Facing Gern—and the lineup behind him, a lineup so extravagantly overwhelming it inspired sheer despair, a full roster of "natural disasters"—as well as the completely undisguised resolve in his stance, a resolve that openly declared war against the World Government—
"Haah…"Kuzan let out a long sigh and stepped forward, coming to stand shoulder to shoulder with Garp.
The instant his foot touched the ground, frigid cold erupted outward from beneath him.
Crack—crack—The earth froze in the blink of an eye, a thick layer of ice spreading rapidly forward in a surging wave!
At the same time, half of his face began to elementalize, crystalline frost crawling across his skin. Every breath he exhaled carried razor-sharp ice particles, and even his voice turned as cold as a winter gale.
"Gern…""…Sorry about this.""But this is… an order."
The apology left his lips, but his actions had already made his stance unmistakably clear.
He was carrying out the orders of Marine Headquarters—to stop Gern.
Off to the side, Kizaru watched Garp and Kuzan, both wearing expressions more serious than the last, acting like they were truly ready to fight to the death.
He couldn't help but raise a hand to cover his face, letting out a helpless groan.
"Yeeeh~ honestly… this is such a paiiin… fine, fine~"
His words were slurred and vague, dripping with the unmistakable air of someone just going through the motions.
But if one really thought about it, it did make sense. If the goal were truly to stop Gern, there were countless people they could have sent—yet they sent these three.
One was Garp, who had personally taught Gern and was almost certainly incapable of striking with lethal intent.One was himself, who would slack off whenever possible.And the last was Kuzan, who might look earnest right now, but whose convictions were, deep down, not necessarily loyal to the World Government at all…
Fleet Admiral Sengoku's choice of personnel was, in its own way, inspired.
Kizaru grumbled internally, but appearances still had to be maintained.
So the King of Slacking let out a deep sigh, and his entire body instantly dissolved into countless dazzling golden photons—whoosh—shooting up into the sky.
He crossed his arms over his chest as blinding light erupted around him.
"Yasakani no Magatama!"
"Shyoooshyoooshyooosh!!!"
Countless radiant light bullets poured down like a torrential storm, instantly blanketing the area where Gern and his companions stood!
The spectacle was terrifying—as if everything below was about to be obliterated!
However…
The impact points of those light bullets were absurdly "precise."
Almost all of them struck the empty ground in front of Gern, or the open spaces to his left and right,or skimmed past their clothes by a hair's breadth, detonating into towering clouds of dust and ice shards.
It looked thunderous and overwhelming, smoke and debris filling the air—
but the light bullets that actually targeted people were pitifully few, and their speed was "slow" enough that Mihawk, Bullet, and the others could effortlessly deflect or evade them.
A textbook case of deafening thunder, pitiful rain.The ultimate outline-shot technique.
Kizaru hovered in midair, maintaining the barrage while casually calling out,
"Yeeeh~ how scary~! Gern-kun, you guys better dodge~! Getting hit would huuurt, you know~"
The acting was so exaggerated it bordered on parody.
Garp and Kuzan watched Kizaru's so-called "all-out interception," the corners of their mouths twitching uncontrollably—but neither said a word.
For a time, the passageway was filled with ear-splitting explosions, blinding flashes of light, and maximum visual spectacle, as if a ferocious battle were raging.
...
At the same time—the Holy Land of Mary Geoise, at the massive elevator platform leading down to the G-1 Marine base.
Normally guarded with ironclad security, the area had now been completely cleared.Not a single ordinary guard or CP agent was anywhere to be seen.
On the vast, empty platform, only one figure stood out starkly.
Figarland Garling Saint, Commander of the God's Knights, sat alone on an opulent chair.
One leg was crossed over the other, and a gorgeously decorated longsword rested casually at his side.
The marks of age were clearly visible upon him. Compared to his appearance years ago at Marineford,he had grown noticeably older—his beard now streaked with white, his hair carefully trimmed, receding ever closer to a crescent shape.
When dealing with a top-tier force on the level of Gern, the World Government was not foolish enough to send CP agents to their deaths.
Thus, the duty of defending the Holy Land naturally fell upon the sharpest blade wielded by the "World Nobles" themselves—
the God's Knights.
And as their commander—someone who bore a deep "old grudge" against Gern—Figarland Garling Saint had, of course, chosen to come personally and wait here.
After all, the scene from years ago in Marineford Plaza—where he had been beaten into utter humiliation by Gern in front of the world, like a dying dog—
had haunted him like a nightmare, an indelible stain upon his pride.
He had been waiting for this chance ever since.
As Garling Saint sat lost in thought, a young man slowly walked up to his side.
He wore luxurious long-sleeved attire, an elegant cravat tied neatly at the collar, dark gloves covering both hands.
A rapier hung at his left hip, its scabbard secured by leather straps wrapped around his torso.
Most striking of all—
his face was almost identical to Shanks'.
"Father,"Shamrock said, gazing toward the elevator passage below, where there was still no sign of movement."It seems the man you were waiting for… won't be making it up here."
In his understanding, the lower levels were guarded by Marine hero Garp, Admiral Aokiji, and Admiral Kizaru—three top-tier monsters working together!
With such a lineup, no matter how powerful that "Earthquake" Gern might be, there was no way he could break through.
Hearing his son's words, Garling Saint's lips curled into a mocking smile, and he let out a disdainful snort.
"Hmph… what a shame."
He reached out, gently stroking the hilt of the ornate longsword beside him, his eyes revealing the regret of a hunter who had lost his prey.
"I was rather hoping… to add his head—and that black blade of his, which looks quite fine—to my collection."
After all…"I've never personally taken the head of someone at the level of a Marine Admiral."
Seeing his father's absolute confidence—bordering on arrogance—Shamrock felt the last trace of doubt in his heart completely vanish.
He became even more convinced that the rumors circulating through the Holy Land over the years—
claims that his father had been utterly powerless against Gern, beaten to a miserable state,that he had been teleported back while kneeling in the plaza, howling in agony—
were nothing but gross exaggerations!
Slander meant to tarnish the dignity of the God's Knights!
How could a man as powerful and noble as his father ever be beaten into wailing like a dog?
Impossible. Absolutely impossible.
Shamrock straightened his posture, pride lighting his face, and stood even more respectfully behind his "mighty" father, waiting together for movement that might never come from below.
(As an aside: back then, Garling Saint had both arms severed by Gern and was critically injured—without arms to support himself, he really had crawled on the ground, howling like a dog.)
Just as the father and son stood brimming with confidence—
a voice they absolutely did not want to hear at this moment echoed out from the fog-shrouded elevator entrance ahead.
"Yo? Isn't that Figarland?"
That tone—that mocking cadence burned into his very bones!
The confidence and sneer on Garling Saint's face froze instantly.
Almost reflexively, he sprang up from his chair, snatching up the longsword beside him. His expression turned grim and vicious, his gaze locking onto the fog-filled entrance.
Beside him, Shamrock jolted in shock, instinctively gripping the hilt of his rapier as he stared forward in disbelief.
It couldn't be helped—
the pressure of that Haki was overwhelming.So overwhelming it was impossible to ignore.
From within the dense fog, a tall, indistinct silhouette slowly emerged.
The next instant—
BOOM!!!
A terrifying, domineering aura erupted from that figure like a tangible shockwave, crashing outward with absolute suppression!
"WHOOSH!"
The thick fog blanketing the entrance was forcibly blasted apart.
Gern stood fully revealed beneath the light of Mary Geoise.
He was still wearing his black shirt, the Marine coat draped over his shoulders, the black blade Bahuang hanging at his waist.
There was no sign of severe injury—not even the slightest trace of dishevelment.
Gern tilted his head, looking at the ashen-faced Garling Saint, and broke into a grin.
"What's wrong?""Didn't get enough of a lesson last time?"
"This time planning to get shaved down into a human stick?"
He paused mid-sentence, as if recalling something, then tapped a finger against his forehead, his tone dripping with undisguised mockery.
"Oh, right! I think I told you before, didn't I?"
"When you come out acting all high and mighty…""you should bring more people with you!"
"How are you still this stupid?!"
"Gern Reginald Sigmar."Garling Saint practically ground out the name through clenched teeth.
The hand gripping his sword trembled violently with rage, his face cycling between livid green and deathly pale.
He was furious at Gern's taunts—and even more furious at certain people who had clearly thrown the fight.
Meanwhile, Shamrock stood completely frozen.
He looked at the man before him—his terrifying presence, his arrogant words—then at his father's reaction…
And a horrifying thought, one he had never once entertained, crept into his mind.
Could it be…
That all those rumors in the Holy Land…
Were actually true?!