Open sea.
Yesterday morning—100 nautical miles from the Sabaody Archipelago.
The ocean roared with cannon fire and gunshots. Smoke blanketed the battlefield, the stench of blood thick in the air. Debris and corpses floated amid the wreckage, shattered masts, broken planks, drifting limbs, all painted crimson by the spreading slick of blood.
Amidst the carnage floated a massive warship, over a hundred meters long. Its red hull bore white gull patterns, and its towering mainmast flew the flag of the World Government. Flanking it were two heavily damaged naval escort ships, each around eighty meters long, flying the Marine seagull of justice.
Encircling them were seven or eight pirate ships of varying size, their black flags emblazoned with skull-and-crossbones fluttering with the sea wind. The balance of power was clear.
The World Government's ships were in ruins. Their hulls were riddled with shell holes and scorched by flame. Screams echoed from below deck. One Marine warship had a gaping hole nearly four meters wide in its midsection; seawater flooded the breach with each passing second, and the ship was clearly on the verge of sinking.
The two escort ships had fared worst. Dozens of craters and fissures marred their decks—some blasted open by cannonballs, others crushed by heavy weapons, and still more left by the devastating kicks of martial artists or the strikes of master swordsmen. Bodies littered the decks, the dead almost entirely clad in the signature blue slacks and white shirts of Marine uniforms. Only a handful wore the bizarre, colorful attire typical of pirates.
Severed limbs lay scattered across the blood-soaked wood. It was a slaughterhouse, a battlefield ruled by death. Weapons—swords, rifles, bayonets—were strewn across the deck, abandoned by those who had fallen. By all appearances, the Marines aboard the two escorts had been completely annihilated.
Meanwhile, several pirate ships had latched onto the largest vessel, the Government's primary battleship.
Pirates swarmed its decks. Hundreds of them spilled from gangplanks and ropes, shouting and hollering. Some wore tattered suits; others sported cobbled-together armor. They sprinted across the bloody deck, boots squelching in pooled gore, leaving crimson footprints as they kicked in doors, slaughtered the remaining crew, and looted everything not nailed down.
"Hahaha! Kill 'em all! Leave no one alive! Let the Navy's dogs and the Government's bastards learn I'm not someone to fuck with!"
The voice rang out loud and wild. Its owner had just stepped onto the Government warship—a towering man nearly three meters tall, with golden hair parted down the middle and a rugged, captain's longcoat in traditional brown. Golden embroidery glinted against the bloodstains. Beneath the coat, he wore a gray shirt patterned with ghostly skulls, tight black trousers, and black leather boots that rose past his knees.
His right hand held a bloodied longsword, still dripping red. In his left was a golden flintlock pistol.
His face was grotesque. One half looked almost handsome, sharp jawline, intense eyes. The other was a horror show: warped by burns, twisted with scar tissue, a visage that could freeze blood.
Suddenly, a panicked cry rang from the upper deck.
"N-No! You can't kill me! I'm a high-ranking official of the World Government! If you kill me, you'll be making an enemy of the entire Government—"
From the second-floor balcony, two pirates dragged a sweating, bloated man in a finely tailored suit toward the stairs. The man thrashed wildly, clearly terrified.
"Oho! A Government official, huh?" The pirate captain grinned, a strange, unsettling expression, as he strode toward the trembling man.
The two pirates shoved the man forward. One of them, bare-chested and grinning, gave the captain a quick salute. "Captain, this guy claims he's a top Government official. Should we kill him or hold him for ransom?"
The man's face twisted in abject terror.
"Y-You're… You're Gutte! Demon Mask Gutte!"
The moment he laid eyes on the captain, he shrieked like a frightened child. His legs gave out as he tried to crawl backward. He recognized the man, and the recognition broke him.
He knew exactly what kind of monster stood before him.
"Trash like this? Kill him." Gutte didn't even blink.
BANG.
The golden flintlock puffed out a thin trail of smoke. The fat man didn't even have time to beg. A neat hole had been punched into his forehead, right between the eyes.
Gutte blew casually on the barrel and scowled.
"Move faster. Kill everyone. Take everything."
"Aye aye, Captain!!" came the chorus of pirate voices.
...
Yesterday, noon. Marineford — Fleet Admiral's Office, top floor of Marine Headquarters Fortress.
Fleet Admiral Sengoku rubbed his temples, brow furrowed deep with worry. He slowly hung up the receiver of a Den Den Mushi.
The call had just come in from the Marine Division stationed near the Sabaody Archipelago.
They had reported that two Marine escort ships, tasked with protecting high-ranking World Government officials, had been ambushed by pirates. Both vessels had been sunk. Over seven hundred Marines were dead, including a Marine Captain. The primary Government flagship had been critically damaged.
Everyone aboard the main Government ship had been massacred: 1 Government dignitary, 13 mid-level officials, 11 prominent merchants, 105 CP agents, 247 bodyguards, and 316 private security personnel—all dead.
The attacker?
A notorious pirate from the New World with a bounty of 480 million Berries: Demon Mask Gutte.
An expert in swordsmanship, hand-to-hand combat, and firearms. Formerly commanded a force of over twenty pirate ships and more than five thousand men. Though his forces had been heavily crippled during a Marine Grand Expeditionary Fleet assault last month, Gutte had somehow survived. He'd vanished without a trace.
Now he had reappeared, in the first half of the Grand Line, and committed one of the most heinous acts imaginable.
Not long after, the Five Elders, the highest authorities of the World Government, called directly.
They issued an absolute order to Fleet Admiral Sengoku: the Demon Mask Pirates must be eradicated.
Their captain, Gutte, was to be captured alive or killed without mercy. The CP agencies would assist the Navy in the pursuit.
Sengoku, still troubled, looked around the room. Seated on the long sofas lining either side of the office were over a dozen Marine Vice Admirals and Rear Admirals.
"You all know the situation. If you have any opinions, speak now."
A gruff voice broke the silence. The man had a thick beard and wore the signature Marine "Justice" coat over a gray suit and black tie.
"First of all, this was a disastrous failure on our part. We failed to protect our escort targets, that much is our responsibility. The World Government's order is absolute, especially coming from the Five Elders. We have no choice but to deploy our forces and eliminate the Demon Mask Pirates."
Beside him, Vice Admiral Momonga added, "Vargos, the question is, where will those forces come from?"
Both were Vice Admirals of Marine Headquarters, and the tension in the room had only just begun to rise.
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