"Huff! Huff!"
Saint Figarland Garling panted heavily, his chest heaving with exertion and frustration. He didn't know how much time had passed since the devastating energy fluctuations from Pluton's attack had finally subsided, but the aftermath was painfully clear. The battlefield, once filled with the imposing figures of Pacifistas and Seraphim, was now a wasteland of smoldering debris and shattered dreams.
"But... damn it!" Garling cursed under his breath, his voice trembling with anger and disbelief.
The scene before him was far from what he had anticipated. He had placed his faith in the World Government's powerful weapons—the Pacifistas, the Seraphim—believing that they would be the key to turning the tide against the Entei Pirates. Yet, under the overwhelming might of Pluton, one of the three ancient weapons, these once-feared war machines had been utterly annihilated. They had been completely and thoroughly deceived.
Garling's face twisted in rage as he gazed up at Pluton, still ominously floating in the sky above, its presence a stark reminder of their failure. The warship, kept aloft by the power of the Lion Fruit, seemed to mock him with its sheer invincibility. Cold sweat trickled down Garling's forehead, each bead a testament to the fear gnawing at his insides.
"Buzz!"
The air beside Ace rippled and distorted as a small figure emerged from the spatial tear.
"Am I... not dead?" S-Snake, one of the Seraphim modeled after Boa Hancock, blinked in confusion as she surveyed her surroundings. Her voice was soft, almost childlike, tinged with uncertainty as she tried to make sense of the chaos that had just unfolded. The battlefield was a scene of utter destruction, yet here she stood, alive and unharmed.
Ace, watching her closely, allowed a small, knowing smile to play on his lips. "How about it? Do you want to follow me?" His tone was gentle but laced with the kind of authority that made it clear he wasn't just asking—he was offering a destiny.
S-Snake's eyes widened at the question, and a deep blush spread across her cheeks. "Yes, if you want... I'm willing!" she stammered, her voice trembling with a mix of excitement and shyness. She quickly covered her face with her small hands, trying to hide her flustered expression. "It's really strange... why can't I disobey your orders? What is this feeling?"
Her petite frame trembled slightly as she twisted her body, clearly flustered by emotions she didn't fully understand. The resemblance to Hancock was uncanny—not just in appearance, but in the way she moved, the way she blushed, the way she looked at Ace with a mixture of admiration and adoration.
Nami, standing beside Ace, couldn't help but notice the scene unfolding before her. Her gaze lingered on S-Snake, her mind racing with thoughts. That look... it's just like Hancock! She thought, her lips parting slightly in surprise. S-Snake had never even met Ace before, yet the moment she laid eyes on him, she was completely captivated. It was as if Hancock's deep, unwavering love for Ace had somehow been passed down through her very genes.
Nami's thoughts swirled with curiosity. Could it really be possible that Hancock's love for Ace is so profound that it's embedded in her genetic code? The idea seemed absurd, yet here was the proof standing right in front of her. As she pondered this, a soft smile began to tug at the corners of Nami's lips.
Romantic, isn't it? she mused, her expression thoughtful. Could it be that my own love for Ace is just as deep, just as unshakeable? The thought was a comforting one. It made her heart swell with a quiet confidence, knowing that her feelings for Ace were just as strong, if not stronger, than anyone else's.
As Nami watched S-Snake's shy demeanor, her smile grew a little wider. One thing's for sure, she thought with certainty, my love for Ace is not something that can be outdone—not by anyone.
"But damn it! To think I was forced into this position so early on," Saint Figarland Garling muttered, his voice tinged with a mix of frustration and disbelief.
Unlike the calm and collected demeanor of Ace, Garling was seething with shame. As the esteemed leader of the Knights of God, his status was unparalleled, even among the Celestial Dragons. His authority was absolute—he could judge and execute his fellow Celestial Dragons without question. He had always prided himself on being the best among them, a shining example of power and leadership. Whether it was the hunting games of the Celestial Dragons or the infamous incident in the Valley of God, Garling had always been the undisputed leader.
And yet, here he was, in the midst of this war, brought to his knees not by brute force, but by the cunning strategies of the Flame Emperor. It was an unbearable humiliation. The battle had barely begun, and already he found himself outmaneuvered, his forces crushed, and his pride shattered.
The Flame Emperor hadn't even deigned to face him directly. Instead, he had deployed a series of carefully orchestrated strategies that had left Garling, the Navy, and the Knights of God in disarray. The World Government's most advanced weapons—the Pacifists and Seraphim—had been obliterated in an instant, reduced to nothing by the very weapon they had sought to keep hidden.
Garling's personal strength had been rendered meaningless. He hadn't even managed to lay a finger on Ace, let alone challenge him. His attempts to confront the second-in-command of the Entei Pirates, the "Little Thief" Nami, had been thwarted by the "Desert Princess" Vivi. When he finally managed to shake off Vivi, he was confronted by a far more painful betrayal—his own lost son, Shanks, who had allied himself with the Flame Emperor.
Shame. It was a crushing, suffocating shame that consumed Garling, the leader of the Knights of God. He had been utterly defeated, not just in battle, but in spirit. The power he had once wielded with such confidence was now a hollow shell, incapable of standing against the combined might of the Entei Pirates, the Revolutionary Army, the Straw Hat Pirates, the Whitebeard Pirates, and now, the Red-Haired Pirates.
As the tide of battle turned decisively against them, Garling felt a new, more profound fear settle in his heart. It wasn't his own death he feared—he was a warrior, and he had long since accepted the risks of battle. No, what he feared was the dark future that loomed over the Celestial Dragons. Even with the Five Elders and Imu yet to Take Action, he could see the writing on the wall—a future where the Celestial Dragons were no more, where their once-mighty lineage was snuffed out like a candle in the wind.
In this battle, Garling had been thoroughly, completely defeated. And the weight of that defeat, of the failure he had become, crushed him with a force far greater than any physical blow ever could.
"Time to end this farce," Ace declared, his voice carrying a cold finality as he gazed upon the Knights of God, the three Admirals of the Naval Headquarters, Marine Marshal Akainu, and the formidable Magellan, who had been summoned from Impel Down to bolster the defense. A mocking laugh escaped his lips, the sound echoing through the battlefield.
"Is this all the World Government can muster? With such limited firepower, the Entei Pirates Fleet could crush them in an instant if we unleashed our full strength," Ace thought to himself, a smirk playing on his face.
The battle had been carefully orchestrated from the start. The Entei Pirates had deliberately concealed much of their true power, refraining from delivering a swift and decisive blow. Their strategy had been clear: eliminate the Pacifists and Seraphim in one calculated strike. The sheer number of Pacifists, combined with the six Seraphim capable of rivaling Admiral-level combatants, posed too great a threat to be left unchecked. They had to be eradicated entirely to ensure the Entei Pirates' path to victory was unobstructed.
"Damn it!" Akainu cursed through gritted teeth, his face contorted with rage as he clashed with Sabo, who had transformed into his fearsome Hybrid Dragon Form. The two titans of fire and magma collided, their elemental powers creating a deadly maelstrom of heat and destruction. Akainu, the embodiment of the World Government's iron will, found himself pushed to his limits, struggling to maintain his ground against Sabo's relentless onslaught.
Just then, the atmosphere around the battlefield shifted dramatically. A familiar, ominous magic circle began to materialize at the heart of Naval Headquarters, radiating an otherworldly energy that sent shivers down the spines of those who sensed it.
"They've arrived, have they?" Ace muttered, his eyes narrowing as he recognized the telltale signs. The Five Elders, the enigmatic rulers who stood at the pinnacle of the World Government's power, had finally made their move.
The tension in the air thickened, the battlefield momentarily stilling as all eyes turned toward the epicenter of the magic circle's emergence. The arrival of the Five Elders signaled a significant escalation in the conflict, one that would undoubtedly tip the scales of the war.
Ace, however, remained unfazed. His gaze was sharp, focused, and unyielding. The Five Elders might have been the ultimate authority of the World Government, but he was the Flame Emperor, a force of nature in his own right. He had anticipated this moment, prepared for it, and now, the time had come to bring the full might of the Entei Pirates to bear.
The war was far from over, but Ace knew that the end was drawing near. And as he stood on the precipice of the final confrontation, he was ready to claim victory, no matter who stood in his way.