The sky was shrouded in clouds. Fierce winds roared across the sea, raising towering waves.
On the border coastline, tens of thousands of Yadis Kingdom soldiers gripped swords and spears, standing in a loose and shaky formation. Their eyes were filled with fear, faces pale as they stared at the approaching massive warships. Their hands trembled, unable to hold their weapons steady.
One after another, enormous fortress-like battleships plowed forward across the stormy sea, heading straight for the shores of the Yadis Kingdom, radiating overwhelming military might.
Flying atop each warship was a flag emblazoned with the number "66."
The main bodies of the ships were constructed of rock and metal, dragged forward by giant sea snails.
At the forefront sailed a warship the size of a small town, crowned by a towering fortress spire. From its peak flew a menacing black banner—a cross-shaped falcon soaring in grim majesty.
The flagship of the so-called "Army of Evil"—Germa 66.
"Damn it! Has the Marine arrived yet!?"
King Yadis III—an overweight, middle-aged man with an ornate golden crown and an extravagant robe—was sweating profusely as he watched the steel tide of Germa 66 roll in like thunderclouds across the horizon.
That madman, Vinsmoke Judge, had openly declared his intention to decapitate the king unless the Yadis Kingdom surrendered him. Otherwise, the entire kingdom would be razed to the ground under Germa's iron heel.
Seeing the sidelong glances some soldiers threw his way, King Yadis III paced like an ant on a hot stove.
"Your Majesty, I've already sent word to Lord Darren. The 321st Marine Branch has mobilized. They should arrive at any moment," said the royal governor, Tyriel, in a respectful tone.
Tyriel was a handsome man in his early thirties, with delicate features and a refined aura. A faint fragrance wafted from his luxurious attire.
Hearing this, King Yadis III calmed slightly, but anxiety still clouded his face.
The Germa Kingdom had stood for over 300 years in the North Blue, boasting a terrifying military legacy. Their society revered strength, their citizens were overwhelmingly adult males, and every one of them was a trained soldier.
Faced with such overwhelming power, even though Yadis had the numbers, their army would likely collapse within ten minutes if war broke out.
Aboard the Saint-Germain.
A towering figure with flowing blond hair stood at the bow, clad in a light-gray battle suit marked with Germa's "66" and a billowing orange cape. He wore a metallic helmet, his sharp black goatee pointed upward, and in his hand was a gleaming silver spear.
Vinsmoke Judge, head of the Vinsmoke family, supreme commander of Germa 66, and current king of the Germa Kingdom.
"What a bunch of pathetic cowards... A nation this weak has survived in the North Blue this long? Disgraceful," he sneered, staring coldly at the trembling troops on the Yadis coastline.
"Your Majesty, are you sure we should proceed? The newly appointed North Blue Marine Commander..."
A butler in a black tailcoat spoke cautiously from behind.
Judge raised an eyebrow.
The butler's eyes widened in horror.
A spray of blood burst forth as Judge's spear pierced the butler's chest.
The butler knelt lifelessly, staring in disbelief at his king.
"North Blue Commander? Just a mere Marine Headquarters captain. What gives him the right to warn me?"
Judge yanked his spear free and flicked the blood away with disdain.
Germa didn't need weaklings.
As for that letter from someone named "Darren"? Straight into the trash.
Judge turned his gaze to the tightly packed figures on the nearby battleships. Clad in shades and uniform gray suits, with blank expressions—even in the face of imminent war—they remained emotionless.
He smiled in satisfaction. Thanks to his past cooperation with Vegapunk, he'd acquired partial access to Lineage Factor technology.
Using it, he had developed cloning methods to mass-produce obedient, fearless soldiers genetically programmed to never fear death or betray orders.
To Judge, this was the pinnacle of military evolution. These soldiers were stronger than ordinary Marines, immune to pain, and absolutely loyal.
And best of all? With his current tech, it took just five years to raise a fully formed twenty-year-old soldier.
With enough funding, he could produce a limitless army. Once the North Blue fell, the world would be within his grasp.
Under his command, the scattered warships began converging.
Driven by their snail engines, dozens of massive ships locked together like puzzle pieces.
To the shock of Yadis soldiers, Germa 66's fleet merged into one colossal floating war fortress.
Towering battlements.
Tens of thousands of emotionless clone soldiers.
From afar, it looked like a monstrous war machine, bristling with weapons and seething with menace.
"For the glory of Germa! Conquer the North Blue!!"
Judge raised his spear and bellowed.
"FOR THE GLORY OF GERMA! CONQUER THE NORTH BLUE!!"
The clone army echoed in unison, their voices thundering like a tidal wave across the sea.
The pressure was suffocating. Some of Yadis's younger soldiers collapsed, dropping their weapons with clatters.
King Yadis III trembled violently, needing aides to hold him upright.
"We're doomed... doomed..." he muttered.
Judge laughed wildly.
"Bow down and submit!! Germa is the true ruler of the North Blue!!"
He raised his spear high, crackling with blue electricity. The entire war fortress began to surge forward.
Massive waves churned in its wake.
A black cannonball crashed down beside him mid-sentence.
A massive explosion rocked the battlefield.
Smoke billowed. Judge staggered out of a crater, clothes scorched, eyes blazing with fury.
So did everyone else.
From the stormy sea, a single warship emerged—grand and imposing.
On its towering mast flew a banner with bold, inky characters: JUSTICE.
A tall, commanding figure stood at the bow, his white Marine cape whipping in the wind.
"The Marines are here!! We're saved!!"
King Yadis III broke into tears of joy.
Judge's face turned dark.
Between the two armies, the lone Marine warship sailed into the no-man's land, dividing them.
The air grew still and tense.
All eyes turned to the man at the ship's prow.
Short black hair. Sword-like brows. Deep, sharp features.
The Marine Captain smirked slightly.
He looked straight at the furious Judge.
"In the name of Justice..."
His voice echoed over the sea.
"I have come to end this war."