The warship slowly docked. Marines gathered on the pier in large numbers, moving quickly but with Extreme discipline.
Their synchronized footsteps, white uniforms, and brand-new rifles made it clear they were a well-trained force.
Fujitora's steps were heavy. The distance from the warship to the pier was only a few paces, yet it took him a long time to cross it.
"Admiral Fujitora, aren't you moving a little slowly? Does a Marine Admiral lack even this much resolve?"
A black-clad Secret Agent stood with several colleagues, looking at Fujitora with disdain.
The Secret Agent could not understand how Fujitora felt.
If they were arresting pirates or other criminals, Fujitora would have been the first to charge in.
But their opponents this time were civilians suffering from a serious illness.
Those civilians were supposed to be the people they protected.
"Burning Unit, assemble!"
The black-clad Secret Agent barked the order. A crowd of oddly dressed armed personnel with gas tanks strapped to their backs surged off the warship.
Cold, cruel, and reeking of gas—that was the impression the Burning Unit gave Fujitora.
“We haven't established what's happening on the island. This so-called Burning Unit will Absolute not go in ahead of the Marines.”
Dark purple light welled up around Fujitora.
"Fujitora, what's this supposed to mean? Are you trying to stop us from carrying out our mission?"
The black-clad Secret Agent stared at Fujitora without expression, though his gaze grew colder.
"No. Under the World Government's orders, the Marines are to 'suppress' the rioters first. The Burning Squad will clean up the bodies afterward.
"That being the case, I intend to take my time 'suppressing' those 'rioters.'"
Fujitora had said a great deal, but what he meant was far from clear.
"Tch. You know what the higher-ups mean, Fujitora. Do I