In the middle stretch of the Grand Line, on the summit of the Red Line, lies the Holy Land, Mary Geoise.

Generally speaking, there are only two ways to enter the New World from the first half of the Grand Line. The first is to scale the Red Line and pass through Mary Geoise, while the second is to dive 10,000 meters below the sea to traverse the undersea Fish-Man Island, which sits beneath the Red Line.

The first route requires applying to the World Government for passage through Mary Geoise, which sits atop the Red Line. While the process is expensive and time-consuming, it is by far the safer option.

However, this route has nothing to do with pirates.

As the residence of the so-called "descendants of creators," the Celestial Dragons, and the headquarters of the World Government, Mary Geoise is permanently guarded by a Marine Admiral, alongside stationed naval forces, CP agents, the Holy Guard, and countless other protective measures.

Choosing this route would be akin to suicide for pirates. Any pirate with half a brain would opt for the second route: coating their ship in Yarukiman Mangrove resin, diving 10,000 meters to Fish-Man Island, and passing through the enormous cavern beneath the Red Line.

Although this second route poses significant risks, such as Sea Kings, Fish-Man attacks, or even underwater volcanic eruptions, it still offers a glimmer of survival, as opposed to the certain death of confronting an admiral.

After all, not everyone is like Luffy, blessed with both incredible luck and a powerful background.

In the first half of the Grand Line, even so-called "Supernovas" with bounties over 100 million berries are nothing but fodder. Facing an admiral? Forget it—they’d struggle even against a Pacifista.

Panting heavily, a Marine urgently reported within the grand "Room of Authority" at Mary Geoise’s central Pangaea Castle.

"Report: All bubble elevators leaving Mary Geoise have been destroyed by the rebels! The enemy has breached the entrance of the ascending staircase!"

"Understood. You are dismissed. Instruct all stationed Marine commanders to hold their positions at all costs," a white-haired elder with a bushy beard, leaning on a wooden cane, said from his plush seat on a soft couch. His tone betrayed no emotion.

"Yes, sir!"

Click!

The Marine saluted and swiftly left. As the door closed, the snail transponder on the coffee table began to ring.

Buru~ Buru~ Buru~

Click!

"Do you have results? Where are Sakazuki and his Marines?" St. Marcus Mars asked sternly as he picked up the transponder.

"..."

For a moment, there was no response. The elders exchanged confused glances.

"CP0! What’s going on? Speak up! Did something happen with the Marines, or did you encounter an ambush from the rebels?" said another elder—St. Ethanbaron V. Nusjuro—impatiently.

Taking a deep breath on the other end of the line, the CP0 operative finally responded, his voice grave. "The Marines are still mobilizing. It will take time."

"They’ve already begun mobilizing? Good. Tell Sakazuki to move quickly! The New World can be abandoned if necessary..."

Hmm?

The elder holding the samurai sword abruptly fell silent, his words cut off as if he’d been choked.

The other elders furrowed their brows, their gazes shifting back toward the transponder snail.

"Still mobilizing? Still at the New World headquarters?" The elder with white curls raised his voice sharply.

"What is Sakazuki doing?! Put him on the line! We’ll ask him ourselves!"

Moments later, the transponder snail shifted, its features morphing into the iconic Marine cap of Sakazuki. From its mimicry of his expression to his gravelly voice, the snail perfectly replicated the Admiral’s persona.

"This is Sakazuki."

"What the hell is going on, Sakazuki? You’ve been stalling for time, and even CP0 has gone to you in person! Why haven’t you moved yet?" demanded the blond elder.

"Nothing much," Sakazuki replied blandly, as though discussing the weather.

"I’m responsible for my Marines. Mobilizing troops and supplies takes time. New World garrisons must remain vigilant—"

"Do you think you’re above us?! Are you trying to shirk your duty?!" shouted an elder with a bald head, an eight-shaped mustache, and a distinctive birthmark on his forehead.

"Responsible for the Marines? Everything you have was given by the World Government!" he snapped.

Sakazuki frowned, his restrained anger simmering. "The Marines paid in blood to secure our New World territories. You’re telling me to hand them over to pirates?!"

"Sakazuki, mind your tone! The Marines are merely a subordinate institution of the World Government. Know your place!" snarled the bald elder, his voice frosty. "I am ordering you to halt all operations in the New World immediately!"

"I understand. I’ll return to provide reinforcements, but preparations must be made," Sakazuki replied, his voice turning steely.

"The rebels are not to be underestimated. Rushing back unprepared would only lead to more deaths. I won’t stand by and watch my soldiers die in vain!"

With that, Sakazuki ended the call abruptly, leaving the Five Elders staring at the disconnected line in silence.

The tension between them was palpable.

"He dares to disobey orders outright. That ’Red Dog’ has grown too bold," muttered the white-haired elder, his tone cold.

"It seems we made a mistake in choosing him two years ago," the blond elder said darkly. "Once the rebels are dealt with, the Marine leadership will need to change."

"Agreed."

"Seconded."

"Unanimous."

"The Marines grow increasingly unruly. We’ll seek Lord Imu for guidance," said the elder wielding the samurai sword gravely.

Meanwhile, outside Pangaea Castle, the so-called impregnable Holy Land of Mary Geoise was once again consumed by flames of war.

Following the fall of the Sabaody Archipelago, the enormous port city of Red Harbor at the base of the Red Line had quickly succumbed as well.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Explosions echoed incessantly, the sound reaching the ears of every Celestial Dragon. Shells rained down upon their opulent estates.

Mary Geoise, once resplendent in gold and grandeur, now seemed a canvas painted with fire. Red-orange fireballs blossomed like flowers across the skyline, a stunning yet devastating spectacle.

The destruction was absolute.

Palatial architecture crumbled into ruins. Lush gardens became infernos. The serene sky turned hellish, the smoke and flames transforming the scene into a nightmarish vision of the underworld.

On the "automatic" (slave-powered) roads, once bustling with activity, now lay wounded soldiers groaning in agony. The air was thick with the stench of blood and burning flesh.

Field hospitals were overwhelmed. Celestial Dragons, ever prideful, refused to provide shelter for the wounded. As a result, the wide ceremonial avenues had been turned into makeshift triage centers.

Amidst the chaos, a blood-soaked medic worked tirelessly. His hands trembled as he tied yet another crude bandage around a soldier’s wound.

Rising shakily, he glanced toward the heavily fortified entrance to the staircase leading into Mary Geoise.

There, the deafening clash of weapons and screams echoed, accompanied by columns of black smoke spiraling into the heavens.

"How much longer can we hold out?" he muttered, his voice filled with despair.

The Imperial Army advanced too quickly. Supplies stockpiled at Red Harbor had no time to be transported and instead fell into enemy hands. Mary Geoise had been entirely severed from its connection to the Four Seas.

Ratatatatat!

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!

On the battlefield shrouded in gunfire and thick smoke, Marine soldiers armed with flintlock rifles fell one after another, fighting desperately to hold their ground.

The corpses of both Imperial and Marine soldiers lay strewn across the plains before the entrance to the ascending staircase. The ground quaked violently, and the surrounding palaces had already been leveled to rubble.

Bang!

"Charge with me!"

Shouting orders, a Marine Vice Admiral cloaked in Armament Haki cut down several black-armored light infantry soldiers before leading a squad of elite Marines armed with longswords and heavy axes to clash with the Imperial Army.

The Marines divided their forces efficiently: the front line wielded heavy axes and longswords to engage in close combat, while the rear provided cover fire with flintlocks and small-caliber cannons.

Exploiting the high ground and the disorganization of the landing Imperial forces, the Marines pushed back, expanding their tactical advantage.

At the forefront was the Marine Vice Admiral, who personally led the charge. Armed with a sword in one hand and a clenched fist in the other, he tore through the enemy ranks with relentless precision.

His courageous display rallied the Marines behind him. Motivated by his example, they charged with fervent war cries, forcing a counterattack.

Yet even so, the Imperial auxiliary forces—though not the Imperial main army—showed no signs of yielding. Without needing orders from overseers, these soldiers roared their own battle cries and surged forward in response.

For them, war meant honor, merit, and the chance to change their family’s fate. Death was not a deterrent but a cost worth paying if they could take down just one enemy. The real-time recording devices in their helmets ensured that their kills would be credited to them and, if they fell, transferred to their families.

They had no fear of death.

"For the Empire!"

"For Justice!"

The two sides clashed with deafening roars. No one retreated. As soldiers fell, those behind immediately stepped forward to fill the gap. The battlefield echoed with agonizing screams and the sounds of blades piercing flesh and bone.

Whoosh—Squelch!

"Argh!"

A Marine ensign was struck by a laser beam, clutching his abdomen as his intestines spilled out. Desperately trying to shove them back into his body, he let out a blood-curdling scream.

But mercy was not forthcoming.

Bang, bang, bang!

As he stumbled, the Imperial soldiers zeroed in on him, riddling his body with bullets until he collapsed atop the growing pile of corpses.

Gradually, the dead piled higher and higher, forming small mountains at the entrance to Mary Geoise’s ascending staircase.

But it was far from over. More and more auxiliary troops from the Empire climbed over the corpse-mounds, joining the fray.

Blood soaked into the dirt, turning it a thick, muddy red. The battlefield was painted in human blood, mingling with the churned earth to create a grotesque landscape.

As time dragged on, the Imperial Army sent in its main force, the common auxiliary units bolstered by fresh waves of soldiers. The Marines’ defenses began to falter, and their line fell back step by step.

"Damn it! We have to hold this line! If the staircase entrance falls and the rebels secure a landing zone, we’re doomed!"

"Where is Admiral Green Bull? And the CP0 reinforcements? The staircase must not fall!"

The Vice Admiral, his face burned and flesh seared from repeated laser strikes, ignored his gruesome injuries. His concern was solely on the crumbling defense line.

At that moment—

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Thud, thud, thud!

Buzz—Wham!

The distinctive sound of explosive bolts echoed across the battlefield, catching the Vice Admiral’s attention. Unlike the sharp cracks of flintlock rifles or the hum of laser guns, this sound carried a deep, thunderous resonance.

It was not the sound of rifles but artillery—explosive rounds breaking the sound barrier.

"Careful! It’s those heavy-armored—"

Before he could finish, he felt a sudden wave of heat across his face. One of his soldiers standing directly in front of him was torn in half by a single round.

Massive sprays of blood and chunks of viscera erupted from the soldier’s torso like a grotesque geyser, drenching nearby Marines in gore.

And then—

Dozens of smoldering shock grenades spun through the air, crashing through barricades like cannonballs.

Boom, boom!

In an instant, blinding flashes and deafening blasts erupted, disorienting the Marines and halting their counteroffensive.

"General Leiva has arrived with the Third Legion of the Astartes Black Templars! By order of Commander Sanguinius!"

"Secure the landing zone, advance step by step into enemy territory, eliminate salient positions, and compress their operational space. Converge and annihilate!"

Amidst the smoke and chaos, voices barked orders as flashes of fire lit up the battlefield.

Boom, boom, boom, boom!

"Forward! Honor the blood of Selene!"

"For the Empress!"

The Vice Admiral’s position was obliterated in a matter of seconds, overwhelmed by the concentrated firepower.

"Iron Body!"

Boom, boom, boom!

Even with Armament Haki reinforcing his Iron Body defense, the secondary explosions of the standard explosive bolts tore through him, leaving dozens of gory craters across his body.

"Argh!"

His bones felt like they had been shattered into fragments. Dropping to his knees, the Vice Admiral, now a mangled heap of blood and flesh, opened his one remaining eye just in time to see the whirling, chainsaw-like blade of a heavy axe descending toward him.

Squelch!

The world spun, and the last image in his fading vision was of his defensive line breaking apart. The crimson-armored warriors cut down his soldiers without mercy.

"Report to the Five Elders! The red-armored warriors have joined the battle, and the staircase entrance has fallen! The rebels are advancing up the—"

Huddled behind cover, a Marine officer clutched a transponder snail, frantically shouting into it.

Before he could finish, a barrage of rockets exploded nearby, filling his mouth with sand from the blast wave.

When he finally raised his head, a black muzzle greeted him.

Bang!

"Advance! Compress their space!"

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