For perhaps the first time in years, the Hero of the Marines looked genuinely weighed down.
Garp had always been loud, fearless, and stubbornly optimistic, the kind of man who believed most problems could be solved with enough strength and a good pair of fists. Yet now it felt as though a massive stone had settled in his chest.
This crisis was different from anything the Marines had faced before.
And even Garp could no longer deny that, in the middle of a storm this enormous, there were limits to what one man could do.
Sengoku did not sit down.
He remained standing by the damaged window, his back turned toward the room as the fading light of sunset stretched his shadow across the floor.
Below him lay Marineford.
The grand plaza that had once represented the dignity and power of Marine Headquarters now looked as though some colossal beast had torn its way through it. Broken walls, shattered stone, wreckage, and abandoned equipment were scattered everywhere, while thin trails of smoke still drifted upward from the ruins.
Sengoku stared at it for a long time before speaking.
"Yeah…"
His voice was hoarse.
"I never expected it either."
He slowly shook his head.
"We committed everything."
"Ships, soldiers, Admirals, Vice Admirals, weapons, resources… everything Marine Headquarters could mobilize."
Sengoku's expression darkened.
"I thought that even if we couldn't destroy the Eternal Divine Kingdom outright, we could at least cripple them badly enough to preserve the balance of the seas."
A bitter smile crossed his face.
"But instead…"
He looked down at the ruined headquarters.
"…we nearly threw away centuries of everything the Marines had built."
The words caught slightly in his throat.
For a moment, neither Garp nor Tsuru responded.
Sengoku finally turned away from the window.
Exhaustion covered his face, but beneath it was something even more difficult to hide.
Fear.
Not fear for himself.
Fear of how close the Marines had come to collapse.
"We underestimated Ron."
His gaze moved between Garp and Tsuru.
"We underestimated the Eternal Divine Kingdom's true strength."
"And we underestimated how far they were willing to go."
Tsuru, who had remained quiet until then, finally spoke.
Her voice was calm, but the words cut straight to the heart of the matter.
"Perhaps choosing a head-on war with the Eternal Divine Kingdom from the beginning was itself a mistake."
Garp looked toward her.
So did Sengoku.
The room fell silent again.
Tsuru's expression remained composed as she continued.
"For too long, we viewed them using the same logic we use for ordinary pirates."
"Put a bounty on them."
"Send forces to hunt them down."
"Suppress them through military strength."
"That approach works when dealing with pirate crews whose only structure is a captain, a ship, and whatever territory they happen to control by force."
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"But the Eternal Divine Kingdom was never developing in that direction."
"From the moment they began establishing their own country, every step they took showed long-term planning."
"They created rules."
"They built institutions."
"They expanded their territory in an organized manner."
"They absorbed forces that could be useful to them and eliminated those that stood directly in their path."
Tsuru folded her hands.
"Those are not the actions of people who merely want to become another powerful pirate crew and terrorize the seas."
"They are building something much larger."
Sengoku said nothing.
Tsuru continued.
"And what did we do?"
"We were angry over the humiliation they caused us."
"We were under pressure from above."
"So before we truly understood their strength, their objectives, or the full structure of their forces, we launched a major war."
She glanced toward the window.
"We entered that battle without fully understanding the enemy."
"We committed our best forces without a complete picture."
"And the result…"
Tsuru did not finish the sentence.
She did not need to.
The ruins outside said enough.
Burned buildings.
Collapsed defenses.
Dead Marines.
A shattered command structure.
Everything they were looking at was the answer.
Sengoku let out a long sigh.
"A mistake in judgment…"
His expression turned bitter.
"One bad decision, and the price was this high."
His brow tightened.
"And now the situation has deteriorated so far that we may not even have enough room left to properly correct it."
Silence returned.
The three veterans remained in the dim office, surrounded by the evidence of choices that could no longer be undone.
Each of them was thinking about the same thing.
Where had the Marines gone wrong?
And more importantly—
was there still time to change course before the entire organization was dragged beyond the point of recovery?
For the first time in decades, the three pillars of Marine Headquarters found themselves facing a problem that could not simply be solved by overwhelming force.
...
Each of the three veterans silently absorbed the brutal lesson written in blood before them.
Countless Marines had paid for that lesson with their lives, and the memories of those losses would haunt them for a long time.
Worse still was the suffocating pressure bearing down on Marine Headquarters from every direction.
One wrong move had led to another, and the Marines—once seemingly unshakable—now found themselves trapped in a mire where every struggle only dragged them deeper.
Ahead stood the unfathomable Eternal Divine Kingdom, filled with dangers and unknowns they still could not fully measure.
Behind them, the Five Elders continued applying pressure on behalf of the World Government.
And the Marines themselves had already been battered by successive wars, their forces depleted and their morale badly damaged.
They were caught between advancing and retreating, with neither direction offering a clear way out.
What were the Marines supposed to do now?
That question weighed on every senior officer.
The one-month reprieve before the public execution was the only breathing room they had left. Whether it would be enough to change anything remained impossible to say.
Sengoku's brow tightened.
He knew Marine Headquarters had reached a point where another major mistake could prove fatal.
After drawing a long breath and forcing himself to settle his thoughts, he reached for a black encrypted Transponder Snail.
This was no ordinary communication line.
It connected Marine Headquarters directly to the highest levels of power in the Holy Land of Mary Geoise.
Sengoku dialed the number.
The call connected.
A slow, deep voice came from the other side.
"Sengoku."
There was no discernible emotion in the speaker's tone.
"Calling at a time like this… has the situation at Marineford been resolved?"
The speaker was one of the Five Elders—
Saint Jaygarcia Saturn, Warrior God of Science and Defense.
Sengoku suppressed the exhaustion and humiliation churning inside him.
For the sake of the Marines, he kept his voice as steady as possible and began reporting everything that had happened.
He described Kaido and Bullet's sudden assault on Marine Headquarters from beginning to end.
The destruction they had caused.
The losses the Marines had suffered.
The damage inflicted on Marineford's defenses and facilities.
Then Sengoku explained the Marines' current condition in detail.
Their top-tier combat strength had been severely depleted.
Some of their strongest fighters were dead.
Others were captured.
Several more remained badly injured and unable to fight at full strength.
Marine morale had fallen just as badly.
Soldiers were exhausted, shaken, and increasingly uncertain about the future.
Marine Headquarters desperately needed time to recover.
"This attack caused tremendous losses to Headquarters," Sengoku said at last. "I'm hoping that…"
He did not finish immediately, but his meaning was obvious.
Marine Headquarters needed support.
Reinforcements.
Resources.
Anything that would give them enough breathing room to recover from the damage they had already suffered.
Yet when Sengoku finished his report, the response he received was not the understanding he had hoped for.
Nor was it an offer of assistance.
Only a cold snort came through the Transponder Snail.
"Hmph…"
Saturn's voice remained distant and condescending.
"Sengoku, do not forget why the Marines exist."
His words were delivered as though stating something self-evident.
"The purpose of the Marines is to uphold the authority and rule of the World Government."
"A temporary setback is nothing more than an obstacle along the way. It is certainly not an excuse for retreat."
Sengoku's expression darkened.
Saturn continued without concern for his reaction.
"Vegapunk's research has reached its most critical stage."
"Nothing can be allowed to interfere with it."
"The work being conducted there concerns the future of the World Government itself."
"Therefore, the World Government's available forces must currently prioritize the absolute security of the Holy Land and the research facilities."
His tone remained utterly detached.
"As for the difficulties facing the Marines…"
"You will have to find a way to deal with them yourselves."
Sengoku's hand slowly tightened around the receiver.
Saturn spoke as though the staggering Marine casualties meant nothing.
The dead.
The wounded.
The officers lost in battle.
The soldiers who had given everything to preserve Marineford.
None of it seemed to carry any particular weight in his eyes.
Sengoku's request for aid was treated as little more than an inconvenience.
Then Saturn delivered his decision.
"As for the Marines…"
His voice remained cold.
"Hold on a little longer."
Sengoku's heart sank.
"The public execution will proceed exactly as planned."
"There will be no changes."
Every word landed like a weight.
Sengoku said nothing.
Then Saturn added, almost as though granting Marine Headquarters a generous concession.
"When the time comes, members of the God's Knights will attend the execution as 'observers.'"
There was a slight pause.
"And they will do everything necessary to ensure that the execution proceeds without interference."