“You bought a Visual Den Den Mushi on Fishman Island?” Rayleigh raised his eyebrows, mildly surprised.

“Not bought, no. Hm, the feed seems to be a rebroadcast from Sabaody Archipelago. About a week ago, these snails were going for sky-high prices. We just snatched this one from a rich merchant who came down to Fishman Island for business.”

“Hahaha, classic pirate behavior. Very well, Hachi, I’m curious myself to hear what that old man Sengoku has to say.”

When the two entered the great hall of the Terror Ghost, the whole crew of the Davy Jones Pirates was already assembled.

They turned their heads briefly at Rayleigh and Hachi, then returned their focus to the projected image on the whiteboard.

The picture was grainy and indistinct, but it clearly showed a towering execution platform.

Normally, a proper broadcast would allow multiple perspectives at once, but since this was a relay from Sabaody, the image quality and feed were limited.

On the platform stood a man in a Marine uniform, his beard falling all the way to his chest, round spectacles perched on his face—the Fleet Admiral of the Navy, “Buddha” Sengoku.

Kneeling beside him, shirtless and covered in wounds, was none other than “Fire Fist” Portgas D. Ace.

Sengoku spoke into a Den Den Mushi used as a microphone, his calm, weighty voice transmitted across the seas. Though the relay distorted it, making it lag slightly, every word carried into the great hall of the ghostly ship.

“…One year and three months after your father’s death… a child was born, bearing the most evil bloodline in the world! That child is you! Surely you must know… your father was none other than the Pirate King, Gol D. Roger!”

On the screen, Ace’s body dipped forward in a sharp, visible flinch. His face was obscured, and so the watching audience could not see his expression.

How the crowd at Marineford itself—or the people of Sabaody watching live—reacted, none of the Dutchman’s crew could know. But in their hall, everyone was left to process this revelation.

So it was true: Ace was Roger’s son.

Rayleigh stared at the young man’s face, then lowered his eyes, remembering his captain. A sigh escaped him.

“I knew it! I knew it all along!”

The excited voice belonged to Buggy. Rayleigh glanced over and saw him with arms thrust high into the air, flushed with fervor—yet his legs trembled uncontrollably, betraying his fear.

Even so frightened, he’s still resolved to save Ace? Rayleigh smiled, both warmed and pained at once.

For Buggy to go this far meant he had already made up his mind: this would be his final mission for Captain Roger. After this, he would devote himself fully to supporting Captain Davy Jones.

That was only natural. Every child must choose their own path, as Shanks had done.

Rayleigh would never chain them down.

At that moment, static and commotion came through the snail feed. The image remained fixed on the platform, so no one could tell what was happening.

The low resolution also blurred Sengoku’s face.

Crocodile, cigar clenched between his teeth, muttered a deduction:

“Whitebeard and his fleet have arrived…”

Sure enough, the broadcast suddenly shook violently with an earth-shattering boom.

A moment later, Sengoku’s furious voice echoed:

“…That man possesses the power to destroy the world… The war has already begun!”

The sounds of battle—roars, blasts, the chaos of combat—filtered in, even through the faulty relay.

Seated at the front, Davy Jones spoke calmly:

“Porche, how far are we from Marineford?”

“Almost there. We’ll reach the seas beneath Marineford within half an hour,” Porche replied, consulting her charts and glancing at the Log Pose strapped to her wrist.

“Then make ready.” Davy Jones struck a match and lit the tobacco in his long-stemmed pipe, clamping it between his teeth. “Our target is Portgas D. Ace. Whoever blocks us—will be our enemy.”

“Yes, Captain!” the crew answered in unison.

Rayleigh could see it clearly. The atmosphere aboard this ship was entirely unlike the Roger Pirates. The hierarchy here was far stricter—but in this moment, far steadier.

“The war has begun.”

On the seas outside Marineford, a lone pirate ship lay in wait.

At its prow stood one of the so-called “Supernovas” who had gathered at Sabaody not long ago—

The “Magician,” Basil Hawkins.

His long blond hair flowed down his back, his tone aloof and prophetic as ever.

Moments ago, he and his crew had witnessed a cataclysmic quake that tore the seas apart, followed by a towering tsunami that threatened to swallow Marineford whole.

And then—just as quickly—it was frozen solid into colossal walls of ice encircling the bay.

Now, the din of slaughter and cannon fire shook heaven and earth.

“Whitebeard’s quake powers… and Admiral Aokiji’s ice. Two more Admirals haven’t even moved yet, and their strength is already this terrifying?” Hawkins mused, though his eyes never left the island.

“Captain!” one of his men called. “Look—there are other pirates watching nearby.”

Hawkins turned. Sure enough, scattered across the waves were several familiar Jolly Rogers. He identified them one by one:

“Captain” Eustass Kid, with his right-hand man, “Massacre Soldier” Killer.

“Roar of the Sea” Scratchmen Apoo.

“Gang” Capone Bege.

The gluttonous woman, Jewelry Bonney.

“Red Flag” X Drake.

“Mad Monk” Urouge.

And counting himself, the “Magician” Basil Hawkins—eight of the Supernovas with bounties over 100 million, all gathered once more.

After the recent “Celestial Dragon Incident,” every one of these “Worst Generation” pirates had somehow slipped from Admiral Kizaru’s grasp. Many hailed it as proof of their extraordinary luck—proof that they would someday carve out their place in the New World.

They should have stayed in Sabaody, watching the broadcast like the rest of the world. Yet, all of them had chosen to come here in person.

A relay feed no longer sufficed. Only by standing at the edge of the battlefield, feeling that overwhelming presence firsthand, could they truly measure the gulf between themselves and “the world’s strongest man,” Edward Newgate.

If the broadcast were cut, sailing from Sabaody afterward would be far too late. And not every ship could even enter the Navy’s controlled currents of the “Triangle Flow.”

“Pay them no mind,” Hawkins said evenly.

He drew out his deck, laying one card after another in the air. They hung there, impossibly suspended.

“As expected… Whitebeard, the Pirate King’s son—both wear the face of death. Neither will leave Marineford alive today…”

“Captain!” his subordinate interrupted again, pointing.

Irritated, Hawkins followed his gaze—only to see a Marine warship plummet from atop an iceberg, crashing down onto the frozen sea below!

He murmured to himself:

“I did not foresee this… Quite an interesting entrance. But the fate of Whitebeard and Fire Fist remains unchanged. Their deaths are inevitable.”

Coby would never forget how he lost his right hand.

And because of that, he clung to life even harder than most.

When the clash erupted, with thunderous cries and carnage everywhere, he and his friend Helmeppo cowered in the fringes of the battlefield, too terrified to join the fight.

Helmeppo shook uncontrollably at the bloodshed around them. But Coby was no braver.

His right arm was now a crude prosthetic—metal gears and joints that often jammed, needing oil and spare parts to function. He hated it.

Vice Admiral Garp, who had trained both him and Helmeppo, once told him of a great Marine warrior who bore a similar burden. Garp hoped that one day, Coby would surpass even that man.

But Coby, clutching his metal arm, could not bring himself to charge into the fray.

All he could do was watch comrades—familiar faces and strangers alike—fall one after another to Whitebeard’s pirates.

Even when Ace’s true parentage was revealed, his shock was fleeting. Fear of the war quickly swallowed it whole.

Coby could not even grasp what this war was truly for. All he knew was this: he had only one life. If he lost it, that was the end.

Then chaos struck.

A warship fell from atop the ice, crashing onto the battlefield.

From it poured a motley band of intruders.

As Sengoku explained, they were led by “Straw Hat” Luffy, “Knight of the Sea” Jinbe, “Queen of the Okama” Ivankov, and a stranger in a black top hat who kept his face hidden. Sengoku could not identify him.

This was the group that had just torn through Impel Down, freeing countless prisoners. Using the Navy’s Triangle Flow linking Enies Lobby, Impel Down, and Marineford, they had broken through the defenses and stormed the battlefield.

Another force come to save Ace.

Damn pirates and convicts… Coby cursed silently, though he remained huddled in the corner.

There will be a right moment. When it comes, I’ll…

But he didn’t know what that “right moment” even was. And even if it came, would he truly act?

Regardless of what Coby or Helmeppo thought, the battle of Marineford raged on. Both sides fell.

Whitebeard’s division commanders clashed fiercely, while the three Admirals and countless Vice Admirals moved to intercept. The battlefield was chaos incarnate.

As the struggle stalemated, the Navy revealed its next move—one that shifted the scales of war.

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep