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To maximize the combat effectiveness of ordinary Marine soldiers, the organization had embraced the doctrine of massive guns and heavily armored warships. In a world where not even primitive aircraft existed, super-battleships represented the ultimate expression of military might.
After all, those capable of flight were exceedingly rare—perhaps one or two individuals per major faction possessed such abilities through Devil Fruits like the Fuwa Fuwa no Mi (Float-Float Fruit). Such limited numbers posed no meaningful threat to a properly defended battle fleet.
The pirate world had long suffered from energy scarcity, lacking access to cheap fossil fuels like oil or coal. However, Marine scientists had recently discovered vast deposits of methane hydrate in the deep ocean trenches.
This "combustible ice" possessed ideal characteristics: high caloric value, minimal pollution, and abundant reserves. The white crystalline substance resembled ordinary ice but burned with tremendous efficiency, making it perfect for powering the new generation of Marine ships.
Every modern warship in the fleet ran on methane hydrate engines, providing enough energy to drive these 10,000-ton steel leviathans at speeds that would have been unimaginable just a few years ago. Most pirate ships still relied on wind power alone, making encounters with Marine battleships less like naval combat and more like technological annihilation.
During amphibious operations, the artillery support provided by Marine strategic ships had proven devastatingly effective. Heavy bombardment rendered defending forces helpless—all beings were equal before high-explosive shells.
The assault on Revolutionary Army headquarters had demonstrated the battleships' incredible value. Revolutionary forces had been pinned down by continuous bombardment, unable to mount any meaningful resistance as their entire stronghold on Baltigo was reduced to scorched wasteland.
While each battleship represented a significant financial investment, they proved far more cost-effective than Pacifistas, which remained difficult to mass-produce and maintain. The standardized shipbuilding process allowed for rapid construction using identical blueprints and components.
Marine Headquarters had entered an era of unprecedented naval expansion, launching at least twelve new battleships annually. Regional Marine bases were fortunate to receive even a single ship, making Admiral Gin's deployment of two battleships simultaneously a clear indicator of how seriously the organization viewed the Dressrosa situation.
The older warships in the fleet could only observe from safe distances, their crews witnessing firsthand how the Marine's next-generation weapons performed in actual combat.
Several abnormal titans had already entered the harbor waters, followed by a massive horde of standard giants. Their intentions were unmistakably hostile—these mindless creatures intended to assault the Marine ships directly. There could be no further delay.
"I never expected Doflamingo's giant weapons program to reach this level of sophistication," Vice Admiral Smoker observed, his voice carrying over the communications Den Den Mushi to both battleships. "Fortunately, our technological development hasn't stagnated either. Prepare to expend all available ammunition."
Each shell fired by the battleships' main guns weighed over half a ton, far beyond human capability to handle manually. Automated loading systems solved this problem elegantly, drawing projectiles from armored magazines and positioning them for rapid-fire sequences.
"All batteries, target Dressrosa port!"
Both admirals issued the fire command simultaneously. Nearly thirty massive cannons erupted in perfect synchronization, their muzzle flashes creating a wall of flame across the harbor. Billowing black smoke trails marked each projectile's path as high-explosive shells demonstrated the true meaning of saturation bombardment.
The devastating barrage rained down upon the charging titan horde like divine judgment. Despite their varying sizes and abnormal capabilities, every giant faced the same inexorable reality—they were flesh and bone confronting industrial warfare.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Each shell carved craters deep enough to bury buildings, the explosions vaporizing titans caught at ground zero or igniting others like massive torches. Even creatures immune to pain could not ignore the physics of high explosives tearing their bodies apart.
Twenty-meter abnormal titans found their legs blown away or entire torsos obliterated in single detonations. Those that crashed to the ground had no opportunity to regenerate before the next salvo arrived to finish what the first had started.
Within minutes, Dressrosa's once-prosperous port district had been transformed into a hellscape of smoke and flame. Thousands of titans returned to dust under the relentless bombardment, their steam-powered regeneration proving useless against complete molecular disruption.
Only a handful of giants survived the initial barrage—those fortunate enough to retain intact heads while their bodies slowly regenerated through superheated steam. These remnants posed no immediate threat; they could be eliminated by conventional landing forces at leisure.
Admiral Smoker accepted a telescope from a subordinate, studying the bombardment results through the magnifying lens. The tactical victory was overwhelming—enemy forces had been reduced by over ninety percent through artillery alone.
"Gin, this battleship is truly a miracle weapon for island assault operations," Smoker commented approvingly. "If the Marine achieves large-scale deployment of these ships, no fortified position in the world will remain beyond our reach."
Admiral Gin took his turn with the telescope, surveying the devastated harbor before responding. "The destructive power is certainly adequate, but we still face the traditional problem—artillery accuracy remains problematic at extreme ranges."
The battleships' main guns could engage targets several kilometers away, but precision suffered dramatically at maximum range. When attacking distant maritime targets, projectiles frequently missed entirely and struck empty ocean instead of their intended marks.
During this port cleansing operation, several shells had overshot their targets and impacted residential districts behind the harbor. While such collateral damage was regrettable, it represented necessary sacrifice—the Marine had already minimized civilian casualties as much as tactically feasible.
The four Celestial Dragons aboard had not been confined to secured quarters as might be expected. Instead, Marine leadership had invited them to observe the bombardment firsthand, allowing these traditionalists to witness the new organization's strategic capabilities in action.
After only twenty minutes of sustained fire, Dressrosa's largest port lay in complete ruins, a sight that left the World Nobles genuinely shaken. They were familiar with the concept of Buster Calls, of course, but the old Marine fleet would have required hours to achieve similar levels of destruction—and even then, the results would have been far less complete.
Previous-generation warships had possessed woefully inadequate firepower for true strategic bombardment. Only these new battleships could deliver the overwhelming force necessary to completely sterilize island targets.
"If shells like these were to fall upon the Holy Land of Mary Geoise," Saint Charlos mused with his characteristic lack of situational awareness, "the entire sacred city could probably be reduced to rubble within half a day."
The other three Celestial Dragons exchanged meaningful glances at his thoughtless observation. Even Saint Charlos's limited intellect had grasped the implications of the Marine's growing military supremacy.
"Is this the true power of technological advancement?" Saint Mjosgard wondered aloud. "Allowing ordinary individuals to wield such devastating destructive capability?"
The question carried deeper implications than mere academic interest. Even the most powerful Zoan-type Devil Fruit users—including the supposedly indestructible Ancient varieties—could survive this level of bombardment for only minutes at best. The Marine was simply expending mass-produced ammunition, while each fallen Devil Fruit user represented an irreplaceable loss.
Devil Fruits numbered in the hundreds at most, and training elite users required years or decades of dedicated effort. But if problems could be solved with a few dozen artillery shells, opposing forces faced an equation that would inevitably bankrupt them through attrition alone.
Saint Mjosgard's thoughts turned to his sister, who had accepted the Marine's invitation to become an admiral. In this era of unprecedented change—the first such transformation in eight hundred years of World Government rule—perhaps she had chosen the wisest path forward.