Vinsmoke Judge did not flee when he had the chance—not because he wanted to witness firsthand who was stronger between his clone army and Douglas Bullet's Terminator T-1000s, but because he was being watched too closely.
From start to finish, Bullet never gave him a real opportunity to escape.
And now, there was even less hope.
"Rosen… does he really have to kill them all?"
Judge gripped his spear tighter, his mind torn between running and fighting. Yet every time the thought flickered, a suffocating pressure rolled off Bullet, drowning him like endless North Sea waves.
Each surge shattered what little resolve remained, crushing both his fighting spirit and his will to flee.
But surrender? That was something Vinsmoke Judge could hardly stomach.
"If the Admiral wanted you dead, you'd already be a corpse."
Bullet's tone was flat, but his eyes betrayed disdain.
So this was Germa's King? This was the man who once terrorized the North Sea?
No wonder Doflamingo had crushed him so easily.
At least the Heavenly Yaksha had shown teeth when facing Rosen. He had dared to fight, dared even to threaten, despite the overwhelming gap.
But Judge? He lacked the courage to fight and the courage to run.
"Can… can I survive?" Judge stammered, clinging to Bullet's words like a drowning man grasping a splinter of driftwood.
"Whether you live depends not on me," Bullet replied, extending one hand mockingly,
"But on the Admiral's judgment."
He crooked a finger. "Of course, you're free to try escaping… or fighting me."
Judge's face twisted. Fight? Against that monster? Against the Demon's Heir, who could tear islands apart with a single blow?
Escape? Laughable. His proud clone army had been erased by those casually forged Terminators.
Even if his suit allowed him to fly, how far could he run before Bullet caught him? The man's first appearance had been from the skies—proving he could fly just as easily.
The bitter truth crushed him. Judge exhaled heavily, forcing a twisted smile.
Slowly, he descended from the air.
The moment his boots touched the ground, his knees buckled. He staggered, barely catching himself from collapsing outright.
"I…" His voice cracked.
"I'll go with you."
Hands raised in surrender.
The video Den Den Mushi Bullet had recorded every second of this pitiful display, transmitting it live to the massive screen in Rosen's office at Branch No. 1.
"Is this the King of Germa?" Doll sneered, shaking her head. "Compared to Donquixote, his bones are soft as mud. Not even the courage to resist."
She truly couldn't understand what Rosen saw in such a man.
Germa's clone army? Already proven useless against Bullet's creations. Just thirty Terminators had butchered them without effort.
Germa's weapons? Rifles, Gatling guns, artillery—yes, more advanced than standard Navy issue, but pointless when Bullet could create superior machines with his
Fusion-Fusion Fruit.
Why bring this man back alive?
"He's just a scientist."
Rosen's calm voice ended the speculation.
Arrogant, vain, hypocritical, cowardly—this was Judge's true character. His surrender wasn't surprising.
Against Bullet, resisting was suicide. And since Bullet's orders were to capture, not kill, Judge had no reason to throw his life away.
Snap.
Rosen pressed the remote, the live feed shutting off.
He had seen all he needed: the annihilation of Germa's army by the Terminator squad, and the humiliating capture of its king.
Now all that remained was to wait for Bullet's return.
"Admiral, it's getting late," Doll said softly. "Shall we eat first?"
"Alright."
Rosen rose from his chair, leaving the office alongside her.
Behind them, a countdown timer on the desk continued to tick down.
3:35:49.
2:59:30.
1:36:50.
…
Minute by minute, the numbers dwindled.
When the hours finally dropped to zero and the final 59-minute countdown began, the sky above Branch No. 1 split open.
A massive aircraft, cutting through the clouds like a hunting falcon, plunged downward.
Air currents screamed as it crashed toward the base below.
It wasn't so much a landing as it was a fall.
Atop the B-2 bomber, Vinsmoke Judge was bound tightly, his face pale, eyes wide with terror as the ground rushed up to meet him.
Unlike his modified children, he had no bloodline factor enhancements to grant him resilience. Without his combat suit's protection—and Bullet's rough, relentless transport—he might not have survived the trip at all.
"Bullet… You wield such advanced weapons, yet you can't even land one properly?"
It was the only prayer Judge had left. That this "crash" wouldn't kill him outright.
Just as the bomber threatened to smash into the beach, a wave of overwhelming Conqueror's Haki surged from the base's main tower.
It erupted like a pillar of purple light, piercing the heavens.
From the beam, a colossal skeletal hand emerged, reaching into the sky. Muscles, sinew, and armored plating formed in an instant, crafting a massive arm that caught the plummeting bomber in its palm.
The crushing momentum was absorbed. The weight held firm.
Then, with a casual motion, the arm hurled the B-2 bomber sideways like a baseball.
Boom!
The war machine slammed into the beach of the naval base, sending waves of sand exploding skyward.