthy even the devils of hell would be disgusted?!"
"Our justice—!"
"Is watching our soldiers die like insects just to protect those pieces of trash?!"
Garp's roar echoed across the battlefield.
It sounded weak against the chaos.
But it struck at the very heart of the truth.
His gaze swept across the scorched earth beneath his feet.
The forest that once stood here—
The solid rock—
Everything had been reduced to powder.
The air smelled of blood.
Gunpowder.
And a sickening sweetness that made his stomach churn.
Garp's fists clenched.
His knuckles turned white.
The burning rage in his chest had nowhere to go.
Finally—
All that anger.
All those questions.
Turned into a heavy breath.
Garp released Sengoku.
Without another word, he turned away and bent down to pick up his Marine cap from the ground.
He brushed the dust off it.
Then slowly—
Solemnly—
Placed it back on his head.
When he looked up again—
The rage and confusion were gone from his eyes.
He didn't look back at Sengoku.
He simply left him with a firm, unwavering silhouette.
His voice was heavy as iron.
Each word struck Sengoku's heart like a hammer.
"Sengoku."
"When this battle ends…"
"I want a reasonable explanation for what happened on this island."
Before the final word even faded—
Garp launched forward like a cannonball.
His legs exploded with force.
The earth beneath his feet shattered, leaving two deep craters.
His body became a streak of black lightning—
Charging without hesitation toward the battlefield that even he found terrifying.
The aura there was overwhelming.
Terrifying.
Enough to make weaker men freeze.
But to Garp—
That was exactly where he belonged.
"GARPPP—!"
Sengoku reached out.
But grasped nothing but air.
He wanted to tell Garp—
Some things could not be changed.
Some orders could not be defied.
But in the end—
His arm fell weakly to his side.
His face was filled with struggle.
Pain.
And despair.
He watched Garp's resolute back disappear.
All that remained in his heart…
Was helplessness.
…
High in the sky, the winds howled.
Two streaks of light—
One black.
One white—
Shot across the sky from opposite sides of the island.
Both racing toward the core battlefield of God Valley.
Toward the very center of the storm.
The future Pirate King—
Gol D. Roger.
And the future Hero of the Marines—
Monkey D. Garp.
They came from different directions.
Driven by different purposes.
Carrying different convictions.
One—
Seeking the truth behind his destined enemy.
The other—
Fighting for his own sense of justice.
The two streaks of light sped forward.
Toward the same coordinate.
The battlefield that would determine the fate of the world.
The battlefield of God Valley—
Had finally welcomed its last two protagonists.