One day later, beneath fair skies and tranquil winds, the sea stretched endlessly in all directions.
Soon, an island emerged on the horizon, a colossal fortress standing atop it. Viewed from above, the landmass resembled the shape of a crescent moon. Warships of all sizes encircled the island, anchored in a formidable perimeter.
The island hosted a sprawling military base and a large town where the families of naval personnel resided. Massive cannons lined the coastline, and at the port, dozens of Marine battleships stood ready. On the face of the fortress were two massive kanji characters—"海軍" (Marine)—flanking the iconic seagull insignia. Atop the stronghold were offices and meeting rooms for the Fleet Admiral, Admirals, and Vice Admirals, along with manicured lawns, vibrant flora, and trees swaying in the breeze.
This was the heart of Marine justice, the symbol of law and order across the seas—
Under the banner of Absolute Justice, Marineford represented the bastion against evil, a fortress many considered the last hope for peace in the age of piracy.
A hundred uniformed Marines stood at attention in two perfect rows. A red carpet stretched across the dock, and as Aeridar stepped onto it, a sharp trumpet call echoed from a watchtower.
"Warlord of the Sea, Chris T. Aeridar has arrived!"
He wore a long black coat patterned with white waves. His chest was bare, revealing a hideous scar that cut across his torso. A golden hoop earring gleamed from both ear. Aeridar walked forward with a sunlit smile, unfazed by the wary gazes of the Marines who lined his path toward the towering fortress.
Though Aeridar was a pirate, he was a force to be reckoned with, a man whose overwhelming strength had earned the recognition of the World Government and the Marines alike. Strength always demanded respect, no matter the uniform.
"Aeridar-dono, this way please."
A young Marine Commander, dressed in a jacket of justice, stepped forward to guide him.
Aeridar nodded politely and followed without hesitation.
To be honest, Aeridar was a little taken aback.
"A pirate like me... being welcomed at Marine Headquarters? What a strange feeling."
They walked in silence through the fortress: past the first floor, then the second, then the third... until finally, they arrived at the sixth floor.
"Aeridar-dono, we've arrived. Please go in."
The young officer gestured to a door.
Aeridar gave a courteous nod, then turned and pushed the door open.
It was a vast room, centered around a large oval table. Around it were bookshelves, liquor cabinets, floor vases, and well-placed furnishings that made the spacious chamber feel lived-in rather than empty.
But the most striking presence in the room?
The three men seated inside.
The first was seated in a recliner, towering and bear-like in stature, broad and impassive. His massive frame rivaled that of Gecko Moria, and his gloved hands held a thick Bible.
He was one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea:
Bartholomew Kuma, the Tyrant.
Beside him, in the third seat, sat a man with slicked-back hair and a cigar clenched between his teeth. A stitched scar ran horizontally across his nose, and his sharp eyes radiated arrogance and disdain. Gold rings adorned his right thumb and pinky, while his left hand had been replaced with a massive golden hook. He wore a black fur-collared coat over a checkered orange shirt, paired with a blue scarf and brown slacks.
Crocodile, the Desert King.
The last man leaned lazily against a window frame, dressed in flamboyant pink feathers. A white shirt exposed his bare chest beneath the plumage, and white capris flared with flame-patterned hems. His short blond hair glinted under his sunglasses, and his tall frame exuded menace even in repose.
Donquixote Doflamingo, the Heavenly Yaksha.
As Aeridar entered, all three turned to look at him.
"Fufufufu~ The rookie arrives. We meet again."
Doflamingo grinned with that signature cruel smirk.
Crocodile remarked dryly, exhaling a puff of smoke.
Kuma didn't speak. He looked at Aeridar once, then silently returned to reading his Bible.
"Hahahaha! Standing in the presence of such legends, I admit, I'm a bit humbled!"
Aeridar laughed heartily as he glanced around the room, then pulled out a chair beside Crocodile and sat down.
For a moment, everything within Aeridar went still, his mind calmed to utter silence.
But his body? His body burned with heat, as if a hidden switch had just been thrown open.
"Fufufu~ Don't lie. That's not the kind of man you are."
Doflamingo chuckled, amused. He hopped down from the window, hands in his pockets, and strutted across the floor with his exaggerated swagger.
He leapt onto the oval table, settling right in front of Aeridar with a smirk.
"To be honest, I'm curious. A rookie, barely a year into the seas, just how long have you been holding back?"
Hearing that, both Crocodile and Kuma looked over again, eager to hear the reply.
Aeridar didn't flinch.
"Ever since Roger sparked the Great Pirate Era, the tides of this world have only grown stronger. Me? I'm just trying to ride the wave... without getting swallowed whole."
He met Doflamingo's stare directly, smiling without fear.
"Fufufufu~ Well said. That's the simplest, most effective ambition of all. Those swallowed by the wave, no matter how far ahead they run, are still losers in the end."
Doflamingo laughed darkly.
Then Kuma spoke, his voice like quiet thunder.
"And what of the Yonko? With their strength growing by the day... are you prepared to step into the New World?"
Even Crocodile, ever indifferent, let a flicker of something—doubt, curiosity, pass through his eyes.
Doflamingo tilted his head slightly, gazing at Kuma's unreadable face. No one could tell what he was thinking.
Aeridar's smile turned sharp, predatory.
"Preparation? That's just another word for fist size. Sure, the Navy failed to subjugate the New World, but they left their mark. The Yonko took their wounds, no matter how small."
He leaned forward, eyes glinting.
"Now's the time they're licking those wounds, rebuilding their forces in silence. Whether you're the Navy or a Yonko... everyone's playing it safe."
"Which means the ones in the ring now? They're silver-tier players at best."
"And me? Why would I lose to them? Don't you think so too, Bartholomew Kuma?"
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