Sengoku let out a long, weary breath and turned toward the young man at the center of the chaos, his voice barely steady.
"The Gorosei, they agreed," Sengoku reported, sounding hollow.
Thorne Ashveil reclined as if bored, a casual yawn escaping him. "That is better. Next, I claim the waters once visited by Whitebeard's crew, these islands now belong to my fleet," Ashveil said in a lazy tone.
The declaration was jagged in its audacity, but it was clear and final. Nations that had been tied to Whitebeard, Fish-Man Island, and several others associated with the old king of the sea, and the words hung in the air like a challenge.
A stunned silence spread through Marineford, denser than smoke. So many islands, so many claims, announced with such cool detachment. Garp's hands curled into fists until his knuckles showed white, and a roar like the cracking of a cliff burst from him.
"Kid, do not cross the line! How dare you trample Marine justice!" Garp bellowed.
Without hesitation, Garp launched himself skyward. Though he had bled strength in past battles, he still had the resolve to unleash the majority of his power.
"S-stop, Garp," Sengoku tried to interpose, but it was too late.
Kong's face registered despair. If Garp moved first, the consequences would be enormous. Even Sengoku, Kong and Kaido together would struggle against Ashveil, so what chance did Garp alone have?
Ashveil's expression hardened into one of cold derision; the negotiations had clearly reached an impasse. With a single thought, he raised a colossal hammer bound in quaking energy and brought it down toward Marineford.
"Stop Ashveil's strike," Kong roared, voice straining.
The veterans were already badly wounded from the conflict, and only the remaining defenders — Garp, Aokiji, Kizaru, Vice Admiral Tsuru, Tokikake and a few others — could put up any meaningful resistance.
Garp surged forward, his Armament Haki flaring as he charged, shouting, "This old man will uphold Marine justice."
Aokiji carved an ice wall upward, a frozen barrier rising from the sea, while Kizaru unleashed a blinding beam of speed and light. Each of these powers collided with Ashveil's assault. The sky filled with savage light and pure force, a clash of elements and wills.
The impact detonated through the clouds, the blast painting the heavens with fire. Tremendous air currents smashed across Marineford, birthing violent tornadoes from the colliding winds. From the ruins, Kaido opened his eyes and stared, wide of face, astonished at the scope of the detonation.
"Is that Ashveil's attack?" Kaido murmured in disbelief.
The barrage lasted seconds that felt like years. The Marines had expended themselves and could not shape another combined offensive. Their faces were pale, eyes wide, as they watched the charged pieces of energy fall from the sky.
"Are those Conqueror's Haki fragments?" Tokikake asked in stunned tones, his gaze fixed upward.
Even Kizaru looked grave.
"Even though we held the main strike, how will we resist these fragments of Conqueror's Haki?" he said.
Aokiji's shoulders slumped, the frost around him melting in defeat. "Those shards carry the force of Gura Gura no Mi, embedded in the blow. If they detonate on the ground, Marineford will be torn apart," he said with bitterness.
Across the sky, splinters of the hammer rained down, each one a shard of violent intention. The exhausted Marines on the ground had to scramble, their every movement sluggish from earlier exertions.
"Run," the lower-ranked Marines screamed, scattering. Many tried to dodge but were struck by falling fragments. The ground thundered with impact after impact. The island shuddered as entire sections fractured and collapsed.
Boom after boom shook Marineford. Fault lines spiderwebbed across its surface, the soil shivering and cracking for thousands of meters. The sea roiled and boiled, and then a towering wall of water surged forward.
Aokiji pushed his final strength into a last desperate Ice Age and froze the ocean in a sheet of sudden winter. He collapsed in the aftermath, spent to the edge of collapse.
From the outer waters, Whitebeard's fleet felt the tremor and exchanged alarmed looks. Marco shouted toward the horizon, "Pops, did the Marines break the rules and attack Ashveil?"
Whitebeard's pupils narrowed, the lines of his face hardening. "This does not feel like a Marine strike. This feels like Ashveil's hand," he said.
Dracule Mihawk watched from a distant vantage point, cold fascination in his eyes, and for once his expression verged on exhilaration.
"Ashveil, you are a force that shapes swords and lives," Mihawk said, voice thin with an excitement that bordered on reverence.
Within the Room of Authority the Five Elders heard the shudders and exchanged uneasy looks. Saint Warcury leaned in toward Sengoku, asking, "Sengoku, what is happening?"
Sengoku's hand trembled as he clutched the Den Den Mushi. "Reporting, Five Elders. Because we would not accept his terms for reparation, Ashveil has leveled Marineford."
No sooner were the words out than a thunderous crash answered them. One quarter of Marineford folded in on itself, a massive section collapsing into ruin. The sight froze even hardened veterans.
"This is—" one of the Marines began and stopped.
"Thousands of square kilometers gone, collapsed as though chewed up," muttered another, voice barely audible.
Whispers spread that this young man's strength had eclipsed any single figure they remembered. "He has surpassed Rocks," someone whispered, and the name alone made the room hold its breath.
The Gorosei's faces were unreadable but tight with alarm. Decades past had given them cause to fear a man like that, but now this frightening force stood young and fierce before them.
Ashveil's voice carried through the Den Den Mushi, cold and deceptively light.
"Listen up, Gorosei. Talking with Sengoku is tiresome. I will say this one more time, accept the reparations or I will wipe out every force left on Marineford."
Marineford was a ruin strewn with smoke and splintered stone. The great pillars and banners that had once declared the rule of the World Government now lay in ruin. Marines screamed, wounded and bewildered, as rescue and retreat collided chaotically.
Amid the chaos, Garp knelt in the dust, fists closing and opening as if squeezing air. Tokikake, bruised and breathing hard, watched the sky where the cracked shards still drifted, his jaw set, steel and grief warring inside him.
From the outer waters, Whitebeard's crew readied themselves. The old generation of pirates and marines who had once shaped the world now looked at Ashveil not only with fear but with recognition.
On the broken field, as fires ate at the remains of the plaza, Ashveil stood unscorched. There was a dangerous civility to him, a smile that did not reach his eyes. The hammer that had fallen in the sky lay shattered into shining fragments, its energy still sizzling into the air.
Marineford had been broken into pieces, but the message was clear. Ashveil had not merely demanded reparations. He had shown what he would do if denied. The world that watched would soon be forced to decide whether to bow, fight, or burn.
And Marineford, for
all its honors and banners, had been shown how all three outcomes could come to pass.