A few days later, in the Holy Land of Mary Geoise—
Saint Topman Warcury returned with nothing that could be called good news.
The details—and the outcome—of his "negotiation" with Gern Reginald Sigmar at New Marineford were locked down tightly, confined to the Five Elders and only a handful of core members of the God's Knights. Nothing was made public.
The World Government issued no formal response to Gern's near-humiliating ultimatum.
No declaration of war.
No diplomatic condemnation.
Not even the usual flood of propaganda to smear him—what little there was felt weak, almost perfunctory.
That silence… was abnormal.
And in that abnormality, a chilling truth took shape:
The being that stood above all—the one who sat upon the Empty Throne—seemed, for some reason, to have chosen to remain hidden in the shadows.
The only visible action came in the following week.
Ship after ship departed from Mary Geoise, carrying an astonishing number of enslaved civilians—people taken from across the Four Seas and the Grand Line. These individuals were quietly "released," sent back through Red Port to their homelands or handed over to Marine-designated resettlement zones.
Most of them were gaunt, hollow-eyed, their bodies marked by long-term abuse.
Their existence—combined with the World Government's low-profile handling of the matter—spoke louder than any announcement.
Gern's threat had not been empty.
But this was no repentance.
It was a reluctant, humiliating concession.
A compromise forced under pressure.
And yet—
Gern had achieved exactly what he intended.
Faced with a set of harsh conditions, the opponent would always choose the least painful path.
From the very beginning… freeing the slaves had been his true objective.
New World, waters near Marine Base G-14.
Borsalino hovered midair, his body sustained by photons, looking down at the wreckage below.
The base was in ruins. Marines scrambled to repair defenses, their morale visibly shaken.
In the distance, the Red Force—flagship of Shanks—was already fading into the horizon.
Borsalino's usual teasing smile had dulled.
He had not engaged in a full-scale battle with the Red-Haired Pirates—only a brief but intense probing clash.
After all, going all-out against an Emperor renowned for his Haki was hardly a wise choice.
He exhaled softly… then relayed the intelligence back to New Marineford.
New Marineford, Fleet Admiral's Office.
Sengoku stared at the encrypted report in his hand.
Then at the empty chair across from him—the seat that should have been occupied by the Supreme Commander of the Marines.
A vein throbbed faintly at his temple.
"…Sigh."
He took a deep breath, massaging his forehead before grabbing another Den Den Mushi and dialing a secure line.
"Brrr… Brrr… Click."
The line connected.
From the other end came the distant sound of ocean currents… strange deep-sea creatures… and lively mermaid music.
"Yeah? Sengoku? Make it quick—I'm a little busy here… Hmm, this coral honey wine isn't bad."
Gern's voice drifted through, relaxed, almost indulgent—completely at odds with the tension in Sengoku's office.
Sengoku clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to crush the Den Den Mushi.
"Gern! Where are you right now?!"
"Oh, Fish-Man Island. King Neptune and Queen Otohime invited me for a drink. We're also discussing some local matters."
"…Fish-Man Island?! You went to Fish-Man Island?!"
Sengoku's voice rose.
"Red-Haired Shanks just attacked G-14! Vice Admiral Doll is injured! Borsalino says Shanks specifically demanded that you meet him in person!"
"And you're drinking?!"
"Ah, that." Gern sounded utterly unconcerned. "Borsalino already reported it. I know."
"Shanks is the worrying type. Overthinks everything. Just leave him be—give him a few days, he'll sort himself out."
"And besides… if I go now and things escalate into a fight, what then?"
There was a pause.
"He's already disabled. We should show a little consideration."
"…You—!"
Sengoku choked on the sheer absurdity.
"That's one of the Four Emperors! His sudden shift in attitude must have a reason! He mentioned things like 'mission' and 'qualification'—this could tie back to Roger, or something even deeper! We can't take this lightly!"
"Relax, Old Man Sengoku."
A faint clink of a cup—Gern was clearly drinking again.
"No matter how strong Shanks is, he's still just one Emperor."
"What we're dealing with now is the mess left behind by the World Government… the possibility of full-scale war… strategic locations like Wano and Elbaf."
"As for his 'mission'? Let him play with it for now."
"When I'm done here, I'll go hear what he has to say."
"…You…"
Sengoku opened his mouth to argue—
But Gern cut him off.
"Oh, right. Since you called—perfect timing."
"Help me pull up all Marine and World Government records related to 'Elbaf,' the 'giant race'… and a giant king named 'Harald.'"
"The more detailed, the better. Especially anything about his relationship with the World Government."
"Compile it and send it to Tesoro. He'll summarize it for me."
"Harald…?"
Sengoku paused.
The name stirred something—an old memory from his youth. A controversial figure among the giants.
"Yeah. I've got some leads, but I need confirmation."
"Alright, that's it. Neptune's calling me—talk later."
"Wait—Gern! Gern—!"
Click.
The line went dead.
Sengoku stared at the Den Den Mushi, now silent.
Then at the empty chair again.
"…That damn brat…"
"His guts are too big… and his mind even bigger."
Yet beneath the complaint, something more complicated flickered in his eyes.
Gern's seemingly carefree approach… masking a mind that had already calculated several steps ahead—
Perhaps that was exactly what this chaotic era demanded.
Shaking his head, Sengoku picked up his pen and began noting Gern's request.
As for Shanks…
For now, Borsalino—and those on deterrence patrol in the New World, like Enel and Douglas Bullet—would have to keep watch.
Ten thousand meters beneath the sea—Fish-Man Island, Ryugu Palace.
The grand banquet hall shimmered with light.
Soft music filled the air as mermaid dancers glided gracefully across the floor.
"Gern, my brother! Your presence honors all of Fish-Man Island!"
Neptune raised a massive cup, clinking it against Gern's with a booming laugh.
"The Marines' independence—excellent! Long overdue!!"
As always, Neptune's support was absolute.
The bonds Gern had forged here in the past—his strength, his protection—had long since elevated him beyond an ally in Neptune's eyes.
Beside him, Otohime sat quietly.
She had changed.
Gone was the radiant idealism of a queen who once believed in winning peace through compassion and petitions.
Years ago, she had traveled to Mary Geoise with hope in her heart—only to nearly be assassinated on her return.
That experience had shattered her illusions.
"Fleet Admiral Gern," Otohime said gently.
"Our dream has never changed—to stand beneath the sun, to live as equals with humans."
"But we've learned… respect is not earned through pleading."
"Only strength—and the right allies—can secure the future."
Her gaze was steady.
"Now that you've led the Marines onto a new path… Fish-Man Island is willing to entrust its future to you."
Gern straightened slightly, setting aside his earlier casual demeanor.
"Queen Otohime. King Neptune."
"Fish-Man Island is a vital hub connecting the seas."
"Whether before or now—there's no reason for the Marines to abandon it."
Neptune and Otohime exchanged a smile.
The atmosphere warmed further.
After several rounds of drinks, Gern finally voiced his true purpose.
"Neptune… Fish-Man Island has a long history and connections across the world."
"So tell me—what do you know about Elbaf?"
"And its king… Harald?"
At the mention of those names, Neptune's expression stiffened.
"Elbaf… the homeland of giants. The 'strongest nation in the world.'"
He spoke slowly.
"We haven't had much direct contact… but there have been exchanges."
"Harald…"
Neptune's tone grew heavy.
"He was a king of both brilliance and tragedy."
Otohime continued softly:
"A 'wise king.' Possessing both strength and intellect rarely seen in Elbaf's history."
"He sought to elevate his nation… even…"
She hesitated.
"…to cooperate deeply with the World Government."
"Cooperate?" Gern's eyes sharpened.
"Yes."
Otohime nodded.
"When Harald visited Fish-Man Island long ago, he told us he believed that by allying with the World Government—by leveraging their 'order'—Elbaf could rise faster."
"That the giants could gain greater status… greater influence."
Neptune picked up the thread.
"The World Government treated him—and Elbaf—with unprecedented favor. Promises were made."
"So Harald assisted them. Giants joined the Marines. He himself carried out missions on their behalf."
"But… the alliance collapsed."
"Why?" Gern asked.
"No one knows," Neptune said grimly.
"Only that Harald committed a 'grave, unforgivable mistake.'"
"It shattered his ties with the World Government… and plunged Elbaf into internal chaos."
"In the end… he was killed in his own palace by his child."
"Elbaf never recovered. It turned inward—cutting itself off from the world."
"…A grave mistake…" Gern murmured, swirling the wine in his glass.
The pieces aligned.
The words he had once heard—spoken with regret:
"If Harald had not made that foolish mistake… Elbaf could have become the World Government's ultimate military power…"
So Harald had once come close.
Very close—to binding Elbaf to the Government's war machine.
But what had gone wrong?
Had he uncovered the truth behind that "existence"?
Had internal factions rebelled?
Or something else entirely?
"We don't know the details," Otohime said apologetically.
"You've already told me more than enough."
Gern set down his cup, eyes thoughtful.
Then—
"Gern," Neptune said.
"If you want the truth…"
"Go to Elbaf yourself."
...
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