The impact came from the sky.
Three bodies slammed into the rocky cliffs of Red Port at a speed that tore through the air. A deafening explosion echoed along the Red Line, shattering the wooden docks and sending shards of rock flying in all directions.
Thick dust billowed high, obscuring the view of dozens of Navy soldiers and Cipher Pol agents on guard at the World Government's official port connecting the first half to the second.
"WHAT WAS THAT?!" a Navy captain drew his sword, his eyes wide as he stared at the crater that had just formed in the harbor cliff.
"An enemy attack?! From Sabaody?!" a soldier ran to the communications post. "Contact Marineford! Request backup!"
Amid the rubble of rocks and shattered dock sections, three figures slowly rose.
Figarland Garling stood up first. His military uniform was in tatters; long, gash-like wounds on his chest and arms emitted a thin trail of black smoke before closing without a trace. His crescent-shaped hair was disheveled, covered in dust and wood shards.
Shepherd Sommers rose next, spitting blood onto the rocks. His spine, which had been crushed, had fused back together, but the pain from the regeneration process still lingered in every joint. His glasses were cracked on one side.
Satchel Maffey landed on her knees with a stifled groan. The horizontal slash across her chest still bore a charred, blackened trail; thin smoke curled from the wound, which was healing slower than usual.
Garling gazed toward the horizon behind them. From here, the Sabaody Archipelago was nothing more than a faint silhouette shrouded in mist in the distance.
"That far," Garling muttered, his voice cold and flat. His jaw tightened. "One slash flung us from Sabaody all the way to Red Port."
"Damn it," Sommers hissed, straightening his cracked glasses. "That Navy isn't human."
"YOUR HIGHNESS!"
A panicked scream shattered the silence. A dozen black-clad Cipher Pol agents ran forward. The moment they recognized the three military-uniformed figures rising from the rubble, their faces instantly paled. One by one, they fell to their knees, foreheads touching the stone.
"Y-Your Majesty Sky Dragon, forgive us! We did not realize you had arrived!"
Behind the line of Cipher Pol agents, the Navy soldiers who had been preparing for battle froze in place. A large Vice Admiral leading the Red Port guard widened his eyes. He recognized the kneeling posture of the Cipher Pol agents, and he recognized the significance of the military uniforms worn by the three strangers.
Not ordinary Sky Dragons, but God Knights—high-ranking Sky Dragons.
The Vice Admiral immediately lowered his weapon and signaled all his soldiers to retreat. He bowed his head himself, though his pride rebelled.
Garling ignored them all. His eyes remained fixed on the horizon in the distance. Sommers snorted softly, glancing at the line of agents and soldiers kneeling before him with a condescending gaze.
"Go," Garling said without turning his head.
"R-ready, Your Majesty!"
The Cipher Pol agents and the Vice Admiral immediately withdrew all personnel from the area, leaving the three of them alone amidst the still-smoking ruins of the harbor.
Once the area was clear, Maffey punched the remaining pier pillar beside her until it shattered into pieces. The tall woman's face flushed red as she held back her anger.
"Heartless man!" she snapped angrily, sweeping her disheveled hair aside. "I hadn't even finished speaking and he was already swinging that giant sword! At least look to see who your opponent is before hitting a woman!"
Sommers raised an eyebrow. "You're still thinking about that?"
"Of course! I'm a woman of honor. Any man should be grateful to meet me, not fling me hundreds of miles like trash!" Maffey stomped her foot on the ground, creating cracks around her.
Garling didn't comment on Maffey's complaint. He stared at his own palm, feeling the lingering vibrations from the last clash. That giant sword wasn't just strong. Its energy was unlike anything he'd ever faced.
"Keep your emotions in check, Maffey," Garling finally cut in. "We need to analyze what just happened."
Maffey snorted loudly but kept her mouth shut.
Sommers folded his arms, leaning against the remaining section of the stone wall that hadn't collapsed. "I've got it all in my head. That red-eyed man, Quentin Seven, the Navy Junior Admiral everyone's been talking about lately."
"No wonder he dared to fight Garp even though he lost," Garling muttered, his eyes narrowing. "A Mythical Zoan Devil Fruit. But not an ordinary Zoan."
Sommers nodded slowly. "Besides summoning a giant skeleton coated in Haki, he can manipulate fire, his body is impervious to attacks, and he can teleport. No Mythological Zoan on record possesses that many abilities."
"And his final attack," Maffey added, her irritation now replaced by seriousness. Her fingers touched the scar on her chest that had just closed. "That giant sword contained something more than just Armament Haki. You felt it, didn't you? The pressure emanating from that weapon before it even touched us."
"Conqueror's Haki," Garling said coldly. "He coated his attack with Conqueror's Haki."
A heavy silence hung between them.
Conqueror's Haki—the ability to coat weapons and physical attacks with it—was not a skill possessed by ordinary fighters. Across these seas, the number of people capable of doing so could be counted on ten hands. And that red-eyed man was younger than all of them.
"Our regeneration slows drastically when hit by his Conqueror's Haki-coated attacks," Sommers touched his ribs, which had just healed. "If the fight goes on any longer, he could uncover our weaknesses completely."
"We're heading back," Garling said suddenly, cutting off the discussion. He turned and walked toward the stone stairs leading upward, toward the Bondola route connecting Red Port to Mary Geoise.
"Where to?" Sommers asked.
"Shangara."
The Knights' Temple. The training and operations headquarters of the Knights of the God at the heart of the Holy Land of Mary Geoise.
Sommers nodded briefly and followed. Maffey brushed the remaining dust from her uniform, then stepped behind them.
As the three of them climbed the stone steps toward the Bondola platform, Maffey's mind was already elsewhere. Her mind was spinning far deeper.
Maffey was no fool. She knew her place.
Supreme Commander of the Divine Knights. A position that represented the pinnacle of honor for every Sky Dragon who pursued a military path.
Yet that position, by tradition, almost always fell into the hands of two families.
Her eyes glanced at Garling walking ahead of her. Figarland. The family that had produced the Commander of the Knights of the Gods for several generations. Garling was the strongest candidate at the moment, and everyone in the Holy Land knew it.
Then her eyes shifted to Sommers. Shepherd. One of the five highest-ranking families whose members occupied seats on the Council of the Five Old Stars.
Maffey knew the power dynamics behind the Holy Land of Mary Geoise all too well. The Sky Dragon hierarchy was not merely about titles and bloodlines, but a highly structured power pyramid.
At the very pinnacle stood the Nerona Family. A name rarely spoken, even among fellow Sky Dragons.
Directly below them are the five families whose members occupy the seats of the Five Old Stars. Shepherd, Jaygarcia, Ethanbaron, Marcus, and Topman.
They are the pillars supporting the World Government on the surface when Her Majesty Imu is absent.
And on par with them stands Figarland, a family that, though not occupying an Ancient Star seat, holds the highest military power in the Holy Land through the position of Commander of the God Knights.
Then there are the middle-tier families. Her own family, the Satchels. Also the Manmayers, Rimoshifus, Bavettes, and Donquixotes, and the others—though the latter family's behavior grows stranger by the day.
It is these middle-tier families that supply the God Swords, the entry-level position before ascending to God Knight.
Every family competed to place their best members as Divine Swords to maintain their elite status and secure greater resources for their respective clans.
And beneath it all, families like the Roswalds, the Jalmacks, and others swarmed. Sky Dragons who knew nothing but partying, enslaving, and reproducing like pigs.
Maffey dismissed her thoughts about those lower-ranking families. They were irrelevant.
What mattered was this, with the power she currently possessed, Maffey knew she was no match for the competition to become Commander of the God Knights. Garling was too strong. Sommers had political backing from his family.
But information? Information was a weapon that knew no hierarchy.
The corners of Maffey's lips slowly curled upward, forming a sly smile she hid from her two companions. Her mind was already focused on one thing.
Quentin Seven.
That red-eyed man held too many mysteries. A Mythological Zoan with abilities that defied logic. Conqueror's Haki at such a young age. And the way his eyes changed every time a different ability was activated.
If Maffey could unravel the secrets of that man's power, if she could find his weakness and conquer him, her standing in the Holy Land would rise dramatically. Even the Satchel family could compete for the position of Commander of the God Knights or even the Five Old Stars.
Her smile widened slightly, as if he were looking into the distant future.
Once he returned to Shangara, the first thing he would do was investigate everything about the Red-Eyed Young Admiral.
The giant bubble-shaped bondola began to rise, carrying the three God Knights upward, leaving Red Port and heading toward the peak of the Red Line.
----
Sabaody Naval Base, Grove 66.
The scent of green tea wafted faintly from a ceramic cup on the wooden table. Quentin Seven sat leaning back in his chair, his body wrapped in bandages from his left shoulder down to his ribs. He held a cup of tea in his right hand, and a plate of half-eaten onigiri sat in front of him.
In the room, Sakazuki stood leaning against the wall with his arms folded. Borsalino sat on the sofa across from the table, his round glasses glinting in the candlelight.
Every soldier at the base was well aware of their superior's habit. No matter where, whenever, or in whatever situation, Rear Admiral Quentin Seven always drank tea. Even with his body covered in bandages, that habit hadn't changed.
"Brother," Sakazuki broke the silence. His voice was heavy and direct. "Wounds all over his body. His physical strength is completely drained." Sakazuki's eyes narrowed sharply. "With the strength we both know, even the two of us combined couldn't have brought Kaka to a state like this. Who attacked you?"
Borsalino crossed his legs, his lazy smile fading slightly. "Did some heavyweight pirates from the New World show up in Sabaody?"
Seven sipped his tea calmly before answering. "Not pirates."
Sakazuki and Borsalino turned their heads at the same time.
"After I cleaned up the trash in the Lawless Zone, three people showed up," Seven continued, setting down her cup. "They weren't flying pirate flags. They were in military uniforms. A tall woman with some sort of horns. Two men—one with crescent-shaped blond hair, the other wearing glasses."
Seven grabbed her last onigiri. "They attacked me right away. Their combat coordination was excellent, like people who'd been fighting side by side for years."
"Abilities?" asked Sakazuki.
"One of the men was a Paramecia-type Devil Fruit user with the Thorn ability. He could grow spiked roots from the ground and use them as weapons. The other man was a sword master with extremely high-level Haki. And the woman uses a sword too, but she can shoot lasers from her mouth."
Borsalino narrowed his eyes. "Lasers from the mouth? Is that some kind of technology?"
"No," Seven shook his head slowly. "It's not technology. It's like an innate ability."
Seven fell silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on the surface of the tea in his cup. "But the most troublesome thing is their regeneration. I wounded all three of them, deeply enough to take down the pirates in the first half. But their wounds closed on their own. Black smoke came out of the wounds, then they healed without a trace."
"Like Logia?" asked Sakazuki, his eyebrows furrowed.
"Not Logia. They don't transform into elements. Their bodies remain flesh and bone. But the wounds heal, over and over." Seven took a bite of his onigiri. "When my attacks were stronger, their regeneration slowed. And when I coated every attack with Conqueror's Haki, their regeneration became extremely slow."
A heavy silence fell over the room.
Sakazuki and Borsalino exchanged glances. Both understood the implications of Seven's final statement without needing to say it.
Neither of them possessed Conqueror's Haki.
If they ever faced people like the ones their older brother had described—monsters with regeneration that could only be countered by Conqueror's Haki—then they would have to find another way to counter them. Pure destructive power. Attacks that shatter an opponent's body beyond the limits of regeneration.
Sakazuki clenched his fist unconsciously. Magma seeped thinly from his knuckles before he cooled it back down. Borsalino leaned his head against the sofa, staring at the ceiling with a rare, serious expression.
Seven finished his onigiri and picked up his teacup again. His eyes stared blankly out the window, toward the soap bubbles drifting from the mangrove roots.
But his mind wasn't on Sabaody.
Deep within his memory, an old fragment began to spin.
The Valley of the Gods incident. Little Kuma. The hunted villagers.
And amidst the chaos, a man. Thick, crescent-shaped blond hair. A sword in his hand. A gaze radiating the arrogance of a noble among nobles born above the clouds.
The mysterious God Knight?
The name echoed in his head. Figarland Garling. The man who, in the future, in an era yet to come, would succeed Jaygarcia Saturn as one of the Five Old Stars.
Could the crescent-haired man I just fought... be the young Figarland Garling?
Seven's finger paused at the rim of his cup. The tea inside rippled slightly.
The future Five Old Stars. Supreme Commander of the God Knights. And I'd just hurled him hundreds of miles with Susanoo.
Damn it. I'm exposed.
Not fighting an ordinary pirate. Not fighting a low-level fugitive. He had just beaten three Sky Dragons.
Not low-class Sky Dragons who only know how to have fun and squander everything.
These are high-ranking Sky Dragons. Mysterious God Knights.
If his identity is reported to Mary Geoise, if the Five Old Stars find out that a Rear Admiral attacked a high-class sky dragon...
Seven set his cup down slowly. His eyes were half-closed as he weighed every possibility.
Hopefully, Marineford can downplay or cover this up. Kong is already serving as Fleet Admiral, and Gin, though retired, still wields significant influence. If they can frame this incident as a battle against an unknown fugitive in the Lawless Zone...
But if the situation worsens. If Red Land decides that Quentin Seven is a threat that must be eliminated...
Seven opened his eyes. Within his mental space, the Bijuu sensed a cold tremor from their master's thoughts. Shukaku stopped chewing. Matatabi raised his head.
'If the situation worsens,' Seven thought, his eyes staring straight into the darkness beyond the window, 'I'll be forced to leave the Navy.'
'And if that happens, he won't run away. He'll establish a new force. A force standing outside the control of both the World Government and the pirates. A force that acts of its own volition.'
The Revolutionary Army.
That term didn't exist in this world yet. No one had ever used it because even Dragon hadn't joined the Navy yet. But Seven knew that if that's what was needed, then he would be the one to create it.
"Brother?" Sakazuki's voice broke his reverie.
Seven blinked, then picked up her teacup again. She sipped the tea that had begun to cool, then smiled faintly.
"Nothing," she said calmly. "Step up patrols around the archipelago. I want a full report on the damage by tomorrow morning."
"Understood," Sakazuki and Borsalino replied in unison.
Night had fully fallen over the Sabaody Archipelago. Soap bubbles drifted slowly into the star-studded sky. At the Navy headquarters, the lights were still on, and soldiers were coming and going, inspecting the damage.
And in his office, Quentin Seven sat alone. An empty teacup in his hand. His dark eyes gazed toward the peak of the Red Line looming in the distance, hidden behind the darkness of the night.