Marine Headquarters assembled every last blade it could reach.
Orders flew from Marineford like cannon fire. Fleets moved. Fortresses emptied. Branches across the four seas stripped themselves bare and poured their best into the New World.
Even the Seven Warlords of the Sea, pirates who had enjoyed years of legal plunder under the World Government's banner, were dragged in by force and told to march.
A decisive battle with the Hell Pirates was coming, whether they liked it or not.
Captain John stood among them, face tight, eyes darker than seawater.
He was almost jealous of Kurt Wagner.
Morley had attacked Kurt Wagner, and though he failed to finish the job, the teleporting Warlord had escaped and vanished into the shadows to recover. Kurt Wagner could hide. He could breathe. He could avoid this madness.
Captain John could not.
If only my fruit were the Teleport Fruit…
If only he could slip away the moment the war began, disappear, and never stick his head into a clash between monsters.
But he was already at Marineford, stamped with orders, watched by eyes that never blinked. If he tried to play clever, there was a good chance the Fleet Admiral, would sacrifice him on the spot just to make an example.
Rumors were spreading too, the kind that tasted like poison.
They said Crocodile, that arrogant rookie, had been taken by Brook. Brainwashed. Turned into a Hell Pirates cadre.
They said Morley had openly rebelled, not only against the Seven Warlords, but against the entire system. He had attacked Kurt Wagner, then joined Dragon and became the commander of the Revolutionary Army's Western Front, marching straight into this war with his own banner.
Two Warlords gone.
Crocodile and Morley.
That left only Captain John, Dorado, and Naguri.
Three names.
Three bodies.
Three pieces of meat to throw into the grinder.
Captain John felt it clearly. The World Government was not bringing them as allies. It was pushing them forward as shields, as bait, as cannon fodder.
If he went to the front line like this, survival would be a joke.
He had to find a way out.
A way to slip free once the battlefield turned into chaos.
Otherwise Wang Zhi and Jennifer would skin him alive, and he would die with no grave, no name, and no one left to even curse the sea that swallowed him.
Nearby, Naguri and Dorado wore the same grim look.
Naguri had always dreamed of revenge on the Roger Pirates, and Dorado still clung to his own brand of justice, but neither of them was stupid. This was the kind of war where even heroes died as background noise.
They did not want to die.
They had fears, and plans, and ugly little wishes in their hearts, all of them pointing in the same direction.
Live.
But at Marineford, there was nowhere to run.
So the three Warlords could only march as the Navy's spear tip, smiling like loyal dogs while imagining escape routes behind their teeth.
The World Government shoved the bulk of Marine forces into the New World, leaving only a thin layer behind to contain Dragon's chaos in the East Sea and South Sea.
This was a real mobilization.
A real, world shaking deployment.
Names that hadn't stood together in years appeared in one place.
Fleet Admiral Kong.
Sengoku the Buddha.
Black Arm Zephyr.
Hero of the Marines, Iron Fist Garp.
Vice Admiral Tsuru, newly appointed as Chief of Staff.
And seasoned officers like Storberg and Doberman, their presence alone enough to make rookies stand straighter.
The former Chief of Staff, Weimark, remained behind at Marineford to manage the fires Dragon was lighting across the seas.
CP0 through CP9 were recalled from every corner of the world. Hidden agents surfaced. Local networks were stripped. Even the royal guards of member nations were forcibly harvested for talent.
Every officer and soldier above the rank of Major, stationed at naval fortresses across the world, received the same order.
Report to Headquarters.
Enter the New World.
One after another.
This time, the World Government was not trying to contain the Hell Pirates.
It was trying to crush them, and the Universal Government with them.
But there was a cost, and the world felt it immediately.
With elite troops ripped out of kingdom guards and local branches, gaps opened everywhere. Pirates with ambition, underworld thugs, and opportunists surged like rats smelling blood.
The Revolutionary Army was overthrowing brutal member states.
And bandits were doing what bandits always did.
They took advantage.
They plundered. They massacred. They grabbed whatever they could carry, and burned what they could not.
This was the real face of a fight for hegemony.
Even the Revolutionary Army, for all its fury, had to turn and suppress lawless pirates who slaughtered civilians without restraint.
Meanwhile, the World Government abandoned the day to day protection of its member states. For the moment, it cared about only one thing.
Destroy the Hell Pirates.
…
When Brook received the full report, even he felt a chill.
Millions.
Not thousands.
Not tens of thousands.
Millions.
He stared at the figures, then laughed once, low and sharp, like a blade sliding out of its sheath.
"With numbers like that… even I feel like retreating into the middle and rear New World."
He was not joking.
Marineford had deployed one hundred thousand elite Marines, and the world had called it a war that shook the era.
Alabasta alone held a standing army of six hundred thousand.
In the war Crocodile once planned, the rebel forces would exceed a million.
But those numbers were paper compared to this.
Now the World Government was pulling elite Marines from branches across the world and forcibly conscripting elite troops from over a hundred member nations, forging them into an army counted in the millions.
And these were not Alabasta rebels with rusty spears.
These were trained soldiers.
Disciplined.
Hardened.
Brook understood something most pirates refused to admit.
This was the true weight of the World Government.
In the future, the New World would call fifty thousand to sixty thousand men a terrifying force. Newgate's empire could gather sixteen divisions, plus dozens of affiliated crews, enough to sweep a million poorly trained rebels with almost no suspense.
But that was because those pirates were monsters among monsters.
These Marines were not helpless minions.
A considerable portion of these elites could resist ordinary Conqueror's Haki pressure. They would not fall to their knees just because an Overlord glared.
Even legends were worn down by numbers.
Bullet, the Devil's Heir, had been injured and captured after his stamina broke under an endless siege.
Redfield, had once been overwhelmed by a flood of Marines after exhausting himself in battle.
And even Newgate, the strongest man in the world, had worn wounds that proved the same truth.
Hundreds of blade strikes. Hundreds of bullets. Dozens of cannon hits.
Many of those came from elite Marines, soldiers who did not tremble before a Yonko's presence.
They fought.
They died.
And they kept coming anyway.
Because they believed they were justice.
Watching the endless stream of warships pour into the New World, even the Hell Pirates grew solemn.
They could gather their affiliated pirate groups, call in every flag, squeeze every ally, and they still would not reach five hundred thousand elite fighters.
The World Government's numbers were simply too vast.
And numbers mattered.
A top tier monster could fight ten thousand, even a hundred thousand, but those were still human lives thrown into the furnace.
And if even a fraction of that furnace was fearless, disciplined, and resistant to pressure, then the cost of victory would be paid in oceans of blood.
…
Brook stood before his commanders, voice calm, but heavy.
"The World Government is bringing the whole world down on our heads. They do not care about the lives of these elite soldiers. Their plan is simple."
He lifted a finger, as if drawing the battlefield in the air.
"Grind us down. Wear us out. Bleed us until the blade snaps."
In that moment, Brook finally understood how Imu had done it.
Why Joyboy, even with the power of Nika.
Why the Mermaid Princess, even with Poseidon.
Why the Giant Kingdom, even with Pluton.
Why they still lost.
Because Imu could throw away countless lives without blinking.
And their enemies could not.
Their compassion became a weapon used against them.
For the kind of shining hero who refused to stain his hands, this battlefield would be despair. These Marines were not monsters, they were protectors of civilians, men driven by orders and codes they had sworn to obey.
There was no clean answer.
No easy righteousness.
Only positions.
Shiki's face was ice.
"Brother Brook, those righteous Marines are our enemies now. We cannot show mercy."
His voice held no warmth at all.
"On the battlefield, it doesn't matter if they're sons, fathers, or husbands. If they stand against us, they are enemies. Real enemies."
Roger's eyes narrowed, and his tone turned grave.
"And if we slaughter them all, their families will hate us forever."
He looked past the commanders, as if he could already see the graves multiplying.
"Then what separates the Universal Government from the World Government? Will you erase history too, force the world to forget you butchered millions?"
Silence spread, thick as fog over a dead sea.
A war this large would not just decide who ruled.
It would destroy families.
It would erase entire peoples.
And somewhere in that weight, an old shadow lurked.
The war eight hundred years ago, the one hidden behind a blank century.
If this was the world's future, then that past might have been even worse.
--------------
After all, the Hundred Years War had involved twenty kings, a colossal kingdom, three Ancient Weapons, the Elephant Lord, a super giant Sea King, and ancient technological robots.
That conflict lasted an entire century.
Compared to that, the current clash between the Hell Pirates and a million elite soldiers might only be the opening act.
Brook understood that clearly.
He sat there, expression flat, eyes calm, and yet the air around him felt colder than the sea at midnight.
"I didn't expect Imu to win like this," Brook said softly. "Using sheer power to bully the weak, then weaponizing the last scraps of conscience we still have."
Even pirates argued among themselves over mercy and cruelty. Joyboy and the Mermaid Princess, legends known for their kindness eight hundred years ago, would have been ripped apart by disagreement long before they ever reached the end.
Shiki slammed a fist down, voice like thunder.
"Roger, stop pretending this is a choice. It's not about whether we want to kill those Marines. They're coming to erase us."
His eyes burned.
"To them, we're the plague. The troublemakers. The filth that needs to be scrubbed off the sea."
Kaido snorted, irritated, like the very idea of hesitation offended him.
"We're already at a disadvantage, and you're still worrying about consequences? How noble, Roger."
He bared his teeth.
"Even I wouldn't dare say something as easy as, 'Just kill a million soldiers.' One Boro Breath might wipe out hundreds, maybe thousands. How many times do you think I can spit that out before my lungs turn to ash? I'm not some endless cannon."
Shakky's gaze was sharp, merciless.
"Right. So what, we don't kill them and keep retreating?"
Her voice carried no warmth at all.
"Do you think they'll let us go? The Universal Government has already shaken the World Government's throne. This is a fight to the death, whether we like it or not."
Roger opened his mouth, then closed it again.
This was no longer pirates versus Marines.
This was two superpowers colliding, two systems that could not coexist under one sky.
Brook's voice cut through the noise, calm enough to chill bones.
"Enough. The war has already started."
He looked around the room, at every face, every legend, every monster he had gathered.
"It's not a question of whether we want to fight. Imu has decided to destroy us."
Stussy's expression tightened.
"So how do we fight?"
Her voice dropped.
"We don't have enough high end fighters left to cover what comes after those millions. Even if we win the first clash, the follow up will drown us."
Brook exhaled slowly.
"It looks like a long war."
The World Government had eight hundred years of weight behind it. It could pull tens of millions of elites from over a hundred member nations if it chose to. The Hell Pirates could empty the New World and still not match that scale.
Brook had known overthrowing the World Government would never be clean.
He needed time to strengthen the Universal Government, to weaken the World Government's grip, to let Dragon's Revolutionary Army grow sharp enough to bite deep.
Imu was not going to give him that time.
Daenerys spoke up, voice steady, measured.
"Then we split them."
Her eyes were clear.
"Many member states already hate the Heavenly Tribute. They can't bear it. They're just afraid to withdraw because Uranus can erase a kingdom in a moment. They don't trust us enough to gamble everything."
She leaned forward slightly.
"We make them neutral. We force them to recall their elites. Let them watch the decisive battle instead of feeding their sons into it."
Rayleigh nodded.
"Yes. Break the World Government's momentum. Separate it from its member states."
His tone was calm, like a man discussing weather, even though he was talking about tearing the world in half.
"If those kings pull back, we cut their numbers by millions. And we reduce the bloodshed."
Brook stayed silent for a long moment.
Then he spoke, low and heavy.
"Imu won't give us that chance."
He looked toward the horizon as if he could already see the shape of the enemy.
"With Uranus over their heads, those kings can still be intimidated. Not now. Not while the World Government still looks unstoppable."
His fingers tightened.
"Unless we win, and hit Uranus again hard enough to shake the faith holding that coalition together, the trend won't change."
His voice sharpened.
"And even if we survive this wave, it might not end at one million. There could be two million behind them, waiting."
Brook's mind ran forward, cold and ruthless.
Overthrowing the World Government was never going to be done by a handful of monsters dueling at the top. Imu had built a machine for eight hundred years. A machine that turned people into fuel.
The more the Hell Pirates killed, the more the world would fear them. The more families would hate them. The more likely the Universal Government would be painted as the next tyrant in a new mask.
And worse, Brook could feel another ugly possibility in the shadows.
What if that hatred, that fear, that collective emotion was also nourishment for Imu and the Five Elders?
The thought made his teeth itch.
Damn it.
This should have been simple. A world of hot blood and decisive blades. Kill the tyrant, break the throne, subdue the Navy, rebuild the world.
So why did Brook have to carry all these calculations like chains?
Was this why the Sun God Nika mattered?
Because laughter and liberation could pull people over in an instant?
Because the Drums of Liberation could turn righteous soldiers, and even enemies, into allies?
Was that the "mysterious power" Mihawk had once spoken about?
That Straw Hat boy's ability to drag everyone to his side?
…
Hiruba's voice snapped Brook back to the present.
"Brother Brook, Uranus has already set out. Imu and the Four Elder Stars have entered the New World!"
Hiruba, with the Glare Glare Fruit, looked genuinely tense.
For the first time in a long time, confidence was not guaranteed.
Brook's eyes narrowed.
"Newgate," he said, slow and firm, "do not go near Mars."
His voice carried weight.
"That ability might make your Tremor Tremor Fruit vanish. We need that power to sink most of their warships."
Brook also remembered another danger, one that made his stomach feel tight.
Peter, could take other people's abilities.
If he stole the Tremor Tremor Fruit, Newgate's edge would be gone in an instant, and the sea itself would turn against them.
Not all their forces were flying fleets.
Brook wanted someone, even one person, who fought purely with physical skill, someone suited to face those Elders without risking Devil Fruit theft.
But the Five Hell Kings were all ability users, and their strongest cards could become the Elders' weapons.
He glanced at Roger and Rayleigh.
Non users.
Perfect counters.
And yet they had already agreed. Those two would handle Garp and Zephyr.
Brook's jaw tightened.
So they would fight this the hard way.
A brutal battle.
Equal strength against equal strength.
Because if they kept retreating, they would lose the front half of the New World. They would lose momentum. They would lose belief.
And the kings watching from their thrones would make their choice.
Many would bend lower, send more troops, and help the World Government crush the Hell Pirates just to prove loyalty.
Brook looked toward the direction of Mary Geoise, eyes dark.
If Uranus could be destroyed again, everything would change.
.....
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