The air in the Fleet Admiral's office was suffocatingly heavy.
Behind a mountain of documents, Sengoku rubbed his temples, exhaustion visible in every motion. The piles of reports about pirate activity, Navy restructuring, and internal corruption were never-ending.
The door creaked open, and Vice Admiral Tsuru stepped in, holding a Den Den Mushi in her hands. Its eyes glowed faintly already connected.
"Sengoku," she said quietly, her tone grave. "It's Kuzan."
Those words were like a stone dropped into still water. Sengoku's eyes snapped open, a rare spark igniting in them.
A wave of energy rippled out from him, unseen but tangible his Observation Haki enveloped the entire headquarters, ensuring no one could listen in. Only when the perimeter was secured did he slowly reach out and take the Den Den Mushi.
The hand that had crushed countless pirates trembled slightly.
"Kuzan…" His voice carried both tension and hope.
"Fleet Admiral, everything went smoothly," came Aokiji's calm voice. "The first batch of gold has been successfully delivered."
Silence.
For a brief moment, time itself seemed to stop.
Then Sengoku clenched his fist so tightly that his knuckles cracked.
At long last the first step.
The future of the Navy…
The independence of justice…
It had finally begun.
He took a slow breath, forcing his voice steady. "Kuzan, make sure the rest of the transports are secured. No mistakes, no exposure."
"Understood," Kuzan replied firmly. "I'll personally escort every shipment until all the gold reaches G-3 safely."
When the call ended, Sengoku returned the Den Den Mushi to Tsuru. Their eyes met decades of shared battles and silent trust reflected in that single glance.
Tsuru nodded lightly. "The internal smelting and transport channels are ready. I'll oversee everything myself. No word will leak."
"Good." Sengoku straightened. "Summon Borsalino."
Tsuru left without another word.
Moments later, a brilliant golden light flashed inside the room. When it faded, Admiral Kizaru stood lazily by the wall, hands in his pockets.
"Oh my, Fleet Admiral Sengoku," he drawled, voice languid. "You're really working me to the bone, you know? I just got back from the New World, and these old bones aren't what they used to be."
He stretched and collapsed onto the sofa, half-asleep.
Sengoku didn't bother humoring the act. "Kuzan just called. The gold is secure."
The change was instant.
Kizaru's slouch vanished. His half-closed eyes snapped wide open, flashing with energy.
He stood at attention in one smooth motion. "Fleet Admiral! Which Emperor are we hitting first?!"
Sengoku almost sighed. Of course.
The man had gone from a drowsy retiree to a battle-crazed general in less than a second.
"You think a pile of gold means we can crush a Yonko already?" Sengoku muttered, massaging his brow.
Kizaru blinked, clearly disappointed. "So… no fireworks yet?"
"Not yet," Sengoku said, his tone calm but resolute. "The Navy has only just begun its transformation. We need time to adapt to build strength that can truly shake the world."
He turned, his cloak of "Justice" billowing behind him. "The time for the Emperors will come… but not today."
Kizaru sighed dramatically, shoulders slumping again. "So, what's the mission, then?"
"I'm going to Mariejois."
Kizaru froze. "You're meeting the Celestial Dragons?"
Sengoku nodded. "While I'm gone, you'll remain here as acting commander. Cancel all support operations and focus on headquarters security."
A grin crept across Kizaru's face. "Ah, so you're leaving me to babysit the base. I can manage that. No battles, no travel just tea, newspapers, and my paycheck. Perfect."
Sengoku gave him a flat look. "Try not to sleep through a world crisis this time."
He rose, taking his pristine white Fleet Admiral's coat from the rack and draping it across his shoulders. The kanji for "Justice" shimmered faintly in the sunlight.
Without another word, Sengoku strode from the office. Moments later, a massive warship set sail from Marineford, cutting through the waves toward the Holy Land.
The Holy Land, Mariejois.
Atop the Red Line, beneath blindingly white towers and golden spires, the world's greatest power reigned supreme. Everything here was immaculate pure marble, sacred silence, and the illusion of divine order.
But beneath that gleaming surface festered the vilest corruption known to man.
A single Marine warship surged through the holy waters, defying the boundaries that only Celestial Dragons were meant to cross.
At its prow stood Sengoku, his gaze sharper than the wind.
Each step brought him closer to the place that had humiliated him, the place where he had bowed his head for the Navy's survival countless times.
But now things were different.
Now, the Navy had its own gold.
Its own future.
Its own man named Renn Hawk.
He wasn't coming to plead this time.
He was coming to settle accounts.
As the warship docked, Sengoku descended the gangplank, his steps heavy, his presence overwhelming. The CP agents stationed at the harbor stiffened instantly.
They had never seen the Fleet Admiral look like this before.
Gone was the calm strategist, the patient administrator. What stood before them was a storm barely contained in human form.
"F-Fleet Admiral…" one CP0 captain stammered, forcing himself forward. "What brings you here?"
Sengoku didn't answer. He merely looked at him a single, icy glance.
The man froze on the spot. He couldn't move, couldn't speak.
No one dared block the Fleet Admiral's path as he strode toward Pangaea Castle.
Inside, the Five Elders sat around a vast table, discussing world matters with the usual detached arrogance.
"The Heavenly Tribute this year has been… satisfactory."
"The balance of the New World must remain stable."
Their conversation ceased abruptly when the doors exploded open.
The sound echoed like thunder.
Frowns deepened. "Who dares interrupt "
Their words died as they saw Sengoku enter. His boots clicked against the marble floor, each step deliberate, each one heavier than the last.
"You weren't summoned," one Elder said coldly. "You have no right to be here without permission. This is contempt for the world's highest authority!"
Sengoku ignored them. He reached the table, eyes blazing with restrained fury.
Decades of loyalty, compromise, and humiliation all the sacrifices he'd made in the name of justice boiled beneath the surface.
Then, with a sharp crack, he slammed a thick dossier onto the center of the table.
The papers spilled open, revealing irrefutable evidence Vergo, a Marine officer, exposed as a double agent working under Donquixote Doflamingo.
"The Shichibukai," Sengoku said coldly, his voice echoing across the hall. "Can you still control them?"
The Elders exchanged uneasy glances but said nothing.
Sengoku's voice dropped lower, filled with steel.
"If not…"
His eyes burned with the fury of a man who'd finally stopped kneeling.
"Then we kill them all."
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