A month later, at Marine G-33 Base in the Sabaody Archipelago.
The sunset's fading glow washed over the harbor, stretching the shadows of two warships.
One was Gern's black battleship; the other was Garp's signature Dog-Head Warship.
The sea breeze carried the scent of the bubble trees, but it could not dispel the oppressive atmosphere within the base.
Inside a ward of the field hospital unique to the Sabaody Archipelago base, the smell of disinfectant stung the nose.
Garp stood at the window with his back to the bed, his justice coat swaying slightly.
The lower part of his once jet-black short hair was now visibly streaked with silver, as though he had aged ten years in a single month.
Outside the window, Sabaody's mangroves cast mottled shadows in the dusk as bubbles slowly rose into the sky and burst.
On the hospital bed, Gern slowly sat up. His movements were sluggish, and every inch he moved sent tearing pain through his muscles.
Bandages covered his entire body, some still stained with faint traces of blood.
Once upright, Gern remained with his head bowed and his elbows braced on his knees, loose strands of hair falling over his eyes.
The silence lasted a long time.
"How did it go?" Gern finally asked, his voice unbearably hoarse.
Garp did not turn around. He merely stared out the window and snorted. "Roger has already returned to the New World."
His fists clenched, his knuckles turning white. "By the time I got there, I couldn't even see that bastard's stern!"
The window reflected Garp's dark expression.
Gern raised his head, his pale face expressionless. "Vice Admiral Garp, I'm sorry. I think I lost-"
Bam! A heavy fist slammed into Gern's face, knocking him straight back onto the bed!
In an instant, the bed