Red Line, Holy Land Mary Geoise, Pangaea Castle, Five Elders' Council Chamber
"Damn it! That clown Buggy never stops stirring up trouble!" Topman Valkyrie snapped, fury flashing in his eyes.
"I never expected his slow advance was just a distraction to draw our attention while others freed that untouchable Kang!" Ethanbaron V. Nusjuro growled, gripping the hilt of his blade.
"Hah! What a joke," scoffed Marcus Mars, shaking his head. "He's just a pirate. What kind of hero does he think he is?"
"It makes me sick," muttered Shepherd Ju Peter, leaning forward, voice trembling with contempt. "Risking everything for a bunch of filthy slaves? Let him waste time. Keep stalling. Soon, he'll pay for his idiocy."
"If he wants the slaves, let him have them," Valkyrie said coldly. "The longer this drags out, the more it plays into our hands."
"From what we're seeing," Nusjuro added with a slow nod, "it's very likely Buggy's crew assassinated Saturn. And with how much public support he's gathered… masscaring the Celestial Dragon isn't impossible anymore."
"Hmph. Then he won't be around to witness the divine judgment Lord Imu is about to unleash," Peter said under his breath.
"Hahaha!" Marcus Mars let out a low, dark laugh. "Do you think he could even comprehend it? A weapon of science that surpasses Vegapunk, that's the kind of power only a god should command."
Meanwhile – Marine Headquarters, Fleet Admiral's War Room
The top Marine brass had gathered, watching the live feed in tense silence. Fleet Admiral Sakazuki had just arrived, his face like stone.
Onscreen, slaves were being freed from the underground pens beneath Mary Geoise. Uta's voice rang through the den den mushi feed, clear and condemning:
"The reason Captain Buggy refused to fire Pluton was simple… he wouldn't let innocent slaves die alongside the Celestial Dragons."
Silence engulfed the room.
The realization weighed heavily on every officer present. This pirate had shown more compassion for human life than they, the so-called enforcers of justice.
Then a quiet voice broke the silence.
"…Anything that benefits the people… is just. From the people, for the people. He's stayed true to that ideal from the beginning. And us? What does justice even mean to the Marines anymore?"
Swish—
Every head turned sharply in the direction of the voice. A golden light shimmered overhead, Kizaru.
Though his arrival was clear, no one acknowledged it. Not now. All eyes were fixed on the man who had spoken.
Kuzan. Aokiji.
In that moment, Sakazuki's fury boiled over.
"KUZAN, SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH!!!"
He lunged without hesitation, fist flying straight at Aokiji. But Aokiji didn't back down. His eyes turned ice-cold. He raised his fist in response.
BOOM!
No Devil Fruit powers were used, just pure Haki.
The collision was enough to blast wind through the war room, sending papers flying and the hair of even the highest-ranking officers whipping backward.
SWOOSH!
In the blink of an eye, Kizaru flashed between them. With a sigh, he caught both fists in his glowing hands, shadows flickering across his weary face.
"Seriously… we're already at the edge. And you two are still throwing punches?"
He looked at them, his eyes tired.
"…Let this old man have some peace, would you?"
After Kizaru finished speaking, golden light flared across the room. In an instant, two sharp roundhouse kicks landed squarely in the chests of Akainu and Aokiji, sending shockwaves through the air.
A burst of sound followed as their bodies launched outward, crashing through reinforced stone walls on opposite sides. Akainu shot left, Aokiji right, both leaving trails of rubble in their wake before finally skidding to a halt.
Vice Admiral Tsuru exhaled deeply, her voice laced with quiet relief. "Good thing you made it back in time. Where are the other three?"
Kizaru lowered himself into the seat beside her, his usual lazy demeanor replaced by something more subdued. He stayed silent for a moment before speaking with a tired breath. "They're too late."
Tsuru gave a small nod and folded her hands on the table. "I figured."
Though Kizaru's return had forced the two Admirals to cool their tempers, Aokiji's words continued to echo in the minds of everyone present. The weight of what he had said hung over them like a suffocating fog, impossible to shake.
Then the broadcast resumed.
From the transponder snails, the voices of the freed slaves came pouring in. Their cries were hoarse, filled with emotion and pain, but also something far more difficult to ignore: genuine gratitude.
"Thank you, Lord Katakuri!"
"Love you, Miss Stussy!"
Their voices were not rehearsed or coerced. These were the spontaneous declarations of people who had just been rescued from hell. The sight of tear-streaked children clinging to pirates with trembling smiles only twisted the knife deeper.
No one in the room spoke. They didn't have to. The pain was written on every face. There was no longer any division between factions or ideology. Every Marine seated in that hall had once sworn an oath to justice, in one form or another. Some believed in absolute control, others in compassion. But now, none of that mattered.
Because on that screen, in front of the entire world, pirates were saving slaves while the Marines stood idle, guarding the gilded cage of their oppressors.
It was more than shame. It was a betrayal of everything they were supposed to be.
It didn't matter that most pirates were criminals. It didn't matter that they were supposed to fight chaos. What mattered now was the truth no one could unsee. For over eight hundred years, the Marines had upheld the rule of the Celestial Dragons, believing the cost of order justified their silence. And now, the cost had been laid bare for all to see.
The cries of the slaves were not simply emotional. They were damning.
Marine headquarters had become the shield of slavers, and pirates had become the sword of the people. And that contradiction was tearing everyone in the room apart.
There were no justifications left. No noble causes. Just a painful, glaring truth.
With a harsh crunch of rubble, Aokiji and Akainu pulled themselves free and returned to their seats. Neither said a word. Neither looked at the other. And for the first time in years, they did not resume their fight.
Kizaru continued to watch the broadcast, then spoke softly without taking his eyes off the screen. "It's ironic. Pirates are saving slaves while we sit here protecting Celestial Dragons."
Akainu and Aokiji both turned toward him. Their expressions were unreadable, but their silence confirmed that they were listening.
Among the three former Admirals, Kizaru had always been the strongest. But over the years, the darkness he had seen had dulled something in him. The day he realized that even the Fleet Admiral was only another lapdog for the Celestial Dragons, something inside him had withered.
They had all once dreamed of changing the world. But dreams like that didn't survive in a place like Mary Geoise. Kizaru had let go of those dreams long ago. Or at least, that's what they thought.
So why had he returned now?
Before they could ask, another voice filled the room.
"So, Kizaru, what do you think of this filthy holy land, Mary Geoise?"
Kizaru blinked and turned his head toward the voice. Fujitora stood nearby, smiling faintly in his usual quiet manner.
Kizaru gave a short chuckle, then leaned back in his chair with a helpless shrug. "Does it matter what I think? You three have already made your decision."
He let out a long breath and stared back at the screen. "I'm just following the current."
Hearing that, Vice Admiral Tsuru frowned and turned to Kizaru, her eyes narrowing. "Kizaru, what do you mean by that?"
Kizaru shrugged and pouted slightly, his usual languid tone still present. "Granny Tsuru, you should be asking those three. I just got back, remember?"
He gestured lazily toward Fujitora, Aokiji, and Akainu, all of whom remained silent. The tension in the room grew as the Vice Admirals and Rear Admirals exchanged confused glances, unable to make sense of what was unfolding. No one could tell what these high-ranking officers were really thinking.
"Don't play games with me, you damn slackers!" Tsuru snapped, clearly losing patience. "At a time like this?"
Kizaru raised both hands in mock surrender. "Granny, don't look at me like that. It's Sakazuki and Kuzan you should blame. Though, truth be told, I only pieced it together after seeing old man Fujitora's expression."
He leaned forward, his voice carrying a subtle edge as he continued. "With their level of Observation Haki, do you really think they couldn't sense Katakuri and his crew rescuing slaves right under their feet? Don't kid yourself. This is wartime. Anyone with even half-decent haki would be scanning their surroundings constantly. Even if Sakazuki and Kuzan somehow missed it, there's no way Fujitora didn't sense what was going on. Not with his observation haki."
The room went still as realization began to dawn.
"They let it happen," Kizaru said. "They let Buggy's people free those slaves from the underground pens. And to think, I almost killed such heroic people trying to stop it. Damn it, you two kicked me on purpose, didn't you?"
For a moment, the room remained frozen. Then the mood shifted. The Marines who had been drowning in guilt lifted their heads, their eyes widening as they turned to Akainu, Aokiji, and Fujitora.
If Kizaru's deduction was right, if this whole thing had been part of an unspoken plan… then maybe they hadn't betrayed their ideals after all. Maybe they hadn't failed as protectors of justice. Morale, which had plummeted earlier, began to rise.
The three men exchanged glances but didn't speak. Their lips curled faintly, subtle, knowing smiles.
None of them would say it aloud, but the truth was clear enough. None of them wanted to protect the Celestial Dragons. And now that someone else had taken action for them, why interfere? This way, they hadn't directly defied the World Government's orders, but the result was the same. The slaves were freed. It was a perfect outcome.
Tsuru snorted and curled her lip, though a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "A bunch of self-righteous fools, acting on their own again."
Fujitora chuckled, bowing slightly toward Kizaru. "As expected of you, Mister Kizaru. You saw through our little act right away. It seems my dramatic speech gave the game away."
"Hmph," Akainu grunted, arms crossed.
"A-la-la," Aokiji muttered as he rubbed his chest. "That kick of yours was no joke, Polusalino. I thought you cracked a rib."
"Who are you kidding?" Kizaru rolled his eyes. "I held back."
The laughter that followed was soft, but genuine. The tension in the room lifted. For the first time since the broadcast began, the high-ranking Marines smiled. They hadn't all lost their way. Their top brass still stood for justice, even if it meant bending the rules.
As long as they had commanders like this, the Marines wouldn't fall to the will of the Celestial Dragons.
But just as the mood began to ease, the broadcast screen abruptly shifted.
The feed was cut to Buggy.
Before anyone could process what was happening, the camera zoomed in as he raised his hand and pointed forward, his expression unreadable.
"Fire," he said.
The word was quiet, but it hit the world like thunder.
A sharp whine pierced the air as the image shifted to a bird's-eye view. From the front of Pluton, high in the sky, a massive jet-black cannon began to glow with sea-blue light. The barrel hummed, surrounding itself with a halo of energy that crackled and swirled in vibrant spirals.
Within seconds, the muzzle was engulfed by a glowing orb of condensed energy. The swirling light grew larger and brighter, its diameter expanding to tens of meters. The pressure it gave off was suffocating even through the screen.
Then, with a thunderous roar. BOOM
A colossal blue beam of light erupted from Pluton's barrel, blasting across the sky and slamming directly into the outer walls of Mary Geoise, not far from Pangaea Castle.
The world watched in stunned silence.
Buggy had fired. And everything had changed.
BOOM—
A deep rumble followed, shaking the heavens. The explosion burst across the sky, echoing through the world like a divine trumpet of war. In the blink of an eye, a tidal wave of blue energy surged outward from the epicenter, swallowing the city walls, villas, and every structure within a ten-kilometer radius of the Holy Land Mary Geoise.
HURRAAHHH—
The shockwave tore through the air thousands of meters high, scattering the clouds as if they were dust. Winds howled in its wake, clothes and cloaks whipping violently as Buggy and his allies stood unfazed, slowly marching forward under the weight of the moment.
Minutes passed.
The smoke began to clear.
Through the lens of the live broadcast, the world watched in stunned silence as the devastation was revealed. A vast crater stretched across the land, nearly ten kilometers wide. Its depths were impossible to gauge, swallowed in a pitch-black void. Whatever had once stood there was gone. If there had been Celestial Dragons in the blast zone, there was no trace of them left, not even bones.
Luxurious villas once flaunted by the World Nobles had been reduced to rubble. Some of the surrounding mansions barely clung to their foundations. And amid the ruins, faint screams echoed, Celestial Dragons, bloodied and crawling, moaning in pain, still clinging to life.
To the common people across the world, this was more than a victory. It was vindication.
There really were Celestial Dragons. They really bled. They really screamed.
For centuries, people had whispered curses under their breath, powerless and crushed beneath the weight of the Heavenly Tribute and nobility's unchecked tyranny. But now, watching the so-called gods reduced to crawling in dirt, their golden palaces turned to ash, a wave of ecstasy swept across the globe.
"How many died in that blast?"
"Kill them."
"Kill them all."
"Don't stop."
From kingdom to kingdom, island to island, citizen to soldier, pirate to peasant, the sentiment was the same. Whether they belonged to World Government nations or independent territories, the hatred burned bright. Sky gold had bled them dry. Celestial Dragons had enslaved their children and razed their homes.
And now, they were watching them fall.
Fire again.
The thought screamed in their minds. It was a prayer and a demand.
Buggy seemed to hear it.
He raised his hand again, calm and composed, and pointed toward the heart of Mary Geoise. "Pluton. Fire."
A heartbeat later, a voice echoed from above.
"As you wish, my lord."
From the skies, Pluton's colossal black cannon began to charge once more. Sea-blue light gathered in the barrel, swirling and humming as the energy intensified. Within moments, another massive sphere of condensed destruction formed, trembling at the edge of release.
A second shot. A second judgment.
If it landed, even more of Mary Geoise would fall. Hundreds of Celestial Dragons could be wiped out in an instant. Those who had escaped the first blast now watched helplessly as their end approached.
Inside their shattered mansions, Celestial Dragons screamed in panic.
"Damn you untouchables! Why rebel against your gods?!"
"Slavery is your place! Where are the Admirals? Bring them to me!"
"They dare raise arms against heaven! Someone stop them!"
"No! No! We're going to die!"
Some ran into the open, wailing in disbelief. Others simply collapsed, unable to comprehend a world in which their blood could be spilled. Generations of entitlement were crushed in moments.
And then salvation came.
At the very heart of Mary Geoise, a golden beam of light shot into the sky. It streaked upward like a lance, aiming directly at the second cannon blast.
In a blur, the golden light collided with the sphere of blue energy. The sky lit up as the two powers clashed. Gold met blue, light against annihilation.
"Endless Light. Energy!"
The voice came from within the beam. A second later, the blue cannon blast began to tilt upward, redirected by sheer force. It soared higher and higher, guided away from the ground below.
BOOM!
Both energies detonated high above the Earth. The resulting shockwave annihilated every cloud in the upper sky, clearing the heavens with a blast that echoed for miles. Smoke and debris were swept away by wind so fierce it felt like a hurricane had been born.
The explosion lit up the world. And when the light faded, the broadcast feed zoomed in on the figure that had emerged from the golden trail.
He floated calmly, his hands at his sides. A yellow pinstriped suit. Dark glasses. That unmistakable deadpan face.
Polusalino.
Admiral Kizaru.
A soft chuckle escaped him as he looked up at the lingering energy. "As expected of Pluton," he said, his tone still dripping with lazy amusement. "That almost got me."
The world watched in awe.
Marine Admiral Kizaru, the Golden Flash, had stopped the cannon.
The very same man hailed by Buggy the Godslayer, Dreamer, and Emperor.
Was this the power of Pluton? Was this the true strength of the man standing against the world?
Billions of people watching the feed stared in stunned silence.
And then they whispered.
What now?
...
Enjoyed the chapter?
You can read 40k words ahead and gain exclusive access to even more content over at P*treon.c*m/Marioni! With over 128 chapters of exclusive content, there's plenty more for you to explore!