That hidden current was like a whirlpool beneath a calm sea, ready to drag the entire fleet into the abyss at any moment.
The Vice Admirals exchanged uneasy glances.
In one another's bloodshot eyes, they could clearly see the same tangled emotions—shock at the sudden disaster, confusion over the truth hidden behind it, and a guarded fear that they might be the next ones sacrificed.
The united determination that had filled the fleet moments earlier had developed a tiny but potentially fatal crack.
Like a spreading spiderweb, that fracture rapidly ate away at the soldiers' confidence and fighting spirit.
Even the absolute trust they had once placed in their superiors was beginning to crumble before this brutal reality.
From this moment onward, the war had become far more complicated and dangerous.
Every decision and action now carried unknown risks. The soldiers' nerves were stretched to their limits as they struggled through the chaos, uncertain what awaited them and desperately searching for any chance of survival.
When Ryokugyu's mountain-like body crashed to the ground, even the earth seemed to tremble.
A thunderous impact sent clouds of dust surging outward like waves, obscuring everyone's vision.
At the front of the fleet, Kizaru stood tall and motionless.
His trademark yellow suit remained unmistakable amid the swirling dust.
He slowly raised one finger and adjusted his distinctive sunglasses.
The lenses gleamed coldly in the dim light, reflecting Ron's distant figure as he returned White Moon to its sheath.
Every movement Kizaru made seemed unusually slow, filled with an indescribable calm.
His face, normally marked by lazy amusement, was now covered by an unprecedented stillness.
It was a deep, almost indifferent calm, as though nothing in the world could disturb him.
There was no shock in his eyes over the death of a fellow Admiral.
Nor was there any anger.
Not even the faintest trace of emotion appeared on his face, as if the life that had just ended had not belonged to one of the Marines' greatest fighters, but to an insignificant leaf drifting away on the wind.
"How frightening…"
Kizaru murmured the familiar phrase in his usual exaggerated tone.
This time, however, there was no curve to his lips.
Only a faint, chilling coldness remained.
Ron's attack—the storm of ten thousand swords that had annihilated Ryokugyu—had moved with the speed of lightning and struck with overwhelming force.
With the awakened power of the Glint-Glint Fruit, Kizaru could have intervened if he had truly wished to.
At that critical moment, he could have transformed into a flash of light and placed himself between Ryokugyu and the descending swords.
Even delaying the attack for an instant might have created a chance for Ryokugyu to escape.
But Kizaru had done nothing.
He had simply stood where he was and watched Ryokugyu die, without the slightest hesitation in his eyes.
The reason behind that attitude was brutally simple.
Borsalino—the famed Admiral Kizaru—had always despised that so-called "Celestial Dragon lapdog" from the depths of his soul.
Ryokugyu was no ordinary World Government official.
An average officer might occasionally weigh the consequences and think before acting.
Ryokugyu was different.
He was like a beast that had been completely domesticated, treating the will of the Celestial Dragons as divine law.
He did not merely obey their commands.
He served them with fanatical devotion, willingly prepared to sacrifice everything for their sake.
Every action and decision he made revolved around their interests, as though invisible strings controlled his body.
He was a loyal yet utterly blind attack dog.
Kizaru, by contrast, followed—or at least deliberately presented—a justice defined by ambiguity.
It was not a simple judgment that divided everything into right and wrong.
Instead, it searched for balance amid complicated circumstances and moved through the narrow space between morality and reality.
Kizaru understood that the world was diverse and human nature complex.
Whenever he carried out a mission, he tended to leave himself room to maneuver, allowing his actions to preserve at least the outward appearance of fairness.
To his sharp and perceptive eyes, Ryokugyu's unrestrained fanaticism and thoughtless loyalty were incredibly foolish.
It was not stupidity born from a lack of intelligence, but from a complete failure to understand justice or truth.
Ryokugyu blindly followed the Celestial Dragons' will without ever considering whether it truly represented fairness or righteousness.
To Kizaru, he was like a man charging blindly through a fog-covered forest, incapable of finding the correct path and only sinking deeper into the mire.
Ryokugyu's behavior was also an intolerable eyesore—a jagged nail driven into the delicate balance Kizaru preferred, inspiring nothing but discomfort and disgust.
Without making the movement obvious, Kizaru's calm, razor-sharp gaze swept past Momousagi and Fujitora beside him.
Momousagi resembled an ice-covered lotus armed with thorns.
Her already beautiful face had grown colder than winter frost.
A trace of undisguised revulsion flashed through her eyes, as though something unbearably filthy lay before her.
She raised her chin slightly and gave a quiet snort before decisively turning her head away.
The movement was filled with contempt.
It was as though looking at Ryokugyu's corpse for even another second would stain her vision.
...
Fujitora stood nearby, blind as he had been all his life, yet the hand wrapped around his cane sword radiated tremendous strength and resolve.
His lips pressed into a hard, unwavering line.
That tiny shift in expression made his contempt for Ryokugyu's blind, shameless devotion to the Celestial Dragons perfectly clear.
It was a rejection that came from the depths of his heart. Even without sight, the strength of Fujitora's disgust was impossible to miss.
Among these veteran Admirals, an intense but unspoken consensus settled into the air.
In their eyes, Ryokugyu's behavior had long since betrayed the justice and principles the Marines were supposed to represent. To a certain extent, his death was entirely of his own making.
One could even say that removing him had purged an unstable contaminant from the Marines, leaving the organization cleaner in his absence.
Even so, the death of an Admiral was like a brilliant star suddenly falling from the heavens.
The shock waves from such an event were destined to spread across the world and shake the existing order.
Beneath the seemingly calm surface of the sea, powerful currents were already surging.
That peaceful appearance had always been an illusion. Now the entire situation had drawn taut like a string on the verge of snapping, ready to unleash a fierce and bloody song of war at any moment.
The delicate balance among the world's major powers had been shattered like a carefully built tower of blocks, its pieces scattering in every direction and warning of an unprecedented storm to come.
Kizaru stood silently, his tall, lean figure resembling an unmoving mountain.
He raised his head slightly and took a deep breath, drawing the salt and depth of the sea into his lungs.
Perhaps he was gathering his strength.
Or perhaps he was simply calming the complicated emotions within him.
At last, he broke the suffocating silence.
Kizaru slowly turned and swept his gaze across the anxious Vice Admirals and frightened soldiers behind him.
Worry and confusion covered the Vice Admirals' faces. Their brows were tightly furrowed, their eyes uncertain about what awaited them.
The ordinary soldiers were pale, their weapons clenched unconsciously in both hands as their bodies trembled beneath the shadow of fear.
Kizaru opened his mouth and spoke in his familiar drawn-out tone.
"Ooh… Admiral Ryokugyu's sacrifice is truly regrettable~"
His words echoed through the silence, every syllable carrying unusual weight.
His voice remained slow and unhurried, but it had lost much of its customary carelessness. In its place was an indescribable gravity.
There seemed to be grief for a fallen comrade, resignation toward the cruelty of war, and a clear understanding of how dire their situation had become.
After a brief pause, his gaze sharpened.
"But as Marines, we must always be prepared to sacrifice ourselves for justice.
"His death was not entirely meaningless… At the very least, he allowed us to see the true limits of Ron's strength, did he not?
"How valuable… intelligence purchased with a life."
Kizaru placed slightly more emphasis on the final words, underscoring the importance of what they had learned.
His statement cut through the situation like a surgeon's scalpel.
It served as an official explanation to those above him, demonstrating that the Marines would not lose their resolve after a single setback.
It also reassured the soldiers below that Ryokugyu's sacrifice had not been entirely in vain.
At the same time, it was an utterly ruthless strategic assessment, extracting useful information from a brutal reality.
With a few casual words, Kizaru had transformed Ryokugyu's death into "tactical value."
Like a master moving a crucial piece across a chessboard, he redirected the panic spreading through the ranks toward the more practical task of analyzing their enemy.
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