Following the Navy's crushing defeat in the "Summit War," it was as if the world had been shown the Navy's hollow strength. Across the Grand Line and beyond, countless forces began to move restlessly in the shadows.
Holy Land Mary Geoise, within the Chamber of Power.
All of the Five Elders—except for St. Saturn—were present. Some sat, others stood, yet all were silent. A tense and uneasy atmosphere filled the air.
Finally, St. Warcury, the "God of Legal Affairs," broke the silence. "I didn't expect that St. Saturn's unauthorized descent would reach His Excellency's ears."
"That fool…" growled St. Nusjuro, the "God of Finance," his expression dark with anger. Not only had Saturn acted on his own, but he had also failed miserably.
His actions had dealt an irreparable blow to the authority and prestige of the World Government, and all of them were suffering the consequences.
"His Excellency has made it clear—since that man is not of the 'D' lineage, there's no need to waste further effort on him. St. Saturn's punishment serves as a warning to us all."
The fate of St. Saturn sent a chill down the spine of St. Mars, the "God of the Environment." The will of His Excellency was absolute; to defy it was to invite destruction beyond their comprehension.
St. Ju Peter, the "God of Agriculture," followed coldly. "Indeed. His Excellency's decree is final. St. Saturn's punishment was nothing less than what he deserved."
Recalling the image of Saturn's body burning away to bone within black flames, Peter still trembled inwardly. He silently vowed never again to overstep his bounds—only the Lord's command would matter henceforth.
"This incident has displeased His Excellency," continued Warcury. "We have been focusing on the wrong things. The impact of this event must be contained at all costs."
Nusjuro sheathed his long sword and nodded. "Agreed. That vermin Morgans has grown far too reckless. It's time we remind him which words may be spoken—and which must never be uttered."
At that moment, the grand doors of the hall burst open with a resounding bang. The Elders' expressions hardened as a tall figure strode in, a long sword in hand.
"St. Garling?"
"What are you doing here?"
Anger and confusion filled their voices. Garling was a member of the Holy Knights—he rarely set foot here. What could have brought him today?
Ignoring their protests, St. Garling swaggered toward the sofa, dropped himself into a seat, and crossed one leg over the other. His gaze swept lazily across the room before he spoke.
"I'm here by His Excellency's orders—to take over St. Saturn's position as the new 'God of Science and Defense.' From now on, gentlemen, we're colleagues."
"!!!!"
Their shock didn't faze Garling in the least. He removed his sunglasses, wiped them calmly, and went on.
"The Excellency is… displeased with your conduct. I was sent as a reminder—don't forget who gave you everything you have."
"Well, enough talk. Let's discuss how we're going to erase the aftermath of this mess."
With St. Garling's arrival, a new round of deliberations began in the Chamber of Power.
Meanwhile—
At Marine Headquarters, Marineford, inside the Fleet Admiral's office.
Unlike the bustling reconstruction outside, the air inside was heavy and suffocating.
Akainu sat rigidly on the sofa, bandages still wrapped around his chest. His face was grim, his cigar glowing faintly between his lips.
Beside him, Aokiji's usual lazy demeanor was gone, replaced by a deep, brooding silence.
Then came Kizaru's weak voice, muffled through the layers of bandages that made him look more mummy than man.
"Fleet Admiral Sengoku, isn't it a bit cruel to drag me here like this? In my condition, I'll need at least six months—no, a full year—to recover properly, you know."
Sengoku glanced at him impassively, his tone heavy.
"I've already submitted my resignation to the World Government. We're just waiting for their reply. As for the next Fleet Admiral, I want to hear your thoughts."
"!!!!"
Kizaru's eyes widened, hands shooting up. "Whoa, whoa—Fleet Admiral Sengoku! That's not a funny joke at all. I've never had any interest in that position!"
Akainu's eyes gleamed faintly, a dangerous ambition flickering there, while Aokiji looked up sharply, disbelief written across his face.
Before either could speak, Garp barked out, "Hey, Sengoku! Isn't this going a bit too far?"
"This defeat was entirely my fault," Sengoku said calmly. "It was my poor judgment—underestimating the enemy—that led to this disaster. As Fleet Admiral, I must take full responsibility."
"Fleet Admiral Sengoku, you can't put all the blame on yourself!" Aokiji protested. "No one could've predicted the Thunder God's overwhelming power. If we're pointing fingers, then we all share the blame!"
Vice Admiral Tsuru added softly, "There's no need to despair, Sengoku. I doubt the World Government will approve your resignation now."
She folded her hands beneath her chin, her analytical eyes sweeping the room.
"After this incident, the seas have become even more unstable. The World Government still needs your intellect to navigate the coming storms. They won't let you step down so easily."
"Bwahahaha!"
Garp threw back his head and laughed. "She's right, Sengoku! Relax—you've got a few more years left in you yet!"
As Garp's laughter filled the room, the tension eased—slightly.
But Kizaru quietly tried to rise, muttering, "Um, Fleet Admiral Sengoku, since nothing's decided yet, maybe I should, you know… go rest—"
"Sit down, Kizaru!" Akainu snapped. "You're not dying anytime soon. The situation's dire—we need to plan our next move before things get worse."
"Kuwaaa... so cruel…" Kizaru muttered, sinking back into his chair as the discussion resumed.
Across the seas, chaos continued to spread.
In a nameless island town, flames consumed buildings as screams and battle cries filled the night.
"Hahahaha!"
"The Navy's finished! From now on, it's a pirate's world!"
"Brothers, the treasure and women are ours—kill the rest!"
"Kill! Kill! Kill!"
Scenes like this erupted everywhere. Reports flooded the regional Navy branches, but they were overwhelmed, unable to respond in time.
The seas were descending into turmoil once more.