Those words seemed to weigh a thousand pounds, pressing down on him until he could barely breathe.
"Hey…"
One pirate tried to break the suffocating atmosphere, forcing out a weak smile, though his voice trembled.
"Doesn't that mean the Marines are—"
Before he could finish, Wilson cut him off harshly.
"Shut up!"
Wilson suddenly drew his sidearm, his movements frantic and rushed.
But when he tried to pull the trigger, he realized his fingers were shaking so badly that he could not aim at all.
Cold sweat kept seeping from his forehead, sliding down his cheeks and dripping from his chin onto the newspaper, landing right on the corner of Reiju's smiling lips.
It was like some cruel joke played by fate.
In his daze, Wilson's memory returned to the massacre at the G-149 Branch two months ago.
That scene replayed in his mind like a nightmare.
The pink demon floating within the poisonous mist, madness flashing in her eyes, had taken only three short minutes to turn the entire base into a furnace of flesh and blood.
The soldiers had screamed and struggled in agony, but none of them could escape the deadly poison cloud.
And now, that nightmare of a woman was standing obediently beneath the flag of the Eternal Divine Kingdom, like the most docile diplomat imaginable.
The sheer contrast filled him with fear and confusion.
"Hurry… report this to headquarters…"
Wilson's voice had grown painfully hoarse, carrying a trace of pleading and despair.
But when he turned to give the order, he found that the communications soldier had already collapsed to the ground.
That veteran, who had once fought in the Summit War and survived countless brushes with death, was now staring fixedly at another photo in the newspaper.
It was a close-up of Judge bowing to the envoy of the Eternal Divine Kingdom.
His pupils trembled violently, his eyes filled with terror and shock, as though he had seen the end of the world itself.
The wanted posters on the bulletin board rustled in the hot wind, whispering of past glory and present decline.
Several sheets were lifted by the breeze and drifted slowly into a puddle.
The wet ink began to spread.
The photographs of great pirates that had once terrified the seas slowly dissolved into blurry black shadows, gradually vanishing from sight.
And above all the wanted posters, a brand-new announcement from the Eternal Divine Kingdom had already been posted.
The red-star-within-red-star emblem gleamed beneath the sun, giving off an irresistible sense of power and authority, mercilessly mocking every rule of the old era and declaring the arrival of a new age.
...
North Blue.
Germa 66's main harbor.
It was midnight.
Darkness hung over heaven and earth like a vast curtain, while a torrential downpour lashed wildly against the steel-built docks.
Dense raindrops hammered the hard metal surface, producing a constant crackling roar, as if nature itself were unleashing some endless power.
Yet despite the heavy rain, the harbor lights were as bright as stars, illuminating the entire area like daylight and driving back part of the surrounding darkness.
In the storm-torn air above, twenty-seven pirate flags that had once flown high were now being dragged down by the violent wind.
Almost at the same time, twenty-seven flags of the Eternal Divine Kingdom rose resolutely through the rain.
They snapped fiercely in the wind and storm, as if announcing the arrival of an entirely new order.
Each time one symbolic flag replacement was completed, the powerful electromagnetic cannons stationed along the harbor would fire once on time.
These were no ordinary ceremonial shots.
They were Germa's carefully planned and uniquely designed "submission salute."
Every thunderous blast was like a farewell to the old era and a declaration that a new age had begun.
The deafening sound echoed through the downpour for a long time before fading.
"The seventh one!"
The harbor officer's tired, hoarse voice struggled to rise above the noise of the rain.
He shouted at the top of his lungs, complicated light flashing in his eyes—amazement at the changing situation, mixed with a faint excitement he could barely hide.
"The Black Sail Pirates just signed the agreement!"
The news was like a boulder dropped into a calm lake, instantly stirring the people around him into commotion.
At the most conspicuous spot in the harbor stood a massive holographic projection screen.
On it, the real-time map of the North Blue was being dyed blue and gold at a shocking speed.
The changing colors looked like a silent revolution, vividly displaying the enormous shift in the balance of power across these waters.
As time passed, the emblems of seven island-chain kingdoms dimmed one after another on the map.
The symbols that had once represented their authority and glory gradually lost their shine, as if swallowed by the current of history.
In their place appeared one red-star-ringed marker after another, shining brightly and declaring the rise of the Eternal Divine Kingdom and the spread of its rule.
Even more ironic was that the holographic screen was clearly showing footage of three of those kings.
Just yesterday, they had stood in the solemn halls of the World Council, righteously denouncing the crimes of pirates, their expressions passionate and their words sincere, as if they themselves were the embodiment of justice.
Yet who could have imagined that after only one night, their attitude would take a complete turn?
Now, they were facing the camera of the Eternal Divine Kingdom's envoy with flattering smiles plastered across their faces.
The contrast with their righteous appearance from the day before was so sharp that one could only sigh at how quickly the world changed.
...
Marine G-113 Branch, North Blue.
At that moment, the harbor was so tense it felt as though the air itself could be wrung dry.
An invisible pressure hung over everyone.
"Hurry! Load everything we can take onto the ships!"
The booming, urgent roar of Branch Commander Rear Admiral Cooper echoed through the chaos like thunder, only to be quickly drowned out by the deafening rumble of engines.
Normally, the sight of twenty warships weighing anchor at the same time should have been magnificent, a display of the Marines' strength and authority.
But now, amid all this confusion and haste, they looked more like defeated soldiers fleeing in disgrace, filled with endless embarrassment and helplessness.
In the middle of the chaos, a young Marine corporal was running desperately while clutching a box of classified documents.
Perhaps he was too anxious, or perhaps the ground was too slick with rain and mud, but he stumbled and fell hard into the mire.
"Run!"