The silhouettes of warships loomed closer along the coastline.
Time was running out.
Derrick stared at Gern's back.
His shoulders tensed as his right hand slid toward the flintlock.
"Let's go, Ensign."
Gern spoke calmly. "Evacuation's almost over."
He'd noticed the greed—but dismissed it.
Derrick had always been like this.
The island was about to be erased anyway.
Gern stepped forward.
Behind him—no movement.
He turned back.
Something felt wrong.
Bang! Bang!
Gunfire shattered the air.
Sunlight flashed along the barrel as two bullets screamed toward Gern's heart and head.
Time froze.
He watched the bullets spin toward him—
no time to react.
He closed his eyes—
But pain never came.
Instead—
A strange vibration.
He looked down.
His chest and forehead rippled like water.
The bullets passed straight through, kicking up sand behind him.
"…What?"
Derrick's face locked in horror.
"Gern… you— you ate a Devil Fruit?!"
The voice shook with terror.
Gern lifted his head slowly.
The shock faded—replaced by chilling calm.
"Ensign," he said quietly, razor-sharp.
"You tried to kill me?"
Derrick snapped.
Gunfire erupted wildly.
Bullets tore through Gern's chest, arms, skull—
Passing through like illusions.
Gern didn't move.
His body shimmered, semi-transparent—
composed of trembling particles.
When a bullet passed through his brow—
He didn't blink.
"…Logia…"
The flintlock dropped.
Gern stepped forward.
Sand trembled and scattered with each step.
Derrick backed up until he hit a reef.
"Wait! Gern!!"
He collapsed backward, crawling desperately.
"It's a misunderstanding! I just wanted to check on you!"
"Check," Gern said softly.
"Those shots weren't meant to let me live."
Derrick broke.
"You should've died at God Valley!
Your compensation— that money was enough for my promotion!"
His voice turned hysterical.
"Trash like you living is a waste! Why are you alive?!"
Gern stopped.
A Second-Class Soldier's death payout—
1.5 million Berries.
"Compensation?"
Gern laughed quietly.
"So my life…"
He raised his hand as white vibration light gathered.
"…was worth that much?"
He placed his palm gently on Derrick's shoulder.
"Why?" he asked calmly.
Vibrations surged.
Hum.
The shockwave passed through Derrick's body—
shattering the reef behind him.
His pupils shrank to pinpoints.
Blood leaked from his mouth—
no external wounds.
His organs had turned to mush.
He collapsed.
Dead.
Gern withdrew his hand.
No anger. No satisfaction.
Only detachment.
"So killing…"
"…is this simple."
Shouts echoed from the distance.
Gern looked at his palm.
Moments ago—
he'd been disposable.
Now—
He could crush a life like an ant.
"This is power," he murmured.
"Power to rule fate."
Footsteps approached.
Gern smiled.
He hoisted Derrick's corpse onto his back.
"Let's put on a show."
"After all," he muttered,
"the one overseeing western evacuation is the Navy Headquarters Vice Admiral—
the future Admiral…"
"Black Arm" Zephyr.