From the very first exchange the battle went white-hot.
No feeling-out round.
From the opening bell, Magnus's side threw every high-end fighter into the fray.
"It's the original crew of the White Wolf Pirates!"
"That's… crafty Roya!? Why is he so young!"
"And Rose Lily!"
...
Among the old hands still sailing with the White Wolf, Roya was about Magnus's age. Five years ago at Sphinx, his power slipped out of the front rank.
But after Stussy brewed up youth hormones with her fruit and he regained his prime, Roya clawed back to a top-five seat in the crew.
"Sure, once you're old you should make room for the newbies—but I'm not skipping a show like this just because I've got years on me!"
In this era, a hundred-million-bounty pirate equaled an elite Marine Vice Admiral, while a two-hundred-million class was handled only by Admirals or their alternates.
So when Roya slipped into his beast form and tore across the field,
for a moment he passed like a ghost through empty halls.
"Damn it, can anyone stop him?"
"Where's Vice Admiral Ross?"
"Blocked by the great pirate Morian!"
...
The mood swing that had just favored the Marines flipped sharply back. Once the fight truly opened, the generation-gap in Marine mid-to-high ranks bared its teeth.
For this war, they summoned a full hundred at the Vice Admiral tier.
But of those, the number who truly matched "great pirates"
was under twenty.
Two-hundred-million, Admiral-candidate level?
A single one.
This sea is cruel.
Power decides everything, and power defines everything.
For years the Marines smothered enemies by sheer numbers at the apex. Even now, Magnus could take two Admiral-class at once, but not three or four.
That was the Marines' edge at the top.
But the reverse holds too.
One-on-one, Grindevin could crush today's Newgate in two or three moves—but if he couldn't end it fast, then someone like Newgate could threaten him.
One isn't enough? Make it two. Two not enough? Make it three.
Share the hits, share the load. After losing the first move,
Newgate, Ripley, and Linlin together
pressed a CP Admiral-class.
If, right then, Marines or CP could spare a hand to ease Grindevin's burden, the trio's advantage would vanish in an instant.
Too bad—
the White Wolf still fielded over a dozen great-pirate-level fighters.
And the Marines were already stretched thin.
"What, is that all? Don't make me laugh. With this much, what do you plan to use to stop me?"
Magnus's wild voice rolled over Akropolis, and just hearing him sent the pirates' spirits surging.
"Haha—so this is the Marines? Doesn't seem like much!"
"I thought I was a dead man walking."
"Haha, you too? Dragged here by your bastard captain? He'll trade all our lives just to get his youth back!"
...
Of the tens of thousands Magnus gathered, nearly half hadn't come willingly. Their captains—or someone important on their ships—needed Magnus's youth tonic, needed Pure Gold, so they hauled their crews here to bleed.
They hadn't expected to sail home alive.
This was a head-on war with the Marines—against the Marines and the World Government.
The Government had ruled eight hundred years.
And the Marines had stood eight hundred years.
Across those centuries, legends rose who could check the Marines; top pirates who could face Admirals were countless, and many carved deep lines into history.
Yet eight hundred years later, the Government still ruled this world, and the Marines still policed these seas.
So—
even with Magnus blazing like the sun, to many pirates provoking the Government and the Marines still smelled like suicide.
But pirates, who lick the knife's edge for a living, hide fear well.
They drown it in liquor.
None of them imagined that a war that looked like a long shot would be, from the outset, theirs to ride.
Especially Magnus's duel.
That elder in a white suit—Magnus was using him like a spinning top.
At that sight,
the pirates roared louder.
Magnus was right: whatever rabble he commanded, as long as he stood and swung,
their morale would not break.
"Damn!"
Alone before Magnus, Stephens tasted again the terror of Mary Geoise—the drowning press of death—and he would do anything not to swallow it twice.
"Lord Lucas, move! I can't hold much longer!"
Without the "undying" brand he'd already have been torn apart.
Even with it, the more Magnus pumped Conqueror's into him, the slower Stephens healed—as if the immortal sigil itself were being burned away.
"Useless."
Dragged into view too early, the God's Knights Commander, Lucas, frowned. He didn't care whether Stephens lived; he cared if his plan would land.
Still, even without the plea, Lucas knew he couldn't stall.
The Marines were slipping everywhere.
The White Wolf were clearly hunting Marine and CP elites. If Marine and CP leadership bled out en masse, stepping in later would be too late.
Quantity becomes quality.
A two-hundred-million-class pirate can't beat an Admiral. But three of them? Even an Admiral gets tied down.
Likewise,
three one-hundred-million-class can pin a two-hundred-million candidate—and the spare can climb to a higher ring.
The White Wolf didn't have as many apexes as the Government—
but their second line was deep.
Akropolis had become one giant tangle.
This wasn't a war of men—it wasn't volleys of arrows and thundering cavalry. In a world where mountains crack every other swing, a "true" war risks wiping the island from the map.
Harold vs. Ortega.
A mountain of a giant swung a greatsword; anyone near him—friend or foe—was swallowed by the arcs.
A few years ago the giant king was "just" ordinary Admiral-class. A string of wars had spiked his growth.
He always had Conqueror's.
After countless rounds with Magnus, Harold had mastered coating, stepping firmly deeper onto the summit path.
So even Ortega—called the Marines' strongest Admiral—couldn't suppress Harold, only go all out.
"Void Break!"
A hyper-focused punch hammered Harold's blade. Haki met Haki and spawned a killing shockwave; fighters a notch under simply couldn't stand in it.
To live, you stayed away.
Not far off, Dorry and Brogy vs. Kong ground on.
Giants again—
but Dorry and Brogy weren't Harold.
To meet Kong,
they started in the form most suited to fight him:
human-sized.
They'd spent a month getting used to it.
So Kong faced two figures about his size—slower than him, but with absurd power.
Individually they weren't his match.
But decades of shared rhythms made their teamwork water-tight.
Kong was no weakling among Admirals—
but he couldn't crack the two quickly.
"Gabababababa—how about it? Not a sneak attack this time!"
"Kyakyakyakya—make it a brawl!"
"Against invaders of our homeland, no need for 'honor'!"
"Exactly!"
Their clash didn't flare as high as Harold vs. Ortega, but the ground beneath them crumbed like tofu; step close, and you died just the same.
Elsewhere—Takiichi Amatsuki vs. the new Admiral, Hines.
Blade on one side, endless ice on the other.
"Why is a samurai of Wano here?"
"Heh—because the rise and fall of House Amatsuki now rides on that man alone. So this old one must go all in!"
Wano's remaining samurai had asked for Magnus's help and been turned away. Knowing they had no standing, they could only grit their teeth—until word came that Magnus was launching a war on the Government. They volunteered on the spot.
To prove their worth to Magnus—
and to take revenge on the Government.
Farther off,
Gensaburo Shimotsuki no longer wore that careless grin he'd shown meeting Magnus; steadiness had settled into his eyes.
He loved forging blades.
But if a blade is forged and no one wields it, no one sees it—
it's meaningless.
He had wanted to flee Wano. When Wano no longer bound him,
he found himself missing what was gone.
There was only one thing he could do now.
Fight.
Then—Jorul and Jarul vs. Ardent and Portman.
An old men's battleground.
Jorul, Jarul—Ardent, Portman—every one had long passed his youth.
But the giants had youth tonic,
and Ardent and Portman could only burn their remaining capital.
In their prime—
Jorul and Jarul would not match the two former Admirals.
Against two old lions,
they were enough.
In perfect tandem, the giant heroes fully tied down the Marines' banner and brain.
Ardent and Portman didn't dare let the elders roam.
One slip—
"Hakoku!!!"
Their link-tech gouged another wound in the already-scarred island.
"Bokakaka—what a joy! Been ages since a fight like this!"
"Zapapapa—when this is over, I'm hitting the tavern to brag to the kids who missed it!"
The two giant elders laughed like thunder.
Trusting Magnus, the giants had sent a thousand soldiers; just among them, a dozen great-pirate-level fighters—wagering a nation's fate.
Giants rampaged everywhere across Akropolis.
To the weak, the strong fought like gods flexing their dominion. These soldiers—elite from every land—were "monsters" to common folk.
But to the elites themselves, the apex fighters in motion were the real monsters.
Like the Paramount War to come.
To save his beloved foster son, one of the Four Emperors—Whitebeard—cast aside age, illness, and wounds and bet everything against the Marines.
That war nearly sank all of Marineford.
Magnus's war wasn't that "Paramount War," but its intensity exceeded it.
After all,
in that war Whitebeard's side rested on one man—an ailing old Whitebeard. The division commanders were strong, but shy of the true summit—
like today's Newgate, Ripley, and the rest.
Unlike them, Magnus himself stood at his peak—and brought not only his crew but Elbaf's allies and a mass of pirates willing to gamble their lives for a second youth.
So even though today's Marine muster rivaled the canon "Paramount War,"
they were still falling behind the White Wolf.
Holding back?
Not a chance.
The Marines were already all-in—and still couldn't seize the high ground.
This was the true Paramount War.
Everything on the line—
blood and steel.
Across the tens of kilometers of Akropolis, nearly half the span burned; the land shattered wherever apexes clashed.
The reporters crouched far behind their lenses,
shaking.
This was real war—the kind that bends the path of the world.
Little time had passed—
but the field favored the White Wolf.
If it went on like this,
the White Wolf Pirates might actually win!?
Before the first shot, who imagined that outcome?
But to stand atop the world,
the Government never relied on the Marines alone.
As the Marines sagged,
the God's Knights
finally appeared!
(End of Chapter)
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