Sabaody Archipelago — Grove No. 23
Crocodile's body flew backward like a torn sack, slamming heavily into the thick trunk of a mangrove tree. He hacked up a mouthful of bloody foam as his pupils shrank violently.
Damn it… that kick just shattered my arrogance down to the soul!
"C–Captain Crocodile?!"His crew froze in place, throats tightening.
Their captain was a Logia-type Devil Fruit user!How could he possibly be kicked solid like that?!
"That's it? You can't even get back up?"Gern lazily withdrew his leg, casually brushing nonexistent dust from his pant leg. His tone carried unmistakable boredom."So this is all a 'Supernova' amounts to?"
Silence fell like a guillotine.
At that moment, a pirate wearing a battered tricorn hat finally got a clear look at Gern's face.
His knees buckled.
Thud.
He dropped to the ground, teeth clattering uncontrollably."H–Heavenquake… it's Heavenquake Gern!"
"Hey… that man…"A scar-faced pirate suddenly stiffened, the liquor bottle slipping from his hand and shattering on the ground.
"What's wrong with you?" his companion snapped impatiently, turning around—only for his face to drain of all color the instant he saw that figure.
"H–Heavenquake…"The scar-faced man's voice trembled until it was barely audible."It's that… 'monster of the Marines'…"
"Two years ago…"The pirate in the tricorn hat collapsed backward onto the ground."He alone… defeated the Whitebeard Pirates' Second Division Commander…"
"Kozuki Oden!" someone beside him screamed, finishing the sentence."The 'Samurai' Oden with a bounty of 1.95 billion Beli!"
But the most terrifying memories had yet to surface.
"What do you brats even know?!"A one-eyed pirate suddenly burst into hysterical laughter, madness bleeding into his voice."Seven years ago! In New World G-2! This bastard nearly killed—"
He never finished.
Gern abruptly turned his head toward the crowd, the corner of his mouth lifting into a faint, unreadable smile.
BOOM.
Over a hundred pirates staggered back three full steps in unison.
Several pirates with bounties exceeding a hundred million broke into cold sweat. Their hands hovered on their sword hilts—yet not a single one dared to draw.
It was as if someone had pressed pause on the world.
The once-raucous port fell into a terrifying silence. Even the seagulls stopped crying.
The Marine soldiers stationed at Sabaody collectively sucked in sharp breaths.
Though they wore Marine uniforms, most of them had served only in the first half of the Grand Line.They had never laid eyes on this legendary officer in person.
And yet, the moment Gern appeared, their backs straightened instinctively, eyes burning with fervor.
"You've got to be kidding me…"A Supernova pirate stumbled backward, nearly falling into the sea."How could someone like that be here in Sabaody?! There aren't even Celestial Dragons around!"
"Idiot!" someone hissed."He's the 'Tyrant of the Marines'! I heard even the Fleet Admiral can't control him!"
Amid the hushed whispers, Crocodile staggered to his feet. His golden hook claw dug deep into the mangrove's bark.
He stared hard at Gern's casual attire—until his eyes locked onto the black admiral-star insignia embroidered on the cuff.
"So that's it…"Crocodile wiped the blood from his chin, panting heavily."No wonder you could hit me."
"But—!"He suddenly threw his arms wide as sand particles surged wildly around him."I'm a man destined to become 'King'! Desert—!"
"You really think you can go fifty-fifty with me?"Gern sighed.
Before the word treasured blade could even leave Crocodile's mouth, his vision blurred.
Gern's figure appeared before him like a phantom.An index finger lightly touched the center of his brow.
"High-Frequency Vibration — Concussion."
BANG!
Crocodile's head snapped back as if struck by an invisible warhammer. His body tore through three storefronts before crashing into the outer wall of the auction house, embedded deep within it.
Amid falling rubble and dust, his eyes rolled back. Saliva streamed uncontrollably from the corner of his mouth.
Gern blew gently on his fingertip—on smoke that wasn't there—then turned toward the dumbstruck Marines and winked.
"Now then, you can handle the rest yourselves, right?"
Silence.
A dead, absolute silence.
Five seconds later, the entire port erupted.
"Pinch me! I have to be dreaming! That was a pirate worth 381 million Beli!"
"So the rumors were true… Was he that casual when he beat Oden too?!"
Gern ignored the uproar entirely. As he passed a fruit stand, he casually picked up an apple.
Crunch.
He took a bite, waved at Crocodile's collapsed crew with a harmless smile—
—and then turned toward the warship.
His footsteps were light, but in the deathly quiet harbor, they rang like funeral bells.
Only after his figure disappeared beyond the ship's rail did the port finally exhale, as if surviving a calamity.
"That monster… why is he even in the first half of the Grand Line?!"
"Move! Get out of Sabaody before he changes his mind!"
As the warship departed, the setting sun stretched Gern's shadow long across the deck.
At last, a Marine sergeant couldn't help whispering,"Sir… why did you personally step in?"
"Hm?"Gern squinted at the sea, then seemed to recall something and smiled faintly.
"Because I wanted to try it myself—the feeling of one-kicking Supernovas."
"But there was only Crocodile. What a shame!"He laughed loudly."Of course, I was also strictly following the principle of 'no causing trouble during vacation.' Hahahaha!"
"…So in the end, you just wanted to bully weaklings,"the sergeant muttered, glancing at the still-smoking ruins of the port, then wisely shut his mouth.
...
Several days later, the warship slowly entered the waters of the West Blue.Under the sunlight, the azure sea shimmered with rippling waves.
Standing on the deck, Gern gazed toward the distant horizon, a rare trace of nostalgia stirring in his heart.
"Sir, ahead is the jurisdictional waters of Marine Branch 133,"the sergeant approached and reported respectfully.
Gern nodded, eyes fixed on the distance.
However, when the warship rounded the final island and the view suddenly opened—
Gern's expression froze.
Mounted high atop the main building of Branch 133 was an enormous, absurdly polished ten-layer-beauty-filter portrait of himself.
In the painting, he wore a Marine coat, eyes sharp and domineering, with exaggerated shattering effects dramatically rendered behind him.
Even more outrageous—
Below the portrait, in massive gilded letters, were the words:
"God of the West Blue — Gern Reginald Sigmar"
Gern: "..."
Sergeant: "..."
The entire deck fell into collective silence. One Marine even rubbed his eyes, seriously doubting his vision.
Gern's mouth twitched."Asahi… that bastard…"
When he left the West Blue, Asahi—the base commander of Branch 133—had indeed been greedy, but at least he'd been a proper, serious Marine officer.
How had the art style mutated so violently in just a few years?
"Vice Admiral Gern…"The sergeant hesitated. "S-Should we… inform them of our arrival?"
"No."Gern took a deep breath and massaged his temples."Don't announce anything yet. I want to see for myself what those idiots are really up to."