Rosen's Eye
The sky itself bent to the Admiral's will.
Charlotte Katakuri, a Conqueror's Haki user in his own right, watched in frozen terror as Admiral Rosen's dominating aura washed over the battlefield. It wasn't just pressure; it was a suffocating weight that blotted out the sun, a crushing tide of spiritual force that instantly flattened the remaining elite forces of the Big Mom and Whitebeard Pirate alliances. Of the thousands who had charged moments ago, only a few dozen remained conscious, trembling on their knees.
The second-in-command of the Big Mom Pirates stared at the marine standing amidst the carnage, a profound horror settling into his eyes. For the first time, Katakuri truly understood the gap between the strong and the weak. To a pirate like him, who possessed the qualifications of a King, facing Admiral Rosen was like a mayfly gazing up at the endless, clear sky.
Vast. Boundless. Absolute.
"..."
Jinbe's eyes were wide, his mouth slightly agape, but no words came out. He was still drowning in the afterglow of Rosen's Haki, his mind unable to process the sheer scale of the power. Beside him, Marco of the Whitebeard Pirates stood in utter silence. With the news of Edward Newgate's death and the inevitable defeat of his crew, the phoenix had already given up on living. Nothing could shake him now.
"Jinbe."
The voice cut through the silence, calm and deep. It snapped the Fish-Man out of his stupor.
"Admiral Rosen." Jinbe's expression was complex—a mixture of resignation and strange respect.
"Anything to say?" Rosen stepped off the high ground, his boots crunching on debris as he walked toward the helmsman.
"Helping the Whitebeard Pirates... that was my decision." Jinbe straightened his back. "Don't hold a grudge against Fish-Man Island."
He hesitated, then asked, "Fish-Man Island?"
Rosen didn't answer immediately. He looked at the carnage around them—the fallen Marines, the blood soaking the deck.
"The Navy has shed blood," Rosen said, his voice low. "That blood cannot be washed away cheaply."
"I understand." Jinbe looked at the broken bodies of the Marines, then nodded. His expression was peaceful. "Then give me a quick death."
"To die by the hand of the Admiral... my journey in this world will not have been in vain."
There was no fear in the Fish-Man's voice, only relief.
"Good." Rosen nodded. He reached out, his hand gripping the air.
Snap.
Haki flared. The air twisted, and a Zanpakutō manifested from the void—metal forming from his will alone. The blade was long, cold, and wicked.
Ryūjin Jakka.
A heat haze shimmered off the steel, the air distorting around it. Rosen didn't swing it in a wide arc; he thrust it forward. The blade, superheated to incandescence, pierced Jinbe's forehead. It was a merciful strike—fast, clean, and absolute. Before the Fish-Man could register the pain, his consciousness faded into darkness.
Rosen retracted the blade, the heat vanishing instantly. He turned his gaze to the second prisoner: Charlotte Katakuri, pinned to the ground by the magma fist of Admiral Sakazuki.
"The victor is king. The loser is villain," Katakuri rasped, shaking his head. "I have nothing to say."
Defeated by a man capable of ending the Great Pirate Era, Katakuri accepted his fate. Even the fall of the Big Mom Pirates felt inevitable in the face of this marine.
Rosen didn't waste words. He thrust Ryūjin Jakka again. The blade pierced the Paramecia user's brow, ending the pillar of the Big Mom Pirates.
After sheathing the Zanpakutō, Rosen looked at the last standing commander: Marco the Phoenix.
"Do it," Marco said, his voice hollow. He didn't want to live. With Newgate gone and his brothers dead, death was a relief.
"I won't kill you," Rosen said flatly.
Marco froze, confused. "Why?"
"The Navy's blood cannot be washed away without compensation." Rosen's eyes were cold, calculating. "Your crew made us bleed. You will leave something behind before you go."
He turned to Kuzan, who stood nearby with his hands in his pockets. "Freeze him."
Kuzan nodded. "Ice Age."
The temperature plummeted. Crystalline ice surged up from the deck, encasing Marco's phoenix form instantly. If Marco were at full strength, he could have burned through the ice with his flames, but his stamina and Haki were shattered. He was trapped, an ice sculpture in the middle of the battlefield.
"He goes to the Judge Forbidden Zone later," Rosen commanded, loud enough for the remaining pirates to hear. "The Phoenix form is rare. It will be useful for the Science Unit's future projects."
He looked at the dozens of pirates still conscious—the remnants of the Blackbeard Pirates—and those of the Big Mom crew who hadn't fainted.
"Surrender," Rosen declared, his voice echoing across the silent sea. "Or die. Choose one."
The Marines, their battle suits stained crimson, tightened their formation. The atmosphere became oppressive, a wall of killing intent that pushed down on the remaining pirates.
Vista, the Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates, gripped his swords. He looked at the frozen Marco, then at the dozens of his wounded comrades.
"Let Marco live," Vista bargained. "We are at your mercy."
"I am not negotiating with you," Rosen replied, his hand resting on the hilt of another Zanpakutō that began to form—Senbonzakura. "You can choose to die."
Vista trembled. His grip tightened, then slackened. He dropped his swords. With a heavy thud, the blades hit the deck. Behind him, the remaining Whitebeard commanders and soldiers followed suit, laying down their weapons. They didn't fear death, but they wouldn't drag their comrades into the grave with them.
The Big Mom Pirates, witnessing the surrender of the Whitebeard remnants and remembering the death of Katakuri, quickly capitulated. Weapons clattered to the ground in a symphony of defeat.
The Marines watched in stunned silence. The sight of two Yonko crews surrendering simultaneously was a historic moment that would shake the foundations of the world.
"I declare," Rosen announced, surveying the battlefield under the setting sun. "The war is over."
A beat of silence.
Then, a roar erupted from the Marines. It was a shout of liberation, of victory, of survival. "The Admiral is supreme! The Navy is supreme!"
Even Sakazuki, usually stoic, allowed a grim smile to cross his face.
Rosen let the cheers wash over them for ten minutes—the New World ocean carrying the sound across the waves. But once the euphoria settled, his voice cut through again.
"The war is over. But your duty is not."
"Find the fallen. Collect their remains. Not a single Marine is left behind."
The cheering died down instantly. The survivors, wiping tears or blood from their faces, began to move. They combed through the piles of bodies, checking the tracking devices embedded in their combat suits to locate fallen comrades in the wreckage.
As the cleanup began, Douglas Barrett—the monstrous clone of the legendary pirate—walked up to Rosen. He glanced at the frozen Marco.
"If I knew you were going to collect Devil Fruit bloodline factors," the giant said, his voice rumbling, "I wouldn't have killed that one earlier."
Rosen looked at him. "Which one?"
"Among the Whitebeard remnant I fought earlier," Douglas said, scratching his chin. "There was a kid with an interesting ability. If used right, it's vicious against Devil Fruit users."
Rosen's interest was piqued. Beside him, Sakazuki and Kizaru also turned their attention to the giant.
"Name?" Rosen asked, bypassing Observation Haki for direct information.
"I vaguely remember," Douglas mused. "He's a member of the Whitebeard Pirates. Calls himself Marshall D. Teach."
"Teach..." Rosen narrowed his eyes.
"His ability is the Logia-type Yami Yami no Mi," Douglas revealed. "The Dark-Dark Fruit. He can't turn into an elemental, but he can absorb anything—gravity, damage, matter. And most importantly..." The giant grinned, revealing sharp teeth. "It nullifies the powers of other Devil Fruit users on contact."
A heavy silence fell over the three Admirals and the surrounding officers.
The Yami Yami no Mi.
A Logia that didn't make the user intangible, but gave them the power to cancel out other Devil Fruits.
"Interesting," Rosen murmured, his mind already calculating the tactical implications. "Very interesting."
He looked toward the horizon, where the sun was setting, casting long shadows over the sea.
"Capture him alive," Rosen ordered, his voice final. "I want that fruit."
The Second Great Pirate Era was ending. And Admiral Rosen was ensuring that the Marines would be the ones holding the final card.
—-
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