In the skies above Punk Hazard, chaos reigned.
Golden Lion Shiki and Redfield were locked in an intense aerial clash with Navy Admiral Coss Davo. The admiral, transformed into a horned demon, exuded an aura of overwhelming ferocity. Even though his soul had been slightly wounded earlier by Brook's Soul Slash, Coss Davo remained a monster forged in the fires of the New World—a hardened veteran with an iron will.
Despite the Conqueror's Haki infusion in Shiki and Redfield's attacks, their combined strength was still not enough to land a fatal blow.
"You two snot-nosed rookies dare challenge me? I'll deliver your death sentence myself!" Coss Davo sneered, but beneath that arrogance, a flicker of unease stirred in his heart.
These two weren't even thirty… yet they already wielded Conqueror's Haki and could entwine it with their attacks? Since when did advanced Haki techniques become so widespread?
How had the Hell Pirates learned this? And Brook… was he really allowing his subordinates to grasp such elite techniques? Normally, a captain would keep that kind of power exclusive, a means of control.
But Brook?
Was he truly so confident in his ability to command these monsters? Or had he created a crew where strength didn't threaten unity, but reinforced it?
Coss Davo had no time to ponder. Shiki and Redfield's offensive was only growing fiercer.
"Hahaha! So this is a Navy admiral, huh? All bark and no bite! You talk about death sentences, but your marines below look like they're the ones about to meet their maker!" Shiki bellowed with a maniacal grin. Even if they couldn't win through strength, they'd win with momentum.
After all, the Hell Pirates still held a slight upper hand.
Charlotte Linlin was being held down by several vice admirals. CP0's captain Garlin had even called in reinforcements to fend off Whitebeard Newgate. The terrifying giant was simply too much to handle alone.
Redfield remained silent, his blood-red eyes fixed on his prey. With the Conqueror's Haki nearly on par with Roger and the blistering speed granted by the Thunder-Thunder Fruit, he struck at Coss Davo's vital points relentlessly, aiming to shred his demonic wings and end the fight swiftly.
But Davo's Mythical Zoan transformation had boosted his defenses to absurd levels. Every slash, every lightning-fast thrust from Redfield felt like stabbing at an indestructible cockroach. Regeneration, defense, raw power—it was a brutal wall they couldn't yet scale.
Redfield realized one grim truth: until his Thunder-Thunder Fruit awakened, he couldn't bring this admiral down.
Meanwhile, the battle between Kong and Brook had reached a razor's edge. Every exchange carried the risk of death. Kong was especially wary of Brook's Soul Slash, a terrifying attack that ignored even Armament Haki.
He'd rather fight Rocks D. Xebec than face Brook again. At least Rocks' Dark-Dark Fruit was useless against someone like Kong—a pure physical powerhouse.
Though Rocks' Conqueror's Haki was formidable, Kong could counter it thanks to his mastery of Armament Haki, which may have even surpassed Rocks in that category.
Everyone had a focus. No one could master all three types of Haki to their peak—there simply wasn't enough time in a lifetime.
The three types of Haki weren't in a hierarchy. Armament Haki wasn't "weaker" than Conqueror's Haki. Take Iron Fist Garp, for instance—his Armament mastery was legendary and could go toe-to-toe with even Roger and Rocks.
Rocks, while strong in Conqueror's Haki and Devil Fruit usage, had to split his attention. His Armament and Observation lagged slightly behind. Garp, meanwhile, trained his fists for decades. Raw, focused practice mattered.
"Yohoho! Admiral Kong, it seems you've gotten rusty with age!"
Brook hovered atop the somersault cloud Hera, frost mist curling from his blade as he stared down Kong on the bow of his warship. His voice held amusement—but also conviction.
Today might be the turning point. If they could crush the admirals and leave the Navy bloodied, they could join forces with Rocks early and trigger the Valley of the Gods War ahead of schedule.
The thought sent adrenaline rushing through Brook's veins. That place—the Celestial Dragons' sanctuary in the New World—was filled with treasures, secrets, and resources beyond imagination. If they could take it, the Hell Pirates would rise to become the most powerful force in the world.
Unlike the Sabaody Archipelago, which served the lesser nobles, the Valley of the Gods housed the elite—those closest to the power center of Marijoa.
"Brook! You've grown much stronger than expected!" Kong admitted, a rare flicker of concern flashing across his face.
In truth, he wanted to call a retreat.
They had underestimated the Hell Pirates. Severely.
Brook's crew—every single core fighter—possessed qualities worthy of an overlords. They were rising stars in a night sky that refused to be dimmed.
Could it be that all the talent of this generation and the next had gathered under Brook?
Just as Brook prepared to deliver a finishing strike, his Den Den Mushi rang. Narrowing his eyes, he raised Hera higher, distancing himself from Kong before answering the call.
"Captain Brook! Bad news—we have to retreat!" came Antonio's urgent voice. "The battle on Rocks' side is over! Admiral Hoss and a whole squad of vice admirals are headed our way. We recommend immediate evacuation!"
Brook's face twisted.
Rocks… stopped the war?
He had been so close to achieving a decisive blow. So close!
"Did he lose?" Brook growled. "That old bastard couldn't hold the line?"
"Vice Admiral Garp injured the Scorpion Dragon and threw him into the sea. Then he broke into the battle between Admiral Hoss, Braver, and Rocks. Rocks had to pull back to rescue his guy and then retreated."
Antonio's tone was full of disbelief. No one expected a single vice admiral to turn the tide. But it had happened.
"Tch... damn it all!" Brook hissed. The situation had turned.
As strong as they were, they couldn't fight against three admirals and a flood of elite vice admirals—not now.
Especially not ones like Iron Fist Garp, Golden Buddha Sengoku, Black Arm Zephyr, and Bloody Hand Braver. These weren't ordinary soldiers. These were the pillars of the future Navy.
Brook clenched his jaw, but there was only one choice.
"Enough fighting for today! Everyone—retreat!!" Brook's voice boomed across the battlefield. The Den Den Mushi feed abruptly cut out, signaling the end of the live broadcast.
Though many of the crew were reluctant, none disobeyed their captain.
The retreat began.
Kong did not order a pursuit. Under his grim command, the Navy watched as Punk Hazard and the Hell Pirates' airborne fleet disappeared into the horizon.
------------------
The rising overlords of the New World—the Hell Pirates—had just pulled off the unthinkable: stealing a mysterious, high-value island right under the noses of two Navy Admirals. News of the event erupted across the seas, shaking the world's foundations.
It wasn't just the robbery that stunned the world—it was where and how it happened. For two admirals to show up and still fail to stop it, the stolen island clearly held terrifying value. But the World Government had gravely underestimated the Hell Pirates, still viewing them as a rising force rather than a full-fledged power. The result? Heavy casualties, and a humiliating loss.
—
Beehive Island – Hachinosu
Rocks D. Xebec stared blankly at the intelligence reports in his hand, his fist slowly clenching. Though he said nothing, the emotions behind his eyes were clear: rage, frustration… and something dangerously close to envy.
The Hell Pirates were becoming more feared than the Rocks Pirates themselves.
Rocks had to face a brutal truth: his crew had failed to overcome forces led by just one admiral. They retreated with no glory, no gain. But Brook's crew? They'd gone head-to-head with two admirals—and won, crippling the Navy force and striking fear into pirates and civilians alike.
The world didn't care that the Hell Pirates mostly struck down low and mid-tier marines, or that the admirals themselves walked away alive. What they saw was data—and the death toll spoke volumes. By comparison, the Rocks Pirates now looked weak.
Rocks' lips curled in distaste. Reports described the Hell Pirates' attacks like apocalyptic disasters: floods, quakes, storms of lightning, and floating islands raining down destruction. It wasn't warfare—it was nature declaring war.
Looking at his own so-called elites, Rocks couldn't help but sneer. Compared to the Four Fighters under Brook, his subordinates looked like circus clowns.
And truth be told, he wanted their Devil Fruits—especially the ones wielded by the Hell Pirates' top fighters. But it was too late. Brook and his monsters had grown too strong. If he moved on them now, he'd suffer the same fate as the Navy—swept away in a tide of cataclysm.
For a brief moment, Rocks actually felt... relieved. During the past decade of uneasy peace with Brook, he hadn't suffered any real losses. In fact, he might've narrowly avoided total defeat.
That thought only fueled his desperation. He had to acquire those legendary Devil Fruits said to be hidden in the Valley of the Gods. If not, then ten years from now, he'd be kneeling beneath Brook's boot.
—
Meanwhile, on Doragonzo, the mood was the complete opposite.
The island rang with celebration. The Hell Pirates weren't just feared anymore—they were legendary. After this single battle, they had been crowned as one of the true Overlord pirate crews, beyond question. Their influence exploded, drawing waves of ambitious pirates to their banner.
—
But back at the Navy's New World G1 Branch, the atmosphere was grim.
In a desperate move, the Navy Headquarters had relocated all three admirals to the New World, leaving Marinford and the Sabaody Archipelago defenseless. It was a gamble... and a losing one.
Despite their combined presence, they'd still failed—beaten back by the combined might of the Rocks Pirates and Hell Pirates.
"What do we do now?" an officer asked nervously. "Is there any way to stop the Hell Pirates' natural disaster assaults? What if they cross the defense line again and invade a major country?"
Admiral Hoss—who had been assigned to fight the Rocks Pirates—folded his arms. "My campaign didn't result in major losses. My forces are intact, and I have no regrets."
But Kong and Coss Daivo remained silent. They had failed to stop Brook's rampage. Punk Hazard was gone, their ships were shattered, and their elite troops decimated.
No one else dared speak. What could they say?
How do you fight tsunamis, floating islands, volcanic eruptions, lightning strikes from the heavens?
Even the unshakeable Monkey D. Garp stayed silent. Could he take on the Hell Pirates? Maybe. But could his ships and subordinates survive it?
The answer was clear: No.
What made it worse—far worse—was this: the Four officers of Brook weren't even at their peak yet. They were young, overflowing with potential, and possessed some of the strongest Devil Fruits in the world.
They had advanced Haki mastery.
They were strategic.
They had charisma.
They checked every box of an Overlord-class force.
These were figures who, by all logic, should be separated, ruling their own factions, fighting each other for territory like all pirates eventually do.
Instead… they were united, loyal to Brook, and growing stronger together.
Even the Navy's top brass could feel it—the old balance of chaos was fading. The New World was uniting. And that scared them more than anything.
Land battles? Naval sieges? Useless.
Whitebeard Newgate had his Tremor-Tremor Fruit, capable of splitting the sea itself.
Golden Lion Shiki rained floating islands down like cannonballs.
And now, Redfield had unleashed a devastating technique—Thunder Greeting—that could wipe out an entire island.
Each one was a war machine. A living disaster.
Even the Chief of Staff had no solution.
"We need spies," Kong finally muttered, breaking the silence. "Brook's crew is recruiting. Their Pirate Guild is loosely organized. We'll sneak in loyal marines who rarely show their faces—turn them into pirates and feed us intel. Then we wait for an opportunity."
No one spoke up against it. Because what else was there?
They couldn't stop the Four Officers. Not now. Not in a straight fight.
"Have you noticed?" Kong added after a pause. "Brook's goals are always clear. He's not attacking aimlessly. Everything he does is aimed at expansion."
He turned to Sengoku.
"The Eighteen Hells Islands are booming. One of our agents infiltrated Doragonzo through the underworld. It's more prosperous than even the Sabaody Archipelago."
"There's a sea train connecting all eighteen islands. A technology even our best scientists can't replicate. Trade is booming. It's become a pirate's paradise."
"This attack on Punk Hazard? It wasn't just a raid—it was strategic. Brook wants the island's research capabilities."
"And don't forget O'Hara. Brook didn't destroy it for revenge—he looted it for knowledge. Every move he makes is to grow stronger. If he weren't a pirate, I'd think he was... an eternal ruler."
Vice Admiral Sengoku sighed after saying this. But instead of praise, his words earned him icy stares from the more hawkish officers.
"What does any of this have to do with stopping the Hell Pirates?" asked Braver the Bloody Hand, an admiral candidate with no patience for admiration. "They're monsters. Nothing more."
It wasn't just pride. Braver knew Sengoku was rising in favor with Fleet Admiral Kukulkan, possibly being groomed for the title of Admiral.
And with Conqueror's Haki under his belt, Sengoku was now Braver's greatest rival for the position.
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