"Vice Admiral Daren, how do you even train? Your muscles are hard as rock…"
A princess from one of the Member Nations gently stroked Daren's abs, her cheeks flushed with admiration.
"Hey, look! My muscles are hard too!"
Tokikake suddenly sprang forward, eagerly flexing his biceps, even subtly using Tekkai to harden them.
The princess gave him a quick glance. Upon seeing his scruffy face, her expression instantly turned cold.
"Dead muscle."
She then smiled sweetly at Daren again.
Tokikake: …
Dead muscle!? How is this dead muscle!? Can dead muscle hit this hard!?
He stood frozen, his face stiff as he screamed internally in frustration.
"So firm... not like me. My body's very soft, you know..."
A voluptuous queen in a Western court gown winked at Daren, sensually licking her lips and whispering seductively,
"I've been trained in dance since childhood—splits, flexibility, all the good stuff... I'm very skilled."
Tokikake trembled all over.
He shot forward again, gritting his teeth.
"I'm really into dance too!"
The queen gave him a side glance, then sneered coldly.
"Unfortunately, I'm not into ugly men."
Tokikake stood there as if struck by lightning, his face pale and expression lifeless.
Completely ignoring the intruding annoyance, the graceful queen stepped closer to Daren, leaning in until her breath brushed his ear.
"Vice Admiral Daren, would you like to give it a try?"
The moment she moved in, the other wives, ladies, and noble daughters surged forward, each flaunting their own special talents and charms.
"Vice Admiral Daren, I can tie a cherry stem into a knot without using my hands."
"Vice Admiral Daren, my family has a unique massage technique that'll ease all your tension."
"Vice Admiral Daren, I..."
A dazzling competition unfolded, each woman trying to outdo the next.
The male dignitaries present could only stare in stunned silence.
They were leaders and nobles from World Government nations—people who'd seen all sorts of spectacles.
But never anything like this.
Who would've thought that the same queens, princesses, and noblewomen—normally so proud and reserved—would suddenly become so bold and forward?
Garp was laughing so hard he pulled out a Den Den Mushi and started recording.
"Bwahaha! I'm definitely showing this to Sengoku later. He's gonna love it!"
"That rascal Daren really knows what he's doing—look at how he's instantly tightened relations between the Marines and all these nations. That's how diplomacy works!"
He beamed with pride.
"Exactly!"
Kuzan nodded vigorously, his eyes gleaming.
"This is seriously cool!"
But what neither of them noticed was the collective look of fury on the faces of the kings and royal representatives nearby—faces dark as soot, flushed red like pork liver, and faintly tinged with a not-so-imaginary green glow.
...
"This guy just doesn't know when to stop... He's surrounded by royalty and nobles from World Government member nations, and he's still shamelessly flirting?"
From afar, Stussy watched Daren laughing among the swarming women, her sneer growing colder by the second.
She glanced at the women with their flushed cheeks and overly affectionate eyes, practically dripping with desire, and scoffed in disgust.
"What a pack of shameless hussies... Their husbands and fathers are right here, and they're not the least bit embarrassed to act like this in public?"
Despite her insults, her voice carried a faint trace of clenched teeth.
Just then—
Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!!
A deep, piercing hum suddenly rang out from the distance.
A trumpet blared—grand, sharp, and full of foreboding. A wave of pressure rolled through the port, cutting the festive atmosphere short.
Everyone froze and turned toward the sound.
What they saw made their faces go pale with shock. Panic spread across the crowd.
"That…"
"That warship…"
"It looks more like a floating fortress…"
"Don't tell me…"
"Damn it!! Has Neptune lost his mind, inviting those war maniacs too!?"
Panic rippled through the crowd as anxious voices erupted one after another.
A massive, oppressive warship slowly emerged through the entrance tunnel of Fish-Man Island. As the membrane peeled away, it advanced toward the port with an overwhelming, murderous aura.
The ship was enormous, its base built like a fortified wall—thick, solid, pressing against the seawater so heavily that the entire inner channel groaned as if on the verge of collapse.
Atop the vessel stood a colossal, pitch-black military fortress. Rows of gaping cannons jutted out like the fangs of a beast, exuding a suffocating stench of steel and blood.
Lined across the deck were rows of soldiers, identical in appearance—emotionless, expressionless, and radiating a grim chill. This wasn't just a warship—it was a mobile war citadel!
Above the fortress, two flags flapped fiercely in the ocean breeze.
One bore the eagle cross of a royal standard. The other displayed a bold, black "66."
Their identity was unmistakable.
The Vinsmoke family!
Once the tyrants of the North Blue. The so-called "Army of Evil." A Member Nation of the World Government...
"It's Germa 66!"
Cobra's voice rang out, grave and steady, calling out a name that had long haunted nations and powers across the seas.
Germa 66 was unlike any other Member Nation.
It was a nation built entirely from military force—its will absolute and unified, its territory nonexistent. Instead, their warships served as mobile strongholds.
Their technological prowess was so advanced, they could traverse even the Red Line and engage in long-range warfare. They were one of the most powerful mercenary armies in the world.
Because of their mercenary nature, Germa 66 had fought in numerous regions across the seas, each time stunning the world with their devastating results. Many nations feared them, praying never to draw their attention.
And yet, such a harbinger of destruction had been invited by King Neptune to attend a wedding here—on Fish-Man Island!?
In an instant, unease swept the venue. Everyone tensed up, eyes flickering with anxiety.
"Clear the way!!"
A sharp command rang out.
Steel treads slammed down from the warship. Rows of black-suited soldiers marched off in perfect sync, each step echoing with killing intent as they stormed ashore.
They carried long spears and moved with military precision, their cold, lifeless faces showing no regard for the many high-ranking delegates nearby.
"Do they even have emotions?"
Kuzan scratched his head, staring at the sea of identical faces with curiosity.
Garp frowned.
"These are Germa 66's clone soldiers. Products of advanced cloning tech. Still… I didn't expect their discipline to be this terrifying."
Thud. Thud. Thud...
A series of heavy footsteps followed, slow and deliberate, as a powerful figure descended from the ship.
He was tall, commanding, and carried an air of unapproachable authority.
A gleaming metal helmet covered his head. Long, golden hair flowed down his back. His face was stern, with an angled black beard and a sharp chin dusted with a small mustache.
He wore the distinctive white robe of the Vinsmoke royal family, draped beneath a flowing orange cloak.
The commander of Germa 66. The head of the Vinsmoke family.
Vinsmoke Judge—nicknamed the "Garuda."
He radiated a heavy, blood-soaked aura. Just his presence was enough to make the royals and dignitaries feel the air thicken, their throats tightening as if gripped by invisible hands.
"My apologies. Just wrapped up a war. Running a bit late."
Vinsmoke Judge looked down at the solemn crowd, a cold smile curling at his lips.
As he spoke, a small girl with pink hair peeked out timidly from behind him, clinging to her father's leg as she curiously scanned the assembled guests.