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In pursuit of absolute justice, Sengoku had long set his ambitions on the highest seat of Marine power—the position of Marine Admiral, and now, that distant dream had finally been realized.
No longer confined to the status of Vice Admiral, he had ascended into the ranks of the supreme military force of Marine Headquarters, standing as one of its newly appointed Admirals—a title both glorious and burdened with the weight of authority and obligation.
Yet while Sengoku's expression brimmed with pride, Zephyr stood silent, brow furrowed in thought, and finally released a sigh that carried both frustration and restraint.
"With our current strength... I fear we are not yet ready to carry the weight of the Admiral's mantle," he muttered, words slow and heavy.
Though Zephyr, too, had long yearned to reach the summit of Marine power, the bitter memory of his defeat at the Valley of the Gods—where Ayr's overwhelming might had crushed him entirely—continued to fester like an unhealed wound, undermining the very foundation of his pride.
That single failure, raw and humiliating, had shadowed every subsequent triumph.
"With your current strength, you're right—you're not fit to fully assume the position," Kong admitted without hesitation, tone flat but free of judgment. "However, that won't matter for now. The World Government has already issued a directive. You, Sengoku, Zephyr, and Garp are to refrain from engaging in any sea-based conflict until further notice."
Kong's eyes sharpened as he added, voice deepening with gravity, "Instead, by the direct will of the Five Elders, the four of you will journey to the Holy Land of Mariejois… for personal guidance."
Though the strength of these four Marines had already shaken the seas, in the eyes of the World Government, it still lacked the overwhelming edge necessary to counterbalance the rise of monstrous pirates such as Ayr, Rocks, and Whitebeard.
The tides had changed, and so had the stakes.
Only the Five Elders—rumored to possess power equal to or greater than even the Royal Guards of Imu-sama—could forge weapons capable of altering the course of this volatile era.
"The Five Elders…?" Sengoku echoed, eyebrows lifting as his voice betrayed the surprise he could not conceal.
To many, they were politicians cloaked in ritual and secrecy—but to those within the highest tiers of power, the Five Elders were far more than figureheads. They were the apex of the World Government's authority, rumored wielders of ancient arts and terrifying strength, monsters in their own right who stood unshaken even when confronted with the likes of Whitebeard, Kaido, Linlin, and Shiki combined—and perhaps even Ayr.
"Don't take this lightly," Kong warned, his tone now edged with something colder, harder. "Even I, as Fleet Admiral, have never received direct instruction from the Five Elders."
Sengoku's hands clenched tightly at his sides, the fire of resolve igniting in his eyes once more.
"Understood, Kong! We won't waste this chance. We'll become the wall that ends the age of pirates!"
Beside him, Zephyr's gaze hardened, his voice low and heavy with restrained rage.
"The next time I meet that bastard Ayr… I will not lose," he said, each syllable sharpened by the shame still carved into his bones.
The disgrace of the Valley of the Gods had become a scar that refused to fade, and if it meant crawling through fire, if it meant casting off pride to rebuild from ash, then so be it—the guidance of the Five Elders would be his crucible.
"You three rest for now," Kong instructed, voice returning to its usual cadence. "In a few days, a World Government envoy will escort you to Mariejois."
Turning to leave, his message delivered, Kong strode toward the exit with sure steps.
But just as he reached the doorway, a calm voice—steady, yet bearing a strange weight—rose from behind.
"Wait, Kong."
The Fleet Admiral paused mid-step and turned, eyebrows lifting as he met Garp's gaze. "What is it, Garp? You have a concern?"
Immediately, Kong's thoughts leapt to a familiar topic. "Are you worried about your status as a member of the D-Clan? Afraid the Five Elders will reject you?"
Before Garp could answer, Kong waved a dismissive hand.
"There's no need to worry. You're now a Marine Admiral. The Five Elders are well aware of your bloodline and respect what you've accomplished. They've long moved past those ancient grudges."
The D-Clan—eternal enemies of the Celestial Dragons—had been branded as threats since time immemorial. But Garp, the hero of the Marines, had long since overshadowed that ancestral stigma with merit and might, proving himself indispensable even to those who had every reason to hate his name.
"Exactly," Sengoku added, tone firm. "If the Five Elders held doubts, they'd never have allowed you to rise this far."
Zephyr nodded with conviction. "You're one of the Marine's Four Stars. If that doesn't speak for itself, nothing does."
But Garp merely shook his head, slow and deliberate.
"No… that's not what I wanted to say."
Kong's expression hardened. "Then what is it?"
With calm defiance in his eyes, Garp looked up and met Kong's gaze directly.
"I refuse the promotion to Admiral."
The silence that followed was absolute, carved from disbelief.
Kong's voice dropped, equal parts confusion and shock. "What did you just say?"
To decline such an honor, to reject the very summit of military command—was it madness?
Sengoku stared as if Garp had suffered head trauma. "Have you lost your mind, Garp? Why the hell would you reject this?!"
But Garp smiled, not flippantly, but with a calm that cut deeper than anger.
"If you want freedom, you can't have such a high position."
To wear the Admiral's coat was to stand directly beneath the Celestial Dragons, to follow the will of the World Government without question. It was to trade autonomy for command, and Garp—descendant of the defiant D—would not become a lapdog dressed in medals.
He was no rebel, but neither would he allow chains to be polished into symbols of honor.
"Damn it, Garp!" Sengoku shouted, fists clenched. "Do you even realize what you're throwing away?"
"Hahaha… maybe," Garp chuckled, scratching his head with a familiar laziness that belied the sharpness in his eyes. "But to me, freedom's worth more than any title."
Kong studied him for a long moment, the silence between them growing tense, then cold.
"You're serious, then? This isn't a stunt?"
"Yes," Garp replied, tone unshakable.
"Very well," Kong muttered, exhaling through his nose. "I'll report your decision to the World Government. But understand this—even without the Admiral's rank, you will still accompany the others to Mariejois. The Five Elders have requested you specifically."
"Understood," Garp said, voice even, eyes steady.
With that, Kong gave a brief nod, turned away, and exited the room without another word, the sound of his footsteps echoing against the floor like a quiet verdict.
And so, Garp—Marine hero, wielder of monstrous strength, and bearer of the D—turned away from glory and power, choosing instead a path few dared to tread.
A path of freedom—uncompromised, unchained.
A path that, in time, would shake the world to its core.
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