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The group that entered wore different masks and carried different postures, yet all shared the same air of menace, vicious, terrifying, and untamed.
Spandam and his men froze in shock at their sudden appearance.
"W-Who the hell are you people?!" His voice cracked. The cold expressions of the masked intruders made his chest tighten. Even as he tried to shout them away, fear flickered in his eyes.
"Get out! You're not welcome here!"
One of the newcomers, a savage-looking man biting down on a cigar, cast a fleeting glance at Rojen. That single look was enough. Rojen understood perfectly: if this weren't in Tom's territory, the man would have already killed everyone present.
Spandam tried to muster his authority. "Do you realize what you're doing? This is an official execution under the World Government! Interfere, and it's a grave crime!"
The masked leader laughed, a coarse, mocking sound that made the room tremble.
"A grave crime? Ha! Then we should thank you. Because of this 'crime,' the world will remember our names!"
Without another word, Dragon-Elephant One surged forward, his boot sweeping out like a guillotine.
Another man in a black suit stepped out just as quickly, his own kick colliding head‑on.
"Bang!"
The two blows met with a dull, heavy impact that shook the air.
Dragon-Elephant One's eyes gleamed. His strike had been stopped.
"Not bad… you've got some strength."
The black-suited man's expression hardened. Neither of them underestimated the other anymore.
Since his recent cultivation, Dragon-Elephant's power had multiplied five or sixfold, already close to superhuman. Yet this opponent had met him evenly. Their strength was not to be digested lightly.
Both sides stirred with tension. The fighters behind them advanced, prepared to clash. But just as quickly, the black-suited man eased back, assessing the odds.
"Sir," he said gravely to Spandam, "their strength is considerable. And their background is unknown. Engaging here is unwise."
Spandam's lips curled in frustration. "You're supposed to be the Marine elites!"
"And they," the agent interrupted coldly, "are no ordinary rabble. Look at them. Each one has the scent of blood all over. They're killers. Hardened men. Against six, the risk is too high."
Cigarette smoke filled the air as another voice, low and disdainful, cut through the tension.
"Get out."
It was Crocodile. His tone was sharp and unforgiving, the way one might dismiss a servant.
Spandam's rage burst. "You… you'll regret this! You'll all pay, you damned bastards!"
But before he could continue, Rojen's eyes snapped open with a cold glint.
"Get out."
The word itself was followed by an invisible storm. His Haoshoku Haki spread out violently, crashing into Spandam and the agents nearby.
The Marines stumbled, faces pale with shock, and all eyes widened as their proud commander dropped like a puppet with its strings cut, rolling his eyes back before collapsing unconscious.
"Just… one roar…" whispered one of the men, clutching his forehead. "And he's out cold!"
The black-suited men steadied themselves. They were strong, strong enough that their wills didn't shatter completely, but the heavy pressure of Haoshoku weighed on them all the same.
"Are you all right?" Their leader steadied his groggy comrades, narrowing his eyes.
"We're fine," one of them said through clenched teeth, though his hands trembled slightly.
Finally, the leader turned to Rojen's group and spoke solemnly.
"Could you… leave your names?"
The masked figures did not answer. They only watched in silence, their eyes glinting like blades in the dark.
"…No one can shield a World Criminal," the Marine agent said at last, his voice low and bitter. "You've defied the Government. No matter who you are, consequences will come. Consider yourselves warned."
He lifted Spandam's limp form, straightened, and led his squad away. Their footsteps were firm and swift, no hesitation in their retreat.
The black‑suited agents had clearly realized it: Rojen's group was not an enemy they could afford to cross head‑on.
When Spandam and his escort finally retreated, the tense heaviness in the air lingered. Jason clenched his fists and could no longer hold his tongue.
"Captain, are we just letting them go? They dared to threaten us… and worse, they tried to take Tom San."
His voice cracked with fury. To him, Tom was no ordinary man. He was the shipwright who would one day create their dream vessel, the most unique ship in the seas. To have scum like Spandam target him was unbearable.
"Trens."
Rojen didn't answer the question directly, just spoke a single name.
Trens gave a short nod. He needed no more explanation, turned silently, and slipped out.
Then Rojen looked back at Tom, his gaze steady.
"Tom San, apologies for the disturbance. Leave this matter to us."
The massive fishman sighed, shoulders sagging under the weight of inevitability.
"They'll return sooner or later. I know it… and I'm ready." His deep voice carried both resignation and quiet determination.
Still, he managed a small smile. "Luckily, I've already finished the preliminary blueprints. All they need now is some refinement."
"You'll have that time," Rojen said firmly, every word like iron.
He turned back to his crew, lowering his voice so only they could hear.
"Brothers… do you dare to follow me to the Heavenly Palace gates?"
Every man in the room felt the weight of his words. With Spandam, a CP5 chief, branding them enemies, storming the Government's stronghold was no exaggeration.
Crocodile's lips curled around his cigar, releasing a languid puff of smoke. But his eyes… his eyes burned with ambition.
"I've been waiting for this."
Jason cracked his knuckles with a grin, anger simmering just beneath. "Captain, let's go already! That bastard Spandam, I couldn't stand the sight of him the first time we crossed paths."
The Dragon-Elephant Five, masks concealing their expressions, had no need for words. Their sharp gleam and boiling aura said enough: battle was their truest nature, and they welcomed it.
Meanwhile, out in the streets of Water 7…
The black‑suited Marine agents staggered forward, half-carrying, half-dragging the unconscious Spandam. Their pace never slowed as their leader barked a terse order.
"Faster! Off this island, now."
His men faltered, glancing at one another in unease.
"Team leader, isn't this too much? They were just some masked freaks."
"Right, if we'd gone all out, we definitely could've handled them."
The leader stopped dead in his tracks, glaring sharply. His voice was grave with certainty.
"No. You didn't feel it like I did. Those people are terrifyingly strong. Their power… I'd place it on par with the Supernova crews."
The words struck like thunder.
The Marines stiffened in disbelief. Supernovas were living symbols of this brutal era, rookie pirates with enough might and ambition to shake the seas, feared even by the World Government.
And their leader was saying these masked strangers were of equal or even greater caliber?
"Where in the world did they crawl out from…?" one muttered.
"I don't know." The leader shook his head. His jaw was tight. "But mark my words, they're no ordinary pirates."
Their hurried steps carried them down one avenue after another. Five… six streets were crossed. The harbor was just a thousand meters ahead, salvation in sight.
But that instant, the leader's eyes widened. His instincts screamed.
"Move!!"
Every man reacted instantly, adrenaline surging. Six figures split away like shadows, hearts racing as danger descended.
(End of Chapter)