"Rosinante…"
The moment Tsuru saw that name, she immediately understood.
Why Sengoku had lost control of his emotions…
Rosinante.
Former Marine Headquarters Commander, Marine ID No. 01746.
This name and that number… they were the softest, most painful scar in Sengoku's heart.
He was the adopted son Sengoku had personally raised. The future he had placed all his hopes upon.
A bond that surpassed the relationship of teacher and student, superior and subordinate—something deeper, almost like that of father and son.
"Hu—"
Tsuru took a deep breath.
She had spent most of her life hunting down Doflamingo. No one understood the "Heavenly Yaksha's" methods better than she did.
Doflamingo was proud, cunning, and meticulous.
Planting an undercover agent within Marine Headquarters… and having that agent climb, step by step, to a high-ranking position…
This kind of insane, daring, far-sighted scheme… this was exactly Doflamingo's style!
In that instant, Tsuru had already believed most of the intelligence report.
Moreover, the information had been delivered by Rayne Hawke.
And when it came to Hawke, his work was always reliable.
That meant one thing—this could almost be confirmed 100%:
Vergo was the traitor inside the Marines.
"Tap—"
Tsuru turned and walked out of the office, addressing the soldier waiting outside the door.
"Use my clearance. Retrieve every single record related to Vergo, from his enlistment to the present!"
"Mission reports, financial statements, communication logs—everything!"
"Yes, ma'am!"
The soldier saluted and rushed off.
Soon—
"Thud thud thud—"
Hurried footsteps approached from the distance.
A soldier came charging in, holding a massive stack of files in his arms.
He dropped the mountain of documents—nearly half his own height—onto Sengoku's desk.
Sengoku and Tsuru immediately began going through them.
Everywhere you walk, you leave traces.
No matter how careful Vergo had been, no matter how deep he buried his tracks, he couldn't hide from the sharp eyes of Marine Headquarters' two greatest strategists.
"Found it."
Tsuru's finger pressed down on a particular report.
"After being promoted to Vice Admiral, Vergo frequently left the base, claiming he needed to return home to care for his sick younger sister."
"But… he doesn't have a sister."
"And when Rosinante died, Vergo's name appeared on the mission roster for Minion Island."
"He separated from the main force…"
"…"
Sengoku stared at the intel, unblinking.
In his mind, Rosinante's figure emerged.
Rosinante.
The adopted son who was always clumsy, who tripped over nothing whenever he got nervous, who sometimes set his own hair on fire while trying to light a cigarette…
So it was true…
The killer had been right under his nose this entire time!
Wearing a Marine uniform.
Enjoying Marine glory.
Climbing, step by step, all the way to the rank of Vice Admiral!
Crack—
The armrest of Sengoku's office chair shattered beneath his grip.
He rose to his feet slowly. He did not roar. He did not scream.
He calmly took out the Den Den Mushi and dialed Akainu's number.
"Sakazuki."
"Return to Headquarters immediately. Until I return, you'll be in charge of guarding Marineford."
Before Akainu could respond, Sengoku hung up.
"I'm coming too."
Vice Admiral Tsuru stood as well, her aged face set in a grim, icy expression.
"…"
Before long, a massive battleship representing the highest strength of Marine power was being hastily prepared.
Marine soldiers ran back and forth along the docks, their faces filled with both confusion and reverence.
They didn't know what had happened.
They didn't know what was about to happen.
They only knew this—
Fleet Admiral Sengoku and Strategist Vice Admiral Tsuru were personally setting sail!
"Wooo—!!!"
The colossal battleship slowly left the port, cutting through the waves.
"Destination!"
"The New World, G-5 Branch!"
Sengoku stood at the bow.
"This Fleet Admiral… will personally execute Vergo!"
...
Mock Town.
The most infamous lawless zone in the first half of the Grand Line—the pirates' paradise.
Nighttime.
Inside a tavern, two drunken pirates were brawling over a dancing girl.
One pirate grabbed a bottle and smashed it over the other's head, shards of glass and blood flying everywhere.
The surrounding pirates didn't stop them. On the contrary, they whistled loudly, cheering wildly, and even started placing bets.
"Hahaha! I'm betting on the one with the bottle!"
"Like hell! Cyclops' fists are harder!"
"Go on, steal his girl!"
"Stab him in the ass!"
"…"
The tavern owner polished a glass, completely unfazed—he'd seen it all before.
Out on the street, a pirate who had just stolen a pouch of money was being chased and cursed at by the victim.
He turned around, drew his curved blade, and plunged it straight into the man's gut with a sadistic grin.
Watching the victim convulse in a pool of blood, the pirate wiped his blade clean in disgust before strolling off casually.
No one cared.
No one would intervene.
This was the daily life of Mock Town—a brutal place where the law of the jungle reigned supreme.
Crime ran rampant here, breeding and festering without restraint.
However…
Out at sea, just beyond the outskirts of the town—
The colossal fleet of the G-3 Branch emerged silently from the mist, like steel beasts of war.
On the deck of the flagship, Rayne Hawke stood holding a telescope, observing the chaotic scene playing out within the town.
Behind him stood Dane, Smoker, Hina, Zoro, Sanji, and the others, lined up in silence, their expressions grim.
Thousands of G-3 Marines stood ready on their warships, fully armed and organized in disciplined formation, quietly awaiting orders.
"Heh…"
Hawke lowered the telescope, tasting the stench of sin and blood carried on the sea breeze.
He slowly raised his hand.
Then, he swung it down sharply.
"Fire—!"
The order was simple. Direct. Absolute.
"BOOM—!!!"
The next moment, the thunderous roar of countless cannons answered Hawke's command.
"BOOM BOOM BOOM—!!!"
The heavens split apart.
Hundreds of jet-black cannonballs, trailing long and blinding tails of fire, carved through the night sky like meteors.
An overwhelming rain of death screamed across the sea, descending upon the sinful, unsuspecting town still lost in its revelry.
"W-what… what's that?!"
In Mock Town's watchtower, a pirate yawned lazily before his eyes went wide at the sight of an unforgettable nightmare.
The bottle slipped from his hand, shattering loudly on the floor.
The sky… was full of "falling stars."
Cannonballs, like the scythes of death, rained down with precise, merciless accuracy.
"BOOOOM—!!!"
The first cannonball struck the town square dead center.
A violent shockwave obliterated the luxurious building instantly, sending a towering inferno roaring into the heavens, devouring everything nearby.
Then came the second strike.
And the third.
"BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!"
The explosions merged into one unending symphony of destruction.
The earth trembled and howled in agony.
The tavern that moments ago echoed with cheers and laughter was shredded by dozens of shells, consumed in an instant by raging flames.
Screams. Wails. Begging for mercy.
All of it drowned beneath the relentless roar of artillery.
Flames devoured the town.
Smoke smothered the sky.
The once-lawless pirate haven became a burning hell under the crushing weight of absolute firepower.
"Hu—"
Hawke watched with satisfaction, blowing out a ring of smoke.
"A lawless zone, huh?"
"In front of me… there is no lawlessness."
"There's only… a graveyard."
"…"
The deck fell silent.
Dane's expression remained blank. Having followed Hawke the longest—and bearing his own blood debts—he had long since grown accustomed to these purges.
Zoro gripped the hilt of Wado Ichimonji tightly, battle intent blazing in his eyes.
Sanji lit a cigarette quietly, the smoke quickly swallowed by the thick stench of gunpowder.
Hina's face reflected pure shock.
Smoker's jaw twitched, his eyes locked on the inferno below.
At this moment, they all understood.
Hawke's "Justice Through Slaughter" was not just talk.
With the destruction of this town, he was declaring to the entire pirate haven:
He, Rayne Hawke, had arrived.
When the final barrage ceased, Mock Town was reduced to a blazing sea of fire.
Hawke crushed his cigar into the ashtray.
He turned, sweeping his gaze over the thousands of assembled Marines.
"Land."
"Don't let a single pirate escape!"