Gern Reginald Sigmar's conviction was simple—
I saw it. I struck it. Next time… I will win.
Shanks' conviction, perhaps, was this—
I've seen it. I was afraid. So "he"… must win.
One seized fate with his own hands, daring to raise his fist even against a god.
The other placed his hopes in someone else, forever lingering at the edge of the shadows, guiding—but never stepping forward.
The difference between them…
Was absolute.
"...Haaah…"
Shanks slowly exhaled, tightening his grip around the hilt of Griffin.
He understood now.
Today… there would be no easy way to "persuade" or "intimidate" Gern into turning back.
But Shanks had not come unprepared.
If he had chosen to intercept Gern on this inevitable route to Wano…
Then he had already considered the worst-case scenario.
After all—
Alone, he might not have been able to stop Gern.
But the truth was—
He hadn't come alone.
At the very instant Shanks' Conqueror's Haki was being steadily pushed back by Gern's surging dark-purple tide—on the verge of collapse—
Another presence entered the battlefield.
A force just as vast…
Yet carrying an entirely different essence.
A wind.
The moment that "Haki" joined the clash, the balance above the sea shifted instantly.
Shanks' suppressed crimson aura surged back to life, bolstered by reinforcements.
It intertwined with a newly arrived blue-gray force, forming a unified field of pressure—
And forcibly halted the advance of Gern's dark-purple dominance, pushing the boundary line back toward the center of the sea.
"WHOOOOOO—!!!"
At the same time, violent winds erupted from nowhere.
Gern's small boat rocked violently under the pressure, while the Red Force's flag snapped and howled in the storm.
Above, the sky descended into chaos—
Crimson, blue-gray, and dark purple clashed and intertwined, tearing at one another.
Though the sea churned wildly beneath him, Gern stood unmoving—like an iron pillar driven into the world itself.
The moment that new force appeared—
His left hand had already flashed to the hilt at his waist.
"—Hummm… SHING!"
The gray-white bandages wrapped around the blade shattered apart, unraveling in midair.
Beneath them—
A pitch-black blade revealed itself.
It trembled.
Sang.
From the guard, pale vibration particles began to surge forth, spiraling violently around the weapon, resonating with the dark-purple Haki boiling off Gern's body.
Gern's Observation Haki had already pinpointed the source the instant it appeared.
There was no surprise on his face.
Only mockery.
"Heh… what a neat little ambush."
His voice dripped with ridicule.
"A Yonko… and the leader of the Revolutionary Army."
"Heh…"
His gaze pierced through the chaotic storm of Haki and wind, locking onto the deck of the Red Force—just behind Shanks.
"All gathered in one place."
"Good. Saves me the trouble of hunting you down one by one."
At the same time—
From the shadows of the Red Force's cabin, a figure stepped forward, coming to stand just behind and to the side of Shanks.
A long, dark-green coat billowed in the wind.
The hood hung loose, revealing slicked-back black hair… and a sharply defined face.
A red, square tattoo marked his left cheek.
His expression was stern.
And most striking of all—
He had no eyebrows.
Monkey D. Dragon.
Leader of the Revolutionary Army.
"Gern."
Dragon's voice was steady as he looked down at the man on the small boat.
"Leave this sea."
"What happens in Wano… is not something the Marines should interfere with."
"Dragon."
Gern spoke his name flatly, the temperature in his voice dropping to absolute zero.
"Not satisfied playing your little 'revolutionary games' in the first half of the Grand Line?"
"Now you've come all the way into the New World… and you're teaming up with a Yonko?"
He tilted his head slightly, eyes sharp with disdain.
"What—did you think the Marines, after my independence, would still turn a blind eye to you like before?"
"Or…" his gaze narrowed, voice cutting deeper,"did you think I'd hesitate to move against you… out of respect for Vice Admiral Garp?"
"You already have."
Dragon's voice rose sharply, cutting him off.
For the first time, visible anger cracked through his composed expression.
"I did nothing more than refuse your so-called 'cooperation proposal'!"
"And in response—you authorized Sakazuki to 'handle things as he saw fit' regarding Revolutionary activity in the first half of the Grand Line!"
Dragon stepped forward.
The wind surged violently around him.
"You know exactly what that order meant!"
"'Akainu' Sakazuki—acting at his own discretion!"
"In just one month—seven of our major bases in Paradise were wiped out!"
"Over three hundred of our comrades captured or killed!"
"Years of painstakingly built networks—destroyed!"
"And you call that 'not making a move'?!"
"That was a declaration of war!"
His gaze locked onto Gern, sharp as a blade.
"We're all adults here."
"So don't stand there… pretending to be innocent."
Gern's expression didn't change in the slightest.
If anything—
His cold smile deepened.
"…Heh."
As his emotions stirred, the sea around him began to warp.
The surface tilted unnaturally.
The air groaned—
And countless fine cracks appeared out of nowhere, fracturing space itself.
"In the past…"
"I still had those idiots in the World Government sitting over my head."
"I had to think about balance. About consequences."
"Had to 'leave room' for everyone… so things wouldn't spiral out of control and give them an excuse to step in."
His gaze swept over Shanks—then locked onto Dragon like a blade scraping bone.
"So the 'respect' I showed you…"
"…was too much."
"Enough that you started thinking you could dance in front of me. Point fingers."
"Even…" his lips curled slightly,"join hands to block my path."
Slowly, Gern raised his right hand and gripped the fully awakened blade—
Eight Desolations hummed violently in his grasp.
The tip angled forward.
Particles spiraled.
The world itself seemed to tremble.
"Now then…"
"Whether it's the Red Hair Pirates…"
"Or the Revolutionary Army…"
His grin widened—
Cold. Twisted. Merciless.
"Since you're all here…"
"Then at least one of you…"
"…isn't leaving."
The moment his words fell—
Killing intent surged like a tidal wave.
Shanks' eyes hardened. Griffin slid half an inch from its sheath, dark-red lightning crackling along its edge.
"Dragon."
His voice was low, urgent.
"We can't fight him on the open sea."
"Even Captain Roger wouldn't have clashed with Whitebeard at his peak on the ocean itself."
"Whether it's 'Heaven-Shaking' or the Gura Gura no Mi…"
"Out here—anyone who can overturn the sea in an instant is unbeatable!"
"Is that so?"
Dragon stepped forward, his long green coat whipping violently in the storm.
The air around him twisted unnaturally.
Spiraling.
Compressing.
Miniature cyclones began to form, visible to the naked eye.
"Then…"
His gaze sharpened.
"…we'll blow him away."