"The Marineford War... was a complete and utter failure!!"
The newly appointed Vice Admiral’s roar detonated through the plaza, carried by speakers and broadcast in real time through Visual Den Den Mushi to every Marine branch across the Grand Line.
In that instant, Marines in every corner of the world froze before their screens, staring at the fierce-eyed officer as if struck by lightning. The blood drained from their faces.
A deathly silence swallowed the square.
No one moved. No one breathed.
"The Marineford War... a colossal failure?"
"But we repelled Golden Lion’s invasion."
"That was Golden Lion Shiki! He dropped a floating island on us—"
"And we still held the line!"
"This is supposed to be a celebration, not a funeral."
"Fleet Admiral Kong and Admiral Sengoku called it a great victory..."
Murmurs rippled, uncertain and angry, all eyes snapping toward the man on the stage.
Behind Darren, Kong, Sengoku, and Zephyr stood as if blindsided.
This... this wasn’t the plan!
He was supposed to inspire them, not tear the war to pieces!
What the hell is he doing?
Even Gion’s steady composure faltered. Borsalino tilted his head with amused curiosity. Sakazuki cracked his eyes open, a cold gleam flickering inside.
"Vice Admiral Darren! I disagree! We won that war!" a young soldier burst out, voice shaking.
"That’s right—we defended our home!" barked a Marine Commander, rising to his feet.
A Commodore added fiercely, "You saved this island! But you can’t erase the sacrifice of everyone else who fought and died!"
From the crowd, a little girl ran forward, tears streaking her face. "My brother... Captain Spitt... died protecting Marineford! How can you call that a failure?!"
One after another, Marines and civilians stood, their voices rising—not against Darren’s heroism, but against his verdict.
They could not, would not, let anyone steal the word "victory" from them.
Sengoku moved to intervene—only for a heavy hand to grip his shoulder.
Kong’s voice was low. "Too late."
And it was. The crowd’s eyes were locked on Darren now. Only he could answer. Only he could close the wound he had just torn open.
The silence was thick enough to choke on.
Every gaze bore down on him, heavy as chains.
Anyone else might have buckled.
"So," he said softly, "you all wanted this to be a glorious victory?"
A ripple of hesitant nods.
The smile curved into a sneer. "I see. Yes. In a way... it is a ’grand’ victory."
Relief flickered—only to shatter.
His voice erupted into a savage roar. "We triumphantly let filthy, vile pirates storm the heart of our headquarters!"
"We triumphantly turned the Holy Land of Justice into rubble—our proud fortress reduced to a wasteland!"
Each sentence was a hammer blow.
"We, the Marines—once the unshakable masters of these seas—have triumphantly become a laughingstock for the whole damn world!"
His fury crashed over the square like a typhoon. Color drained from every face.
Darren’s gaze swept the crowd—cold, merciless, daring any to meet his eyes.
"When a pirate can stroll into the heart of justice itself..."
"When all we can do is defend and endure, forced to watch him leave at his leisure..."
"When the entire world sees our weakness—sees that even Marineford can be breached..."
"This war—" his voice dropped to a deadly growl "—can you still call that a victory?"
Darren straightened, his voice exploding like cannon fire.
A wave of killing intent burst from him, suffocating in its weight. Wind screamed across the square, lightning flickered in the sky, and the daylight itself seemed to dim.