The explosions on the Hawk's body continued for quite a while before finally subsiding.
When the dust cleared and everyone looked again, they saw the once-arrogant Vice Admiral Hawk with his eyes rolled back and froth foaming at his mouth—completely unconscious.
If not for the fact that he was a Zoan-type Devil Fruit Awakener, he probably would've been dead on the spot.
"There's a type of Wind Dial from Skypiea—when you attach it to your elbow, you can use its propulsion to speed up your punches. The only downside is…" said Raelmann as he raised his arm, revealing the torn fabric around his elbow, "it ruins your clothes. Honestly, I've lost count of how many sleeves I've gone through ."
"That idiot Hawk!" Sengoku growled furiously.
Hawk had all the advantages against Raelmann. With his ability to fly, he could have completely suppressed him from the air. Even if Raelmann enhanced himself using the Wind Dial to increase his combat power, as long as Hawk didn't let his guard down, his aerial superiority would've been enough to defeat him.
"Hawk got careless. But Raelmann's strength is clearly far beyond what we understood. We can't underestimate him again," Sengoku said solemnly. "We can't let their momentum keep building—allow me to take him down."
"Leave it to me instead," Garp said from the side. "If an Admiral makes a move just to defeat him, it'll only make them look more impressive. Let me finish what I started last time."
"You and Kayne both stay put!" Steelbone Kong snapped. "Rosinante and Katakuri haven't even appeared yet. If you two go all out now, and those two show up later, are you expecting an old man like me to clean up the mess? The Marines haven't fallen that low yet! Vice Admirals Onigumo and Doberman—Raelmann is yours. Show me what the next generation of vice admirals is made of!"
"Yes, sir!" Onigumo and Doberman responded as they stepped forward.
With a flash, both leapt from the command tower, then used Moonwalk to descend upon Raelmann like twin predators.
"Two of you against one?" Onigumo said with a smirk. "Looks like the Fleet Admiral doesn't trust us that much."
As he spoke, his hair began to stir without wind, transforming into six spider-like appendages. Each one gripped a sword, and combined with his own two hands, he now wielded eight blades in total.
"Well, that's a little intimidating," Doberman added, drawing his long sword with a ferocious grin. "Let's show them that the new blood of the Marines is ready for war."
"Oh no, two vice admirals! So scary, so scary!" Raelmann mocked. Then he raised his hand, and suddenly, two to three dozen elite soldiers of the Second Division surrounded Onigumo and Doberman, each one armed to the teeth.
"How could we possibly let you attack our captain that easily?"
"If you want to go after our Captain, you'll have to get through us first!"
"I always heard Vice Admirals were scary, but that last one wasn't so tough. All he had was a pair of wings—hell, I've seen pigeons scarier than him!"
"If you guys are anything like him, our Captain won't even need to lift a finger!"
The Second Division elites, weapons at the ready, stared down Onigumo and Doberman with unwavering resolve.
"Mere ants!" Onigumo snarled.
He slashed all eight blades in a deadly flurry. In an instant, a dozen Second Division elites were sent flying, torn through by the storm of blades and crashing hard to the ground.
"Foolish creatures who don't know their place," Doberman sneered. His face—scarred beyond recognition—was twisted into a monstrous expression. His blade moved just as viciously, sending several more soldiers hurtling back with brutal slashes.
"Hmph… all bark, no bite," Onigumo muttered. "Let's see if you, the Captain of this rabble, are any better."
Raelmann watched calmly. "You ever heard of something called the Healing Seal in the Gray Nation?"
Onigumo and Doberman paused, their brows furrowing.
"Every one of those soldiers you just cut down is a merit-bearer of our Second Division. You know what a Healing Seal does?"
Even as he spoke, the very soldiers who'd just been slashed were slowly standing back up—completely healed.
The only evidence they'd even been injured at all were the tears and bloodstains on their clothing. The wounds themselves had vanished.
One warrior, whose uniform was far too tattered, simply tore the rest off—revealing a strange, intricate mark carved into his skin.
"Healing Seal?" Onigumo and Doberman both blurted in surprise.
They'd read about it in the intelligence files.
"That's right. Healing Seal," one of the soldiers said proudly. "Only those who've earned real merit get this. It's engraved personally by the Captain. With it, we've gained near-immortal regenerative power."
"Near-immortal?" Doberman scoffed coldly. "It's just a tool Rosinante uses to control you."
"How sad," Onigumo added. "To have your lives controlled by someone else without even realizing it…"
"So what if our lives are in his hands?" one soldier retorted. "In this world, the lives of the weak have always belonged to the strong. That's how it's always been. But if you think our Captain needs this Seal to take our lives, then you've gravely misunderstood."
"This isn't a chain. It's a medal—a symbol of loyalty and honor!"
When they'd first been offered the Healing Seal, Rosinante had laid everything out plainly: the benefits, the risks, and the consequences. Whether or not to accept the Seal had been entirely their choice.
But the truth? Even if Rosinante said it was voluntary, others would view rejection as disloyalty. At first, many accepted it due to peer pressure or battlefield necessity. But over time, after the Seal saved their lives again and again, it became more than a tool—it became a badge of pride.
Without the Healing Seal, many of them would already be dead.
And they knew full well: with the power that Rosinante, Raelmann, and the Bloodsworn Guard possessed, they could've wiped them out at any time—Seal or not. The fact that they hadn't was more proof of trust than control.