"Who is that!? Who's on the Moby Dick!?"
Every eye on the battlefield instantly locked onto Drake. Several members of the Whitebeard Pirates moved to intercept him, but they were pulled back by their comrades. First, the display of power Drake had just shown was far from ordinary; most men wouldn't stand a chance. Second, he had just struck Akainu. As the saying goes: the enemy of my enemy is my friend.
Drake sat perched on the prow of the Moby Dick, legs crossed, looking utterly at ease.
"Who are you!?" Sengoku's face was a mask of fury. First, someone had sabotaged his grand strategy, and now this stranger had arrived to derail his contingency plan. Moreover, Drake's power was enigmatic; Sengoku hadn't even seen how he had flown onto the ship. An ability like that would be difficult to counter.
"Does it matter who I am?" Drake asked tonelessly.
In reality, he was panicking internally, but he knew he had to play it cool. He had to be arrogant! There was no room for error. If he couldn't win this battle through fame, he would bluff his way into becoming a god!
"So you're the one who sabotaged the power room!?" Sengoku's voice was dangerously low.
"Marines, do you even realize what you're doing? You are the very definition of digging your own graves."
"Heh... Marine Headquarters!" Drake slowly looked up, his gaze dripping with disdain as he glared at Sengoku atop the execution platform. His words were cold and biting. "To put it nicely, you act for the sake of a hypocritical justice. To put it bluntly, you're nothing more than the hunting dogs of the Celestial Dragons."
He punctuated the insult with a dismissive flick of his fingers. The word "arrogant" didn't even begin to describe his demeanor.
These words hit the gathered Marines like a tidal wave. How could anyone remain calm while hearing their lifelong convictions trampled upon so blatantly?
"Nonsense! Absolute rubbish!"
Even Sengoku's face turned a terrifying shade of black. While the newest recruits might not fully grasp the nature of the Celestial Dragons, the veterans knew exactly what he meant. As harsh as Drake's words were, they weren't entirely lies. It was a thorn buried deep in the souls of many high-ranking Marine officers.
Even Whitebeard and his Division Commanders were stunned. To publicly provoke the authority of the Celestial Dragons required either immense courage or utter insanity.
Hmph! A smirk tugged at the corner of Drake's mouth. He was trembling inside, but god, this felt good! If he weren't surrounded by thousands of people and currently "in character," he would have roared with laughter.
Top this!
In the presence of the world's strongest man and the gathered might of the Marines, he had just mocked the very concept of "Justice" at Marineford. He was surely the first man in history to do so. If the visual Den Den Mushi hadn't been cut off, this moment would have been etched into the annals of time forever.
"Kizaru!" Sengoku barked.
"How terrifying... what a bold young man..." Kizaru's voice trailed off as he dissolved into a streak of light. "I assume you understand the consequences of saying such things?"
In the blink of an eye, Kizaru was hovering above Drake, a leg of pure light swinging toward his head.
However, Drake was faster. The moment Kizaru vanished, Drake moved. He tilted his body back, Rainbow's Remnant erupting with a blinding radiance. In the split second he evaded the kick, he unleashed a counter-slash that struck Kizaru across the forehead.
BANG!
After the hit connected, Drake used his flight unit to rocket into the sky, hovering mid-air directly opposite the execution platform. Back on the Moby Dick, Kizaru reformed from a shower of golden sparks and stared up at Drake, ceasing his attack. After that brief exchange, he knew he couldn't take Drake down quickly.
"Even if you are dogs of the Celestial Dragons, it's none of my business," Drake's voice boomed. "The one thing you should never have done—your greatest mistake—was playing games with the life of our brother!!"
With that, Drake accelerated, diving toward the execution platform. "Sabo!"
"Understood!"
The moment Drake appeared, Sabo was ready. The two blurred forward, one from the left and one from the right, flanking the platform.
Aokiji saw the danger and moved to block one of them, but Whitebeard was a veteran of a thousand wars. He didn't know Drake's true motive, but anyone fighting the Marines was a temporary ally. He wasn't about to let Aokiji spoil the fun.
A shockwave slammed into Aokiji's back, sending the Admiral stumbling. A trickle of blood leaked from the corner of Aokiji's mouth. With a single glance from the Emperor, Marco also moved to intercept Akainu.
"I can't let you get in the way," Marco said. Blue flames and crimson magma collided in a violent explosion.
Ace's body began to shake uncontrollably. Sengoku noticed but paid it little mind; he figured that a man at his wit's end would naturally be excited by a glimmer of hope. To Sengoku, it just proved Ace was ultimately an ordinary man. Many of the watching Marines looked on with disdain—The blood of the Pirate King? Fire Fist Ace is just another coward shaking in his boots.
They had no idea that Ace was shaking because of the name Drake had just shouted.
Sabo. It really is Sabo. And then he remembered Drake's earlier words: Our brother.
A wild, impossible thought seized his mind. Could it be...? No... it's impossible! Sabo being alive is already a miracle, how could he... Ace's mind was a chaotic storm.
Suddenly, a dark blur flashed. A second later, Sabo was sent flying by a massive punch.
BOOM! He slammed into the ground with a heavy thud.
Drake froze. Are you kidding me? Old man, we're basically your grandsons, do you have to hit that hard?
The man who had swatted Sabo aside was none other than their grandfather, Vice Admiral Garp. Garp stood there, his face grim, shifting his gaze from Sabo to Drake.
That single look made Drake shiver. It was a primal, deep-seated terror—the kind of psychological scarring that only comes from being beaten as a child.
Beep... beep... beep... The Detector over his left eye scrolled through a new set of data:
[Name]: Monkey D. Garp [Cultivation]: Sword Saint (Brawler Type) [Ability]: None [Haki]: Top-Tier Armament, Mid-Level Observation [Title]: God of Taijutsu [Comprehensive Combat Power]: 9,800
Holy shit! Drake swore internally. Garp was a monster, and his face showed no hint of joy. Of course it didn't; having your grandson executed wasn't exactly a happy occasion.
Seeing the old man's "Iron Fist" coming for him, Drake blurted out instinctively: "Old man, don't hit me in the butt!"
He immediately turned bright red. He wanted the ground to swallow him whole. God, that was embarrassing. The childhood trauma was real!
I cannot take this mask off. Ever. As long as the mask stayed on, no one would know who he was. If I don't feel embarrassed, then I'm not the one who's embarrassed! In a flash, he covered his head with his arms. His ribs could break, his legs could snap, but the mask had to stay on! He would guard it with his life!
However, after waiting several seconds, the "Fist of Love" never landed. He peeked through a gap in his arms and saw Garp standing there, dazed.
Seizing the moment, Drake gritted his teeth and circled around Garp. His blade flashed as he aimed to sever the chains binding Ace.
But in the next instant, golden light flared before his eyes. Kizaru was back. Drake pulled his blade back just in time to evade a light-speed kick. But he was met with a literal rain of golden lasers. Kizaru's Yasakani no Magatama was in full effect.
Drake's pupils shrank. A lethal sense of crisis crashed over him.