Grand Line — Marineford — Marine Headquarters.
At the highest level of the central fortress, inside the Fleet Admiral's office—
A fine porcelain teacup, glazed with a delicate blue-and-white pattern, shattered against the hardwood floor, shards scattering across the room.
"Are they useless or what?!"
Fleet Admiral Sengoku slammed a hand down on his desk, roaring with fury. The flush in his face and bulging veins made it clear—he was livid.
"To suffer such heavy losses... in the East Blue, of all places! Six Navy warships! Over 2,500 personnel—fully crewed, that's 2,800! Two Rear Admirals, six Captains, and the Loguetown garrison—another Captain and a thousand Marines! And you're telling me the highest-ranking commanding Rear Admiral is dead, and the other was nearly crippled? What the hell kind of operation was that?!"
"Ooh~... rookies these days sure are terrifying," drawled a tall, lanky man in a yellow-striped suit lounging on the nearby sofa. His shades hid his eyes, and a Justice coat hung loosely from his shoulders—Admiral Kizaru. Despite his laid-back tone, he leisurely sipped his tea, unbothered.
"Kizaru!" Sengoku roared again, slamming the desk. "Wipe that smug look off your face!"
"Hahaha... what a bunch of wild brats."
Across from Kizaru, a towering man with a thick jawline chuckled heartily. One hand held a steaming teacup, the other a half-eaten senbei cracker. He glanced through the mission reports sprawled on the coffee table, amusement in his eyes—Vice Admiral Garp.
"Garp! How many times have I told you—don't eat in my office!"
Sengoku lost it, storming over to snatch the senbei from Garp's hand like a furious schoolteacher.
"Your shouting can be heard from downstairs," a deep voice cut in. The door burst open as a broad-shouldered man with violet hair stepped inside, face grim. "Don't underestimate that sea," he warned. "After all... that man was born there."
The room went deathly still.
The very one who sparked the Great Pirate Era—Gol D. Roger. Born in East Blue, in the very town of Loguetown.
A sea no one should ever look down on.
"...Roger, huh..." Garp muttered under his breath.
Even Kizaru set his teacup down, for once dropping his usual aloofness. "The Pirate King's birthplace..."
Sengoku exhaled slowly, then turned back to his desk. "Raise the bounties for all pirates who escaped the Battle of Loguetown. Especially that vile upstart crew—the Chris Pirates."
"Their captain, Chris T. Aeridar, double his bounty."
"Ooh~, 80 million already? That's one hell of a rookie," Kizaru mused, lazily pursing his lips. "But fair enough..."
"Zephyr, what about those new recruits?" Garp asked, turning his head.
"They're already assigned, Garp. Tomorrow, you're heading to the New World. If you can, look after them for me."
Zephyr sat beside him and took a sip of tea.
"Hahahaha, don't worry!" Garp grinned, slapping Zephyr's shoulder. "It'll just be a little introduction to what real war in the New World looks like!"
Sengoku spoke again, voice firm. "Zephyr. You've still got another batch of cadets, haven't you? Are they done with training?"
"You mean Ain and Binz's group? Not yet. Why?"
"I want you to take them on a real-world deployment through the first half of the Grand Line. Target emerging pirate crews. Engage them directly. Especially the Chris Pirates—Aeridar's seriously wounded. They won't be entering the Grand Line just yet. If you encounter them—eliminate them on the spot. Dead or alive."
Zephyr nodded solemnly. "Understood. Leave it to me."
East Blue — A small island behind a mountain range.
A massive, triple-mast wolf-headed warship—the Chris—lay battered but afloat, beached along a quiet shore. Dozens of shirtless crew members were hard at work, repairing hull damage. Ashore, more than a dozen large tents had been pitched, with over two hundred pirates resting and recovering nearby.
Gupis Village, inland.
Inside a small clinic, Aeridar lay wrapped like a mummy on a large bed, propped up on pillows. He grinned through the pain, holding up the latest newspaper. "Hahaha! The Marines, so damn pathetic—getting stomped in the East Blue of all places... cough cough cough!"
"Captain, don't laugh, you'll tear your wounds again!"
Millie, sitting beside him, gently stroked his chest, then took the cup from Mina and raised it to his lips.
It wasn't surprising that Aeridar was so cheerful. The Navy had taken a massive blow—over 2,000 casualties, several high-ranking officers wounded or dead. According to the latest paper, Rear Admiral Evans, a Zoan-type Ancient Beast: Snowfang Wolf Devil Fruit user, had succumbed to his injuries. Another, Rear Admiral Farlier, had been completely disabled.
Aeridar, despite being gravely wounded himself, had retained all his limbs and faculties. Once he healed—he'd be back, stronger than ever.
"Captain, this hit was huge for the Marines—especially Loguetown's garrison. The entire command structure was wiped out," Arlan, seated nearby, sneered as he read.
It had already been five days since the Battle of Loguetown. With Aeridar unconscious and the crew heavily injured, Arlan had chosen not to push into the Grand Line immediately. Instead, they'd sought refuge on this quiet island to recover and repair the Chris.
Charging into the Grand Line with a half-sunk ship and a crew full of wounded would've been suicide.
"We've taken serious losses too," Dimitri said quietly, sitting at the foot of the bed. "We started with 337 crew. After our first bounty battle, we had 326. After Loguetown... only 234 remain. Over 30 are critically injured. Nearly 100 more are carrying wounds."
The room fell silent.
Then, from the corner, the usually quiet Gorbo spoke up. "We chose this life. Anyone who sails as a pirate should be ready to die. To drown in the sea. As long as we die fighting, it won't be in vain."
"...I know," Dimitri said. A rare smile broke through. "The Grand Line doesn't care about pity. Only the strong survive."
Nearby, Oliver was silently polishing his blade Nagamitsu, one of the 50 Skillful Grade Blades. Without looking up, he suddenly said, "I'd bet money—my new bounty will be higher than yours."
Arlan jumped up, fire in his eyes. "Next time—I swear I'll outdo you!"
Oliver gave him a lazy glance, eyes filled with disdain. "Maybe, but I've still got two centimeters on you."
Arlan's face turned beet red.
With a loud plop, he sat back down, seething in silence.
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