"Haha—"
As the sky brightened, the sounds of battle that had shaken the entire island finally began to fade.
At this moment, Bartholomew Redfield no longer resembled the elegant gentleman of the past. Instead, he looked as disheveled as Golden Lion Shiki after his great escape from Impel Down—his crimson hair and beard burned and frayed, his signature eyebrows scorched black. The once-pristine bat-handled umbrella in his grip was riddled with gashes, and remnants of black serpentine energy and ominous aura clung to his battered body.
"Truly…" Redfield slowly lifted his head toward the sky, his weary eyes reflecting the first light of dawn. "A brand-new era…"
His arms hung limply at his sides, drained of all strength.
Carl stood in silence across from him.
His body was still clad in a layer of pitch-black Armament Haki, resembling armor. The number '五' (Five) flickered in his scarlet right eye, while dark and ominous energy pulsed and swirled around him.
Against an opponent like this old relic, the effects of his [Human Path] ability had worked exceptionally well. The lifeforce-draining properties drastically reduced Redfield's endurance over time, forcing him into attrition. Meanwhile, the mental corrosion of [Killing Intent Battlefield] relentlessly chipped away at his psyche, whittling him down from both body and mind.
"…You learned it," Redfield muttered, his gaze falling upon the eerie Haki armor coating Carl's frame. A twitch formed at the corner of his lips.
This was his own signature application of Haki—a highly specialized technique that few could master.
Yet, in the midst of battle, Carl had completely replicated it.
"…Ha… ha… hahahaha…"
Redfield chuckled weakly.
"The will of the old era… will be passed down to you."
"Solomon Carl… In the end, you will sit upon that throne."
His voice grew weaker and weaker—until it finally vanished.
"…Dead?"
Carl's black armor receded, the crimson glow in his right eye dimming. His gaze lingered on the motionless form of Redfield, his emotions unreadable.
There was no longer any life force emanating from the body.
At that moment, the morning sun finally broke through the horizon, and a shaft of golden light spilled over Redfield's fallen form.
The sight of his corpse could send shivers down anyone's spine.
Blade wounds. Fist imprints. Even… bite marks.
His entire body was marred with horrific injuries, his flesh torn in places, bones barely holding together.
As he lay in death, the black lightning and ominous aura that had once cloaked him finally dissipated into the air.
Carl exhaled slowly, before reaching into his coat and pulling out a cigar.
A flick of a match. The flame caught the tip.
He inhaled.
Then, without another glance at the once-infamous "Lonely Red", Carl turned and began walking toward Bright and the others in the distance.
—
"Yes, the battle is over. Colonel Carl is returning."
Bright spoke into the Den Den Mushi with an upright posture, his tone serious.
"???"
Three question marks practically floated above Carl's head as his expression darkened.
"…Bright, who the hell are you talking to?"
Bright stiffened, but before he could respond—
The Den Den Mushi spoke first.
"Carl… It's me."
Carl blinked.
He watched as the snail's face morphed into an unmistakable likeness—
Marshal Sengoku.
At that moment, Carl's heart dropped.
It's over. It's over. It's over…
He forced a cough and tried to keep his voice steady.
"Cough… Marshal Sengoku, do you need something from me?"
A satisfied chuckle came from the Den Den Mushi.
"I received the report," Sengoku said. "You defeated the legendary pirate Bartholomew Redfield… A fine job, indeed."
Carl sucked in a deep breath, his gaze narrowing as he glanced toward Bright.
This bastard—did you just sell me out?
Sengoku continued, his tone shifting to something heavier.
"But that's not the only reason I called today."
Carl remained silent.
"I am stepping down."
"…Huh?"
Carl's eyebrows arched as he blew out a slow cloud of white smoke.
Although he was already aware that Sengoku would retire following the Summit War, shouldering the blame for failures like Impel Down's breach, he hadn't expected this announcement to come so soon.
"In other words," Sengoku continued, his voice laced with fatigue, "you need to return to Marineford. Now."
Carl exhaled through his nose.
Just by hearing Sengoku's tone, he could tell—something must have gone down between him and the Five Elders.
It was an open secret that Sengoku wanted to pass the position of Fleet Admiral to Kuzan.
But the Five Elders had their own preferences—Sakazuki, the embodiment of Absolute Justice.
As a result, the internal atmosphere within the Marines must be at a breaking point.
The Hawk Faction led by Sakazuki and the Dove Faction led by Kuzan were likely at odds.
And then there was Kizaru… the ultimate neutral party.
If there was one person who wouldn't bother fighting for the position of Fleet Admiral, it was that old fox.
Carl sighed.
Then, he turned to Bright.
"Bright."
"Yes, sir!"
Bright straightened immediately, giving a sharp salute.
Carl stared at him for a moment.
"…You better have a damn good explanation."
Bright gulped.
Carl took one last drag of his cigar before crushing it under his boot.
Then, without another word, he stepped forward—his next destination already clear.
Marineford.
Where the storm was about to begin.
Go, take Coffey and Emily to Sleep Town to meet their families."
Carl exhaled a ring of smoke, his tone calm but firm.
Then he added, "Once they've finished, we'll head straight back to headquarters."
Carl wasn't particularly eager to return.
Because as soon as he set foot in Marineford, the inevitable promotion would come, along with all the responsibilities that followed.
With tensions in the Marine hierarchy at an all-time high, now was the worst possible moment to go back.
But like it or not, he was now Kizaru's direct subordinate—or rather, the next successor of the Kizaru faction.
His presence at the Fleet Admiral succession was non-negotiable.
"…Yes!"
Bright gave a crisp salute and led the two young recruits toward the ancient town of Sleep Town.
Carl, however, turned and walked back toward Redfield's body.
"Old man…"
His gaze fell on the fallen legend's lifeless form.
"You're nearly eighty, and you still felt the need to break out of Impel Down and cause trouble?"
Two red flashes flickered in his eyes, and a crimson aura of murderous intent condensed around him.
Schlkt!
The razor-sharp claws of his Blood Beast technique sliced cleanly into the ground.
Then, with a swift motion, he lifted Redfield's corpse, placing it gently into the freshly dug hole before covering it with soil.
A simple, unmarked burial.
A silent tribute to one of the last living relics of the old era.
"…Oh?"
Carl's sharp eyes caught something peeking out from the pocket of his Marine coat.
"…What's this?"
He reached into the fabric and pulled out a small pouch he didn't remember placing there.
"…Could this be my previous system reward?"
With a thought, he checked his system log.
[You have received a Devil Fruit as a reward. (Note: Please check its properties manually.)]
"…A Devil Fruit?"
Carl reached into his coat and withdrew a fruit.
It was a small, purple cantaloupe-shaped fruit, swirling with cryptic patterns.
"…Wait."
Carl's eyes widened.
His mind raced back to the Devil Fruit Encyclopedia he had studied earlier.
A fruit of this exact shape and pattern…
"Zoan… Mythical… Bat-Bat Fruit: Vampire Model!"
Carl took a deep breath.
This was the very fruit Redfield had spent decades searching for—the key to his youth and longevity.
And now…
It was in Carl's hands.
"…Immortality, huh?"
Carl rolled the fruit between his fingers, deep in thought.
But after a few moments, he let out a chuckle and slipped it back into his coat.
"Maybe when I'm seventy or eighty, I'll think about eating it."
For now, though, he had no intention of consuming it.
This particular Zoan-type was best suited for elderly warriors who wanted to reclaim their prime.
Redfield was a perfect example—if he had eaten this fruit, their battle wouldn't have lasted mere hours.
It would've dragged on for weeks.
That's how absurdly powerful this fruit could be for the right user.
—
A short while later, Bright returned with Coffey and Emily.
Both recruits had red-rimmed eyes—it was clear they had just reunited with their families.
In the distance, a middle-aged couple waved toward them, bidding farewell.
Coffey's parents.
A family once torn apart, now reunited.
And their son and daughter… were now Marines, serving under a rising star.
For them, this was nothing short of a miracle.
"Let's go," Carl said lazily as he stretched out on a deck chair, waving a hand.
"Back to Marineford."
"Yes, sir!"
—
A Few Days Later – Marine Headquarters, Marineford
A warship docked at the shores of the reconstructed Marineford.
The massive fleet of Vice Admirals' ships was already present.
Carl and his crew stepped onto the pier, gazing at the fortress that had been rebuilt after the destruction of the Summit War.
"…So, we're really back," Carl muttered, hands in his pockets.
Before he could get lost in thought, a Marine officer jogged up to him and saluted.
"Colonel Carl! You're finally here!"
Carl sighed.
"…And?"
"Marshal Sengoku has requested your presence in his office."
Carl took a long drag of his cigar before glancing sideways at Bright.
"…You backstabbed me again, didn't you?"
Bright coughed. "I have no idea what you're talking about, sir."
Carl exhaled a cloud of smoke.
"…Fine."
He turned to Coffey and Emily, who were looking around with awe-struck expressions.
It was their first time in Marineford.
"…You guys can take a break."
With that, Carl's figure vanished in an instant, disappearing from sight with incredible speed.
—
Marine Headquarters – Fleet Admiral's Office
Squeak.
The door creaked open.
Carl stepped inside and scanned the room.
Sengoku.
Garp.
Akainu.
Kizaru.
Aokiji.
Tsuru.
And two unfamiliar figures.
A gathering of Marine legends.
"…You're here."
Sengoku looked up from his desk.
"Take a seat."
"…Uh, okay."
Carl strode forward and sat down—right behind Kizaru.
"Oh~ Carl~"
Kizaru lazily picked at his nails.
"I heard you've been up to some incredible things lately~"
"Pfft—Hahahahaha!"
A booming laugh erupted from the side.
Carl turned and saw Garp, grinning wide.
"To think that old man Redfield got taken down by you of all people!"
Garp slapped his knee, still chuckling.
"Didn't see that one coming, kid."
Carl leaned back in his chair, letting the cigar dangle from his lips.
"…Neither did he."
Garp's laughter grew louder.
"Well done, brat!"
Carl exhaled a plume of smoke, eyes sharp.
He had no illusions about why he was here.
This wasn't just a debrief.
This was about the future of the Marines.
And now—
He was at the center of it.
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