The cataclysm unleashed by Gunnar was nothing short of apocalyptic.
Marineford, once the immovable citadel of the World Government's might, now writhed like a wounded beast in its death throes. The plaza ruptured beneath thunderous tremors—gargantuan fissures split the earth with all the elegance of a butcher's cleaver, devouring Marines, pirates, and towers of stone in yawning gulfs. The sea itself, goaded into madness by Gunnar's seismic rampage, reared up with whirlpools the size of villages and tsunamis that dwarfed the walls of the base—death from below and death from above.
The sky wept ice and fire.
The Admirals, were forced on defensive, on the very island they'd once vowed to destroy to destroy Whitebeard.
No longer the embodiment of lazy detachment, Aokiji roared into motion, his eyes snapping with visible frustration.
"ICE AGE: RAGING TYPHOON!!" he bellowed, casting a massive cold front from his hands. No longer forming elegant patterns or crystalline artistry, his ice was jagged, brutal—a crude wall thrown up in desperation against the demon sea.
He solidified entire swathes of ocean, trying to murder each advancing tsunami with the cold embrace of winter, but it was like bailing blood from a sinking ship—futile.
Every second, a new wave crashed through his work. He was fighting the ocean itself now, and the ocean was losing patience.
"Damn it, Gunnar," he hissed under his breath, eyes scanning the chaos. "What in the name of hell have you become?"
Even Kizaru's trademark indifference had shattered. The light-man zipped and blinked across the battlefield in sheer streaks of gold, his voice a rare growl of focus.
"Yasakani no Magatama: Diffusal Mode!"
Instead of targeting pirates, his light-beads burst across falling debris, vaporizing collapsing Ice boulders before it could bury the soldiers beneath it. He used heat-fused light to weld broken support beams mid-air, creating temporary scaffolds where structural failure loomed.
"Oooooh… I'm not really built for construction work," he muttered, panting between movements, a rare bead of sweat on his cheek. "Where is the engineer division!?"
The gleaming clown had shed his act. This was not a battlefield anymore. It was the end of the world.
And Akainu — Sakazuki — was furious.
Not at the pirates. Not at Whitebeard.
But at the crumbling ground, the quakes that refused to stop, the sea that refused to obey.
"RYUSEI KAZAN: EARTH BINDER!" he bellowed, fists slamming the split plaza. Rivers of molten rock hissed and flowed into the crevices, magma fingers trying to cauterize the earth's wounds like a surgeon with a branding iron.
"Damn you, Gunnar! What—what manner of madness is this?!"
Lava fused and hardened, but the fissures multiplied, widening into impossible chasms. The magma hissed and spat and vanished into the abyss, swallowed like nothing.
Akainu gritted his teeth until blood slicked his gums. "…You dare shake my world like this?!!"
High above, Sengoku, gleaming in the resplendent form of his towering Buddha state, no longer moved to strike.
He braced against the main command tower as it began to crumble inward, golden arms catching entire collapsing fortresses. His voice thundered like cannonfire.
"ALL HANDS! HOLD THE LINE! MARINEFORD MUST NOT FALL!"
But even his words felt hollow.
The island was dying.
And at the center stood its executioner.
Amid the earthquake maelstrom he had birthed stood Gunnar—not a man, not a pirate, but a force. Rubble hovered for a breath around him, as if uncertain whether to dare fall upon him. The fierce Kirin shrieked from his shoulder, feathers ruffled, eyes burning. Beside him, Smoothie stood silent, eyes wide—not with fear, but with reverent awe.
Gunnar was panting now. Blood slicked one side of his temple. Yet his golden eyes glowed brighter than ever—like twin stars burning through a scream-filled night sky.
But even as the earth shattered and heaven groaned, his attention narrowed—not to the Admirals. Not to Whitebeard. Not even to the battle.
But to a boy.
The remains of the execution platform loomed ahead, its top half fragmented but still standing by some miracle of defiance. And near the crumbling edge, almost invisible in the chaos…
Luffy.
Tossed like a broken doll from Sengoku's grasp, he now lay battered, half-conscious, fingers twitching, barely breathing. The boy who had fought every step to get here… had almost been forgotten in the madness.
But not by Gunnar.
He walked—no, strode—through the chaos. The ground trembled beneath each step of his quake-infused haki, but parted before his feet like waves before a relentless ship.
Debris shifted aside. The air itself felt hesitant to touch him.
Kneeling beside Luffy, Gunnar placed a hand on the boy's chest.
"Still breathing," he murmured. "Barely, but you're still here." He paused. "Same kind of stubbornness I remember."
He looked up—eyes meeting Ace's, still shackled, wide with disbelief.
"Ace," Gunnar called softly. "He got to you. All the way here. Gods know I couldn't have."
Ace's throat bobbed with choked emotion. "You… you're saving him?"
"I'm saving you both," Gunnar said, lifting Luffy in his arms, as though carrying something more fragile than life itself. "But I'm done with delicacy down here. That's your job."
A groan—barely a puff of air—escaped Luffy's swollen lips.
Gunnar's eyes widened. He's conscious?
"Stay still, straw-hat," the quake-bearer warned, but Luffy's fingers twitched, searching for purchase on the broken ground.
"—Ace…"
The word was so faint it could have been imagination, yet it cut louder than cannon fire.
Gunnar pressed a stabilising palm against Luffy's sternum, haki thrumming like bass beneath the boy's ribs. "Easy. Your body's at its limit. You keep fighting, you'll shatter."
"I… can't… stop…" Luffy rasped, eyelids fluttering. "Promised… to save… Ace." He tried to sit up; his rubber torso bent, creaked, and promptly collapsed.
Gunnar exhaled through his nose—equal parts frustration and respect. "You're spirit in human form, you know that?"
Luffy, half-delirious, grabbed Gunnar's forearm. "Don't take this from me… If I can breathe, I can fight."
"Brave words from a corpse in training." A reluctant grin tugged Gunnar's scarred cheek. In one smooth motion he hoisted the boy, letting Luffy sag against his shoulder like a loose sail.
"Listen," Gunnar murmured, voice low so only Luffy could hear, "I'll put you right at his feet. After that, it's your storm. Walk, crawl, scream—just reach him."
Luffy's answer was a shaky thumbs-up and the tiniest grin. Gunnar felt laughter bubble in his chest—threatening, wild, alive. Ace was right. The kid infects you.
Gunnar turned, eyes blazing gold. "Time to trust gravity."
Kirin shrieked overhead, wings beating hurricane winds as Gunnar crouched. BOOM—the plaza cratered under a seismic thrust, propelling them like a cannon shell skyward.
Wind howled in Luffy's ears; sparks of ice and magma exploded in their wake. As the trajectory peaked, Gunnar tightened his grip one last time.
"You said you'd save him. Prove it." He spun once—controlled, precise—and released.
Luffy sailed through smoke and sunlight, arms flailing instinctively, landing in a gentle tumble at Ace's shackled feet.
Ace's chains rattled as he dropped to his knees. "LUFFY!"
He caught the rubber boy, heart hammering. "Little brother—you look like hell."
"Heh… you look… worse," Luffy wheezed, forcing a grin. Every breath sounded like glass scraping stone.
Vice-Admiral Doberman staggered forward, sword half-drawn. "Get that prisoner away from the condemned!"
Steel never reached them.
"Even like this… you're still throwing punches," Ace whispered, awe and fear blending on his face.
Luffy tried to stand. His knees buckled; Ace's manacled arms shot out, catching him.
"I said I'd save you," Luffy panted. "So shut up… and let me."
Tears pooled at the corners of Ace's eyes, steam sizzling against the fiery man's cheeks. "Idiot… I should be the one—"
"No time!" Luffy barked, surprising them both with the force in his voice. He turned to the stunned execution squad. "Move… or I'll make you."
The Marines hesitated—one heartbeat too long. From below came the echoing detonation of a quake-burst as Gunnar re-entered the fray, shaking every soul on the scaffold. Metal beams groaned; the world tilted.
Vice-Admiral cursed. "Protect the platform! Do NOT let those two escape!"
At the plaza's edge, Garp clenched his fists so hard blood seeped from old scars. "That brat… he's still standing," the hero whispered, equal parts pride and dread.
Sengoku, still in Buddha form, followed Garp's gaze. "If Ace is freed, the era changes here and now. Can you live with that, Monkey D.?"
Garp didn't answer. The ground answered for him—another quake, courtesy of Gunnar, split the courtyard in two.
Sengoku, his golden form radiating an oppressive light, slammed a giant hand against the tilting command tower, steadying it momentarily. His eyes, burning with a desperate fury, locked onto the execution platform where Ace and Luffy now stood, a symbol of defiance against the world's might.
"ADMIRALS!" Sengoku's voice boomed, cutting through the din of destruction, amplified by his Buddha form and echoing across the ravaged Marineford. "FORGET THE WHITEBEARD PIRATES! FORGET THE ISLAND! SECURE THE PLATFORM! EXECUTE PORTGAS D. ACE AND STRAW HAT LUFFY! FINISH THIS, NOW!"
The order was absolute. The ground might be dissolving, but justice had to be served.
Responding instantly, the Admirals unleashed their signature devastation.
Aokiji's cold aura intensified. "ICE BLOCK: PHEASANT BEAK!" A colossal, razor-sharp icicle, the size of a warship's mast, materialized and rocketed towards the platform, aimed to skewer.
Kizaru, with a sigh that barely masked his focus, "Oooh, such troublesome children…" raised a glowing finger. "YASAKANI NO MAGATAMA!" A blinding torrent of light particles, each a miniature explosion, rained down like a golden death shower, homing in on Ace and Luffy.
Akainu, magma boiling from his very pores, roared, "DAI FUNKA!" A monstrous fist of pure molten rock, even larger and more volatile than before, erupted from the ravaged ground, arcing through the air like a volcanic judgment, intent on incinerating the brothers.
Three distinct vectors of annihilation, three Admiral-level attacks, converged on the fragile figures on the platform.
Gunnar, having just deposited Luffy, saw it all unfold in a horrifying instant. His Observation Haki screamed a desperate warning. There was no time to strategize.
"NO!" His roared in anguish.
With a seismic BOOM that further fractured the plaza beneath him, Gunnar launched himself skyward, not towards any single Admiral, but directly into the path of the incoming devastation. He became a meteor of frost and flame.
He twisted mid-air, positioning his body to intercept all three.
His right arm, blazing with magma, thrust out to meet Akainu's Dai Funka.
His left arm, encased in glacial ice, rose to parry Aokiji's Pheasant Beak.
His torso, a maelstrom of his clashing elements, braced for Kizaru's light barrage.
KRA-KOOOOMMMMM!!!
The collision was apocalyptic.
Akainu's magma fist slammed into Gunnar's own, a sun-bright explosion of molten rock and superheated steam erupting at the point of impact. The sheer concussive force vibrated through Gunnar's bones, threatening to shatter them.
Simultaneously, Aokiji's Pheasant Beak struck Gunnar's ice-clad arm. Diamond-hard ice met diamond-hard ice, the impact sending shockwaves of frigid energy through him, the cold seeping deep, threatening to freeze him solid from the inside out. Shards of ice, both his and Aokiji's, exploded outwards like shrapnel.
And Kizaru's Yasakani no Magatama rained down upon his exposed torso. Dozens of light-speed projectiles, each exploding with searing heat and kinetic force, peppered his body. His skin hissed, frost sublimating instantly, magma sputtering, as he endured the relentless, piercing bombardment.
The sky itself seemed to recoil. For a moment, Gunnar hung suspended, silhouetted against a chaotic canvas of fire, ice, and light. He grunted, a sound ripped from deep within, as the combined might of three Admirals threatened to tear him apart. His internal elements raged, fighting to neutralize the onslaught, but the sheer, overwhelming power was staggering. Steam billowed from him in a vast cloud, his vision blurred, and a roaring filled his ears. He was stunned, his body screaming, his Haki defenses stretched to their absolute limit and beyond.
He had blocked them. Ace and Luffy were, for that terrifying second, safe.
But Gunnar was left utterly exposed, reeling, a massive, glowing target hanging in the sky.
High above, watching Gunnar absorb the cataclysmic triple assault, Sengoku's golden eyes narrowed with grim resolve. This was the moment.
Garp, beside him, didn't need words. Their shared understanding was absolute.
"NOW, GARP!" Sengoku thundered.
With a roar, Sengoku launched himself from the Ice. His colossal Golden Buddha form soared downwards, a descending god of wrath, his palm already aglow with an immense, condensed shockwave.
"BUDDHA'S IMPАCT OF RETRIBUTION!"
Simultaneously, Garp, a blur of pure, unadulterated power, leaped. His fist, already black as the void with impossibly dense Armament Haki, cocked back, the air around it visibly distorting.
"METEOR FIST OF THE HERO!"
Gunnar, still disoriented, his senses overwhelmed from the triple Admiral blow, barely registered the new, even greater threats descending upon him through his pain-hazed Observation Haki. He tried to react, to shift, to bring up any defense—
But he was too slow. Too damaged.
WHAM! BAM!
Sengoku's golden shockwave palm, radiating pure destructive force, slammed into Gunnar's already scorched and battered back with the weight of a falling mountain.
Bones groaned, organs compressed, and the internal harmony of Gunnar's powers was violently disrupted.
Before the agony of that blow could even fully register, Garp's Haki-suffused fist, carrying the condensed might that could shatter continents, connected with Gunnar's chest. It wasn't a superficial blow; it was a punch designed to break, to crush, to obliterate. Gunnar felt his ribs crack, his sternum buckle, the very air driven from his lungs in a silent scream.
The combined impact was beyond devastating.
Gunnar's golden eyes, moments before blazing, widened in shock and agony, then rolled back. The light of his magma and frost flickered violently, then dimmed catastrophically.
Blood, steam, and fragments of ice erupted from him.
He didn't just fall. He was driven downwards, like a nail struck by two divine hammers, smashing through the air, then into the already broken plaza with a sickening, final thud that sent ice and debris billowing outwards.
Silence, stark and absolute, fell for a dreadful moment.
Gunnar lay in the center of a fresh crater, unmoving, smoke rising from his broken form.
The two legends, Sengoku and Garp, landed heavily nearby.
***
On the execution platform, the world had become a maelstrom of terror for Ace and Luffy.
Luffy, barely conscious, propped up by Ace's shackled arms, felt the very air crackle with impending doom as the three Admirals unleashed their attacks. He couldn't fully process the distinct forms of ice, light, and magma, but the sheer, overwhelming killing intent washed over him, a cold dread seeping into his exhausted bones. He flinched, a primal instinct to cower, even as Ace tried to shield him further with his own body.
"Luffy, stay down!" Ace hissed, his eyes wide with a desperate, familiar terror. He'd seen Admiral-level power up close before; he knew this was an inescapable end. He braced for obliteration.
Then, a roar that was part inferno, part blizzard.
A figure, impossibly fast, impossibly powerful, slammed into the converging point of the attacks.
Fire. Ice. Light. All exploding against that single, defiant form.
Gunnar.
"G-Gunnar…?" Ace breathed, his voice cracking. He stared, jaw agape, as his newly-returned brother absorbed the full, combined might of three Admirals. The shockwaves buffeted the platform, the sheer energy release blinding. It was a sight beyond belief, a display of power that dwarfed anything he had ever witnessed. This wasn't just fighting; this was holding back the apocalypse. A strange, suffocating mixture of awe, gratitude, and a crushing sense of guilt washed over him. He's doing this… for us…
Luffy, through slitted, pain-filled eyes, saw a blinding kaleidoscope of colours and felt the world shake. He couldn't comprehend the specifics, but he felt the wave of death recede, pushed back by an immense, protective presence. A name, a feeling, echoed in his fading consciousness: Gun…nar… s-strong… He felt a flicker of the same unwavering determination he'd seen in his brother before, now amplified to a god-like scale.
For one breathtaking moment, it seemed Gunnar had done the impossible.
Two more figures, one golden and immense, the other terrifyingly compact and radiating an old, familiar, terrifying power, descended from above.
Ace's blood ran cold. He recognized them instantly. Sengoku. And… Grandpa. His heart plummeted. "NO! GUNNAR, LOOK OUT!" he screamed, his voice raw with panic.
Luffy, though barely able to focus, felt a new, even more terrifying pressure bear down. It was different from the Admirals' attacks – heavier, more absolute. He saw Gunnar, still reeling, hang exposed.
The twin impacts were like the world ending.
The sickening CRUNCH as Sengoku's palm struck, the earth-shattering THUD of Garp's fist.
Ace watched, helpless, as Gunnar was slammed out of the sky, his protective aura of fire and ice flickering and dying like a snuffed flame. He crashed to the ground with a finality that tore through Ace's soul.
"GUNNARRRRR!" Ace shrieked, the sound lost in the cacophony but felt in the depths of his being. Tears streamed down his face, instantly vaporizing against his skin. First Thatch, now this… the weight of his existence, the cost of his life, felt unbearable. He lurched forward against his chains, a desperate, futile movement.
Luffy, jolted by the sheer force of the impacts that shook even the platform, let out a weak, choked gasp. He saw Gunnar fall, a broken star. The protective warmth he'd felt vanished, replaced by a cold, stark dread. A single, tear escaped his swollen eye. "Gunnar… no…"
On the Moby Dick's ravaged deck, and across the shattered plaza where remnants of the Whitebeard Pirates still fought, eyes were drawn to the improbable scene unfolding on the execution platform.
Marco, wings beating a desperate rhythm to stay airborne amidst the chaos Gunnar had unleashed, had just seen Luffy tumble at Ace's feet. A wild, almost incredulous hope flared in his chest.
"Pops!" he yelled, his voice strained but audible over the din, pointing with a phoenix-fire-wreathed hand. "Look! Straw Hat… he actually got there! Ace…!"
Whitebeard, leaning heavily on his bisento, his body a canvas of grievous wounds, followed Marco's gesture. His one good eye, though hazed with pain, sharpened. He saw Ace, kneeling, Luffy a broken heap before him. A grim, almost painful smile touched his lips.
"Gurararara… That little brat…" he rumbled, a cough racking his frame. "Never knows when to quit… just like…" He didn't finish, but the implication hung heavy.
Then, the world seemed to condense as the three Admirals launched their combined, lethal assault.
Marco's brief hope choked in his throat. "NO! They're going to—!"
But then Gunnar, a streak of impossible power, launched himself into the path of destruction.
"Yoi…?" Marco breathed, his flight faltering for a second as he witnessed Gunnar absorb the triple onslaught. The sheer audacity, the raw power… it was breathtaking, terrifying. "GUNNAR! He… he's shielding them! Pops, he's taking it all! That crazy—!" His voice was a mix of awe and pure, heart-stopping fear.
Whitebeard's grip on his bisento tightened until his knuckles were white under the blood and grime. The air whistled from his lungs. Pride, fierce and agonizing, swelled in his chest, warring with a terrible dread.
"My son…" he whispered, the sound a ragged tear in the fabric of the war. "He means to hold back the entire damn Navy himself… That magnificent, reckless fool…" A single, bloody tear traced a path down his weathered cheek. "He truly fights for his family…"
For a heartbeat, there was a terrible, suspended silence as Gunnar hung in the air, absorbing the cataclysm. It seemed, impossibly, that he might hold.
Then, from the command tower, two new blurs of motion. Sengoku. Garp.
Marco's eyes widened in horror. He knew their power. He knew what they represented.
"POPS! NO! GARP! SENGOKU! THEY'RE—!" His warning cry was cut short.
The twin impacts, Buddha's Palm and Meteor Fist, struck Gunnar with the force of colliding stars.
The sound was sickening, final.
"GUNNAR!!!" Marco screamed, a raw, anguished sound ripped from his soul. His phoenix wings flared instinctively, a desperate, useless gesture to fly, to help, but he was too far, too late. He watched, frozen in horror, as his younger brother was slammed from the sky, crashing into the earth like a fallen god.
Whitebeard let out a guttural roar, a sound of pure, unadulterated agony that had nothing to do with his own myriad wounds. His one good eye blazed with a terrible light, seeing his son, the one who had just returned, the one who embodied his legacy, struck down by his oldest, most bitter rivals. The bisento bit deep into the ice as his massive frame trembled.
"GUNNARRRRRRR!!!"
The name was a prayer, a curse, a howl of a father's broken heart.
"Those old bastards… Those damned old bastards!" he snarled, fresh blood welling from the hole in his chest as his fury and despair threatened to rip him apart from the inside. The brief, flickering candle of hope Gunnar had ignited was brutally, cruelly, snuffed out.
***
Up on the unstable platform, Luffy inhaled—every rib protested—and planted one foot forward.
The world blurred. He would walk. Because walking was moving. And moving was saving Ace.
One step.
Another.
Chains clanged as Ace shuffled beside him, offering balance.
Below, Marines regrouped, muskets raised. Above, Kizaru's light flashed, calculating an angle. Aokiji's frost crawled, scouting for footholds. Akainu's magma fountained, promising annihilation.
And through that maelstrom, Luffy's voice—cracked but unbroken—roared:
"I'M NOT LEAVING WITHOUT MY BROTHER!"
Gunnar, far below, heard it—felt it—and laughed like thunder.
"Good," he muttered, fists cocking for another island-splitting punch. "Kid's not screwing it up after all."
Smoke curled off mangled beams.
Among the two stunned executioners, one man in a Marine overcoat adjusted his cap—revealing narrow, calculating eyes.
Galdino—"Mr. 3."
Perfect. No one suspects a thing.
His wax-wax fingertips twitched. The Seastone shackles around Ace's wrists were old, pitted—just enough play for a thin key.
Galdino leaned close, voice hardly a breath:
"Straw-hat. Look left."
Luffy, barely upright, blinked. Recognition sparked.
"Three…?"
Galdino smirked. "Your loudmouth brother owes me an apology. Consider this my invoice."
Below, chaos stabilized long enough for the Admirals to focus.
Akainu: magma seethed up his arm. "One strike. End it."
Aokiji: frost crackled over his knuckles. "I'll freeze the debris so no one escapes."
Kizaru: photons danced around him. "Light it is, then… rather troublesome."
Tri-Vector Cataclysm—magma, ice, and laser converging on the single, fractured scaffold.
Sengoku's golden form boomed:
"FIRE!"
Above, Kizaru became a sunbeam; Aokiji hurled an arctic javelin; Akainu launched a colossal "Meigo: Volcanic Purgatory!"
The sky itself screamed.
"One shot, one key."
Galdino's finger tip liquefied into a silver-white thread, snaking toward Ace's cuffs.
Luffy braced, vision tunneling.
"Hurry… they're coming."
A molten roar thundered closer. Heat singed their lungs; frost chased it, cracking the air; a laser's whine split atoms.
Click.
The wax filament hardened—perfect Seastone mimicry—and the shackle sprang open.
Ace stared. He was… free.
"LUFFY! GET DOWN!"
Ace's fists ignited, flames geysering from his palms.
"HIKEN!!!"
A torrent of fire rocketed upward, colliding with magma, shattering the ice lance into steaming shrapnel, scattering Kizaru's photons into diffuse glare.
The sky detonated—
White-hot flash.
Thunder-crack.
Platform vaporized.
Everything vanished in choking smoke.
From plaza to broadcast trans-ponder, the world held its breath.
The scaffold was gone, reduced to a jagged stump. Only molten rebar jutted like funeral spears.
Sengoku's shoulders sagged. "It's… over." Even Whitebeard's moustache drooped, grief mixing with rage. Garp's jaw trembled; he hid it behind a clenched fist.
Pirate and Marine alike dared not speak. Where the brothers had stood—nothing but smoldering ruin.
Then—
A flicker.
A tiny orange glow in the haze, beating like a heart.
Flames spiraled, sweeping smoke aside to reveal two silhouettes.
Ace, shirt in tatters, fire curling around his arms like loyal serpents. Across his shoulders, limp but grinning—Monkey D. Luffy.
Between them, Galdino staggered, jacket aflame, frantically shaping cooling wax into a makeshift shield over his head.
Ace planted his feet on the last surviving beam "I'm still alive, old man!" he roared down at Sengoku, voice echoing off shattered walls.
Luffy raised a trembling fist. "Told ya… I'd save him!" Blood dripped from his knuckles, but his smile could've split the sun.
For one breath, the battlefield faded. Ace eased Luffy to the beam, checked the battered ribs, the scorched skin. "You idiot… you should've let someone else—"
Luffy's head lolled; he laughed, hoarse. "Someone else… ain't your brother."
Ace's eyes burned hotter than his flames. He crushed Luffy into an embrace, careful yet desperate.
"Thank you," he whispered, forehead against straw hat brim. "Live long enough for me to return the favor."
Below, Whitebeard's laughter rolled like cannon fire. Hope surged through the pirate ranks; despair stabbed the Marines.
High above, Kirin shrieked triumph. Gunnar, blood-flecked and grinning, slammed both fists into the air—another quake rang out like a war-drum.
And so, in the ruins of Marineford, as magma cooled and ice melted, two brothers stood—free, defiant, alive—
while the world's greatest powers realized the era they knew had just been broken beyond repair.