Leiva Wants to Negotiate a Surrender!

One Minute Ago – Pangaea Castle, Room of Flowers, the Heart of Mary Geoise.

"Lord Imu, we have failed. The rebels have defeated Admiral 'Green Bull,' who was stationed to protect Mary Geoise, and they have now breached the Red Line."

The Five Elders, the highest authorities of the World Government, bowed deeply. Their heads nearly touched the ground as they knelt before the supreme Empty Throne. Their postures were reverent, their tone humble.

Shrouded in shadow, clad in flowing robes with an exaggeratedly tall crown, the individual known as Lord Imu emerged from her private garden.

Her figure was slender and tall, her delicate limbs framed by the shadows. Feminine features were discernible even in the dim light.

Sitting upon the throne, Imu looked down upon the Five Elders, her piercing dark-red eyes radiating an unsettling aura.

"I already know why you've come. I will handle it," she said softly, her voice ethereal.

Her eyes, an eerie crimson, glowed faintly in the dim chamber. The pupils swirled like endless rings of a cyclical void.

"But," Imu's tone shifted abruptly, her voice now icy and biting, "you allowed them to breach Mary Geoise? Utter incompetence. The rebels, CP0's failures, the siege on Mary Geoise, and the discord among the Marines—all of these are your responsibilities to bear."

"Yes, Lord Imu," the Five Elders responded without daring to look up. If anyone else had accused them so harshly, they would have retaliated without hesitation. But before Lord Imu, the true master of the World Government, they could only obey.

For eight centuries, Imu had silently reigned from the Empty Throne, guiding the World Government from behind the scenes. The Five Elders served as her front-facing representatives, accountable solely to her.

Imu waved her hand dismissively. "For now, I will not hold you accountable. The priority is to eliminate the rebels. It's time to awaken a power that has slumbered for eight hundred years."

"Go now. I expect good news soon. Any existence that defies or threatens the World Government must be eradicated while it's still in the cradle."

As she spoke, Imu's gaze suddenly shot upward. Her pupils constricted as if sensing an imminent threat.

"Something's wrong…!"

A mortal peril loomed, and in the next instant, light erupted from every corner of the chamber. Even the deepest recesses of Pangaea Castle were illuminated.

BOOOOOM!

Pangaea Castle was gone. Mary Geoise was gone.

When the orbital strike from the Imperial Fortress - Particle Lance fell, it obliterated everything.

As the weapon's energy output escalated, the pillar of destruction widened, shifting from an orange glow to a horrifying violet-red hue.

The brilliance of the sun was overshadowed. The skies turned an ominous shade of purple. The atmosphere ignited, filling the air with a sharp, suffocating stench of ozone.

In this instant, everyone—whether a "lowly" slave captured by the Celestial Dragons or the "noble descendants of the creators" themselves—was equalized beneath the Lance's judgment.

Centered on Pangaea Castle, a supernova of violet energy erupted, its light a thousand times brighter than the sun. The Red Line's peak burned in the fires of divine retribution.

The light expanded with terrifying speed, consuming everything within a 50-kilometer radius. Those trapped within, already scorched by the radiant heat, screamed in agony as their skin sloughed off, leaving behind charred flesh.

The fires spread rapidly, creating an inferno hundreds of kilometers wide. Entire forests ignited in an instant, sending plumes of smoke billowing into the atmosphere.

Within 20 kilometers of the epicenter, the destruction was absolute. Buildings that once symbolized Celestial Dragon opulence crumbled as if made of sand. The intense heat turned everything to ash, while debris, set alight, rained down like meteor showers, even reaching the seas below.

Some observers met their ends in cruel irony. Ships stationed too close to Mary Geoise were struck by flaming debris, their crews engulfed in firestorms.

As the Lance's destructive radius reached its programmed limit, the immense pillar of light retracted in an instant, leaving nothing behind but devastation.

In the skies above, an immense shockwave cleared the heavens, leaving a perfectly circular void where clouds once roamed. The residual halo of compressed air lingered, a testament to the sheer power unleashed.

Hovering effortlessly amidst the fading shockwave, Sanguinius marveled at the devastation.

"Destruction is always easier than creation," he remarked quietly.

Alyssa, still clutching her camera, snapped one last photo before clapping her hands excitedly.

"Magnificent! So this is why you didn't start with orbital strikes, Sanguinius. Such restraint—you're so kind, truly!"

Despite her sarcastic tone, there was genuine admiration in her words. Alyssa had a unique appreciation for Sanguinius's disciplined approach.

As one of Selene's most favored creations, Sanguinius stood apart from his peers. His warmth and composure were unparalleled among the Astartes Primarchs.

Unlike some of his more brutal counterparts, Sanguinius harbored no innate disdain for ordinary humans, no prejudice against conquered populations, and no arrogance toward his subordinates.

"Had it been Leman Russ or Azem handling this…" Leiva chimed in, crossing his arms. "I doubt this beautiful world would have survived their 'tender care.'"

Leiva's teasing earned a slight smile from Sanguinius. "You flatter me, Leiva, and you too, Lady Alyssa. But I am no saint. Like all of us, I am a killer."

Shaking his head, Sanguinius continued, his tone steady.

"I refrained from orbital bombardments to preserve this beautiful world, yes. But more importantly, it was to train our recruits and sift through them for promising talent."

The harsh reality of war dictated Sanguinius's choices.

The auxiliary and conscripted forces needed experience to weed out the weak and reward the strong. Soldiers thirsted for victory and glory; they needed battlefields to claim trophies and rise through the ranks.

Astartes recruits were typically drawn from the Imperial capital's elite guards. However, exceptions were made for outstanding candidates from auxiliary forces.

Auxiliaries were primarily recruited from Imperial territories, consisting of conscripted soldiers and volunteers. Their recruits might hail from conquered worlds or be former members of the defeated armies.

At the bottom rung were the conscripts from subjugated worlds. Their lives and labor were exacted as part of the Empire's tithe: one-tenth of all resources and population between the ages of 20 to 40.

From the perspective of the Empire, everyone and everything had a role to play—even in the fires of annihilation.

The Empire conducts two types of recruitment.

The first type is an annual conscription quota.

The second type is imposed immediately upon incorporating a world into the Empire, with subsequent conscriptions at irregular intervals as determined by each Legion's Chapter Master.

Typically, a second conscription occurs no sooner than five years after the initial one.

For individual conscriptions from a single world, a report to the Imperial Ministry of War is sufficient to execute the process after filing. However, mass conscription across multiple worlds requires Selene's direct approval.

On the battlefield, under the Empire's overwhelming "martial virtue" and the allure of the military meritocracy, the combat prowess of the auxiliary forces often defied expectations.

Selene had drawn lessons from ancient legalist philosophers, and those principles now flourished within the Empire, unleashing unimaginable potential.

In short, the Empire's stability and prosperity depended on war. Society craved it; soldiers required battlefields to earn glory and advancement.

The sudden cataclysm left all onlookers utterly dumbfounded, causing widespread uproar.

Though many knew Mary Geoise was under siege and the World Government was on the defensive, the complete destruction of their stronghold still seemed inconceivable.

"Eight hundred years of rule… overturned, just like that?"

A spy disguised among a group of journalists let the Den Den Mushi in his arms slip from his fingers, staring blankly at the scene unfolding before him.

Click.

"Mary Geoise has been destroyed… This means the World Government, which has ruled the world for eight centuries, has fallen?!"

At the Red Line's summit, the pinnacle of global authority had been reduced to rubble. The once-grand city, a beacon of power and prosperity, had vanished as though swept away by an invisible hand.

In the observer's line of sight, debris hurled skyward by the orbital light lance obscured the heavens. Flaming fragments of the shattered Red Line rained down like meteors, casting fiery trails as they plunged into the seas below.

The sheer magnitude of the event overwhelmed him. Even as a nearby vessel was struck by a blazing fragment, exploding in a fiery bloom on the ocean, his mind remained fixated on the colossal implications of the destruction.

"This is monumental! Quick, inform the editor-in-chief—this is headline news! Mary Geoise has been destroyed! A new ruler will soon emerge!"

The cry from a professional journalist of the World Economy News Paper snapped the gathered spies to attention. Their stunned silence broke as they scrambled to report the World Government's downfall to their respective factions.

"Quick, report to Fleet Admiral Sakazuki! Mary Geoise is gone—the World Government has fallen!"

"Notify Commander Dogra immediately. The World Government has been toppled—what are our next steps?"

"Inform the Admiral! The World Government is no more!"

"Tell Big Mom! Mary Geoise has vanished!"

"Quick, notify Big Brother…"

"Inform the Young Master…"

The scene was apocalyptic.

Once a grand city, Mary Geoise now lay in ruins, much of it annihilated. The scarring from the orbital lance left the Red Line permanently branded with its destruction.

Beyond the vast circular crater marking the epicenter, a hastily erected defensive perimeter stretched across the surrounding land, nearly a kilometer away.

Astartes warriors deactivated their energy shields, which had been deployed to protect against the orbital strike's residual effects.

Knightmare battle units, previously prone in defensive positions, rose to their full height. Auxiliary and conscript soldiers emerged cautiously from behind the mechanical titans, shields raised as they surveyed the aftermath.

The sight of three descending figures soon drew roars of approval from the troops. Battle cries and cheers filled the air, celebrating their victorious commanders.

"Unlike nuclear weapons, the orbital lance is far more precise. Its destructive radius is limited to predefined energy parameters, without leaving behind pesky residual radiation zones," explained Sanguinius as he gracefully alighted alongside Alyssa and Leiva.

"Releasing energy at a radius of 50 kilometers—just enough to annihilate all remaining resistance—ensures minimal damage to the Red Line's structural integrity."

"Lady Alyssa, Lord Leiva, behold."

Sanguinius gestured toward the massive circular crater before them. Its floor was a dazzling crystalline plain, formed by the intense heat that had vitrified the ground during the strike.

The prismatic glass reflected countless hues, covering the entire pit in a shimmering expanse.

At its core, the area where the lance's energy had struck directly, molten lava churned and rolled, its searing heat palpable even at a distance.

"This place," Sanguinius declared, "shall become the site of a new citadel for the Blood Angels. From here, the Empire will establish its dominion over this world, standing high above the seas."

"Hmm?" His expression shifted suddenly. "There's still life down there?"

"Indeed," Alyssa confirmed, tilting her head in curiosity. "I sense it, though the presence is faint. That thing is still alive."

"Shall we go and sever its head?" she asked.

"No need for such trouble," Sanguinius replied with a shake of his head. "Let it die spectacularly."

Without unsheathing his blade, Sanguinius calmly issued orders through his command channel:

"Order: Orbital Fortress, prepare for a second strike. Energy output at three kilometers. Precise targeting. Fire."

HUMMM—BOOM!

The violet beam once again pierced the skies, descending upon the molten core.

Lowering his head slightly as if in solemn respect, Sanguinius murmured, "Farewell."

When the light faded, Alyssa facepalmed in amusement. "Well… it should be dead this time. You sly devil, Sanguinius—you've got a sneaky streak, don't you?"

Leiva clapped his hands and turned toward his companions with a satisfied smile. "That's it, then. This campaign is over. All that remains is conquering the Grand Line's New World."

Leaning forward eagerly, he continued, "Sanguinius, we should split up. I've just received word from the forward units heading toward the New World—they've made contact with a faction identifying itself as the Marine Headquarters. It seems they're open to negotiating a surrender. I plan to oversee this myself."

"Very well," Sanguinius agreed, nodding. "Lord Leiva, you handle the negotiations. I'll lead the Blood Angels to exterminate the pirates entrenched in the New World. Let's finish this swiftly."

"Excellent!" Leiva exclaimed. "Let's conclude this campaign. His Majesty awaits our victory."

"Wait a minute!" Alyssa interjected, glaring at them both. "What about me?"

When neither Leiva nor Sanguinius immediately responded, she stomped her foot in frustration.

The two men exchanged a helpless glance. Then Sanguinius offered a suggestion:

"Lady Alyssa, weren't you curious about the Fish-Men and Merfolk? Perhaps this would be a good opportunity to investigate…"

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