"Pluton... destroyed? And the fourth... his status is completely unmapped?!"
The Four Elders traded swift glances, every single pair of eyes locked in absolute, wide-eyed disbelief.
"Elaborate immediately! Exactly what variables generated this outcome?!" one of the Elders demanded sharply, his composure cracking.
If this intelligence held true, their operational campaign in Arabasta had ended in a total, catastrophic defeat.
"Fifth, preserve your tactical stability," the scarred Elder with the white hair said, raising a palm to check his peer's panic. "We are actively anchoring the frontline of a war."
"Understood."
"Resume your report. Deliver an exhaustive, step-by-step account of the fourth's situation," the scarred Elder commanded into the receiver of the Transponder Snail.
"Yes, sir!"
The operative on the other end proceeded to meticulously detail the sequence of events that had unfolded along the Arabasta coast—from the high-stakes clash between Pluton and the Going Guard, to the direct intervention of Drake, Luffy, and their alignment.
He placed extreme emphasis on the operational parameters of the Going Guard, describing it as a gargantuan, reality-bending cybernetic mecha.
Exactly what manner of anomaly is that ship?!
Hanging up the Transponder Snail, the Four Elders stood in heavy, unyielding silence. Not a single one of them uttered another word.
What had transpired on that distant coast was an established fact that lay beyond their capacity to alter.
As the supreme commanders directing this global war, they could mathematically not permit emotional instability to fracture their judgment at a critical flashpoint like this.
"Prioritize the threat before us!"
"Naturally!"
The Four Elders exchanged cold, resolute smirks, turning their gazes toward the Revolutionary Army armada descending upon the Holy Land.
Following a single, piercing bird cry, the gargantuan cybernetic bird finally checked its momentum, its wings fanning gently as it hovered motionless in midair.
Dragon—who had been standing upon the creature's back—saw his physical form blur into a passing shadow, vanishing from his original coordinate in a fraction of a millisecond.
By the time the watching eyes relocated his presence, he was already anchoring the absolute apex of the giant bird's crown.
A solitary man standing directly opposite the World Government's hundred-thousand-strong military mass. The long green cloak enveloping his frame snapped wildly in the high-altitude gales, yet his features remained entirely clear of a single ripple of emotion.
The vast assembly stared up at him in absolute silence, not a single soul daring to raise their voice.
As the seconds ticked by, the psychological pressure weighing upon the World Government's forces scaled to an agonizing limit. Though active combat had yet to initialize, the atmosphere felt exponentially more suffocating than an open exchange of blows.
Even though Dragon had not executed a single movement, a weak-willed soldier simply lacked the mental fortitude to endure this invisible, crushing pressure.
It was the unpolished aura of an absolute powerhouse—an omnipresent weight that asserted itself even without the conscious deployment of Conqueror's Haki.
"My vanguard... steps onto this sacred soil today for a single, absolute purpose," Dragon declared softly, his calm, piercing gaze sweeping across the vast ranks of Marines packed into the central plaza below.
"Eight hundred years ago, upon the foundational alignment of the World Government, a select group of individuals elevated themselves to reign as supreme sovereigns above humanity. Across the centuries, these people have convinced themselves that they possess an inherent, celestial nobility that places them far above all living souls."
"To them, ordinary citizens are nothing more than common cattle and lifelong slaves. This rotten paradigm has continuously corroded the human spirit for centuries."
"Not a single soul is born into this world yearning to be bound in chains. The common populace believes this, our Revolutionary Army believes this, and deep within your own hearts... every single one of you knows this to be true."
A subtle, profound ripple passed through the ranks below as those words resonated across the plaza.
Regarding those so-called descendants of gods—the Celestial Dragons—a deep-seated disgust harbored within the hearts of countless Marines. That such wretched scum held the title of the true "nobility" of the world was a reality that even the most loyal Navy officers privately found utterly repulsive.
"The world my Revolutionary Army fights to build is one where every single individual commands absolute freedom and equality. That has remained the ultimate, unyielding objective of our cause since its inception—a bright future that every soul naturally longs for!"
"Yet along the path toward that golden future stands a massive, formidable mountain that must be forcefully sundered—and that mountain is... the Celestial Dragons!" Dragon threw his arms wide, his booming voice echoing with divine thunder across every quadrant of the Holy Land.
"We stand here today to pull down the Celestial Dragons! The world... is waiting for our answer!"
An absolute, heavy silence fell over the Holy Land. Every soldier in the plaza stared up in a daze at the solitary man standing high in the heavens. Facing the vision of the world he had just articulated, who among them could truly claim they did not long for it?
"Absurd, treasonous nonsense!"
A sharp, hysterical shout violently shattered the silence.
A white-robed, masked CP0 operative stepped forward, thrusting a single finger accusingly toward Dragon in the sky. "The Celestial Dragons are the absolute creators of this world! Without their divine existence, this world would mathematically fail to exist!"
"Since the common populace relies upon this world to survive, being granted the privilege to serve as slaves to the Celestial Dragons is an absolute honor! They should be overflowing with profound gratitude!"
"This so-called world of equality you speak of is nothing more than absolute, worthless garbage!"
The moment those words cleared his lips, a massive uproar ignited across the entire battlefield. The silence vanished instantly as hushed, frantic discussions broke out across the ranks, quickly expanding into a deafening clamor that swept through the plaza.
"He actually called being a slave to those monsters an honor?! Has he lost his absolute mind?!" a Marine cursed under his breath in pure disgust.
"How truly pathetic," a Marine Vice Admiral muttered, shaking his head as he pulled a cigar from his mouth and cast a cold glance at the white-robed agents.
"What do you mean by that, Vice Admiral, sir?" a young Marine private asked in confusion.
The Vice Admiral offered a blunt, unvarnished explanation: "You know full well who those white-robed figures are—they are operatives of CP0, the absolute highest intelligence agency of the World Government. Every single one of them was originally an elite among elites."
"Yet look at them now. They have completely lost their individual selfhood. Deep within their minds, they genuinely regard serving as lapdogs for the Celestial Dragons as their highest honor... Tch!" Realizing he had spoken far too freely, the Vice Admiral cut himself off, coughing abruptly. "Forget everything I just said, understand?"
"Understood, sir!" the surrounding Marines chorused quickly, nodding to reassure their superior officer.
The CP0 agent seemed completely oblivious to the disgust he had invited, standing with his hands on his hips in an arrogant, triumphant posture.
Opposite him, the Revolutionary Army officers looked upon him with unvarnished pity. Though his face remained hidden behind a sterile mask, they could easily imagine his self-satisfied expression.
He was the textbook definition of an irredeemable, brainwashed fool.
This display vividly illustrated the systemic rot the Celestial Dragons inflicted upon the world—that individuals could be warped into harboring such wretched, degraded mindsets.
WHOOSH!...
At that exact microsecond, a sudden, violent gale erupted high in the heavens, sweeping across the vast expanse of the central plaza.
The intense wind pressure forced every single soldier on the field to narrow their eyes, struggling to preserve their balance.
"What... what is happening?! Where did this terrifying wind come from?!"
Below, the Marines frantically scrambled to anchor themselves against nearby stone pillars and heavy railings, as the howling gale threatened to lift fully armored men right off the ground.
Far from dissipating over time, the hurricane grew exponentially more violent with every passing microsecond, rapidly engulfing the entirety of the Holy Land of Mary Geoise.
The excess atmospheric pressure spilled over the edges of the Red Line, plunging violently toward the oceanic channels below. The sea surface immediately erupted into a chaotic expanse of spreading ripples, churning into colossal, towering waves.
High above, the atmospheric parameters shifted rapidly. The bright, clear sunlight was abruptly swallowed by a massive surge of dense, pitch-black storm clouds that rushed across the sky at an impossible, unnatural velocity.
"This is..." Standing among the Vice Admirals, Smoker—his short white hair snapping in the wind and two cigars clamped between his teeth—stared up at the sky in absolute shock.
A vivid memory file from two years ago surged into his mind. On that fateful day in Loguetown, the weather had undergone the exact same sudden, violent shift, accompanied by mysterious, howling gales.
Could it be... that the tempest on that day was summoned by him as well?!
In the next microsecond, Dragon moved.
Taking a single, bold step out into the open sky, he stood suspended on the wind currents. Sweeping a single palm forward, an absolute hurricane surged outward, roaring straight toward the rear precincts of the Holy Land of Mary Geoise...