The Marine Headquarters press conference was scheduled for nine in the morning.
Marineford was wrapped in a faint chill, but not a single person was still asleep. Everyone understood how important this moment was. From enlisted sailors to high-ranking officers, tension permeated the entire island.
Across the world, it was the same.
People gathered before large screens, huddled around video Den Den Mushi broadcasts, or stood silently in town squares where live projections had been set up. Yesterday's battle still felt vivid, its aftershocks rippling through the seas.
This was not just about the Marines.
It was about the future of the world.
Everyone knew what was at stake. If the Marines failed to satisfy the public today, they would no longer be able to sail beneath the banner of justice.
Justice was not merely a slogan—it was faith. And for the Marines, it was the foundation upon which everything stood. A Marine force that lost its justice would lose all legitimacy.
Most people understood that corruption did not define every Marine.
But who could guarantee that the Marine standing in front of you tomorrow would not be another hyena cloaked in justice?
This era still needed the Marines.
Pirates were rampant, the seas more chaotic than ever, and without the Marines, countless islands would fall into despair. Many people had been saved by Marine hands. Those memories did not vanish overnight.
Deep down, people did not want the Marines to fall.
If the Marines collapsed, who would protect them?
That was why this press conference mattered so much.
Anger from yesterday still lingered, fueled by Redyat's words and the terror many had felt. But after a night of calm reflection, more people realized that one man's accusation could not condemn an entire institution.
Hope still flickered.
And today's outcome would decide whether that spark would ignite—or be extinguished forever.
The live broadcast had already begun.
Marine Headquarters slowly came into view. Rows upon rows of Marines stood in perfect formation, stretching far into the distance. The sight alone was enough to make ordinary people hold their breath.
Then, many noticed it.
In front of the Marine Headquarters building, a temporary execution platform had been erected.
No explanation was needed.
That platform was for Makudi.
At the port, massive warships were docked side by side, their cannons gleaming under the morning light. Marines from branches across the seas had been recalled to reinforce Marineford's defenses.
This moment could not afford mistakes.
If someone attacked Marine Headquarters today—if the press conference were disrupted—the consequences would be catastrophic. Not just embarrassment, but the complete collapse of the Navy's credibility.
Far away, aboard the Nightfall Pirates' flagship, Teach sat leisurely upon his throne, watching the broadcast with interest.
"This kind of public execution at Marine Headquarters," he said thoughtfully, "is this the first time?"
Redyat nodded after a moment's reflection. "It should be. In the past, major criminals were either killed on the spot or thrown into Impel Down. Public executions like Roger's were decided by the World Government."
"This time is different. This is a Marine affair."
Teach grinned. "Do you think it'll go smoothly?"
Redyat watched the screen, eyes calm but curious. "That depends on whether fate wants to stir things up."
Teach chuckled. "I doubt anyone would dare. Look at that lineup."
Sengoku. Garp. Kong. Zephyr.
And the future Admirals.
Eight combatants at or near Admiral level.
"In a few more years," Teach continued, eyes glinting, "the Marines will reach a terrifying peak. Even the World Government will have to tread carefully."
"With that many monsters present," he concluded, "anyone who comes here uninvited will never leave."
Just then, a Den Den Mushi rang.
Teach picked it up. "Mostima?"
"Captain," Mostima's voice came through calmly. "Our forces have entered the Sargasso Sea. Before you reach the New World, we should be able to secure around twenty islands. That's our current limit."
Teach nodded. "And the original islands?"
"Handled. 2.2 billion Beri, plus thirty Devil Fruits."
Teach raised an eyebrow. "That much?"
"Hehe. The Whitebeard Pirates still profited. They'll break even in three years. Most of the fruits are mediocre, but a few are quite valuable."
Teach laughed. "Devil Fruit prices will only keep rising. A hundred million is just the base price now."
Then his expression sharpened slightly. "We need to accelerate the establishment of a Devil Fruit Development Department."
"I'll start preparations immediately," Mostima replied. "Scholars, researchers, data on known abilities. But it'll take time before it's functional."
"Begin with collecting ability data and combat techniques," Teach said. "Test it on our own crew first. Later… we might even sell it."
"Understood."
"One more thing?"
"Kaido," Mostima said. "He flew out of the Barbarossa Kingdom. He appears to be drunk."
Teach's smile widened. "Direction?"
"Most likely… Marineford."
"I see."
Teach hung up, laughter rumbling in his chest. "Looks like today might be even more interesting."
Redyat smiled faintly. "Kaido choosing this moment… how fitting."
They both imagined the same scene—a dragon's breath scorching Marineford's harbor.
But that would never be allowed.
With so many powerhouses present, Kaido would be stopped. He had to be stopped—cleanly and decisively. Any large-scale damage, any civilian or media casualties, would only deepen public distrust.
If Kaido appeared, the Marines would turn it into a demonstration of power.
Meanwhile, in the Barbarossa Kingdom, panic spread through the newly rebuilt palace.
"The Governor-General flew away!"
"What?! Where did he go?!"
King seized a trembling subordinate by the collar, his killing intent flooding the room. "Explain."
"He—he got drunk while watching the live broadcast," the man stammered. "When he saw Marineford, he said he wanted to 'stretch his bones' and flew off. I couldn't stop him!"
Yamato sighed, resting her kanabo on her shoulder. "Why not let him get beaten up again? It's not like it's the first time."
The others stared at her in silence.
Still, she wasn't wrong.
"This is dangerous," Cracker said grimly. "If the captain is captured, the Barbarossa Kingdom will become a target."
"We can't stop him," someone muttered. "But someone has to intercept him."
"I'll go," King said coldly. "I'm the only one fast enough."
With that, he transformed and flew off, flames trailing behind him.
Yamato leaned back lazily. "Then let's watch the broadcast. I kind of want to see how badly he gets beaten."
Back at Marineford, the moment arrived.
High-ranking Marine officials stepped into view one by one, their presence commanding and oppressive. Vice Admirals, legends of the seas, all gathered in one place.
Then the crowd noticed him.
An elderly Marine, shackled hand and foot, still wearing his Marine uniform.
Vice Admiral Makudi.
Now known across the world as the "Evil Marine."
His crime was internal. His execution would be internal. He would die as a Marine—because allowing him to wear a prisoner's uniform would be tantamount to denying responsibility.
Disgusted gazes pierced him from every direction.
Curses rang out.
Even the Marines themselves looked at him with hatred.
Makudi had not only slaughtered innocents.
He had stained their faith.
His heart was filled with despair.
He had never imagined his end would be like this—paraded before the world, silenced, stripped of everything.
He could not speak.
Special measures had been taken.
The Marines would not allow another Roger.
As Makudi was escorted toward the execution platform, the entire world held its breath.
And the press conference officially began.