Summit War 6! The Terrifying Oppression of a King-Class!

"I'm not forcing you!" Sengoku suddenly turned around, grabbed Garp's shoulders with both hands, and the force was so great that even he himself did not realize it.

His eyes were red-rimmed, and his voice was hoarse, as if forced out from the depths of his chest; every word seemed to drip with blood, "How many years did it take us to carve out this little bit of power from the World Government? Have you forgotten?"

What was the navy like during the time of the Fleet Admiral Kong? -- The Five Elders would hand us a piece of paper, and we would have to throw our soldiers' lives into the sea!

You, me, Tsuru, Zephyr —we've fought our whole lives to bring about the Navy's ability to decide for itself how to fight, where to fight, and who to fight!

"If we lose this battle today, do you believe that Mary Geoise could replace the Fleet Admiral's chair with one of their own tomorrow?"

He took a breath, his fingers digging into Garp's shoulders. His voice was even lower, yet deeper and more urgent than before, as if afraid that his words would be swallowed by the sound of gunfire before he could finish speaking.

"I had no other choice. You think I wanted to force you? That's your grandson! I watched him grow up! But look below—"

One hundred thousand soldiers are fighting desperately; they too have families, grandchildren waiting for them to return! Garp... for justice."

Garp stood still, letting Sengoku grip his shoulders.

His fists hung at his sides, his fingernails digging into the flesh of his palms, and drops of blood dripped from between his fingers onto the stone slab at his feet.

On the Execution Platform, Ace knelt, covered in wounds, head bowed, his expression unreadable.

In the center of the square, the shockwaves from Whitebeard's attack were still raging, crushing the navy's defenses inch by inch. The screams of the soldiers mingled with the sounds of gunfire, indistinct yet all too clear.

He understood every word the Sengoku spoke.

He understands better than anyone else.

Making this kind of choice was his greatest fear in life, but fate never let him off the hook.

Sengoku released his shoulder, took a step back, and looked at his old friend whom he had known for a lifetime.

Garp didn't speak, but slowly raised his fists, which were stained with his own blood, and glanced at them.

Then he closed his eyes.

When he opened his eyes again, he was no longer in the commander's seat.

"Fist Bone Impact!"

When that familiar roar exploded, the person was already in mid-air.

Without any fancy techniques or the aid of Devil Fruit abilities, there was only a pure punch, honed to the extreme with Armament Haki, carrying the anger and helplessness of a veteran Marine for decades, which slammed straight down towards the towering figure at the head of the bay.

When the Whitebeard looked up at the figure descending from the sky, the smile on his lips finally faded.

Garp's fist was coated with an iron-black luster Armament Haki Hardening, and purple-black Inazuma of Conqueror's Haki crackled and coiled around his knuckles. Before he even landed, the oppressive feeling had already pressed spiderweb-like cracks into the stone slab beneath his feet.

This punch is different from Akainu's magma and Kizaru's laser.

Without relying on Devil Fruit abilities or using elemental transformation as a fallback, it was a pure strike that honed the physical body and Haki to their absolute limits.

He had known Garp since Garp was a new recruit at headquarters. He knew that the old guy usually joked around, but when he actually threw a punch, no one on this vast ocean dared not dodge.

He didn't hide.

With his left hand gripping the hilt of the Murakumogiri, he simultaneously channeled Conqueror's Haki and Armament Haki into the blade. A purplish-black Inazuma spread from the hilt to the tip of the blade, followed by the white aura of the Tremor-Tremor Fruit. The two forces pressed and overlapped wildly on the blade, producing a piercing buzzing sound.

"Drink it--!"

Murakumogiri upwards, the blade stopping abruptly half a meter from Garp's fist—not because he withdrew, but because the two forces collided in mid-air.

The air between the blade and the fist was compressed to its limit in that instant, and then exploded.

There was no Kakkō, no smoke, only a visible, transparent shockwave that swept outwards from the two people in all directions.

The entire stone slab was lifted up and flew outwards in a tumbling motion;

The few remaining gunboats at the bay were swept by the shockwave; their hulls seemed to be crushed by an invisible giant hand, the steel keels emitted a piercing cracking sound, and fragments scattered in all directions amidst the blast wave.

The row of naval officers and pirate captains closest to the two, regardless of rank or bounty, were all thrown away by this force at the same moment.

"What happened?!"

"Run! Run!"

"Quick! Get out of the way!"

"Run!"

"Get out of here! Get away from Pops!"

"Run!"

The square erupted in chaos.

Marines and pirates ran desperately away from the center of the impact, scrambling and stumbling, not even bothering to pick up their dropped weapons.

Several officers who were slower to run were caught up by the shockwave and were sent flying like kites with broken strings. They tumbled through the air countless times before crashing heavily to the ground, unconscious.

A Rear Admiral tried to withstand the impact with the Tekkai, but as soon as he got into position, the shockwave passed through his body. He looked down at his chest and then fell straight down.

This is no longer a battle; this is a natural disaster.

Two men standing atop the ocean, clashing head-on with the most primal and extreme power, the aftershocks alone enough to crush anyone who hadn't even reached the threshold of Rear Admiral general.

In a clash of that magnitude, military rank and bounty become meaningless; only those who can stand are qualified to continue living.

"Drink it!!"

Whitebeard's roar was no longer the kind of hearty laughter, but a beastly howl squeezed from the depths of his throat.

His arm muscles were bulging to their limit, with veins running from his wrists all the way to his shoulders, like bulging ropes digging into his flesh.

The stone slabs beneath his feet were long gone; spiderweb-like cracks spread from his feet all the way to the corner of the fortress wall dozens of meters away. The rubble was swept into the air by the force of their collision, where it collided and shattered, turning into dust that fell down in a flurry.

His knees were trembling slightly—not because he was about to fall, but because he was fighting to the death against the terrifying force pressing down on him from above.

Garp was also having a hard time.

The veins on his forehead bulged as if they were about to burst, and his short, graying hair was soaked with sweat, strands of it sticking to his scalp.

But his fists didn't loosen. In fact, his usually unruly eyes shrank to pinpoints, revealing not anger or hesitation, but a fierce determination that had been suppressed for so many years under the title of naval hero and was finally being forced out.

The next second, an even more terrifying force surged through his shoulder, elbow, and wrist, all the way into his fist, and slammed down hard.

"Fist Bone - Galaxy Impact!!"

The moment the punch landed, the air between Murakumogiri and the fist was completely pierced.

The Conqueror's Haki Inazuma and the white, shocking halo intertwined, and the resulting light curtain illuminated an area of hundreds of meters as if it were daytime.