Meanwhile, in the waters of the New World, a large, sleek warship stripped of most of its markings
was cutting through the waves, speeding away from New Marineford toward Egghead at an astonishing pace.
On deck, the atmosphere was... rather peculiar.
At the lookout post atop the tallest mast, Enel sat cross-legged, bare-chested,
propping his chin on one hand while idly tossing and catching an apple with the other, his eyes casually sweeping the azure sea below and its surging undercurrents,
searching for a target worthy of Divine Punishment-or perhaps he was simply bored.
Whenever a Sea King occasionally showed its back in the distance, a barely perceptible spark of electricity would dance across his fingertips,
only for him to curl his lip, seemingly finding those creatures beneath the standards of a "God."
Midway along the deck, beside a small makeshift table, Kizaru-Borsalino-was sprawled in a reclining chair without a shred of dignity,
still wearing his rather comical striped hospital clothes. Clearly, he had been "dragged" straight out of his hospital room.
At that moment, he was holding a steaming bowl of fragrant ramen and slurping away happily, though his face was filled with resentment at being "forced to work."
"Oh dear... Fleet Admiral Gern, I'm a seriously wounded man, you know~" Kizaru drawled, pointing his chopsticks at his bandages.
"My bones haven't even healed, and you've hauled me out of my hospital bed to brave the sea breeze and eat dust..."
"Isn't this mistreatment of a decorated veteran? I'll be filing a complaint with Inspector General Sengoku~"
Despite his words, his noodle-slurping pace never slowed. He even ordered the Marine cook beside him around.
"More chili oil! Double the scallions and cilantro! And make the noodles firmer!"
At the very front of the deck, beside the figurehead, Gern stood