One minute earlier, outside the Holy Land of Mary Geoise—at Red Port:
"Move faster!"
"Damn it! If anything happens to me, you'll all pay with your lives!"
"If that madman goes berserk, we're all dead!"
"Hurry! Hoist the sails—get out to sea!"
"Marines! Marines, protect us!"
…
Anxious, panicked shouts burst from the decks of ship after ship. Kings and delegates from the World Government's Member States screamed themselves hoarse, ordering their people to raise sail and flee.
While Darren and the Gorosei tore into each other in a titanic battle, the CP agencies and Holy Land Guards had already rushed the dignitaries out of Mary Geoise, herding them down into Red Port like evacuees from a burning city.
The very thought of Rogers Darren's terrifying power—the image of him grinding even the Gorosei, the World Government's highest authority, into the dirt—left these pampered nobles and officials with no room for hesitation.
Only one thought remained:
Get off the Red Line. Now. Run as far as you can.
And so the Member States' official vessels fought to shove off at once, jostling for position in blind desperation. The result was a bottleneck so chaotic that Red Port—vast as it was—became completely jammed. Ships scraped and slammed together. Crews screamed. Fights broke out on gangplanks.
"Distinguished representatives, please have faith in the Marines!" Sengoku shouted, watching the scene like an ant trapped on a scorching skillet, cold sweat sliding down his forehead. He leapt up onto the battleship's mast and roared down at the crowd. "No matter what crisis arises, the Navy's strength will ensure your safety! As an Admiral of Marine Headquarters, I solemnly swear—"
Before he could finish, a Member State king cut him off, fury shaking his voice.
"Shut up! Who believes you anymore?! That madman Rogers Darren was one of yours!"
Sengoku's face went stiff.
Beside him, Borsalino rubbed his chin, sounding almost thoughtful. "They do have a point, you know."
Sengoku shot him a murderous glare, then turned back to the crowd, voice tight with restrained anger.
"Representatives, Rogers Darren was expelled from the Marines long ago! He's been declared an enemy of Justice, and he's wanted with the second-highest bounty in the world! That man has absolutely nothing to do with the Marine Corps anymore!"
"And more importantly," Sengoku pressed on, "even if you trust no one else—surely you trust me, Admiral Sengoku!"
Another representative snapped back immediately, "We don't trust you, Sengoku! After all, you weren't even granted the right to attend the ceremony!"
Sengoku froze again. His mouth opened, but nothing came out.
Borsalino scratched his head and muttered under his breath, barely loud enough to hear, "That was a bit harsh… but they're not wrong. Even the Shichibukai—former pirates—were allowed to watch the ceremony remotely from the grand hall, while we Marines are stuck down here guarding ships at Red Port…"
"Borsalino," Sengoku snarled, whirling on him with bloodshot eyes, jaw clenched until it ached, "can you ever shut up?!"
Borsalino lifted both hands in exaggerated surrender, wearing an innocent expression. "My apologies, Admiral Sengoku."
Sengoku forced a breath into his lungs and swallowed his temper. While barking orders to impose some kind of order on the departing vessels, he lowered his voice.
"What's the situation at Pangaea Castle?"
Borsalino glanced at his wristwatch, then looked toward the distant silhouette of Pangaea Castle.
Even from here, he could faintly see monstrous shockwaves and crimson-black lightning blasting into the sky, tearing apart the sea of clouds.
There was no need to be closer to imagine the battle raging there.
And here I am, stuck in this miserable port because of those damn Gorosei and their orders.
Sengoku's fists clenched so hard his knuckles whitened. Anxiety burned through him until he could almost taste blood.
"The strike-force deployment request has been submitted to the CP agencies," Borsalino said lightly, glancing at the chaos with a wry smile. "We should hear back soon enough."
"Besides," he added, "that Darren fellow doesn't strike me as the type to act rashly…"
Rashly?! Is this not rash?!
Sengoku nearly exploded again, chest heaving.
Regret gnawed at him like a starving animal.
He should never have been tempted by that damned brat's measly few billion berries in "military aid." He should never have allowed Darren to sneak into Impel Down for "training."
How did I let myself slip like that?!
But even thinking it, Sengoku knew it wasn't so simple.
That bastard Darren's abilities and methods were too insane. He never played by the rules. He never cared what anyone else could afford to lose.
Just then—
Beep… beep… beep…
An urgent electronic alarm blared from Borsalino's wristwatch.
Borsalino glanced down, chuckled, and said, "The CP agencies approved it, Admiral Sengoku."
"Move out immediately!" Sengoku's eyes lit. He didn't hesitate for a second.
Only Borsalino's speed could get them to the battlefield in time.
"So," Borsalino asked, feigning confusion, "what's our objective?"
Sengoku rolled his eyes. "Figure it out yourself. Adapt to the situation!"
Facing that damn brat Darren, what objective could possibly be written down?
After Darren had "cleared" Impel Down's Sixth Layer—Eternal Hell—Sengoku didn't dare imagine how far his strength had grown.
Even if Darren abandoned his Devil Fruit tricks and went head-on, Sengoku couldn't guarantee he'd come out on top, let alone capture him.
To apprehend Darren, Sengoku suspected they'd need the full force of Marine Headquarters' top combatants—and even then, success wouldn't be certain.
"All right," Borsalino said with a smile. His body scattered into countless photons and vanished.
At the same time, Sengoku's expression changed.
A deafening roar shook the air. He looked up—and what he saw made his blood run cold.
A figure wrapped in lightning burst out from the direction of Pangaea Castle.
For an instant, it crossed paths with Borsalino's golden trail. The two passed each other as if neither had even registered the other's presence.
Sengoku: "..."
That damn Borsalino.
He's… far too slippery.
Before Sengoku could even form a thought, the bolt of lightning had already materialized above Red Port.
A savage, overwhelming aura pressed down like a storm front.
Darren—drenched in blood—grinned and waved at the stunned Admiral Sengoku.
"Yo, Admiral Sengoku! Long time no see!"
And with that, he shot straight up, vanishing into the sea of clouds.
Sengoku stood rigid, as if he'd been struck by lightning himself.
Nearby, on the decks of the official vessels lining the harbor, the royal representatives and delegates stared at him, pointing with wide, disbelieving eyes.
Their faces screamed one thing:
And you still say he has nothing to do with you?!
Sengoku: "..."
To be continued...