Sakazuki took the lead in setting an example, suddenly exerting force. Even as the pirate in front of him widened his eyes, staring unblinkingly at Sakazuki's movements, he was unable to react in time.
The moment Sakazuki's molten hand gripped the pirate's throat from the front, the opponent's body still failed to make any response.
The searing heat of his palm instantly scorched the flesh upon contact. The deep fascia, the first line of defense protecting the vital blood vessels in the human neck, was rendered fragile under the magma. In an instant, the lava burned through the trachea and esophagus, and the surging fresh blood in the arteries and internal jugular veins was instantly incinerated into charred carbon residue.
The Marine Headquarters' God of Slaughter gripped the pirate's already blackened and cracked cervical spine with one hand, lifting him into the air. The pirate's brain did not die immediately; the intense heat spreading from his neck to his skull turned the inside of his head into a steaming pot.
Even though the pirate, subjected to the infernal torment, could no longer draw breath, the reflexive reactions of his muscles and nerves still made his legs twitch violently as he hung in the air.
The legion commander of the expeditionary force curled his lips into a cruel arc, finally unveiling the mystery from before:
"This has nothing to do with justice or that bullshit called honor. On this battlefield—this grinder of flesh and blood—the only thing you need to do is kill!"
"Kill!"
"Kill!"
"Kill!"
The straightforward and merciless words spoke an unchanging truth of war.
Sakazuki's words were met with the most direct and resounding response from the legion soldiers. They swung their weapons with fervor, completely unleashing the long-repressed bloodlust hidden deep within their souls.
The marines aboard each ship fell into an unprecedented frenzy. These battle-hardened marines, recruited from the Four Seas and the Grand Line, may have come from different backgrounds, had different skin colors and features, held different ranks, and wielded different weapons and equipment, but they shared one common trait in the Burning Legion—they had all survived hundreds of battles throughout their military careers!
Justice or evil no longer mattered; these veterans had long grown numb to such distinctions.
The only place that could still excite them, the place where their battered bodies and shattered souls belonged, was the battlefield.
Here, the sole standard of judgment was to kill the enemy—then survive!
"Hahahaha! I love commanders with such a decisive personality!" The veteran from the North Blue, Renault, roared with laughter. From his initial dissatisfaction to his current submission, his change of attitude was so swift that the veteran from the East Blue, Tullius, who stood beside him, couldn't help but twitch his eye.
Every veteran had their own thoughts and calculations, but one thing was undeniable—their years of experience told them that every word Sakazuki had spoken earlier was an absolute truth of warfare!
No one liked to risk their lives for others while being manipulated by superiors from above. But seeing this legion commander, who held an esteemed reputation in Marine Headquarters, act in person, even the most thick-headed brute like Reno couldn't help but be convinced. Most veterans, while not entirely submissive, deeply respected Sakazuki's efficiency, directness, and—most importantly—practicality.
A young officer cut down the last pirate on the ship. He was one of the 3,000 youth officers who had been directly transferred from active-duty units into the legion.
This was, of course, a deliberate decision by Sengoku. A unit required elite veterans, but it also needed a continuous infusion of fresh and formidable blood.
With proficient marksmanship, swift movements, and decisive execution, the short-statured young officer resembled a bear cub that had grown up in the depths of winter.
Despite his youth, he had proven himself in his branch division through exceptional skill, forcing his fellow ordinary marines to stop mocking his age and height.
Yet in this legion filled with hardened veterans, Jonah was still just a child.
He furrowed his brows. This legion was vastly different from his previous unit.
To him, Sakazuki's earlier words seemed "heretical."
Jonah clearly remembered that before every battle, most Marine officers would deliver motivational speeches. The content and purpose of these speeches were always centered on justice—killing pirates was justice, saving civilians was justice… Every action of the military was driven by justice.
Never had a commander gone mad enough to tell his soldiers outright: killing is all you should do.
But today, that "iron rule" was shattered—broken by the words of a high-ranking officer from Headquarters himself.
Jonah glanced at his sword, then at the surrounding veterans, whose faces were filled with excitement. He was confused.
"Is killing also justice?"
"Oh?" Reno happened to overhear the young "child soldier" murmuring to himself. He turned his head with a grin and looked at Jonah.
"Those slogans about justice? You can chant them outside, but don't take them too seriously, kid. We're not as noble as you think. All that 'so-called justice'—bullshit. Recognize what you are. We're nothing more than professional butchers. What's a little runt like you doing in the expeditionary force?"
"Of course, to uphold justice!" the young man answered firmly.
Renault's grin widened. "Let me guess—you're also fighting for honor?"
Jonah frowned and corrected him, "It's fighting for glory!"
"Hahahaha! Tullius, get over here! This kid's killing me—he actually thinks he's fighting for glory!" Reno burst into laughter as if he had just heard the funniest joke.
The young officer grew increasingly dissatisfied. "What's so funny?"
Hearing the commotion, Tullius turned around. Seeing Reno laughing so hard, he scolded, "What the hell are you laughing at? We all started with the same mindset once."
Lowering his head, he looked at the "child soldier" who barely reached his chest.
"Reno might be a crude old bastard, but I think most veterans feel the same way," he said. "Kid, in the endless cycle of hunting down and slaughtering pirates, we've also convinced ourselves that everything we do is for justice. And that's not wrong."
He glanced at Renault, who was now nodding seriously.
"But after observing war for so long, we never found anything that truly resembled justice or glory. As for so-called sacrifices, they're like livestock being sent to a slaughterhouse. Only here, the slaughtered meat isn't canned—it's thrown into the sea."
"No! No!! That's not right!" Jonah growled. "How can justice and glory not exist? What about the civilians?! Haven't we protected them? What about the towns?! Haven't we defended them from pirate rampages?!"
Tullius let out a long sigh, but before he could respond, Reno spoke first.
"And what about the cost?"
His voice turned hoarse as if recalling something painful. "The comrades who lived and fought beside you, the brothers who stood shoulder to shoulder with you, all died for the justice they believed in. Are you saying the Marines shouldn't protect towns and civilians?"
"You're not wrong, and the Marines aren't wrong. If we had to do it all over again, my fallen brothers would still choose to give their lives without hesitation."
His eyes reddened as he stared at the young officer.
"But their sacrifice isn't something that can be justified by a mere slogan of 'for glory' or 'for justice.' Pirates or Marines—it doesn't matter. Everyone just keeps falling into this grinder of flesh and blood, over and over again."
"A group of people kill another group of people. That's all there is to it."
"And for us ordinary men, war… has never been just."