The legendary Marine hero, Vice Admiral Monkey D. Garp, stood tall in the center of the room, his fist still clenched from the devastating punch. His expression was a storm of barely contained rage, his eyes blazing with a fury that seemed to radiate from him in waves. Garp's presence filled the room, a force of nature that could not be ignored or denied.
"Garp!" Sengoku's voice was a mix of shock and concern, disbelief etched across his features. "What are you doing?!"
But Garp ignored him, his eyes locked on the gaping hole where Elder Ju Peter had been blasted through. The tension in the room escalated to a breaking point, every Marine on edge, unsure of what would happen next.
The CP0 agents, their training kicking back in, quickly moved to surround Garp, their weapons drawn and Haki flaring as they prepared to subdue him. But there was a hesitation in their movements, a fear that lingered in the back of their minds.
This was Garp, the man who had fought on equal footing with the Pirate King himself, and they knew that confronting him would be no easy task.
Sakazuki's fists clenched at his sides, torn between loyalty to his fellow Marines and the orders of the World Government. "Garp, what the hell are you thinking?!" he demanded, his voice carrying the weight of authority, but also a hint of desperation.
Garp finally spoke, his voice a deep, rumbling growl that resonated with the fury boiling inside him. "Thinking? I'm done thinking, Sakazuki. This farce has gone on long enough." He took a step forward, the floor cracking beneath his boot, his gaze sweeping across the room.
"I've watched as the World Government plays its games, as it sacrifices innocent lives for power. And now… now they want to hunt down Marines like they are less than dogs? Not on my watch."
Admiral Hazard, who had been silent up until now, took a step forward, his hand already channeling energy in case the man lashed out. "Vice Admiral Garp… I understand your anger, but attacking an Elder… this will have consequences you can't take back."
Garp's bloodshot eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at Hazard, but the fire in them didn't diminish. "Consequences? Hazard, the consequences of doing nothing are far worse. The Marines are supposed to stand for justice, not be lapdogs for a corrupt regime. If they want to come for me, let them. But I won't stand by while they slaughter one of the most steadfast Marine that I have known throughout my life."
Sengoku, torn between his duty and his bond with Garp, struggled to find the words. "Garp… please… don't do this. We can handle this without resorting to violence. Zephyr will not want you going down this path."
But Garp shook his head, resolute. "Violence? This isn't violence, Sengoku. This is a wake-up call. A reminder of what it means to be a Marine. If we don't fight for what's right, then what are we even doing here? Zephyr was someone who truly embodied the true spirit of Marines, even more so than myself."
The CP0 agents moved in, their hesitation gone as they prepared to subdue the legendary Marine by force. But before they could make a move, Garp's Conquerors Haki surged through the room, a tidal wave of raw power that stopped them in their tracks.
The pressure was immense, suffocating, as if the very air had turned to lead. The agents, elite though they were, faltered under the sheer weight of Garp's will.
"Get Lost….!!!," Garp commanded, his voice brooking no argument. "I've no quarrel with you, but if you try to stop me, I won't hold back. I will tear apart anyone who tries to stop me today."
The agents exchanged uneasy glances, their resolve wavering. They had never faced an opponent like Garp before, and the reality of the situation was sinking in.
This was a man who had dedicated his life to the Marines, a hero revered by all, and now he stood before them as a defiant symbol of what it truly meant to uphold justice.
Tsuru, feeling the tension in the room reach its peak, stepped forward, even she was completely caught offguard by Garp's action. "Garp… this isn't the way." But even as she spoke, she knew that Garp had already made up his mind.
Garp turned to face his old friend, his expression softening. "Tsuru… you know me. You know what I stand for. This… this is what I have to do."
And with that, Garp turned away from the shattered remnants of the room, walking toward the hole in the wall where Elder Ju Peter had been blasted through. His footsteps were heavy, deliberate, as if each step carried the weight of his conviction.
The tension in the room reached a fever pitch as the CP0 agents, their bodies humming with suppressed fear, moved to subdue Garp. Despite the overwhelming dread that made every instinct scream at them to flee, they steeled themselves and charged forward. These were the elite, the World Government's secret weapon, but even they knew that facing Garp was no ordinary mission.
Before the first agent could even bring his weapon to bear, Garp's hand shot out like a cannonball, clamping around the agent's neck with a grip that felt more like a vice of iron than flesh and bone.
The agent gasped, his windpipe instantly crushed under the pressure, his eyes bulging in shock and terror. Garp's eyes blazed with an intensity that made it clear there was no room for negotiation.
"What the hell are you guys looking at? Subdue Garp with any means necessary!" Sengoku's voice rang out, commanding the room with an authority that barely masked the fear beneath.
Sengoku knew—more than anyone else in that room—what Garp was capable of. He had fought beside Garp, witnessed his unbridled strength firsthand. And now, as the reality of what was happening set in, Sengoku realized that even with all the elite forces present, they might not be able to stop him.
But Garp was beyond reason. His grip on the CP0 agent tightened further, the sound of bones snapping like twigs echoed through the room. With a flick of his wrist, Garp hurled the agent's lifeless body at the other CP0 members, who were charging him in unison.
The corpse struck them with the force of a meteor, knocking them off their feet and sending them crashing into the walls, their combined assault shattered before it could even begin.
"Sengoku!" Garp's voice was a thunderclap that shook the room. The sheer power behind it sent a shiver down the spine of every Marine present. His eyes locked onto Sengoku's with a fury that was both personal and primal. "I'll say this only once—for old times' sake, do not get in my way today."
Before Sengoku could respond, Garp's attention snapped back to the remaining CP0 agents who were already regaining their footing and preparing to attack again.
But Garp was relentless. He swatted away their attacks as if they were nothing more than flies, his movements a blur of devastating power. Their weapons, coated in Haki, clanged uselessly against Garp's body, his Armament Haki far superior, a fortress that could not be breached.
With a single, brutal punch, Garp crushed the ribcage of the agent who had launched forward, the sound of breaking bones reverberating like a drumbeat of finality.
Garp pulled out his bloodstained hand from the hole he had punched in the agent's chest, the body hitting the ground with a sickening thud, as if it were nothing more than a discarded ragdoll.
The Marines in the room, those who still stood under the oppressive weight of Garp's overwhelming Haki, were frozen in terror.
The Fleet Admiral's order was clear: subdue Garp with any means necessary. But could they truly stop this monster? Garp's very presence radiated power, a crushing force that made it difficult to breathe, let alone fight.
"Inugami Guren!" The shout cut through the tension as Vice Admiral Akainu, heedless of the fear that gripped the others, surged forward. Unlike the rest, Sakazuki did not fear Garp.
To him, Garp's past glory was irrelevant, and what he had just done was a direct affront to justice. The future of the Marines was at risk because of Garp's actions, and Akainu would not stand for it.
A massive lava hound tore through the air, its molten jaws snapping with the fury of a volcanic eruption, aimed directly at Garp. Sengoku's eyes widened in horror—he knew this was a mistake—but it was too late to stop it. The molten beast roared as it closed in on Garp, the heat from the attack searing the air.
But Garp, without a moment's hesitation, infused his arm with Armament Haki. His hand shot out, tearing through the magma hound as if it were nothing more than a cloud of smoke. The molten lava dissipated around his fist, the attack rendered useless by the sheer force of Garp's will.
Sakazuki's eyes widened in shock. He hadn't even seen Garp move. Before he could comprehend what was happening, Garp's hand clamped down on his face, the grip like a steel trap. The sheer power behind that hand made it impossible for Akainu to break free. He struggled, his body writhing in a futile attempt to escape, but it was no use. Garp's strength was absolute.
The remaining CP0 agents, desperate, immediately retreated, knowing it was futile to clash with Garp. Their more immediate concern was the Elder, who was sent out flying earlier, so they quickly moved in the direction to check the Elder's condition.
With a growl of primal fury, Garp lifted Sakazuki into the air. The Vice Admiral's struggles intensified, but it was clear he was outmatched. Garp's grip tightened, and with a devastating roar, he slammed Sakazuki's face into the floor.
"Blue Hole...!!!"
The impact was catastrophic—a deafening explosion of force that sent shockwaves rippling through the entire building and the entirety of Marineford. The ground buckled and cracked under the sheer weight of the blow, the floor cratering beneath Sakazuki's body as the remaining structure of the building crumbled under the force.
The Marines who had witnessed the battle were left speechless, their faces pale as they stared at the devastation. The once-proud Marine HQ, the symbol of their power, was now a ruin, brought to its knees by the fury of one man. And as the dust settled, it became clear that Garp had held back. If Sakazuki wasn't a fellow Marine, his fate would have been sealed.
Garp stood over Akainu's crumpled form, the Admiral barely conscious, blood dripping from his face where Garp's grip had torn into him. It was a sight that none in the room would ever forget—a reminder of the overwhelming power that Garp possessed, and the lengths he was willing to go to uphold his own sense of justice. All it took was a single attack to bring someone like Akainu down.
Kuzan's heart raced as he watched Sakazuki's body crumple beneath Garp's devastating attack. Despite the tension between them, there was no denying the bond that had formed between the two admiral candidates over the years.
Borsalino, the calm, lazy, and collected Vice Admiral, couldn't just stand by as his old friend lay beaten. The instinct to protect his friend surged within him, and without thinking, he began to move.
In an instant, Kizaru, the man who often masked his true feelings behind a facade of aloofness, transformed into light, his body shimmering as he prepared to retrieve the downed Sakazuki.
Although Borsalino rarely showed it, his connection to Sakazuki ran deep—they had joined the Marines at the same time, faced countless battles together, and formed an unspoken friendship forged in the crucible of war.
But just as Kizaru was about to reach Sakazuki, something primal and terrifying gripped his entire being. A cold, all-consuming fear that seized his soul and sent shockwaves through his body. His Observation Haki, finely tuned and nearly unmatched, flared with an intensity that it rarely did, warning him of the mortal danger he was about to face.
It was as if death itself was staring him down.
Without a second thought, Kizaru abandoned his attempt to save Sakazuki and retreated, his light form flickering and then reappearing several meters away. His usual casual demeanor was gone, replaced by a rare expression of genuine fear as he realized just how close he had come to disaster.
Garp's bloodshot gaze followed Kizaru as he reappeared, locking onto the Admiral candidate with a predatory intensity that froze everyone in the room. The pressure from Garp's Haki was suffocating, a tidal wave of raw power and fury that left no room for doubt—had Kizaru not retreated, he would have been next in line for Garp's wrath.
For a moment, the room was deathly silent. The Marines, already shaken to their cores, held their breath, waiting to see if Garp would make his move. Kizaru, usually unflappable, stood perfectly still, knowing that any sudden movement could trigger another brutal attack.
His mind raced, calculating the odds, but there was no mistaking the truth: Garp's overwhelming power was something beyond even his own considerable abilities.
Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, Garp turned away from Kizaru, launching himself into the air in the direction where the Elder flew out, leaving the stunned Vice Admiral to gather his composure. The moment passed, but the tension in the air remained thick, palpable, as Garp's presence continued to dominate the room.
Kizaru exhaled, the breath he hadn't realized he was holding escaping in a controlled sigh. He understood now, more than ever, that Garp was not a man to be trifled with—not even by someone of his own formidable caliber.
The true terror of the Marine Hero was not just his strength, but the unyielding resolve that fueled it. A resolve that, on this day, had shaken the foundations of the Marines to their core.
Sengoku finally snapped out of his shock, realizing that if he didn't act now, the Marines would face their darkest hour. Garp's rampage could spell the end of everything they had worked for. The man who had once been their greatest hero was now the gravest threat they had ever faced. With a sense of urgency that bordered on desperation, Sengoku barked out orders.
"Tsuru, Raylene, Hazard—you're with me!" His voice, commanding and resolute, cut through the tension in the room. He knew that only the best could hope to stand even a chance of slowing Garp down.
Tsuru, the veteran tactician; Raylene, whose combat prowess was second to none; and Hazard, the steadfast Admiral—all were the pillars of the Marines. If they failed, there would be no one left to stop Garp.
Sengoku's gaze then fell upon Sakazuki, who lay battered and barely conscious on the shattered floor. Blood streamed from the Vice Admiral's wounds, his body a broken shell of the indomitable force he usually was. Kuzan, still reeling from the chaos, instinctively moved to his side, despite their differences, he was a fellow marine.
"Kuzan, get Sakazuki to the medbay," Sengoku ordered, his voice tinged with urgency but also with the weight of responsibility. He knew the importance of keeping the future Admirals alive, even if their strength paled in comparison to Garp's onslaught.
Sengoku then turned to Borsalino, but he was met with an unexpected sight. The normally unflappable Kizaru stood frozen, his usually lazy demeanor replaced with a look of pure terror. He was still trapped in the shock of having been so close to death—an experience that had shaken him to his core.
Sengoku had seen it too, the brief moment when Garp's bloodshot eyes had locked onto Kizaru, and for a split second, he had feared the worst.
"Borsalino...!" Sengoku began, but he realized there was no point in finishing the order. Kizaru was paralyzed by fear, still trying to process just how close he had come to being obliterated. Even Sengoku had to admit, the thought of Garp tearing Kizaru apart had sent a cold chill down his spine.
But there was no time to dwell on it. Every second they wasted brought them closer to ruin. With a final, urgent glance at his comrades, Sengoku turned and led the charge out of the ruined meeting room, following the path of destruction that Garp had carved through the Marine HQ.
As they rushed in the direction Garp had gone, the sheer scale of the devastation became evident. Walls were crumbled, floors cracked and shattered, as if a storm had torn through the building.
Marines lay scattered, some unconscious, others struggling to their feet, all bearing the marks of Garp's unchecked fury. The entire structure of Marineford seemed to tremble, as if the very foundation of their world was crumbling beneath them.
*******
Donquixote territory, New World
Three World Government ships sliced through the open seas in tight formation, their colossal hulls cutting through the water with ominous purpose. At the center of this formation was a massive behemoth of a vessel, towering over the others. Aboard it sat one of the Five Elders, Jaygarcia Saturn, a man whose mere presence commanded the fear and respect of all who served under the World Government's banner.
The fleet had just entered the periphery of seas controlled by the Donquixote Pirates, a notoriously dangerous territory. The atmosphere aboard the ships was tense, but resolute—no one expected any resistance that could match the power they wielded.
But as they neared the border of the pirate-controlled waters, a small galleon appeared on the horizon, intercepting their path with a boldness that bordered on insanity.
"This is the territory of the Donquixote Pirates! State your business!" A pirate goon bellowed from the deck of the galleon. It was a patrol ship, tasked with monitoring the borders of the Donquixote territory. The pirate's voice was laced with false bravado, the kind of confidence that came from serving under one of the most feared pirate crews in the world.
But the World Government ships didn't even acknowledge the warning. They didn't slow down, didn't change course—they barreled forward, heading directly for the smaller vessel as if it didn't even exist.
"Abandon ship!" the pirate screamed, his voice cracking as the reality of the situation hit him. He understood now—they were nothing more than ants in the path of a juggernaut. Panic spread across the faces of the pirate crew as they leapt overboard, scrambling to escape the inevitable.
But it was too late. The massive government ship plowed into the galleon with brutal force, crushing it beneath its hull as if it were nothing more than driftwood.
The shattered remains of the galleon sank swiftly into the depths of the ocean, a testament to the ruthless efficiency of the World Government. A Cipher Pol agent standing on one of the other ships watched the scene with cold disdain.
"Little pirate bastards," he muttered. "They think they can challenge the might of the World Government?"
The destruction of the galleon was quick, almost effortless—a clear message to any who would dare oppose them. But as the agent sneered at the pirates' fate, something shifted in the air.
On the main ship, Elder Saturn's eyes, which had been calmly scanning a document, suddenly narrowed. His instincts flared, honed over decades of ruling from the shadows, and even the CP0 agents nearby stiffened as they sensed an imminent threat.
Before anyone could issue a command, the retaliation came.
One of the ships flanking the main vessel was suddenly and violently pierced by a barrage of projectiles. The attack was so swift, so precise, that the sailors aboard barely had time to react.
The first wave of projectiles tore through the ship's reinforced hull like paper, each impact carrying the devastating force of an Admiral-level attack.
The crew scrambled to abandon the vessel, but before they could even lower the lifeboats, a massive projectile—larger than the rest—punctured the ship's core.
"BOOM!"
The explosion was deafening, a monstrous blast that echoed across the seas. The World Government battleship was obliterated in an instant, sinking into the ocean just as the patrol ship had moments earlier. The water churned with the debris of the once-proud vessel, now nothing more than wooden debris scattered across the waves.
On the main ship, the shock was palpable. The Cipher Pol agents, who moments before had been full of contempt for the pirates, now stood frozen, their faces pale with disbelief. The ship they had just lost was no ordinary vessel—it was a warship of the highest caliber, sunk with such ease that it defied comprehension.
Elder Saturn, however, remained composed, his mind already racing to assess the situation.
"Halt our advance at the edge of Donquixote territory," he ordered, his voice cutting through the chaos with the authority of one who was used to being obeyed without question.
"It seems they were well aware of our arrival. Find a nearby island and anchor the ships. I want a full assessment of what kind of weapons they just used."
His orders were relayed swiftly, the crew moving with the precision born of fear and respect. But even as the ships adjusted their course, the looming question hung in the air: What kind of weapon could inflict such devastation? The projectiles had carried the force of an Admiral's attack, yet they had been fired with such speed and accuracy that the government's ship hadn't stood a chance.
As the ships began to steer toward a nearby island, Elder Saturn stared out at the horizon, his thoughts dark and brooding. The Donquixote family, already a significant threat, had just demonstrated a new level of danger—one that could not be ignored.
*****
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