One Piece: The Dragon All-Star - 194

Chapter 194: The Marines Respond

At the same time, at the headquarters of the World Economy News Paper, Big News Morgans threw the full weight of his media empire behind the biggest headline of the age.

Across every regional branch and printing line, presses screamed at unprecedented speeds, drums thundered, ink sprayed, and sheet after sheet swallowed world-shaking copy.

Tens of thousands of trained News Coo took wing like a white tide, carrying papers still smelling of fresh ink to every corner of the world.

He issued a kill order to his staff: within twenty-four hours, this story that would reshape the seas had to be heard in every ocean.

By noon, when the edition still warm from the presses hit town squares, ports, merchant tables, and the desks of every power that mattered, the whole sea trembled.

The front page carried no decoration, no fluff—only one bold, enormous line:

“The Strongest Pirate Crew in History Is Born.”

Marine Headquarters, Marineford.

The bastion of Justice still buzzed with its usual order and urgency. Officers in “Justice” coats and soldiers on tight schedules crossed courtyards and corridors in a constant flow.

Then a shout, cracking with disbelief, sliced through the noise.

“Kaido lost! The Beasts Pirates’ new captain is Kai!”

“What?!”

Feet stopped in unison.

Faces turned toward the colleague waving the paper, red-faced.

Marines swarmed him instantly.

When their eyes found the front-page photo—Kaido the “Beast,” once untouchable, limp and bloodied in Kai’s talons—their voices broke into a storm of shock.

Inside the Fleet Admiral’s office, the air was so heavy it felt like it could drip.

Sengoku sat at the head of the table, Akainu and Aokiji among the senior brass gathered around the open paper, all wearing the same hard frown.

“Too fast,” a veteran vice admiral said, face dark.

His finger jabbed at Kai’s photo.

“How long has it even been? And Kai beat Kaido head-on.”

Worse, after losing, Kaido had chosen to submit… and stay under Kai’s flag.

If the man had any pride, he would have taken the loyal remnants and walked out of Wano.

Instead, the Beasts Pirates had finished a terrifying evolution in one stroke—now a crew with two emperor-level monsters at the top.

Just thinking about it made scalp prickle.

“The sky over the New World is going to change,” Sengoku said.

Fingers steepled under his chin, he scanned each officer.

“The situation has deteriorated. We need a plan. Ideas?”

“We cannot sit back and let the Beasts keep swelling,” Akainu said first, voice low and hot.

“The Marines must move immediately, intervene in the New World, and remind them this sea is not theirs to run wild.”

“But, Sakazuki,” Aokiji leaned back, voice lazy as ever, but cutting to the point, “the reality is we cannot make large-scale moves right now.”

“Vice Admiral Tsuru’s internal purge has been effective, but the damage to the Marines is real.”

When you cut out rot, good flesh suffers.

The investigations alone had already slowed the organization down.

Worse, the Revolutionary Army had seized the opening, stirring up trouble across the Four Seas while the Marines’ eyes were turned inward.

Over the last year, they had toppled more than a few kingdoms.

“The purge has begun well. That means we have to see it through,” Akainu shot back, unmoving.

“If we cannot move whole fleets, then we send elite units into the New World. We must show the flag.”

No one looked surprised at his stance.

Even though the hawks he led had taken the worst losses in the purge due to their harsh methods and messy membership, Akainu himself had been one of Tsuru’s strongest backers from the start.

“Corruption inside is more dangerous than enemies outside,” he had said in council.

That shared conviction—backed by Sengoku and the admirals—was the only reason Tsuru’s reforms had survived the pressure.

Sengoku rubbed at his temples, feeling the headache dig deeper.

Kai’s timing could not have been crueler.

Everyone knew that once the Marines finished this bone-deep cleansing, their overall strength and cohesion would climb to a new level.

But here, in the dark just before dawn, at their weakest, the Beasts had merged into one.

“Send the elites, but do not strike first,” Sengoku said at last.

“Kuzan, you will handle it. Pick an absolutely top-flight unit and reinforce G-1 and the other main bases in the New World at once.”

“But remember the primary mission: defensive posture and observation. Without my order, do not provoke a Yonko crew.”

With Aokiji in front and Kizaru already stationed in the New World, having two admirals on that line let Sengoku ease his grip a fraction.

If the worst happened, with them there, the Marines could at least save a root and a spark for the future.

“In the end, we are still stretched too thin,” Sengoku sighed, kneading his brow.

What had the world come to?

Revolutionaries fanning fires within, pirates churning storms without.

For true top-tier force, the Marines felt painfully bare.

It might be time to put a real expansion and force-boost plan on paper.

The thought alone made his head pound.

Asking Mary Geoise for money was like pulling teeth from dragons. The Celestial Dragons took and never gave; they were stingy to the bone.

Every budget request became a grinding tug‑of‑war, forcing him to rehearse the same arguments again and again.

The World Government cut checks for the CP without blinking, but when the Marines held out their hand, they were treated like stepchildren.

Still, the Beasts’ sudden rise handed him a perfect reason—one even the Five Elders would struggle to refuse.

The Beasts Pirates were now comparable to the Rocks Pirates.

No—stronger, given how fractured Rocks had been.

The moment that thought broke the surface, Sengoku wanted to curse.

Brrup-brrup-brrup—

The special Den Den Mushi on his desk rang.

The Five Elders?

The thought flared.

He took a steadying breath and lifted the receiver.

“Sengoku, drop everything and come to Mary Geoise. Now!”

The order left no room to argue.

Of course.

They could not sit still either.

Sengoku answered in a low voice and moved at once.

In the Chamber of Authority, the mood was not the funereal weight he had expected.

The five men who ruled the world sat with a controlled ease that suggested confidence rather than panic.

“Sengoku,” said Saint Ethanbaron V. Nusjuro, the bald elder, “what is your assessment of the Beasts Pirates as they stand?”

What did they think he would say?

At the end of the day, whether reinforcements or anything else, it came down to one thing—funding.

He kept his face respectful and laid out his case for expansion and force enhancement in careful terms.

To his surprise, the Five Elders traded a look and nodded like they had expected exactly that.

“That is why we summoned you—to solve this problem for you, and for the Marines,” said Saint Jaygarcia Saturn, the white-haired elder.

“Under Dr. Vegapunk, several projects have reached decisive, mass-producible results. They can be put directly into your hands to strengthen the Marine force.”

“The Pacifista Program, or the Seraphim Program?” Sengoku straightened, instantly focused.

As Fleet Admiral, he knew all too well about Punk Hazard—the money pit that ate tithe-sized budgets every year.

The Marines had an admiral posted there for protection, and a sizable slice of the annual budget disappeared into those labs.

“Both,” Saturn said, and even he smiled a little.

“What? Is that confirmed?” The shock made Sengoku forget himself for a heartbeat.

“Are you doubting us?” Saint Shepherd Ju Peter, the blond elder, snorted.

“Never. It is just… extraordinarily heartening news,” Sengoku said quickly, mind racing.

“If you are worried, do not be,” Saturn went on, unhurried.

“Prototypes are complete. They have passed all combat evaluations. They can be delivered to you at any time.”

“That is excellent. Our force shortages are exactly where those units would hit,” Sengoku said, eyes brightening.

He knew exactly what those specs meant.

Pacifista would fill the gaping hole in Marine mid and low tiers, a steel tide to clear rabble and hold lines.

The even more powerful Seraphim were built to operate at a terrifying level between Vice Admiral and Admiral.

With them in play, admirals could finally free more time to handle the sea’s new shape.

Most importantly, they could be reproduced.

For the Marines as they stood, the news was a lifeline in a blizzard.

The Five Elders nodded it through with surprising ease, agreeing to hand the units over in one go.

“Of course, there is no free lunch,” Nusjuro said mildly.

“If you are to enjoy this benefit, you will shoulder the cost that comes with it.”

“The ongoing research, production, and maintenance of Pacifista and Seraphim will be drawn directly from your annual budget.”

With a few light words, the Marines’ budget had not grown—it had shrunk.

Sengoku’s brows pulled together, but he did not object.

As long as Pacifista and Seraphim met their numbers, sacrificing some routine budget was acceptable.

It meant fewer new bases next year, fewer new ships, fewer recruits.

Compared to the strategic value on the table, the trade was worth it.

He bowed and took his leave with a complicated heart.

Watching him go, Saint Marcus Mars stroked his long white mustache, worry tightening his eyes.

“Pacifista, very well. But the Seraphim—are we truly handing them to the Marines so easily?”

The former might reach vice admiral-level firepower at best.

The latter’s potential ran far deeper.

If the reports were to be believed, the newly born Seraphim could already erase a vice admiral with ease.

More importantly, unlike the low-intelligence, program-limited Pacifista, the Seraphim could grow.

They learned quickly, carried carefully chosen Devil Fruit powers, and bore the Lunarian bloodline.

Given time, their power might brush an admiral’s.

These were living weapons with no ceiling in sight.

“If you want the watchdog to tear the wolf, you throw it meat on the bone,” Saturn said with a thin smile.

“And in any case, Vegapunk’s greatest value to us has never been Pacifista or Seraphim.”

“It is the Mother Flame.”

He looked around at his peers.

“As long as the Marines can use these bones to buy us the time we need, to birth the Mother Flame, the price now is nothing.”

“If we do not hand them real chips, and we refuse to step in ourselves, the Beasts Pirates could, in truth, flatten Marine Headquarters in one blow.”

The other four were silent for a long moment before nodding, faces sour.

They could not deny it.

A Beasts Pirates with two emperors at the top was a threat that the World Government could not ignore.

But emptying the vaults and going all-in now for a total war with the Beasts?

Unacceptable.

The core power of the World Government did not move except at the critical hour.

For now, the Marines and Beasts could bleed each other.

Saturn had planned this for a while; confidence colored his tone.

“Relax. According to her latest report, the Mother Flame is progressing smoothly. In a few years at most, we will see the finished product.”

Once it was ready—once that thing could be activated—every threat and ripple on the board would shrink to nothing, solved at the root.

Saint Topman Warcury frowned.

“Is she reliable?”

Saturn’s smile deepened, the look of a man who believed he was holding every string.

“On this sea, no one can refuse the temptation to become a god.”