Makudi slowly ascended the execution platform, one step at a time.
Three years ago, he had stood among the crowd and personally witnessed Gol D. Roger's execution. The scene before him now felt eerily familiar. The same platform. The same gaze of the world.
Only his role had changed.
Back then, Roger was a pirate.
Now, he was a Marine.
When he reached the top, two executioners stood on either side, gripping long, sharp blades shaped like butcher's knives. Their edges gleamed coldly under the morning light.
Facing the gathered Marines and the countless eyes watching through Den Den Mushi screens across the world, an executioner kicked Makudi to his knees.
Once, he had been a master of close combat. Now, he could not resist at all. His hands and feet had already been crippled. Strength meant nothing anymore.
The familiar faces of high-ranking Marines, men he had once called comrades, felt distant and strange. Their gazes were cold. Indifferent.
Last night, he had tried to escape.
He had not wanted to die like this. He had hoped to disappear, to live anonymously somewhere no one would recognize him. But he had underestimated the vigilance of Marine Headquarters. Powerful figures had been waiting in silence.
He failed.
And there would be no second chance.
Time ticked by.
Some people instinctively checked the clock. The execution was scheduled for nine o'clock, yet these final minutes stretched endlessly.
Marine Headquarters did not announce Makudi's crimes.
There was no need.
This was an internal Marine disgrace. The world already knew everything. Repeating it would only reopen wounds.
Today could not afford failure. If this press conference collapsed, the Marines would struggle to recover for years.
Cold air spread behind the platform.
Ice crept upward along its base, freezing Makudi's lower body and sealing his legs firmly in place. His knees were locked to the platform itself.
Insurance.
Even if escape was impossible, caution was mandatory.
Finally, the moment arrived.
Admiral Sengoku stepped forward, facing the Den Den Mushi. His voice was steady and resolute as he gave the order.
"Begin the execution."
He did not hesitate.
Makudi's death alone would not restore the Marines' reputation. Sengoku knew that. What truly mattered were the actions that followed. But this execution was unavoidable.
The public needed an answer.
A microphone stood at the front of the platform. Sengoku walked forward alone, ensuring his figure filled the broadcast.
Behind him, high-ranking officers and thousands of Marines stood at attention. No one sat. No one dared to.
They had to show sincerity.
Despite having prepared his words countless times, Sengoku still felt tension tighten his chest. He took a deep breath and bowed deeply.
"I am deeply sorry."
His voice carried clearly across the port and into every corner of the world.
"On behalf of all Marines, I apologize to the people of the world for allowing such a grave matter to occur within our ranks."
The apology was expected.
Yet hearing it spoken openly, broadcast live, struck far deeper than words on paper.
The sincerity in Sengoku's voice eased some of the anger boiling within the public. Still, no one believed an apology alone could solve everything.
This was an internal problem.
If the Marines could not clean their own house, then any promise would be meaningless.
In an age of images and live broadcasts, empty words were easily exposed. Distrust came naturally in a world like this.
Even so, it was a strong beginning.
"Please trust the Marines," Sengoku continued.
"Give us the chance to prove ourselves. To that end, we have established a new department, the Inspection Department—"
Suddenly, the sky darkened.
Thick clouds gathered overhead. A violent wind swept across Marineford, and lightning flickered within the clouds.
A low rumble echoed.
Sengoku paused, looking upward with a deep frown.
Damn it. Of all times.
"I knew it," he cursed inwardly.
"A monster's coming," Borsalino muttered. "What a bother."
The press conference froze.
Some watching the broadcast felt fear. Others felt excitement.
The image shifted skyward.
Within the storm clouds, a massive shadow circled slowly.
Then, a dragon's head emerged.
Gasps erupted across Marineford.
"That's—"
"Kaido of the Beasts?! Why is he here?!"
Even reporters and hardened Marines faltered. Only the highest-ranking officers remained calm.
The identity of the dragon was unmistakable.
Kaido of the Beasts. A New World emperor-level pirate. A man with a bounty nearing four billion Beri.
As his massive body emerged fully from the clouds, the Azure Dragon coiled through the sky, stretching nearly a thousand meters. His presence alone pressed down on the crowd, making even seasoned Marines stiffen.
Yet something was off.
Kaido's eyes were unfocused. He shook his head, snorting heavily. A strong stench of alcohol drifted down.
Drunk.
The dragon lowered his gaze toward Marineford, then opened his mouth and inhaled deeply.
Many people recognized the posture instantly.
"Dragon Breath—!"
A scorching orb of energy condensed in Kaido's mouth, swelling rapidly.
If that attack fell into the packed harbor, the casualties would be unimaginable.
"Stop him!"
Before anyone else could react, a figure appeared above Kaido's head.
Kaido's drunken state dulled his instincts. He had not even used Observation Haki.
"How could I let you destroy Marine Headquarters?" the figure roared.
"How could I let you harm our Marines?"
"Take this, Kaido!"
It was Garp.
Dressed in a black suit, the Marine Hero descended like a meteor, his fist crashing straight into Kaido's open mouth.
Boom!
The impact forced Kaido's jaws shut. The condensed Dragon Breath was shoved back down his throat.
The dragon's head snapped downward as his massive body was driven toward the sea.
The blow sobered Kaido instantly.
That single punch, brimming with terrifying power, broke through his defense.
The world watched in shock.
Marine Hero Garp had acted.
Cheers erupted among the Marines. Their eyes shone with pride.
Reporters frantically captured the moment. Garp rarely fought seriously anymore, and scenes like this were priceless.
Was Kaido defeated?
Impossible.
Kaido roared, shaking his head violently. Rage burned in his eyes.
"You bastard!"
He stabilized himself midair and surged upward.
"Old man, I'll kill you!"
Kaido unleashed Dragon Breath again, firing it straight at Garp.
Some spectators cried out in fear. Compared to Kaido's enormous form, Garp looked tiny.
"Hahaha!" Garp laughed loudly. "It's been a while since I stretched these old bones!"
"Taste my iron fist!"
He surged forward.
"Iron Fist: Bone Breaker!"
Garp punched directly through the air, charging head-on into the blazing Dragon Breath.
From afar, Teach watched intently.
Even through the screen, he could feel it.
Garp's fist was coated in an overwhelming Haki. Stronger. Denser. More refined than his own.
Teach narrowed his eyes.
So this was it.
Garp's Haki was colorless, fully restrained within his body. Focused entirely into his fists.
Confirmation.
Whitebeard had been the same.
Colorless Haki was not the absence of power, but its perfection.
Teach laughed loudly, excitement surging through him.
"Hahahahaha!"
Now everything was clear.
His path was not wrong.
"Haki Body" was real.
And it would take decades to reach its peak.
On the battlefield, Garp smashed through the Dragon Breath unharmed and closed the distance in an instant.
"Haha, brat, get back to your den!"
His fist crashed into Kaido's head.
Boom!
Kaido's massive body was sent flying.
Garp did not stop.
He chased Kaido through the sky, hammering him repeatedly with iron fists. Kaido looked disheveled, taking blow after blow.
The crowd was stunned.
This was power.
True Marine power.
Yet Garp knew the truth.
Kaido was tough. Ridiculously tough.
This was not serious damage. At best, it was a painful beating. To truly defeat Kaido, one had to exhaust him completely.
"That damn fist…" Kaido snarled, eyes burning. "Thunder Bagua!"
Lightning crackled as his tail, wrapped in Haki, swept toward Garp with terrifying force.
The sky darkened further.
The clash was far from over.