Inside the grand, cavernous hall, the cold marble floor reflected the chilly light of the Beli lamps set into the dome. Five towering figures, clad in white robes symbolizing supreme authority, stood around the enormous Empty Throne.
The air was so heavy it seemed about to congeal. Only the ancient mechanical clock on the wall gave out a monotonous, steady ticking, each second striking at the hearts of the world's five supreme rulers.
They had just received, in full over a top-secret channel, an urgent report from Garp's adjutant Bogard, along with Garp's own brief but weighty oral supplement.
Accompanying the report was footage of the frontline military doctor's preliminary assessment of his injuries-in it, Monkey D. Garp, once regarded as the Marines' "pillar of stability" and a man who had defeated powerful pirates countless times, now lay dying on a stretcher like a thoroughly crushed war machine, drenched in blood, his bones shattered.
Dead silence.
A long, suffocating dead silence.
At last, Saint Nusjuro, one of the Five Elders, the bald old man cradling a sword, broke the silence. His voice was drier and hoarser than usual, and the knuckles of the fingers gripping the sheath of the First Generation Kitetsu had turned white:
"Disruption... even briefly nullifying Armament Haki... large-scale spatial translocation... a fully awakened Magnet-Magnet Fruit..."
Every term was like an icy awl piercing the barriers of understanding they had built upon eight hundred years of rule. This was no longer a "powerful ability user," but some terrifying existence close to the "level of rules," beyond their comprehension.
"Bernia..." Saint Warcury, the blond, bespectacled Elder with two curved mustaches, spoke slowly. His gaze swept over Saint Nusjuro opposite him and Saint Saturn a little farther away, as sharp as a scalpel.
His voice was quiet, but unmistakably