Summit War Approaches

As dawn broke, he finally took off his glasses, gently rubbed his throbbing temples with his thumb and forefinger, and then picked up the golden Encrypted Den Den Mushi from the table.

The moment the line was connected, his voice was hoarse yet steady, each word seemingly squeezed out from between his teeth.

"I am Sengoku. Staff Officer Tsuru has submitted a formal report regarding the threat assessment of Uchiha Natsu."

His spatial teleportation ability has an unknown range, unknown cooldown, and only a 'suspected' trigger condition, making it impossible for the Marine Headquarters to effectively intercept it with any of its existing defensive measures.

If he had shown up at Marineford on the day of his execution—whether he was there for Ace or simply to repay a favor—the war would no longer have been a matter between the Navy and Whitebeard, but rather a full-scale intervention by an unknown third party.

I request the World Government to authorize an emergency contraction of the New World Defense Line and recall all Three Admirals to Marineford."

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone.

There was no reprimand, no questioning, only a very soft, almost inaudible sigh.

Then the aged voice uttered only two words: "Granted."

The Execution Platform was erected three days ago.

In the crescent-shaped bay of Marineford, more than 100,000 elite naval troops have already assembled in the square.

This is the largest force ever deployed by the Marine Headquarters since the God Valley Incident.

Officers and colonels recruited from all over the world stood at the front of the line, followed by a dense array of field-grade officers and tens of thousands of elite marines.

Outside the port, fifty main warships formed an arc-shaped defensive line at the head of the bay, their cannons aimed at the only possible breach in the frontal waters.

Sakazuki was the first to arrive.

When Akainu stepped onto the Marineford pier, even the sea breeze seemed to have become a bit hotter.

His Justice Coat was slightly curled at the edges from the high temperature of the lava, and a wisp of smoke rose from the stone slab beneath his feet the moment his military boots landed.

He didn't say anything, but simply pulled his baseball cap down low and strode towards his defensive zone, leaving a shallow, charred footprint on the stone slab with each step.

Kuzan followed closely behind.

His bicycle was leaning against the gangway of the warship, and frost silently spread from under the wheels, forming a thin layer of white frost on the stone bricks of the dock.

He yawned, took out his blindfold from his pocket, and walked slowly toward the square. The marines passing by instinctively tightened their collars.

Borsalino was the last to arrive.

No one saw when he arrived; a tall, thin figure suddenly appeared below the execution platform, leaning lazily against a stone pillar, the cuffs of his striped suit still stained with volcanic ash from the Sabaody Archipelago, as he hadn't had time to change.

He tilted his head, glanced at the towering execution platform through the lenses of his sunglasses, and said in a tone as if he were saying that the cafeteria menu wasn't to his liking, "Oh dear, this thing is built so high, it would be terrible if it fell."

One hundred thousand elite troops, three Admiral. The sky Marineford seemed to darken with the oppressive atmosphere.

Sengoku stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window of the Fleet Admiral's Office, gazing at the dense mass of white Justice Coat on the square below.

Every mark on the defense map has been placed on the ground: the fire network at the bay head, the artillery positions in the square, the ambushes in the fortresses on both sides, and the three figures standing at the most critical points.

He commanded countless battles and mobilized millions of troops throughout his life, rising from a recruit trainee to the position of Fleet Admiral.

But at this moment, as he looked at the three figures in the square, the unease in his heart was heavier than ever before.

Kizaru's laser couldn't catch up with Uchiha Natsu's space jump, Akainu's magma couldn't hit a non-existent target, and Aokiji's ice couldn't freeze a displacement without a physical form.

With the Three Admirals gathered at Marineford, he had no idea whether they could stop a fourteen-year-old boy.

He withdrew his gaze, picked up the Fleet Admiral's cap from the table, and put it on his head properly.

Then he pushed open the office door and walked towards the execution platform.

The day of execution.

The sky Marineford was heavy with leaden-gray clouds, so low it looked as if it might collapse at any moment.

The sea in the bay was unusually calm; there was no wind, no waves, and not even a single seabird could be seen.

The entire island was shrouded in a suffocating silence, with only the rhythmic footsteps of military boots on the stone pavement and the dull rumble of iron wheels rolling over the tracks as the gun emplacements turned, echoing over the square again and again.

One hundred thousand elite naval troops have been lined up in the square.

Officers and colonels recruited from all over the world stood at the front of the line, followed by colonels and elite marines in tiers. Layers upon layers of white Justice Coat stretched from the foot of the execution platform all the way to the fortified defenses at the head of the bay, like a silent snowfield.

The Giant Vice Admiral knelt on either side of the square, their shadows obscuring entire sections of the square formation.

Fifty main warships formed an arc-shaped defensive line at the head of the bay, their cannons aimed at the only possible breach in the frontal waters, their barrels filled with enough gunpowder to blast an island to pieces.

The execution platform stood at the highest point of the square. Three towering racks pointed directly at the gloomy sky, Seastone shackles were ready.

The two executioners were shirtless, holding long swords whose blades gleamed coldly in the dark clouds.

They remained motionless from the moment they stepped onto the execution platform, like two stone sculptures.

The Three Admirals were already in position below the execution platform.

Akainu crossed his arms, his baseball cap pulled low, obscuring most of his face.

Aokiji leaned against a stone pillar, his hands in his pockets, his breath forming tiny ice crystals in the air.

Kizaru stood between the two men. He had changed into a clean striped suit today, but the way he leaned against the armrest was still the same lazy look as if he was about to go for afternoon tea—only he knew that this was just a facade for the soldiers.

Sengoku sat on the commander's seat above the execution platform, with Tsuru and Garp standing beside him.

Garp wasn't wearing the Justice Coat; he was only wearing an old jacket, his arms crossed, and he hadn't uttered a single word since he sat down.

The entire square, filled with 100,000 people, remained silent. All eyes were fixed on the sea shrouded in a thin mist.

The gunners' palms were sweating, the engine room crew repeatedly checked the firing mechanism that they had inspected countless times, and even the seasoned officers unconsciously gripped the hilts of their swords at their waists.

A very thin white line suddenly appeared on the distant sea surface.

Then comes the second and third courses.

The white lines gathered more and more, becoming denser and denser, like a white wave surging from the horizon.

The observer on the lookout tower lowered his binoculars, took a deep breath, and shouted with all his might, "Whitebeard Pirates —frontal waters—engage!!"