Among the many powers thrown into disarray by the War of the Gods, none suffered more than the Naval Headquarters.
The blow was catastrophic.
Their elite forces had been decimated, and even their top brass left battered and broken.
Inside Marineford, the atmosphere was suffocating.
Fleet Admiral Sakazuki—once the embodiment of magma-fueled justice—now sat silently at his desk, fingers clenched tight. His gaze was dark, distant.
Across the room, even Admiral Borsalino—who typically wore a lazy, indifferent grin—looked grim.
Nearby, the three veterans—Garp, Sengoku, and Tsuru—had just returned from the East Blue. Their timing couldn't have been worse.
Sakazuki slammed a fist against the desk, breaking the silence.
"In this war," he growled, voice low and simmering with rage, "we lost 190 captains.. 56 rear admirals… 8 vice admirals."
"Our admiral was nearly crippled."
"Sixty percent of our lower-ranking forces—our rookies, our next generation—have defected!"
His voice rose to a roar.
"Can anyone here tell me what exactly the Navy accomplished in this war?!"
The room remained silent.
Sakazuki's fury turned toward the trio who had spent the crucial hours of battle away—on what was, in his eyes, a vacation.
The East Blue. Peaceful. Untouched.
And they had been there, while Mary Geoise burned.
Yes, he had approved it beforehand.
But now… the consequences of that decision weighed heavily on him.
They were veterans. Advisors. Former leaders.
Had they abandoned their post? Had they turned their backs on the very justice they once upheld?
As Fleet Admiral, Sakazuki had always believed in one thing above all:
It was the code that gave him purpose—the belief that the Navy must protect the world, no matter the cost.
And yet, here they were.
Broken. Defeated. Humiliated.
Their military strength had been reduced to less than 30% of its former might.
The Navy no longer held dominion over the sea.
They were now comparable only to a single Emperor's crew.
They could no longer monitor the world as a true superpower.
Their backbone—the admirals, vice admirals, captains—had been shattered.
"It takes years to train a vice admiral," Sakazuki muttered bitterly. "Years."
"Are you holding this meeting just to assign blame, Sakazuki?"
Vice Admiral Gion stood, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
"We all fought in that war," she said. "All of us."
"Do you really think we survived because of our strength?"
She looked him dead in the eye.
"Why do you think we're still alive?"
Sakazuki didn't respond.
Because he knew the answer.
"When we fought against Chrollo, I felt it immediately—if I had gone head-on, I would have died."
"But he didn't even look at me."
"He passed me… and went straight for the Five Elders."
"He could have killed you."
"We all saw what he did to the Five Elders."
"You, with your magma—standing in front of the sun? You wouldn't have lasted a second."
Sakazuki's fists trembled.
It wasn't mercy. It wasn't weakness.
They had been spared.
"Why didn't they kill us?" Gion asked, her voice now quieter. "Why didn't they erase us like they did the Celestial Dragons?"
"Because of Ryuunosuke."
"Because of his relationship with Garp."
"From the Red Line to Mary Geoise, they avoided us—on purpose."
"And if they hadn't?"
She gestured toward the room.
"None of us would be standing here."
A long silence followed.
Sakazuki sat down again, shoulders sagging.
But he couldn't deny it.
This was the first time—the first time—he had felt truly powerless.
Even in past battles against the Four Emperors, he had never doubted himself.
But the Dragon Hunter Pirates?
They fought like demons possessed. With no fear of death. No hesitation.
A group of warriors willing to blow themselves apart just to take one more enemy down with them.
It was Sengoku who spoke now.
"We understand your anger."
"But maybe it's time we stop pointing fingers…"
"...and start asking what we need to change."
He didn't call Sakazuki "Fleet Admiral."
He called him by name.
That, in itself, was telling.
Since the Navy's inception, they had always operated under the banner of the World Government.
Their funding came from above.
Their orders were given from above.
Their resources, their legitimacy, their power… all handed to them by the same rulers they were sworn to protect.
And now… Sengoku was talking about change?
Change sounded easy. ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ novel※fire.net
But Sakazuki knew the truth.
Even survival was uncertain.
"As long as the Dragon Hunters exist," Sakazuki muttered, "our version of justice is dead."
"Because we can't beat them."
"No matter how hard we try… we'll never reach them."
Then, he said something that stunned the room.
"…What if we left the World Government?"
The silence that followed was absolute.
Even Sengoku—who had just suggested change—froze.
Garp raised an eyebrow.
"You mean to defect?" Garp asked flatly.
"No support," Tsuru said. "No military budget. No ships. No funds. The Navy has no income."
"We'd collapse within months."
"And then we'd face the wrath of the World Government," Garp added.
"They'd see it as betrayal."
"And you know what they do to traitors."
Sakazuki didn't respond.
But somewhere, deep inside, he believed it was the only way.
"The sea is our home," he said. "We've bled for it. We've died for it."
"Let our protection be our payment."
"Let strength be our currency."
"We will rebuild. And we'll become something new."
But Garp shook his head.
"The World Government is angry. Humiliated."
"If we leave now, they'll treat it like a rebellion."
"They won't hesitate to erase us."
"And with what's left of our forces… we can't survive that."
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