"The World Government finally made its move. It was expected, yet it still stirs something in the heart."
Across the seas, countless people shared the same thought. What they felt was not fear, but a restless excitement that was difficult to suppress.
For eight hundred years, the World Government had stood like an unshakable mountain pressing down on the world. Now, cracks had begun to form, and that immense weight no longer seemed invincible.
The consequences of this operation were obvious to anyone with sense, yet the World Government still chose to proceed. They believed they could control the fallout, that their authority remained absolute, and that the situation would bend back under their will.
Their arrogance had not changed. What they failed to realize was that their true enemy was no longer just pirates or scattered rebels. It was the world itself.
Because of this miscalculation, their actions were exposed ahead of schedule. Not only did they fail to reap the expected benefits, but they also suffered significant losses. Several targets escaped, forcing the World Government to divert additional resources to hunt them down and finish what they started.
At the same time, the news spread far beyond what they could contain. Various forces fAnnied the flames in secret, ensuring that the truth reached ears it was never meant to reach. The situation quickly spiraled beyond their control.
The World Government's power had always rested on its alliance with kingdoms and the support of the global aristocracy. That foundation was now beginning to erode.
The chaos across the seas made it impossible for them to maintain the same level of control as before. Their attention remained locked on the Golden Sea War, leaving cracks everywhere else.
Even the Red Line, their core stronghold, began to show signs of instability.
The Red Line was not merely a continent. It was a massive kingdom in its own right, home to immense wealth and privilege. Nobles, officials, and influential figures gathered there, living in luxury while ruling over nearly a tenth of the world's population alongside the Celestial Dragons.
Now, those very people were being harvested.
One by one, they were targeted under various pretexts. Wealth was seized, families destroyed, and those who once stood close to power found themselves discarded without hesitation. Panic spread rapidly. A few managed to escape with advance warning, even paying enormous sums to buy their lives, but most were not so fortunate.
The paradise they once trusted had become a hunting ground.
Some chose to flee the Red Line entirely, abandoning their status and taking whatever wealth they could carry to the seas. Their departure only worsened the situation, draining resources and further destabilizing the World Government's foundation.
At the same time, the Revolutionary Army moved in the shadows, quietly fueling unrest.
The Red Line had long been fertile ground for rebellion. Beneath its surface of luxury lay generations of oppression. Most of its population were slaves or descendants of slaves, bound to the Celestial Dragons for centuries. Their lives were defined by suffering, survival itself a fragile achievement.
Occasionally, Celestial Dragons would parade through, selecting new slaves as if choosing livestock. The strongest and most valuable captives often came from the seas, which explained the prosperity of the slave trade.
Under such conditions, resistance had always been brutally suppressed. Yet resentment had never disappeared. It had only accumulated, growing deeper with each passing generation.
Now, with the World Government distracted and weakened, the Revolutionary Army seized the opportunity to ignite that buried anger.
Their development had never been sudden. For over a decade, they had worked in secrecy, expanding their influence bit by bit. Only in recent years had their growth accelerated, drawing the attention of the World Government.
The principle of darkness under the lamp had worked in their favor. Even on the Red Line itself, they had already laid hidden foundations. At this moment, they would not let the opportunity slip.
Meanwhile, the deployment of CP0 revealed another crack within the system.
The World Government had already sent out a significant portion of its elite agents to the battlefield, pushing its limits. This decision sparked dissatisfaction among the Celestial Dragons, as CP0's primary duty was to protect them.
CP0 was known as the strongest shield of the Celestial Dragons. Its members were divided in allegiance, some loyal to the Celestial Dragons, others to the Five Elders. Even among the Celestial Dragons themselves, differences existed.
Because of this, a considerable portion of CP0 had to remain in Mary Geoise. The World Government simply could not afford to deploy them all.
When Teach learned of this, he felt a quiet satisfaction. The full might of CP0 would have been overwhelming. The fact that it could not be brought to bear meant the battlefield remained within manageable limits.
On the Golden Sea, the war raged without pause.
The Allied Forces maintained their advantage, steadily pushing forward across the frozen battlefield created by Kuzan. Progress was slow, however, constantly hindered by fierce resistance.
The ice beneath their feet was unstable. Heavy artillery fire shattered it repeatedly, breaking formations and inflicting massive casualties. In response, Kuzan was forced to continuously expend stamina to maintain the battlefield, further draining his strength.
Recognizing the decisive role of artillery, the pirates dramatically increased their firepower. The number of cannons on Jaya Island surged from several hundred to over two thousand.
Each cannon was a masterpiece of engineering, far superior to ordinary models. With a price tag of one million Berries each, their total value exceeded two billion, not including the endless supply of ammunition.
The results were devastating.
Shells rained down like meteors, each volley capable of wiping out thousands. Smoke filled the air, explosions echoed without pause, and the battlefield turned into a hellscape of fire and destruction.
At the center of it all stood Baccarat.
Seated calmly among the cannons, her burgundy hair swaying in the wind, she directed the bombardment with a composed elegance. A cigarette hung loosely from her lips as she issued commands with a simple wave of her hand.
Her presence alone captivated those who saw her. To many pirates, she appeared like a goddess of war.
Under her control, the artillery became something far more terrifying. Guided by the power of the Luck-Luck Fruit, every shot seemed destined to hit its mark.
The effectiveness of artillery sparked global demand. Cannons produced in the West Blue became highly sought after, with orders pouring in from across the seas. War had turned them into one of the most valuable commodities in the world.
Elsewhere on the battlefield, chaos reigned in countless forms.
Loya's domain spread silently beneath the ice. Thorny vines, laced with deadly toxins, lurked unseen before striking like venomous serpents. She sat atop a curved thorn, swinging her legs lightly while holding a small umbrella, her innocent appearance completely at odds with the carnage she unleashed.
Annie hovered in the air, protected within a resilient bubble that deflected attacks with ease. Around her floated countless smaller bubbles, each carrying a different effect. Some burned with intense heat, others crackled with electricity, while some detonated with explosive force upon contact. A single misstep could render an opponent helpless, slipping uncontrollably on unnaturally smooth surfaces.
Pito remained at Baccarat's side, her Observation Haki spreading across the battlefield like an invisible net. The sheer pressure of her presence crushed weaker wills before they could even act. Those who resisted found themselves hunted down by her swift, ghost-like movements, her clawed strikes ending lives in an instant.
The battlefield had become a stage for countless abilities, each more dazzling and deadly than the last.
Despite everything, the Allied Forces continued to advance.
Their progress came at an unimaginable cost. At its peak, daily casualties exceeded thirty thousand, and that figure accounted only for losses caused by artillery.
Desperation forced them to adapt. Suicide squads were deployed to destroy pirate cannons, while powerful individuals risked injury to push forward. Even so, the losses remained staggering.
Over two more months, the war dragged on.
By now, the Allied Forces had committed nearly 800,000 troops. Of the Red Line's massive army, more than half had been deployed. The Navy had also suffered heavily, with most of its forces already exhausted.
Out of the original numbers, only 200,000 remained on the battlefield.
That meant over 700,000 lives had been lost.
On the pirate side, the situation was no less brutal. Of the 100,000 who had taken part, only 30,000 remained.
The scale of the conflict had far surpassed anything seen in the past two years. Yet the war showed no sign of ending.
High-level combatants maintained a fragile balance, with few decisive losses. The most notable casualty was Vice Admiral Juan of the Army, who fell after a prolonged battle to Shiryu's blade.
His death enraged the two Marine Admirals, who immediately engaged Shiryu, escalating the conflict further.
Mid-tier fighters, however, suffered greatly. Lacking the resilience and escape methods of stronger individuals, they fell in droves.
Even the sea itself seemed to recoil. Sea Kings avoided the area entirely, unwilling to approach a battlefield soaked in blood and filled with overwhelming killing intent.
Amid this chaos, growth was inevitable.
Under constant pressure, fighters were forced to evolve. Those still developing saw the greatest gains, their potential ignited by the brutality around them.
Clemons and Enel were prime examples, both reaching a level where they could stand on their own.
Above the battlefield, another clash continued without pause.
Redyat and White Ghost had fought for months, their battle unfolding within the shadowed domain that often lingered in the sky for days at a time. Explosions echoed from within, and stray specters occasionally slipped out, only to vanish moments later.
Redyat was improving.
With each exchange, his strength grew, and White Ghost could feel it clearly. The realization filled him with unease. What had begun as a battle had turned into something far more humiliating. He had become a stepping stone.
Yet White Ghost endured.
His ability allowed him to escape death repeatedly, using substitute ghosts to take fatal blows in his place. Each time, however, the number of substitutes dwindled.
Redyat had already killed him countless times. Now, fewer than thirty substitutes remained.
The rules of the ability were simple. The substitutes had to exist outside his body, visible within the battlefield. Because of this limitation, Redyat grew more confident with each passing moment.
Though his own lifespan was not infinite, White Ghost's condition was worse. His frail body deteriorated under the strain of prolonged combat, and his remaining time was running out.
Victory was only a matter of time.
Yet that time was not his alone to decide.
The war still needed him. If he fell before its conclusion, the balance would shatter, and the consequences would ripple across the entire battlefield.