The hushed whispers rapidly gathered like a rising tide, swelling into an uproar that swept across the entire fleet.
"What kind of monster is the ruler of that Divine Kingdom…?"
One soldier kept his voice low, but could not hide the tremor running through it. Confusion and fear filled his eyes.
"Seriously, that was terrifying!" the man beside him replied. "Was it swordsmanship? Even the greatest swordsmen in the world shouldn't be able to kill a Logia user that easily!"
"Maybe it was some Devil Fruit ability we've never heard of," another Marine speculated. "Could he have awakened some kind of special power?"
"Maybe it's a Mythical Zoan, something even rarer than a Logia. Or perhaps… that legendary…"
The soldier's voice gradually faded until he was practically mumbling to himself.
Even so, his words fell among the surrounding Marines like a stone dropped into a quiet lake, stirring up even more theories and frightened discussion.
"If even an Admiral can be killed instantly, aren't we just throwing our lives away by fighting him?!"
No one knew who shouted it, but the despairing question instantly ignited the fear in everyone's hearts.
Panic spread through the formations like wildfire, and the Marines' resolve began crumbling before the absolute difference in strength.
They had entered this battle overflowing with confidence.
With so many Admirals and other elite fighters on their side, they had expected to overwhelm the enemy through sheer military might.
Reality had struck them across the face.
One of their own Admirals had been casually cut down after only a few exchanges.
That clean, merciless slash still seemed to gleam coldly before their eyes.
The combined visual and psychological impact crashed over them like a towering wave, enough to destroy the courage of any ordinary soldier and shatter the convictions they had carried into battle.
...
Behind Ron's tall and overwhelmingly imposing figure, Bullet stood with both arms folded across his broad chest.
His rough, calloused face gradually twisted into an expression of utter ridicule before he released a knowing, mocking laugh.
"Hmph. You're only getting scared now? It's already too late."
His voice carried a chilling edge as it echoed through the air thick with smoke and blood.
The other powerful fighters of the Divine Kingdom stood beside him, their backs straight and their eyes as sharp as those of hunting hawks.
Their gazes remained fixed on Ron, filled with both deep reverence for the devastating power he had displayed and open contempt for the Marines' foolishness.
To them, Ryokugyu's death had been inevitable.
The outcome had been decided from the very beginning, and they had merely watched the foregone conclusion unfold.
Ron himself remained untouched by the surrounding commotion.
With effortless elegance, he slowly slid White Moon back into its sheath.
Click.
The clear sound of the blade locking into place seemed to silence the entire world.
Ron performed the simple movement as though he had completed some insignificant task. There was no tension or excitement in him, only boundless calm and confidence.
His gaze swept across the Marine fleet like a tangible blade.
The formation had already fallen into chaos.
Warships collided with one another while soldiers ran back and forth, their shouts and cries blending into a song of despair.
In Ron's eyes, they looked no different from wild grass scattered by a violent wind—disorganized and hardly worth his attention.
The Marines had lost one of their most important fighters before the real battle had even begun.
Their morale had plunged like floodwater bursting through a broken dam and now hovered on the verge of total collapse.
Fear and uncertainty filled the soldiers' eyes, replacing the conviction they had possessed only moments earlier.
They began questioning their choices.
They wondered whether they had ever truly possessed the power to stand against the enemy before them.
Across the vast sea, the balance of the world also seemed to be undergoing a silent, earth-shattering change.
Perhaps the fate of the ocean had been rewritten the instant Ron swung his sword.
The old balance of power had been broken, and a new order was quietly beginning to take shape.
White Moon had not merely cut through an enemy's body.
Its blade had severed the chains of the old era and opened an entirely new path for the world.
The calm atmosphere shattered completely.
The shock caused by Admiral Ryokugyu's death swept through the Marine fleet like a roaring beast or an unstoppable tsunami.
Every warship seemed to shake beneath the impact, as though it might be swallowed at any moment.
The panic spread with the speed of a plague.
It was not only the ordinary soldiers—men who usually did little more than follow orders—who fell into terror. Their bodies trembled involuntarily, fear and confusion filling their eyes.
Even the Vice Admirals, veterans who had earned great renown across countless battles, lost their customary composure.
Horror showed plainly on their faces.
Their once-resolute expressions twisted, and their behavior betrayed just how badly they had been shaken.
Large beads of sweat rolled down some of their foreheads.
Others repeatedly swallowed, faint gulps escaping their throats.
"H-Hey… this isn't some joke!"
A Vice Admiral wearing a distinctive mouse-shaped hat grabbed the railing instinctively.
His long fingers turned pale and bluish beneath the crushing force of his grip, while his knuckles stood out starkly.
He practically had to force the words from his throat, giving voice to the thought shared by every one of his colleagues.
"A Marine Admiral… was just killed right in front of us?!"
...
His eyes remained stretched wide, fixed on the terrifying scene ahead as though he still could not believe what he had witnessed.
Every word had been forced through clenched teeth, thick with shock and disbelief.
Another Vice Admiral, whose stern face looked carved from stone, had pupils that were trembling violently.
Shock, confusion, and deep fear churned within his eyes.
He desperately tried to make sense of what had happened, but his thoughts were tangled into an impossible knot.
Only two possibilities continued circling through his mind.
'Was Ryokugyu simply too careless?
'Or has the ruler of the Divine Kingdom become powerful enough to overwhelm even the Marines' greatest fighters?'
The thought echoed inside him like a demon's whisper.
He searched desperately for a reasonable explanation, yet every possibility only left him feeling more helpless and afraid.
Either answer was like an icy blade driven straight into his heart. A bone-deep chill ran up his spine, and cold sweat streamed down his back.
Beneath their visible shock and terror, however, an even darker suspicion began spreading silently through their hearts like a poisonous vine.
It cast a shadow over everyone, filling them with unease and uncertainty about what other horrors might still await them.
Almost in unison, the battle-hardened Vice Admirals turned their sharp, searching gazes toward the front of the fleet.
Several towering figures stood there amid the smoke of war.
They were Admirals just like Ryokugyu, each a legendary fighter radiating a distinct and overwhelming presence.
There was Magellan, a man who upheld Absolute Justice with uncompromising severity. An aura of unquestionable authority seemed to surround him, and his gaze appeared capable of piercing through every falsehood and crime.
Then there was Kizaru, whose seemingly lazy and indifferent manner concealed unfathomable strength. His actions were always wrapped in an ambiguity that made his true intentions impossible to read.
The other Admirals stood nearby in silence, as still as ancient monoliths, yet no one dared underestimate them.
Thick smoke rolled through the air like a heavy curtain.
Within that murky haze, their figures appeared unusually grave, as though each carried the weight of the entire world.
Yet there was also something strangely motionless about them.
It almost felt as if time had frozen around the Admirals, trapping everyone in an unnatural stalemate.
"Something isn't right…"
A particularly perceptive Vice Admiral frowned, unease and suspicion entering his eyes.
He lowered his voice carefully and leaned toward the colleague he trusted most.
"Just now, when Ron unleashed that attack—the one where thousands of swords descended at his command—it happened unbelievably fast. It was like lightning splitting the night sky.
"But with the Admirals' extraordinary strength and their mastery of Observation Haki, how could they possibly have been completely unable to intervene?"
His voice was quiet, yet his words fell like a stone into still water and sent ripples through those who heard them.
That single question became the key that opened the floodgates of suspicion.
Doubts and speculation immediately surged through their minds.
Another Vice Admiral's gaze flickered uneasily.
He nodded faintly and answered in a thoughtful voice,
"Even if they had only made a token effort to block the attack, or distracted Ron for a moment, they might have created a chance for Ryokugyu to survive.
"But look at them…
"They did nothing. They simply stood there and watched it happen."
Confusion filled his words, and the slight tremor in his voice betrayed the turmoil beneath his composure.
Why?
Why had none of them stepped in at the moment when Ryokugyu's life hung in the balance?
The question pressed down upon every Vice Admiral like an enormous stone, making their thoughts increasingly complicated.
A subtle tension quietly spread through the group.
Perhaps a deep rift had already formed between the Admirals and the rest of the command structure, an unseen crack that had gradually widened over time.
Maybe they had silently accepted that Ryokugyu—the "outsider" or hastily recruited replacement—was expendable.
To them, he might have been nothing more than a disposable piece whose value had vanished under the present circumstances.
Or perhaps a much greater strategy lay behind his death.
Those at the highest level of command might have been viewing the entire battle from a far broader perspective, believing that Ryokugyu's fall was not entirely a loss.
His death could have been a necessary part of some carefully constructed plan, just as a skilled player sometimes sacrifices a piece to create a decisive advantage later.
Yet an even more chilling possibility lingered in everyone's mind.
Perhaps the other Admirals—men renowned throughout the world for their strength and accomplishments—had recognized in that critical moment that they could not withstand Ron's apocalyptic sword intent either.
Faced with a power capable of erasing everything before it, they might have instinctively chosen self-preservation.
If so, their failure to act was not merely a calculated decision about their own safety.
It revealed their helplessness and fear before an absolute difference in strength.
Whatever the true explanation, every possibility pointed toward the same terrifying conclusion.
The supposedly unbreakable unity among Marine Headquarters' greatest fighters was nothing more than an illusion.
Behind the appearance of solidarity lay unspoken conflicts, mutual suspicion, and tangled personal interests.
Ryokugyu's death had not resulted solely from the overwhelming power of an external enemy.
Something dark and unfathomable had also been moving beneath the surface from within the Marines themselves.