The Marines' faith

"Cough, cough, cough..."

Sengoku's violent coughing broke the brief silence.

He covered his mouth, and the blood seeping from its corners stained his palm red.

Every violent cough brought a bone-deep stab of pain, as though reminding him that he could no longer ignore his grave injuries.

Sengoku stood slightly hunched, but the eyes that had once struck fear into pirates still burned like fire.

"The Marines... have actually split apart..."

His voice was low and hoarse, filled with shock and anger.

His brow furrowed, veins bulging on his forehead, as though he were struggling to suppress his outrage.

He braced one hand against the tactical table beside him and clenched the other into a fist, his knuckles white and his nails digging deep into his flesh.

It was anger that would not subside, outrage at the betrayal of both himself and the entire Marine organization.

He knew that the Marines' division meant more than betrayal. It threatened the entire world order, and this betrayal had plunged like a knife deep into the Marines' heart.

"Sengoku, you..."

Standing nearby, Garp could not help wanting to approach when he saw Sengoku's condition, but he hesitated.

Sengoku's injuries were clearly severe, yet he still forced himself to remain standing.

Garp's gaze darkened, and he clenched his fists, suppressing his anger and anxiety.

"I'm fine."

Sengoku suddenly raised his head and stared fiercely ahead. Though his face was pale, an intimidating presence radiated from him.

His gaze swept over Garp, Tsuru, and the other Marine veterans beside him. At the sight of their expressions, a flicker of conflicting emotions passed through his heart.

The comrades who had once fought shoulder to shoulder with him now bore the same heavy burden.

Their faces were also etched with anxiety, but even more with helplessness and