People are sailing and synthesize the devil fruit of phantom beast sp

Especially the opponent, who was wearing the signature fish tank helmet exclusive to the Celestial Dragons.

That helmet was more than just a strange accessory—it was a sacred symbol of status. Ordinary people wearing it would be committing blasphemy. If someone dared to don such a thing and was discovered, the consequences would be catastrophic. Life or death. No middle ground.

The Navy, after all, was a tool of the Celestial Dragons.

And the two in front of him—these so-called Knights of God—held a status even higher than that of most Celestial Dragons. Definitely higher than his own, even as Navy Marshal. They didn't need a direct order from the Five Elders to override him.

Their presence alone gave them absolute authority.

"Do you still need to ask Lord Five Elders for confirmation?" Xia's eyes were icy, devoid of any emotion.

Faced with her cold gaze, Sengoku—no matter how much resentment he held—could only suppress his rage and bow to reality.

"I... would never dare," he finally managed, voice tight with humiliation. Though he was the marshal, supposedly one of the top powers in the world, it was clear now—he was just another cog in their machine.

"Excellent. Then hand over all the information you've gathered."

Xia didn't wait for his compliance. She swept past him, stepping boldly behind his desk and making herself comfortable in the Marshal's seat. Her eyes lazily scanned the room, and with a gloved hand, she began rifling through the documents on his desk—more out of boredom than purpose.

Truth be told, Xia wasn't interested in helping the Navy. Her presence here was more of a formality. If the Five Elders hadn't given the order, she wouldn't have even bothered coming. If the Navy fell, they could just raise a new puppet regime. The World Government had countless replacements on standby. For the Celestial Dragons, propping up a new navy was just a matter of money—and they had more than enough of it.

Despite his growing irritation, Sengoku obeyed, reporting the current situation on the battlefield.

Nak, meanwhile, had already made himself at home, casually uncorking a bottle of Sengoku's finest wine. He took a long swig without asking for permission. Sengoku saw this—but said nothing. He swallowed the humiliation like bitter medicine.

Eventually, he spoke again. "In my opinion, sending forces to the battlefield is a mistake. The Whitebeard Pirates alone are formidable, and now with Roger's return, the odds are worse. The Red-Haired Emperor shares a close bond with Roger and might join in. If these powers align…"

He paused, voice grave. "The risk of defeat is nearly certain. I believe we should consider aborting the operation."

Sengoku laid it all out, hoping reason would reach them. But Xia barely heard him. She wasn't listening—just letting his words drift past like wind.

"Proceed with the attack," she declared coldly. "This time, the pirates will learn who truly rules this world. Whitebeard must die—no matter what."

Sengoku's face darkened, his rage swelling. But he took a deep breath and continued. "With all due respect, ma'am, this decision could lead to irreversible losses. I recommend—"

"Silence!" Xia snapped. "You're not here to make recommendations. You're here to follow orders. With Nack and I by your side, what can One Piece, the Four Emperors, or even the so-called Bounty King do? They're nothing."

A smug smirk formed on her lips.

Sengoku seethed inwardly. These so-called gods lived their lives protected by the Navy, sheltered from the real horrors of the battlefield—and yet they called the shots. Arrogant, detached, completely ignorant of what monsters like Roger and Whitebeard were truly capable of.

He felt his blood boil.

"You seem displeased with my decision."

Xia stood up, the temperature in the room seemingly dropping with her motion. A sudden pulse of terrifying energy exploded from her form—armament haki laced with raw killing intent.

Boom!

A massive shockwave tore through the office. Sengoku's desk splintered into shards. Papers swirled like a snowstorm. The room became a scene of utter destruction.

Even the sheep in the corner of the room—his pet—fled in terror.

"You…" Sengoku clenched his fists, stunned. That aura—overwhelming and dark, like a venomous serpent—was on par with Garp's.

Now it made sense.

She wasn't just a mouthpiece for the World Government—she was a weapon.

No wonder she acted with such disdain. She had the power to back it up.

"Enough posturing," Nack said lazily, twisting open another bottle of wine. He clearly had no concept of limits. "We're not here to waste time. When the top war begins, don't flinch. If things go south, call us. We'll clean up."

Xia gave Sengoku one last sneer. "We'll end it. Just stay out of our way."

She wanted to continue boasting—but just then, a brubrubrubru! echoed from the wreckage of the ruined desk.

The phone bug had survived the blast.

Sengoku, gritting his teeth, retrieved it. "This is Marshal Sengoku. Speak."

The voice that came through was panicked—one of the senior officers from the Naval Communications Division.

Normally, they handled routine intel. For them to reach out directly meant one thing: an emergency.

"Marshal! Major incident! Golden Lion Shiki of the Flying Pirates has appeared—on Sianig Island!"

Sengoku's face turned pale.

"He's declared his intention to ally with Roger and conquer the world. And… there's a video, sir. He used his powers to compress the entire island into a ball. Over 100,000 residents... all dead."

The words hit Sengoku like a hammer.

Golden Lion Shiki… was back?

No… no, no, no!

His mind spiraled.

Roger, Whitebeard, Red-Haired Shanks, and now Shiki? One of the most dangerous pirates in history?

This wasn't a war anymore.

It was a cataclysm.

Panic surged through Sengoku's body as he realized—

They were all coming back.

And the Navy wasn't ready.

Not even close.