Meanwhile—Cocoyasi Village, Orange Town.
The air was thick with the stench of blood.The entire town lay in deathly silence.
Gern's figure condensed out of faint light, materializing at the entrance to the town.
The sight before him confirmed his worst suspicions.
Because a village that was functioning normally—one filled with life—should never look like this.
The streets were completely deserted. Every household had its doors and windows shut tight, as if the place itself had become a dead zone.
Even more horrifying—
Lying sprawled before the entrances of many homes were bodies that had not yet gone cold.
Men and women. The elderly. Children.
They lay collapsed in pools of blood, the yellow earth beneath them long since soaked into a dark, sticky red. Bullet holes and blade wounds were clearly visible.
It was the Arlong Pirates.
They were forcibly collecting so-called "protection fees" through violence, attempting to use this money to establish their twisted version of a "Fish-Man Paradise" on this land.
And the fee was calculated per person.
Those who couldn't pay had only one fate—
Death.
As Gern stood there, eyes cold as he took in the carnage—
"Hey! Outsider!"
Some of the villagers of Orange Town, who had been trembling as they peeked out from behind windows and from dark corners, finally noticed this unfamiliar stranger.
A few of the braver ones cautiously approached, their faces pale with terror and urgency, lowering their voices as they desperately urged him,
"Outsider! Run! Leave this place, now!"
"Those Fish-Men… those monsters are collecting money. If you can't pay, they'll kill you!"
"You're too noticeable as an outsider—you'll be targeted and slaughtered! Please, escape while you can!"
They could barely protect themselves—yet even now, they were worrying about the safety of a complete stranger.
Gern listened to their warnings in silence.
He said nothing.
He simply reached up and unfastened the unremarkable small bundle he had been carrying with him all this time.
Under the confused and anxious gazes of the surrounding villagers, he raised his arm—
Whoosh—!
A massive cloak of pure, immaculate white unfurled behind him like a banner.
Heavy, solemn, and powerful, it snapped loudly in the wind.On its back were embroidered two bold, imposing characters—
JUSTICE.
The moment that blindingly pure white, and those two words that carried the weight of mountains, entered their vision—
Every single villager who saw it froze as if struck by a spell.
Then, in the very next instant, their eyes turned red.
Fear that had been suppressed for far too long.Despair.Humiliation.Grief.
All of it finally found an outlet.
They bit down hard on their lips to keep themselves from crying out loud—but scalding tears still streamed uncontrollably down their dirt-streaked faces.
The Marines…
The Marines are here!
The Marines who bear Justice have come!!
In the abyss of despair, this slash of white tore through the darkness—bringing with it a long-lost yet utterly real hope.
Gern draped the cloak over his shoulders. His gaze, sharp and cold as a drawn blade, swept across the deathly streets before settling on the direction of the town center.
From there, faintly, came the arrogant laughter of Fish-Men—and the wails of villagers.
Watching the villagers behind him weep in desperation at the sight of that white cloak, Gern understood immediately.
He knew exactly why.
"Would the sixteen Marine branches of the East Blue truly be unaware that the Arlong Pirates are rampaging here?"
"Would Genzo, the town sheriff of Orange Town, not have tried to contact them—begged for help?"
"And would Bellemere, a retired Marine noncommissioned officer, really have no connections with nearby bases?"
The answer was obvious.
They had asked for help.Desperately. Repeatedly.
But it had been useless.
This was the East Blue—mocked as the weakest sea.
The average strength of the East Blue's sixteen Marine branches was far too low to face a crew like Arlong's, hardened by the Grand Line.
Any Marines who came to investigate—or even attempted to intervene—were likely already dead.
The base commanders themselves might have been slaughtered.
And under the crushing disparity in power and the blood-soaked suppression, fragile communication lines and pleas for aid had been completely severed.
That was the true reason Cocoyasi Village had fallen into absolute despair.
They were isolated by violence and terror, unable to even send out a final cry for help.
All they could do was wait in this blood-drenched town—for death to come for them at any moment, or to scrape together the humiliating "head tax" that bought their lives.
As for that later-appointed Marine officer who colluded with Arlong—Captain Nezumi?
He had crushed even the final, flickering ember of hope, turning this land into a corner utterly abandoned by "justice."
Precisely because they had begged for help and received none.Because they had watched Marines who came to save them be brutally murdered.Because they had tasted the despair of being completely abandoned by the world—
That was why, at this very moment, when Gern donned the pure white cloak embroidered with Justice, he represented far more than just a powerful individual to these villagers.
He embodied the order and protection symbolized by the Marine institution itself.
He was the beam of light that should have appeared—The most direct, the most rightful light—Suddenly blazing forth in boundless darkness.
Never underestimate what the Marines mean to ordinary civilians in the world of pirates.
Justice may harbor scum.The system may be rotten in places.
But when true despair descends—when homes are destroyed, loved ones are slain, and all pleas go unanswered—
Rather than hoping that some Straw Hat Luffy might coincidentally pass by their island…
The nearby Marine branch—one that should exist, one that should uphold justice—was the most instinctive, most realistic, and once the only thread of hope in their hearts.
Even if that hope had once been shattered—
When it returned now, in such an overwhelming and unquestionable form—
The emotional impact was incomparable to anything else.
Gern could feel the crushing weight of expectation in the gazes behind him.
He did not turn around.He did not look at the crying villagers.
He simply stepped forward—steady, unyielding—walking toward the source of blood and sin.
With every step, the white cloak of Justice billowed in the wind, silently proclaiming—
Justice has arrived.Judgment is at hand.
...…
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