Roya raised his right hand effortlessly—and in that simple gesture lay an almost supernatural allure. Through the eyes of the giant den den mushi, every viewer held their breath, transfixed.
With graceful flourish, his hand descended. At his command, ten ships unleashed a synchronized cannonade.
"Here it comes—their fearsome artillery once again!"
Bastille and Dalmatian—two Navy commanders who had faced Roya before—shouted in alarm.
"The outer fleet is doomed!"
"He can actually surround us with only ten ships!"
Their panicked words sounded absurd to many, but Fleet Admiral Sengoku and the Admirals recognized the danger at once. Tens of thousands of cannonballs launched under Roya's precise direction—twenty at a time—each targeting a Navy warship's ammo hold.
"Oh no!" Kizaru leaped, flashing to Aokiji's side, both standing fast on the ice. Sacrificing his offensive capacity's range, he sacrificed it to protect the fleet—but even his photon beams couldn't deter the assault.
"Yasakani no Magatama!" A dazzling photon barrage erupted from Kizaru, scattering across the incoming cannonballs.
For a moment, Sengoku breathed easier. Even if Roya obliterated every ship, that devastation might not shift the overall tide—though the image of such a blow would deal an irreparable blow to the Navy's pride, witnessed globally.
"Nonsense pirate—keep your feet grounded," Sengoku muttered, relieved.
But the next instant, the cannonballs passed right through the photons as if they were nothing but light—hundreds of them screaming forward, untouched.
The following explosion at Crescent Bay's entrance was cataclysmic: fifty ships were ripped apart like toys, debris and shattered corpses raining in every direction. The blast hollowed out the ocean floor and sent a crimson tidal wave fifty meters high hurtling into the bay—an unholy red surge of destruction.
The Navy soldiers standing frozen on the ice vomited in shock. That single burst shattered the courage of 100,000 Navy's best.
Now, no one—neither Navy nor spectators—doubted Roya's ability to encircle them. Roya's flagship cut through the debris and glided onto the icy surface. Sengoku watched Roya's serene smile—more fearsome than any devil's grin.
Sengoku found himself glancing at Ace, standing on the execution platform, a dark temptation surfacing in his mind:
"What if I end this now? Even if it costs Navy prestige…it's my chance to destroy Roger's bloodline."
His fist clenched.
At that precise moment, Roya's voice boomed through Marineford:
"Hey, Fleet Admiral Sengoku—would you really stoop so low as to personally execute Ace, simply because you're closest to him? Don't forget—you started this war!"
"The war has just begun. Are you going to break your own rules so soon?"
Roya's words pierced the souls of every soldier. All eyes flitted to Sengoku. His clenched fist—was it a last move of cruelty?
Sengoku's face blanched. The giant den den mushi relayed his awkward faltering expression to the world.
Onlookers outside seized the moment, pointing out the stark difference between winning a battle and executing someone.
Navy prestige sank once again. Sengoku, cornered, wore humiliation like a mask. Then Roya delivered another devastating blow:
"If you're really that shameless, go ahead—kill him and see what happens. The moment you draw that blade, your death is certain."
An echoing silence fell. Sengoku—forced into a corner—faced a terrifying dilemma: act and reveal his cowardice, or wait—and risk defeat by Roya's hand.
The stage was set. The fate of Ace, the pride of the Navy, and the future of the war hung in the balance.
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