Chapter 1 - Chapter 1: The man who would be king of the pirates. (Redux)

One Piece The Movie

(the following is a nonprofit fan based parody any characters form one piece is owned by Eiichiro Oda, Toei Animation Co., Ltd., any characters from super Mario are owned by Nintendo, any characters from troll hunters, are owned by DreamWorks and universal

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Some of the characters found in this story and / or universe does not belong to me, but are intellectual property of their respective owners. Any original characters in this story are my intellectual property.

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Chapter 1: The man who would be king of the pirates. 

(Ice Kingdom) 

Rising from the heart of a frozen wasteland, the grand citadel glows with a soft, ethereal blue light, as though it were sculpted from solid ice and enchanted by ancient magic. The architecture is vast and majestic, a crystalline fortress composed of numerous domes and towers, each one crowned with frosted caps that shimmer beneath the northern lights that faintly dance across the night sky.

Encircling the citadel are multiple outer towers, spaced like sentinels, each flying a tiny red flag that flutters gently in the snow-laden winds. The walls connecting them are high and thick, constructed from the same luminous ice, and dotted with glowing arches that hint at hidden passages or reinforced gates.

At the center, the main structure rises in layers like a frozen cathedral, the largest dome crowning the peak of this architectural marvel. The entire kingdom gives off a serene but imposing aura, like a sacred fortress untouched by time, preserved in the heart of winter. Snow whips gently across the icy ground, muffling sound and adding to the mysterious, solemn atmosphere of this isolated kingdom, bathed in moonlight and frost.

The wind of the snowy fields blows Bristley as lava pours from a massive airship filled with magma, ready to descend into the ice-covered kingdom. 

Giant spike, bald anchors crash down onto the field as the horrifying airship crashes in front of the entrance of the ice like kingdom. A terrifying fortress suspended in the sky, the floating fire castle looms like a volcanic storm frozen mid-eruption. Hewn from jagged black stone and fiery rock, the structure pulses with seething molten energy, as rivers of lava cascade down its slopes like burning blood. Every edge and tower is sharpened like the teeth of a monster, designed to pierce the heavens and strike fear into anything below.

The central structure is shaped like a massive, mountainous spire, surrounded by flame-belching towers and battlements that glow with an inner heat. From its core flows a constant surge of lava, pouring down like a blazing waterfall and illuminating the haze around it with an ominous red-orange glow. The molten channels carve pathways between dark towers, reinforcing the impression that this is not simply a castle, but a living engine of destruction.

Enveloped in a permanent storm of ash, fire, and smoke, the sky around the castle is darkened, occasionally pierced by lightning or glowing embers. Its underside appears torn from the earth itself floating above the world like an airborne chunk of apocalypse, suspended by some unnatural force or ancient sorcery.

When it moves, it does not drift; it invades. The glowing light it casts is not warm, but suffocating, its presence signaling conquest, ruin, and overwhelming heat. The floating fire castle is more than a fortress; it's a harbinger of annihilation, dragging hell across the sky.

Nearby buildings are crushed and melt to water when the burning kingdom lands on the ground, blithering all within its way. 

The entrances of the lava Kingdom open, standing within a giant horrifying armored soldiers.

Towering, monstrous, and encased in brutal black armor, these warriors embody the essence of living destruction. Their massive, muscular builds are enhanced by thick, jagged plating that looks forged from volcanic rock tough enough to deflect blades and crush bone with ease. Each figure is coated in dark obsidian-like skin, veined with glowing green cracks of energy, like corrupted magma pulsing just beneath the surface.

Their helmets resemble the skulls of ancient beasts, with sharp, angular visors and curved horn-like protrusions, giving them an appearance somewhere between medieval warlords and infernal demons. Beneath the helm, glowing eyes ranging from bright green to eerie yellow pierce through the darkness with unrelenting malice. These glowing slits offer no humanity, only the promise of bloodshed.

Their broad frames are layered with thick armored plates covering the chest, shoulders, and arms, adorned with jagged markings and glowing runes that pulse with a sickly hue. The spiked pauldrons and massive forearm guards suggest they are designed not only for defense but also for overwhelming offense in close combat.

Weapons are almost always clutched in their hands: gigantic spears, serrated axes, and cruel swords, all made for cleaving through defenses and splitting shields in half. Some are seen dragging their weapons behind them, the sheer weight of their arms making even basic movements thunderous.

They move in packs, like a single-minded war machine silent, disciplined, and relentless. These creatures exist only for domination, built to serve a darker master and march across the battlefield with no fear, no hesitation, and no mercy. Their presence alone casts a shadow over hope, and wherever they march, ruin follows.

Then horrifying winged creatures flew from the tops of the castle onto the ground, where the formation was being created. 

The stone skin of trolls can be any color, from black, to purple, and to grays and greens. All trolls have koala-like noses and multiple horns on or around their head. Covering their whole bodies are tattoo-like linings carved on their bodies, which span from their face to their legs. Lots of trolls are large, tall, and bulky, around two to three times the height of a normal human. Trolls are also known to have hair, which is usually styled in eccentric ways, and some trolls have fur that cover some of their body. Lots of trolls also have reptile-like tails, though they don't seem to serve any purpose.

Group by group they begin to lunch out of the entrances running in multiple formations. They scout the area to make sure there are no further dangers or obstacles that stand in their way as they make their way to the entrance.

Winged creatures ascend from the airship, and make their way to the ground in a steady formation. 

A terrifying and hideous figure awaits them on the ground holding a staff after stepping out of the portal on the front lines.

Towering and gaunt, this warrior appears as a nightmarish sentinel part troll, part phantom, forged from stone, shadow, and something far older. His physique is thin but powerful, with a broad, armored chest and long, sinewy arms that move with unnerving precision. Despite his lean frame, there's muscle packed beneath the gray, cracked surface of his skin, skin that resembles weathered stone, broken by visible crevices and fissures glowing faintly with blue gems embedded within, like fractured veins of magical ore.

His head is tall, elongated, and skull-like, evoking the eerie image of something long dead but never truly resting. Two massive horns curl outward from the back of his head, wrapped in tattered fabric, giving him the look of an ancient executioner or cursed war priest. His face is dominated by deep, sunken yellow eyes, their sclera pitch black orbs that glow from within with malevolent intelligence. These eyes can detach and move freely, scouting or surveilling independently like cursed sentries.

A pronounced underbite juts from his lower jaw, revealing jagged fangs that protrude even in silence, while his small, dark nose is barely visible against the carved structure of his face. Around his limbs and feet, vines and roots twist and grow, as if the forest itself has tried and failed to reclaim him. Despite his stone form, he moves with ghostlike speed and precision.

His right shoulder is armored with a pale, bone-colored pauldron, and a leather vambrace wraps tightly around his right forearm, marked by battle and ritual. His left arm remains bare, save for two golden rings circling his wrist, glinting with each movement. Across his chest runs a single leather strap, connecting to a belt at his waist, from which hangs a rugged loincloth and a small pouch likely carrying tools of dark trade or ancient relics of forgotten hunts.

In his hand, he clutches a crooked staff, gnarled and ancient, more a relic than a weapon yet heavy with curse and intent. Every step he takes stirs unease, as if the earth forgets how to breathe in his presence. A hunter, a warrior, a shadow made flesh he exists between death and duty, and the scars of that burden are carved into every inch of his body.

Next to him appears flames, an almost human bird- like figure with their own staff. A towering and enigmatic figure, this being radiates a mystical presence both regal and fearsome. Their skin is ash-gray, smooth yet otherworldly, adorned with Inuit-style tattoos etched like embers across their cheeks and brow. Their face is angular, with high, sculpted cheekbones, and short red hair that curves in a sharp, symmetrical fringe across the forehead. From behind, a thick tail of hair cascades down, tied neatly with a golden ornament, glinting like a relic of ancient nobility.

The eyes when visible glow like molten fire, a piercing reddish-orange that mirrors the flames they command. Normally, however, these eyes remain hidden behind a black blindfold marked with red runes, veiling sight but enhancing mystique. When stepping beyond their dark sanctuary, they wear a bird-like skull over their head elongated, stitched, and bone-white like a ceremonial mask worn by a high priest of flame.

Their physique is both graceful and imposing: a narrow waist, slim arms wrapped in pale blue wrappings, and strong, muscular thighs, hinting at immense power beneath the ceremonial garb. Draped over their shoulders is a grand feathered cape, black as void, flowing like wings in a storm. On each shoulder rest massive red wooden pauldrons, designed to resemble open, glaring eyes as if the flames see through all, even when the wearer cannot.

Their robes are deep crimson and adorned with golden patterns, flowing down into black pants that fade into dark crimson near the feet, wrapped in tattered bindings. They carry a staff crowned with a glowing crimson crystal, bound in leather and sharp bones, a conduit of elemental fury and ancient magic.

Neither clearly male nor female, their voice shifts and echoes, sometimes deep with ancient authority, other times sharp and ethereal. Wherever they walk, the scent of smoke, the flutter of feathers, and the whisper of forgotten fire gods follow.

Once all of the soldiers and winged soldiers are in formation, the second figure starts," BEHOLD ", the figure begins to say," THE KING OF THE TROLLS",. The figure slams their staff to the ground and stands for information along with all of the other soldiers. 

The entrance to the massive airship begins to open and a massive creature emerges from the flames. 

He is an enormous, hulking beast, towering above nearly every other creature on the battlefield. His body is forged from jet-black stone-like skin, rough and jagged as obsidian, with a texture that looks like it could scrape flesh from bone with a single brush. Each movement he makes sends a tremor through the ground, his muscles rippling with raw, ancient power.

His horns curl menacingly around his face, twisted and uneven, almost disfigured. The right horn is chipped, a battle-worn fracture that only adds to his brutal appearance. Framing his face are glowing yellow eyes with smoldering red-orange pupils, burning with primal fury and relentless hatred. His snarling mouth reveals rows of razor-sharp fangs, ready to tear into anything that dares challenge him.

Across his body are the macabre trophies of his conquests skulls, bones, and remnants of the fallen tied crudely to his leather belts and straps. These are not decorations but warnings, proof of a long, bloody legacy. On his forearm, a thick leather brace binds his immense strength, while two massive bone-like weapons rest over his shoulders, strapped down like ancient tools of destruction.

His very presence exudes dread. He is not simply a warrior or a monster; he is a walking extinction event, forged in the darkest corners of war and cruelty, bred only for chaos, domination, and death.

The figure slowly walks past his troops as he makes his way to the very front of the formation 

Once he's at the front of the formation, he begins to roar," OPEN THE GATES!!!!!!!!!"

And as if on queue the doors of the ice-like kingdom slowly begin to open as the monstrous soldier stands ready, awaiting for battle in a stance, awaiting for the enemy to strike. 

The doors finally begin their stop the soldiers are cautious one slowly they see multiple figures with giant shadows, emerging the troll leader, stands rocky as his soldiers do the same ready to begin the first strike

Small in stature but commanding in presence, these anthropomorphic penguins stand upright with rounded, chubby bodies cloaked in sleek, icy-blue feathers. Their bellies are a lighter shade of frosty white, creating a classic contrast that highlights their regal and martial attire. Despite their soft, plush-like appearance, their expressions are serious and resolute, with wide, round eyes that sparkle with purpose and pride.

At the center stands a distinguished figure clad in a thick, fur-lined navy-blue cloak that brushes the icy floor. A golden crown rests atop his smooth, rounded head, its polished points catching the frosty light. His demeanor suggests royalty poised and focused, with a quiet authority.

Surrounding him are his guards, each wearing dark tactical belts and chest sashes, evoking a militarized aesthetic. Their outfits are fitted with buckles and pouches, suggesting utility, despite their toy-like size. Their yellow-orange beaks protrude from their rounded faces, and they possess small flipper-like arms and short legs, each movement deliberate and unified in defense of their realm.

Together, they form a striking blend of adorable charm and icy defiance, like miniature warriors born of winter, standing firm in the face of greater threats

But once the real image of the figures is revealed in full, the troll army, rippled with multiple eager faces ready to slaughter. 

However.surprising fact that the enemy that the trolls were about to face were not in fact, multiple hideous, battle ready, monsters like them or giant warriors...but instead penguins? 

As the main door of the Ice Kingdom opened, it revealed small, rounded, and deceptively soft in appearance, the defenders of the Ice Kingdom emerged with disciplined strides. Their icy-blue feathers caught the pale aurora light, bellies frosty white, beaks yellow-orange and sharp with determination. Despite their plushlike frames, their movements were unified, their eyes resolute. They were soldiers, tiny ones, but soldiers nonetheless.

The trolls shifted uneasily, their snarls breaking into bewildered growls. A few even let out low chuckles. "This is the defense?" one spat. "Birds?"

When the Penguin King stepped forward, draped in his fur-lined navy cloak and crowned in gold, the Troll's caution grew.. His round figure might have been small, but he carried himself with an authority that weighed heavier than the obsidian titan across from him.

The snow hissed. Steam rose as the Leader troll, colossal and obsidian, trudged forward. His molten breath spilled from between jagged teeth, his every step cracking the frozen earth. The battlefield hushed beneath his weight.

With a solemn step forward, the Penguin King raised a flipper and pointed it squarely toward the invading force. His voice, though high-pitched, was crisp with dignity. "How dare you set foot upon these grounds, Bular."

Across the field, the air cracked with heat as The Troll King: Bular The Butcher stepped forward looking massive, obsidian skinned, and horrifying. The snow beneath him sizzled and hissed as his molten breath escaped through jagged teeth. The beasts behind him fell silent as he towered over the entire field, muscles flexing beneath armor carved from shadow and bone.

With a low, rumbling exhale, Bular threw his arms wide and smirked with savage amusement, "(Chuckles) King Penguin… it's been too long", he said, taking a few steps forward.

The king of the penguins scowled at the troll king, completely unwilling to return the hospitable mode."You're not welcome here."

The troll king waved off the cold greeting with a grunt of false remorse.

"Yes, yes… noted. Duly noted. And unfortunately ignored." He turned slightly, gesturing with one clawed hand toward the massive, armored army behind him. "So I brought my own… welcome party."

The moment he said it, the armored troll soldiers raised their weapons in sync, an ocean of black steel and flickering green flame, ready to descend at a moment's notice.

The penguin king narrowed his eyes towards the army, lifting his beak slightly. "State your business, beast."

The troll king let out another chuckle, amused at the penguins pathetic attempt at being intimidating, stepped closer, each motion rumbling the frozen earth beneath him. "Ah yes thank you, you see… you have something I want. Something I've been searching for… for a long, long time."

As he continued talking he scanned the gathered defenders with a calculating squint, eyes glowing like twin furnaces."I actually sent a messenger here a few days ago and gave you ample time to prepare it. But…uh" He tilted his head mockingly. "I don't see it. Do you see it anywhere?"

He turned to his right side to ask none other than his right hand man of this army: Angor Rot stood motionless, clutching his shadow staff tightly as he just as quickly and coldly answered,"No I do not",staring daggers at the enemy penguins.

The Penguin King squinted angrily at the monsters as he stood firm, flippers clenched at his sides, cloak whipping in the wind."You'll find nothing here. I have no intention of surrendering a tool of destruction to the very creature who would burn this world—and every other he steps into."

The troll king's grin faded into a blank stare that lingered for a few moments before he closed his eyes as he inhaled and then exhaled calmly before reopening them again before nodding his head a few times."Hmph…you know I thought you might say that", He then simply Shrugged his shoulders,"Oh well good thing there's option b." 

He raised his claw and Motion for his Royal Demigod advisor that stood To his left next to him.

Bellroc raised their staff, getting their king's signal, the crimson red crystal at its tip glowing brighter with each passing breath. Their voice, twisted with layered tones, male and female, young and ancient, rang out across the frozen field with the weight of fire and prophecy, "You have been given your warning. You know what we've come for. Continue this defiance…",They paused, raising their hand as flame sparked at their fingertips,"…and your kingdom will be reduced to boiling steam and bone."

The Penguin King stood unwavering and unaffected by this threat. 

His flipper tightened with tenseness, but he continued to stand with the courage of giants. "You'll find nothing from us. Not today. Not ever. If it's blood you want, then come take it."

A hush fell over the entire ice field.

All of the penguins looked nervously towards their king, wondering if he was sure it was a good idea to refuse the troll king.

They all knew more than well what he was capable of, especially when he was in a state of unbridled rage.

 Who knows what this monster could be capable of when provoked?

 Well actually they would find out real soon

Because soon after the penguin King had said that, heavy footsteps boomed behind Bellroc as Bular the Butcher trudged forward, towering high above all. Flames shimmered in his jagged eyes, and his breath came like a furnace. He stared down at the penguins, however it wasn't with rage… but mild irritation.

He sighed, shoulders slouching slightly, pinching his nose,"You see this?" he muttered aloud, speaking mostly to Bellroc,"This is exactly what I didn't want today. Stubborn little plushies. I've got a dozen kingdoms to raze, a council to destroy, and one extremely unstable portal to open-", he turned to the penguins and motioned his hand towards them,"And yet… here we are."

He pointed at them with one thick finger, eyes narrowing,"You could've made this easy. All I asked for was one. Simple. Thing."

He turned to his forces and raised his massive arm,"Instead, you'd rather throw away your lives protecting something you can't even begin to fathom."His voice boomed louder, crackling like thunder through smoke,"You call me the warmongering monster. But yet here you are slapping my hand away out of spite."

His lip curled into a half-snarl, half-smile,"(chuckles) And this is after I come here so graciously to ask you for the second time for an item that is rightfully mine in hopes to avoid any need for conflict", he pointed out as he chuckled and a half amused and half aggressive manner. 

 Bular then placed his hand on top of his chest as he continued,"I do this out of the kindness of my heart and you think you can just stand here and blatantly provoke me into throwing the first blow and starting a war?"He then leaned forward and pretended to whisper to them," I'm sure I'm not the only one that thinks that sounds kind of hypocritical".

He then began to shamingly shake his head in disappointment.,"Think that you could have had the chance to end this peacefully..", then his tone dropped ,"But if you Insist on forcing my hand…",He once again turned in motion towards his entire army, who stood there anxious for a battle."…then we will just peel your soon to be puddled kingdom to its bones until you beg me to stop by giving me what we so politely asked for."

The words hung in the air like black smoke.

Even the wind seemed to pause.

The Penguin King's feathers bristled, not from the cold, but from rage. He could hardly believe the audacity radiating off these beasts across the battlefield. This towering warlord, responsible for burning cities to ash, leveling kingdoms, and butchering innocents, children, stood there with the gall to act inconvenienced, as if this siege, this cruelty, was some minor detour in his busy day.

The Penguin King held his ground, chin raised, flippers clenched.

He knew what was to come.

He had no intention of handing anything over to this monster.

He knew that his Kingdom would be wiped off the map as a result of this.

But that didn't matter not now not ever not while he was still alive to cause more destruction and harm to innocents

Even if their Kingdom may fall, others will rise against this monster.

And if he could play a part in making sure this monster's downfall is certain, then this was a risk he was willing to take.

No matter the cost.

And it would seem that his soldiers were getting that memo as well, as they tightened their grips on their weapons.

The fear in their eyes soon turned to.Brave anger as they began glaring at the monstrous army.

They knew exactly what was at stake here, and they were more than prepared to fight for their cause.

His voice cut through the burning wind like a blade of ice,"Then you'll be waiting quite a long time, monster. Because this 'puddle' has no intention of giving you anything other than an opportunity to watch you bleed."

And behind him was a hundred tiny soldiers, who were now motivated more than ever before to fight for their Kingdom, banged their shields in unison, ready to defend their home, even against the firestorm.

The tension snapped.

A sharp gust of wind swept through the icy field as the Penguin King raised his flipper high into the air, his cloak billowing behind him like a royal banner caught in a blizzard. His sharp eyes gleamed with unyielding resolve, and a grim, confident smile played on his beak as he looked over his loyal soldiers.

He took a breath and roared with all the command he could summon as he pointed his formally raised flipper towards the enemy forces,"ATTACK!!!"

The penguin army surged forward, waddling in tight formation, flippers pumping, battle cries squeaking through the icy air. 

Every one of them wore the face of sheer determination, as if they were charging into history. 

Their tiny feet pattered against the frost as they closed the gap between them and the towering infernal army.

And once they had finally made it to the front lines, it was there that they then revealed one of their secret weapons they would use to win this fight..

Snowballs.

Perfectly packed spheres of glistening snow.

Shimmering white, frosty orbs raised high in unison. With a mighty group shout, each of the penguins stopped in place, reached down, grabbed a glob of snow and shaped it into the perfectly rounded snowballs.

Once they were complete they hurled their snowballs at the enemy ranks, flinging them like divine projectiles meant to turn the tide of war..

Thud. Paff. Thunk.

The snowballs smacked against the blackened armor of the troll soldiers, crumbling like powder against stone. One landed square on a troll's faceplate and simply dusted off, leaving only a faint speckle of snow that quickly broke apart on impact..

The trolls unfortunately did not flinch at these attacks.

The horde stood like statues, hulking, glowing-eyed statues of death with their weapons still at their sides. 

A few cracked smirks at this pathetic attempt at an offensive attack.

Despite how pathetic it looked the snowballs continued to be hurled at the trolls. At the point where the Penguins pulled in a catapult that launched a giant snowball right at one of the troll soldiers.

Unfortunately that amounted to it basically doing nothing to the troll as it completely disintegrated upon impact leaving the troll completely unfazed. 

But soon, the penguins began to slow, their tiny arms tiring, their supplies of snow thinning, breath puffing visibly in short bursts of exhaustion. A few collapsed onto their bellies, panting. Their little war cries faded into winded wheezes.

And still, even after all that effort, the enemy didn't budge an inch.

 If anything they looked more annoyed that they had to sit through that display rather than to actually be fighting themselves. 

The last snowball crumbled against a troll's chest and fell to the ice with a soft plop.

Across the battlefield, the trolls stood motionless, unmoved, their obsidian armor glinting under the red glare of lava fires. Some blinked slowly, others exchanged blank looks, and one particularly large troll yawned. A few even looked... bored.

Anything but impressed to be honest.

One of them scratched his shoulder with the tip of his spear.

Bular himself didn't even bother to smirk, he just looked mildly annoyed, as if someone had tracked snow into his throne room. He crossed his massive arms, eyes glowing faintly like two dying suns, and tilted his head.

"Well," he said flatly, voice carrying across the field as he brushed off some leftover snow residue from his shoulder, "that was… definitely 'an' attack."

The Penguin King stood frozen, both figuratively and literally as he took in the sight of the completely unfazed army.

Yeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaah this… this was bad, like very bad.

He'd put everything into that assault and it hadn't even made them flinch much less scratch them.

Okay, sure, maybe the whole snowball plan wasn't exactly foolproof. But in his defense, it had worked once against the Ice Goats in the southern valley. Those guys hated snowballs.

But these trolls? 

These were walking volcanoes statues, literally. 

They'd arrived in a floating lava fortress!

He stared at their blackened armor and realization finally started to sink in.

Oh no. Oh no no no no.

He'd just challenged a horde of psychotic murder giants to a snowball fight.

"Oh stars," he said in his said, eyes darting nervously. "We are so dead."

He glanced at his soldiers who were still panting, and valiantly scooping snow, some proudly trying to form new snowballs despite trembling flippers. 

Their tiny bodies steamed from exhaustion, their faces flushed red with effort and pride.

He wanted to scream stop to them, tell them they'd done enough, that they'd completed their objective. 

But he couldn't, not when the evacuation tunnels beneath the kingdom were still filling with civilians who still needed more time to escape the wrath of the trolls. 

He needed to buy them more time, any tiny bit he could.

You know exactly what those monsters would do to them if he had gotten past their defenses, and this King couldn't let that happen, not to his subjects. 

His heart hammered in his chest, faster than it ever had before. 

His eyes darted to the trolls' towering silhouettes.

He could feel their eyes on him the way predators stare at something small that doesn't know it's already dead.

The King inhaled deeply and straightened his back, forcing his expression back into one of regal defiance.

It was over not by a long shot; they still had more than enough tricks up their flippers.

So with that the Penguin King stepped forward once more, flipper raised again, his voice booming across the field with defiance and royal pride.

"THAT…" he said, drawing breath, chest puffed proudly,"…IS BUT A TASTE OF OUR FURY!",A silence followed with the wind and the fading hiss of lava dripping in the distance. He lifted his chin, voice unwavering,"DO YOU YIELD?!"

The words echoed, hanging in the air with the weight of ancient challenge.

For a moment, just a moment, the battlefield was still.

Then came the sound.

A low rumble.

Not from the earth.

But from the chest of the troll king himself.

He began to laugh.

First a low, rolling chuckle. Then it grew into a deep, resonant cackle that thundered across the frozen plains like an avalanche of molten mockery.

He took one heavy step forward, cracking the ice beneath his heel, and tilted his head with a grin full of glowing fangs.

Bular stepped forward, each footfall caused a mini-earthquake in the ground so powerful that the penguins could feel it from where they were standing.

His molten eyes burned brighter, reflecting the King's defiance in their glow. "Yield?" he repeated slowly, savoring the word. His tone was almost playful as he bent low, his massive hand grabbed the tiniest bit of snow off of the ground and picked it up to rub it between his index finger and thumb as he let out a chuckle,"After you throw snow at fire?",as said snow finished turning into water, he flicked it off his hand before shaking his head as he looked back to the Penguins,"No I don't think I do".

And with that, Bular turned slowly toward Bellroc, his eyes glowing faintly like twin suns behind storm clouds. With a heavy nod, he gave the signal.

Bellroc responded immediately, slamming the base of their blazing staff into the ice with a resounding BOOM. 

A ripple of purple energy exploded outward, tearing across the battlefield like a shockwave of invisible thunder.

 The entire army of penguin soldiers suddenly levitated into the air, their tiny flippers flailing as startled gasps escaped their beaks.Hundreds of small, round bodies lifted off the snow, suspended helplessly in midair. Their flippers flailed, feet kicking uselessly. For a single absurd moment, they all hung there, frozen mid-yell.

Then with a sharp flick of Bellroc's wrist, The entire army of penguins was hurled sideways with a deafening crash. Tiny figures flew like scattered snowflakes, slamming into frozen walls, icy spires, and the shattered remains of their own catapult. The sound of impact rang through the tundra like the shattering of glass.

Dozens hit the ground hard, their armor clinking, their cries echoing weakly.

The snow that once blanketed the battlefield was now stained with smudges of soot and feather.

Bellroc didn't stop there.

They turned, eyes hidden behind the bird-skull mask, and pointed their staff toward the heart of the Ice Kingdom, the great citadel that rose like a crystal mountain crowned in blue.

"Let them witness the end of their false sanctuary," Bellroc whispered, voice splitting into two overlapping tones, one male, one female, and perfectly inhuman.

The crystal atop the staff flared with a fiery pulse, the staff unleashed a scorching jet of flame, roaring through the air like a serpent of heat. The blast slammed into the outer wall of the kingdom, and ice exploded into steam. Towers began to melt and collapse, their elegant shapes deforming under the sheer heat of Bellroc's magic.

Chunks of glittering frost rained down, crashing into the courtyards below as Bular watched with glee, his jagged mouth curling into a wide, malicious grin,"What a beautiful sight.," he rumbled.

The few penguin soldiers, still conscious, watched helplessly in horror as their home was being burnt to the ground.

One young soldier, barely more than a recruit, clutched his chest in anguish. His flippers trembled as he whispered, "No… no, no, no…" The reflection of the inferno danced in his eyes. 

He could not comprehend that this nightmare was real, that his kingdom was being erased.

There was nothing they could do, but watch as monsters tore apart everything they had ever known.

 Before Any of them could even get the chance to get up and check on the state of his home, the ground trembled beneath the penguins' feet.

A loud, pounding rhythm echoed through the frost as the Gumm-Gumm soldiers began their charge to intercept them.

The penguins, seeing the enemy charging towards them, hastily and fearfully began scrambling to regroup with their comrades, their feet slipped in the slush as they tried to reform a line. 

A few, desperate to do something, reached down and scooped up handfuls of snow. Tiny flippers packed the melting frost into crude snowballs, their breath ragged from the heat still rippling in the air.

They hurled them with all their strength. The snowballs burst uselessly against the advancing giants, turning to white mist before even striking.

It didn't take much for the gum gum trolls to use their giant claws to grab the Penguins and hold them down; they barely looked like they were expending much strength; this is probably due to the Penguins small sizes. 

(Author's note: Like literally guys I googled this shit the Penguins were about the size of the gum gum trolls hands that's how you know they were royally fucked)

A few managed to bite, others slapped their flippers at glowing armor—but nothing stopped the onslaught.

One gum-gum lunged forward, his clawed gauntlet sweeping through the ranks like a scythe. 

Another soldier's chain lashed out, wrapping around a penguin's waist and yanking him screaming into the air before slamming him into the ground with a sickening crack that split the permafrost.

One soldier swept his clawed arm sideways, sending half a dozen penguins tumbling across the ice like toys. 

Another snatched a penguin by his cloak and tossed him into a snowbank; the little warrior tried to crawl back out, only to be pinned beneath a stoned foot.

The green glow lit the battlefield like a sickly firelight.

 Every blow left streaks of neon green glow across the white ground. 

The sound of clinking steel and squealing panic mixed into a single, horrifying chorus.

"Capture them!" one Gumm-Gumm troll barked, his voice a grinding growl of stone. "The King wants them all taken alive!"

The order rolled through the ranks, and the assault shifted from slaughter to seizure. 

As the penguin soldiers stare up at them, they see their reflections, those tiny, trembling shapes mirrored in the trolls' armor like prey already trapped in a predator's gaze.

The battlefield had grown eerily still save for the crunch of Bular's heavy steps carrying him a few toward the towering gates of the Ice Kingdom, its crystalline spires glittering in the dying twilight.

The Penguin King staggered backward, his cloak torn, snow matted with soot. 

He watched in horror as people were being dragged into chains, his soldiers, his friends, his kingdom all in mere minutes.

His narrow eyes burned with a cold, deliberate fury and the sight knowing he had to do something.

The Penguin King stood up from where he was thrown, untouched alone atop a shattered outcrop of ice, the winds howling around him like a warning from the gods themselves. His fur-lined cape whipped behind him, but he didn't flinch. 

With a slow, deliberate motion, the king reached beneath his cloak and retrieved a small silver whistle, its surface etched with swirling frost runes symbols older than the kingdom itself. The metal glinted in the twilight as he brought it to his beak and blew.

The sound was unnatural.

A high, haunting shriek, like the scream of an arctic banshee, cut through the war cries as all eyes turned in his direction. 

There was nothing but sheer silence for the first few seconds.

Before any of the trolls had the chance to charge over and shut him up….. the castle responded.

From deep within the glacial citadel, echoes stirred as the walls of the inner sanctum cracked not from collapse, but from emergence. Shimmering fissures opened along the ice-wrought architecture, bleeding cold mist and a faint hum of magic.

And then suddenly all around them, the snow began to rise

It twisted and turned as if inhaling itself, coalescing into great towers of white and blue, condensing and shaping. Within moments, the battlefield trembled not from troll feet, but from the birth of titans.

And that was when they appeared…..

The battlefield quaked as new forces entered the fray, towering ice-born titans that dwarfed even the penguin king, who had summoned them. These were the Ice Monsters, conjured guardians of frost and fury, each one carved from the heart of winter itself.

They loomed as hulking behemoths of compacted snow and jagged ice, their massive bodies shaped like grotesque parodies of men. Their joints were fused not by sticks or sinew, but by crystalline slabs of glacial ice that cracked and groaned with every heavy movement. The ground beneath them trembled as they walked, each footfall booming like the collapse of an avalanche.

Their hands ended in long, sharpened icicles fingers like translucent knives, gleaming with the deadly sharpness of frozen talons. With each flex, those jagged claws caught the faint light of the frost runes, refracting it into an eerie, otherworldly glow. Their elbows and knees bore thick shields of ice, jagged like armored plates, and with every swing, these icy protrusions threatened to smash through bone or steel.

When roused to greater anger, the Ice Monsters transformed into something even more terrifying. Spikes of ice erupted from their broad backs, bristling like porcupine quills or the ridged spines of ancient beasts. These crystalline growths caught the moonlight, turning their silhouettes into monstrous, bristling fortresses of living ice. Their jaws gaped wide with snarling roars, fanged with frozen stalactites, their open maws echoing with guttural, thunderous bellows that chilled the blood.

Their eyes burned with a hellish glow, sockets lit by an inner blue-white fire that pulsed in time with their rage. When they struck, their claws tore through frost and flesh alike, each blow carrying the weight of a blizzard's fury. Even their breath misted the battlefield like a stormfront, adding to the chaos of snow and cold swirling about their massive forms.

And yet, for all their horrifying presence, there were not one, but many. Ice Monsters advanced in unison armored titans of winter, claws and fangs sharpened to butcher, spikes rising with their wrath.

( author's note: basically this was the ice monster from Frozen but five of them) 

The five colossal Ice Monsters freshly summoned, steaming with raw magic took their positions behind the Penguin King. Their jagged silhouettes dwarfed him, towering like living glaciers poised for war.

The Penguin King raised his flippers high, cloak snapping like a battle flag in the polar wind motioning towards his stronger Army, "Behold the Full taste of our fury, monster—!"

The Ice Monsters did not wait for his command. 

With a collective roar that cracked the very air, they immediately lunged forward as one, claws slashing, icy fists hammering, their crystalline spikes glinting like death itself under the pale northern sky.

A chorus of guttural, bestial roars tore through the air as they stampeded straight for Bular.

Snow erupted behind their galloping forms. The ground shook violently with each gargantuan step.

The field shook as all of them charged straight for Bular, who simply just grinned.

That monstrous, molten, jagged-toothed grin stretched slowly across his obsidian face as he spread his arms wide like a king welcoming worshippers.

They descended on Bular with primal fury, their collective roars shaking the very citadel walls.

"Now this…" he rumbled, voice vibrating the air,"…THIS is more like it."

The first Ice Monster lunged with a bellowing scream, slamming its entire body into Bular's torso like a living avalanche.

SLAM.

The impact drove Bular backward and down, carving a trench into the frost as both titan and troll crashed into the ground.

Another monster leapt forward with startling speed for its size, smashing its jagged elbow straight into Bular's jaw.

BAM.

A third slammed in from the left, stabbing its icy head and antler-like spikes into his ribs.

CRASH.

The fourth lunged from above, diving like a collapsing glacier and burying Bular completely under a mountain of fists, frozen claws, and supernatural frost.

The fifth simply ran up and started punching Bular in the face over and over again

WHAM! WHUMP! WHAM!

Soon they all joined in, forming a gleefully brutal circle as they kicked, stomped, tackled, smashed, and hammered Bular beneath a living avalanche of enchanted frost.

The Penguin King stared from where he was standing off to the sidelines, completely stunned.

A flicker of hope danced in his chest.

One of the penguin guards looked up with wide eyes,"We're winning…?!"

It was heard about how unstoppable of a beast this butcher was, Years they had never heard any stories of anyone being able to so much scratch him.

And now their beasts were able to attack them down and beat him senselessly.

Another penguin rubbed his eyes with his flippers,"They're actually beating him! They're beating BULAR!",he yelled while being held down by one of the trolls. 

Despite those snow beasts being about the size of the gum gum soldiers they looked as if they were doing a remarkable amount of damage to the King of the trolls. 

The Ice Monsters were relentless, blowing chunks of hardened magma-rock off his armor, denting his obsidian plating, pressing him deeper into the ice with each merciless strike.

The penguin King almost felt the urge to celebrate as his heart thudded with rising optimism.

But then…

He saw something the other penguins did not.

The enemy army,the Gumm-Gumms soldiers, didn't look worried or concerned in the slightest.

They stood with arms folded, bored expressions hidden behind their helms, as though watching someone try to punch down a mountain.

Everyone of them had this casual look on their face while watching this beatdown, bored and unintimidated like their leader wasn't being pulverized.

The Penguin King's breath caught.

Why were they acting like this wasn't a threat?

Like this wasn't dangerous?

Like this beating meant nothing?

It was almost as if this seemed like a waste of their ti-

A terrifying realization hit him like a dagger of ice.

His pupils shrank,"Oh no… no, Stars above…", he quietly whispered to himself.

Before he could warn anyone—

Bellroc's voices, smooth and cold as obsidian, cut through the frost. "My lord," they called calmly, staff glowing red-hot, "it would be wise for us to move this along. The plan must stay on course."

From beneath the pile of snow monsters, a muffled voice answered a deep, rumbling growl saturated with amusement,"Mmffh—yeah… give me a sec—"

And then... 

It happened.

From within the heap of snow a burst of orange fire exploded upward from the center of the writhing snow pile.

Two massive, curved swords the same brutal blades once strapped across Bular's back erupted from the snow pile, spinning through the air with unnatural force. They glowed with a sickly orange hue, as if alive and hungry for blood.

One blade cleaved straight through the neck of the nearest Glacier Beast when it popped out at first.

SHRRRRK!

The creature's head popped free in a shower of ice, collapsing instantly into a mound of scattered frost

The sky pulsed with tension.

Suddenly, a hand—black obsidian stone, wrapped in cracks of orange—shot up from beneath the chaos.

Then—

SNAP.

With the snap of his fingers the floating blades froze mid-spin.

The blades then jerked mid-air, turned, and flew straight back to him like wolves to their alpha.

A hush of dread swept across the battlefield.

The Penguin King's flipper trembled.

"Oh no…" he whispered.

The pile of Ice Monsters erupted outward as Bular rose, swords in hand, shoving them off like overturned furniture. 

Snow cascaded from his shoulders as he picked himself up off the snow, the frost cracked and fell away from his armor.

He stood tall once more in a towering, furious, yet thrilled demeanor, while his eyes blazed brighter than ever, orange light burning in crazed spirals.

He cracked his neck and stretched his arms before rolling his shoulders as if to warm himself up.

He then dragged the massive blades across the ground, carving sizzling lines of molten orange in the ice.

Bular smirked arrogantly As he then stared daggers right at the Penguin king,"So is that the full taste of your fury,?" his smirk quickly turned into a snarl,"Because it was very undercooked for my liking."

The remaining four Ice Monsters roared, hearing this, positioning themselves around him, extending their ice spiked claws while flaring with blue-white light.

Bular stepped forward into a battle stance, planting both swords behind him in their sheaths As he then got into a battle ready stance."Let us turn up the temperature, shall we?."

And justice like that, the massive creatures, each one towering like icy titans, charged once again toward the revived troll king, their fists raised and glowing with runes of ancient frost. Their hollow howls echoed like winter storms, snow trailing behind them like cloaks of vengeance.

But Bular, a towering, monstrous, gleaming with obsidian skin demon didn't flinch. Instead he stood tall amid the shattered battlefield, glowing with veins of orange light, his twin swords humming like beasts eager for blood. Steam rolled from his nostrils with every breath. The glow of the fire around him illuminated his monstrous grin.

Instead, he cracked his neck once—pop—to the left.

Then again—pop—to the right.

A low rumble escaped his throat, not of anger… but of delight.

The first Ice Monster lunged, its fist hurtled down toward his head ready to try and crack it open.

But Before it could get the chance to make contact, Bular, with a thunderous laugh, jumped Into the air, flipping forward in a single, fluid motion. The icy fist shattered into the ground where he once stood, splitting the battlefield open.

He landed behind the beast in a crouch, the snow hissing beneath his molten feet.

SHING—!

Both of his blades flew free in one swift motion and were tightly gripped in his hand as two more Ice Monsters charged him from opposite sides, claws glowing with runes of deep blue frost.

When they tried to attack him with their claws, Boular used his swords as a means of protecting himself, before just as quickly going on the offensive. 

CLANG! CLANG!

Sparks of orange and shards of ice exploded through the air as metal met magic causing the ground to shake from the collision.

Bular twisted, roaring as he shoved both creatures back, then pivoted—slicing clean through the arm of the one to his right.

SHRRRRK!

The severed limb hit the ground, shattering into a thousand icy fragments.

Before the second could recover, Bular rammed his shoulder into its chest—BOOM!—sending it sprawling across the battlefield like a ragdoll.

Unfortunately, one of the beasts managed to catch him off guard as a huge, frozen fist slammed into his jaw.

THWACK!

The blow echoed like a cannon blast as Bular's head snapped to the side, shards of ice flying from his shoulder plate.

The Ice Monster didn't wait for the monster to respond as he.swung again, but this time, Bular was ready. He sidestepped the strike, grabbed the beast's arm mid-swing, and ripped it from its socket.

CRACK!

The sound tore through the field like lightning in a storm, the Ice Monster shrieked as its arm burst into a mist of frozen shards.

However, Bular didn't stop there.

He swung the severed limb like a club, smashing it straight into another charging monster.

SMASH!

The makeshift weapon connected with its chest, the impact caving it inward and sending chunks of glittering frost scattering across the snow. The creature fell backward, roaring in agony as steam hissed from its wounds.

Bular's laughter boomed through the Field as he threw the severed arm away and.lunged towards two of the other snow monsters winding his clawed hands back. 

Far behind the front lines, a few Gumm-Gumm soldiers shifted uneasily. Their glowing eyes followed their king as he single-handedly dismantled the summoned giants.

One stepped forward, clutching his weapon nervously as he addressed the right hand man of the army,"Commander Angor Rot, should we… assist the king?"

The dark figure draped in shadow and bone armor didn't move. Angor Rot stood still as death, his bone-white staff planted firmly in the frost, the faint glow of its embedded purple and blue tints, resembling that of a quartz crystal, casting a shadow across his carved face. His eyes, yellow and sharp, did not even glance at the soldier.

He simply lifted a finger and shook it left from right,"No."

The soldier blinked, unsure he heard the order correctly,"But, my lord, if we joined him—"

"He doesn't need your help," Angor said coldly, interrupting the gum gum. His voice carried no doubt, only irritation. "You lot focus on the penguins."

The soldier.Then began to speak in protest,"But—"

However, Angor Rot finally turned his head, his eyes burning through the slit of his helm,"Was that unclear?"The glow from them made the soldier flinch as the words hit harder than any blade.

The Gumm-Gumm soldier froze in response, armor rattling as he stood at attention, and stepped back instinctively, "…No, sir."

"Then get back to work," Angor muttered, turning his gaze back to the chaos. "And pray he doesn't see you standing idle."

The soldier quickly scurried off immediately, barking orders to his comrades. The trolls turned once again to their grim work, binding, dragging, and silencing the last of the penguin army.

Angor Rot didn't bother to watch them. His eyes stayed locked on the distant fight where Bular danced among the ice monsters.

One of the ice beasts lunged forward at the monstrous troll, its jagged fist shot toward him with enough force to crush stone.

But Bular caught it, his black claws clamped around the monster's wrist. 

With a single heave, he yanked the creature off balance, roaring as he lifted it by the face and hurled it aside like a ragdoll.

The beast's body crashed into the frozen ground, splitting apart into shards of shattered frost.

The next snow creature charged, claws glowing with enchanted blue light. Bular spun, bringing the back side of his hand around in a savage backhand. The impact sent the creature flying backward, jaw torn completely off in a spray of icy mist.

Another one came from the opposite side, roaring as it swiped at him with massive claws.

Bular ducked in response, slammed his horned head upward, and headbutted the monster right in the face.

CRACK!

The impact sent the creature back a few feet as fractures webbed across its frozen skull.

One creature, desperate and enraged, lunged from behind, wrapping its huge arms around Bular's chest, trying to restrain him in a bear hug.

Bular laughed with arrogance, knowing this wouldn't hold him.

With a guttural roar that shook the battlefield, he flexed every muscle in his massive frame until the creature's arms snapped like twigs.

He then reached behind and grabbed the beast by the throat, squeezing until glowing blue cracks crawled across its face.

The sound was horrific, like glass breaking underwater. 

Then, with one final squeeze—POP.

The head burst apart in a mist of powdered snow.

Still gripping the body, Bular spun on his heel and flung it across the battlefield. The limp corpse crashed into the remaining monsters, shattering all three in a blizzard of shards and fractured ice.

Only one Ice Monster remained, it staggered backward, icicles flickering, before its chest began to glow bright blue.

With a roar, it conjured a barrage of ice shards that shot out like arrows, dozens of them, streaking through the air like frozen daggers.

They hit Bular in a storm of relentless percussion.

THUD! THUNK! CRACK! THUD!

The shards struck his chest, shoulders, and arms but he didn't even flinch.

He stepped forward slowly through the barrage as each shard that struck him shattered instantly, turning to mist before it could pierce his hide.

 As the troll got closer he reached his arm forward, before the Ice Monster could react, Bular grabbed it by both arms and wasted no time, with a deafening roar, ripping the creature in half.

The sound was wet and horrifying, a violent tearing of matter that filled the area. The monster's head to groin split open, collapsing into vapor and snow, disintegrating in his grasp until all that remained was mist.

Bular threw the remains aside like trash and turned his burning gaze toward the distant figure of the Penguin King, the small, trembling ruler who had summoned this doomed army in desperation. 

Their eyes met across the chaos.

The king couldn't breathe. His heart hammered against his ribs as Bular started walking toward him, each footstep shaking the earth.

Snow fell in silence. The only sound was the hiss of molten fire cutting through the cold.

As Bular made his way over to him he tried to be the voice of arrogant reason in his Psychotic way,"If I were you I'd yield", he then opened his arms wide to motion to their surroundings ,"There's nowhere left for you to run....", He gestured to the piles of crushed frost that had once been the king's summoned beasts,".....And nothing left you can throw at me."

For a moment, Bular almost seemed sympathetic. His expression softened, or tried to, as he stood with his swords sheathed across his back, arms hanging loose. 

He said as he suddenly stopped and placed his hands on his hips. Then he lifted one hand, palm open, fingers curling slightly as though asking for something to be handed to him. His voice dropped to a low rumble that carried a strange, patronizing warmth.,"Give me the peace." 

The Penguin King stumbled back a step, gripping the silver whistle tight. His breath came out in sharp gasps as he raised it again to his beak.

He blew.

The whistle's shriek tore through the air, high and haunting.

Bular closed his eyes and let out a sigh of frustration,".....Or I guess I'll take it from what's left of you."

The snow began to swirl again, violently this time, spinning in massive vortexes. The fragments of the fallen Ice Monsters , every shattered piece, every broken chunk, began to tremble, then rise.

The snow twisted, fusing together into a single massive form as its shadow blotted out even Bular's massive figure.

The ground quaked as it took shape, legs like mountains, arms like glaciers, a single blue rune burning at its chest like a heart of ice.

(Author's note: Basically the ice monster from before but bigger)

Its gaze locked onto Bular.

He looked up at the towering beast.

Then he chuckled.

A deep, rolling, amused sound that made the penguins' blood run cold.

Bular rolled his shoulders, dragging his twin swords behind him as though they weighed nothing,"Ahh… there it is," he said, voice rumbling like shifting mountains, "Your big, desperate, final move."

He cracked his neck, a loud POP that echoed through the valley.

The giant roared in fury, pounding its chest like a frost-shrouded titan.

Bular didn't even bother to blink.

He simply turned his head toward the Penguin King, grin full of glowing fangs,"You might as well extinguish this little need to resist against our advances," he said calmly, almost bored, "All you're doing is slowing the inevitab—"

—WOOOOOSH—SLAM!!!

He never finished his sentence.

Because at that exact moment the colossal Ice Monster's massive hand came crashing down on him with the force of a falling mountain.

The impact boomed across the field, snow erupting in a shockwave.

The ground cracked, spiderwebbing in every direction.

The Penguin soldiers gasped, flippers flying to their beaks for protection against the debris.

For a heartbeat, everything went silent.

A stillness washed across the battlefield.

Penguins dared to hope.

Had it worked?

Had the monster actually—?

But then the snow settled.

And the truth froze the world in place.

Bular stood beneath the giant's palm.

Completely unmoved, not even a scuff on his armor.

His feet were planted firmly in the snow, steam rising lazily from where the frost touched his molten skin.

One massive hand of his own gripped the titan's wrist holding it in mid-air.

Stopping the blow entirely.

He hadn't even been pushed back an inch.

He looked up, molten orange eyes glowing, expression utterly unamused.

He then sighed a deep, tired, disappointed sigh as if the attack had physically bored him,"Alight....terms accepted", he said as an Orange furnace-light burst from deep within his chest.

Cracks,thin at first, began ripping across his torso, racing up his neck, down his arms, splitting across the backs of his hands. The glowing fractures pulsed brighter and brighter, glowing like liquid suns burning beneath his skin.

The molten cracks spiderwebbed out across Bular's body, each one glowing hotter, whiter, brighter, until the orange nearly burned white-hot. His entire frame began to vibrate—low at first, then violently, like an unstable furnace beginning to overload.

The light in his eyes flickered.....

Once.

Twice.

and then—

Then Bular roared.

A guttural, primal, monstrous bellow that shook the foundations of the Ice Kingdom.

And with a forward lunge—BOOOOOOOOOM!!!

A shockwave of orange fire exploded from Bular's body, hurling outward in a circular burst.

The Ice Titan's entire hand disintegrated into shattered dust and snow.

The creature stumbled backward several meters, bellowing in agony as his arm was reduced to a watery stub.

And Bular?

He was already moving.

Without hesitation, he reached behind his back, his stone muscles shifting, and ripped one of his massive swords from its sheath.

The blade now glowed with dim orange veins with his touch, hungry for blood.

With a single, effortless motion—

FWOOOM—!

He hurled it through the air with all his might.

Aimed right for the monster.

The sword pierced the titan's chest like a spear through snow, sinking deep and erupting a crater of shattered frost and dimming runes.

The colossal beast staggered backward, nearly toppling due to the power of the attack.

Bular lifted two fingers and snapped.

SNAP.

The blade stopped mid-motion, frozen inside the titan's chest, keeping it upright from falling and obeying its master.

Bular pulled his arm back as if grasping invisible reins.

And the sword obeyed.

It dragged the Ice Titan forward, screaming in a grinding rumble, forcing the mountain of frost to lurch toward Bular unwillingly.

The Penguins' hearts sank deeper with every step the giant was forced to take.

Bular drew in a breath, a deep, volcanic inhale.

His body tensed, muscles bulging, orange cracks brightening until his entire lower half glowed like molten stone about to erupt.

He bent his knees and the ground beneath him liquefied from the pressure.

Then—KRA-KOOOOOM!!!

A second shockwave blasted out, launching him skyward like a blazing projectile.

He rose through the storm of snow and ice straight toward the titan's face, right to eye level.

His right arm snapped back, fist glowing, cracks dancing like living lightning.

The closer he flew, the more violently the fist shook, vibrating, pulsing, overflowing with destructive energy.

Even the Gumm-Gumm soldiers paused, admiring in awe of this beautifully destructive sight.

The Penguin King felt his soul turn to ice in fear of what was about to happen.

Bular reached the titan's face.

And he struck.

THRRAAAASH—!!!

The impact was silent for a split second.

Too powerful for sound to catch up.

Then—KA—BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!

A blinding explosion of orange fire and white frost erupted outward.

The shockwave blasted across the battlefield, flattening snow, uprooting ice towers, shattering the remains of the courtyard, obliterating what was left of the Ice Monster, and carving a massive, gaping canyon straight through the heart of the kingdom.

The valley glowed molten orange, stretching for miles like a scar left by a god's wrath.

When the smoke cleared...…..nothing remained of the titan.

Only the echo of its death cry.

Bular dropped through the air, freefalling through the fading embers of the explosion.

He twisted, rotated, then slammed into the melted earth—THUD-THOOM—landing on all fours like a feral beast, claws burying into molten rock, molten cracks glowing across his entire form. 

Steam rose in violent, swirling plumes around him.

The Troll Army soldiers erupted in roars of admiration, pounding weapons against armor, chanting their king's name.

"BULAR!"

"BULAR!"

"BULAR!"

Among the few remaining penguins, silence reigned, total, suffocating silence.

The Penguin King's feathers stood on end.

His strongest weapon, his kingdom's last hope, was erased.

Bular stood, rising slowly, towering, monstrous eyes glowing pure molten orange, fangs bared in triumphant growl.

He turned back toward the Ice Kingdom's gates, his molten orange eyes locking once more onto the Penguin King, who still stood firm despite everything.

He looked up at the Penguin King.

A long, slow, victorious smile spread across his face.

Bular then began to make his way over to the fallen king, each step he took carved deep footprints into the melting snow, the ground hissing beneath him. His huge, horned silhouette loomed like a nightmare born from the darkest pits of the Earth.

The Penguin King's breath hitched, knowing what was coming.

The civilians, his people, his children, were still running through the last secret escape tunnel beneath the ruined throne room. If Bular reached the artifact… if he claimed the piece… then there would be no more worlds left to flee to.

His flipper trembled as it tightened around the whistle.

He had to fight back...…..

He just had to...

Even if he didn't survive if he could just hold them off just a little longer...

He clutched it tight, raising it to his beak.

He drew in a desperate breath—

And Bular saw.

The Troll King let out a deep, irritated growl, one that vibrated the snow at the Penguin King's feet.

This stubborn little bird was still refusing to die, it was completely wasting his time.

Well that was about to end now!

He closed the distance in two massive strides.

The Penguin King barely managed to take in half a breath—

WHAM!!!

The backhand struck like a meteor.

The king flew through the air, spinning helplessly before crashing down hard, rolling across the ice until he skidded to a stop right at the feet of Angor Rot.

Angor Rot looked down at the fallen monarch with barely a trace of interest, his glowing yellow eyes flickered with something closer to pity… and boredom.

The Penguin King coughed, clutching his ribs, trying to rise but even with all his strength and pride… he couldn't get more than halfway up before collapsing again into the snow.

Bular rolled his shoulders, cracking stone-like muscles as he approached.

He glanced down at the Penguin King, his expression flat, tired, irritated,"I think… we've dragged this battle's climax on long enough."

He stepped closer—

And froze.

There, at his boot, lying half-buried in the slush…The whistle.

Knocked from the Penguin King's grasp from the force of the hit.

A slow smile crept across the Troll King's tusked mouth.

He leaned down, claws clicking lightly against the metal as he plucked the relic between two fingers.

The tiny whistle looked almost comical in his enormous hand, but Bular's eyes gleamed with interest as he turned it over, inspecting the glowing frost-runes.

He flicked it slightly, testing its weight,"Hmmm.....this little trinket could be useful."

He straightened, raising his voice so Bellroc could hear over the crackling flames and distant groans of the dying castle," Bellroc!"He tossed it casually," Catch!"

Bellroc extended one hand lazily, the whistle floated toward them, caught in a soft shimmer of violet flames.

They studied it closely, their expression shifting from curiosity… to fascination,"Hmm…

A frost-summoning conduit with an ability to conjure soldiers from the environment around it…"They glanced at the battlefield, at the crushed remains of ice beasts, the shattered kingdom, the massive number of their own soldiers they already had on their side,"In daylight… this could save us hundreds of troops...…interesting."

They slipped the whistle into the folds of their robes, the runes glowing faintly against the smoke-stained fabric," We'll study it later."

After handing it over to them, Bular surveyed the battlefield.

Penguins in chains.

Buildings melted.

Ice towers shattered.

The Ice kingdom, once shimmering with icy blue light, was reduced to melted ruins.

Yup today was a good day.

He once again made his way over to the spot where the penguin king was lying and bent down just enough to still look down on him,"So this was the full bluntness of your fury?" He mockingly asked, not even bothering to hide his smug satisfaction.

The injured king could do nothing but stare up at the bastard, enduring his blatant arrogance and mockery.

Bular then looked left and right of the area before looking back down at the penguin king continued,"I was going to give you a two on my kingdom surprise list but that last little tid bit earned you a nice two and a half for effort."

He put up two fingers and a bent thumb, which sparked cruel laughter between the gumm-gumms, finding it hilarious how their leader could find humor even after a victory.

And he didn't stop there,"And hey if you have any other surprises for me up your tiny little sleeve, I'd be more than happy to see them."

And then....as if on cue....the palace itself began to respond.

From the highest of the shattered domes, the ice started to melt, glowing from within as if lit by an unseen sun. Chunks of crystalline walls slid free and crashed below, revealing a radiant pulse of shining, blinding light that poured out from the heart of the ruined citadel.

The trolls froze in place.

Every penguin, every Gumm-Gumm soldier, even Angor Rot, turned to stare.

And Bular…

Oh yeah, he knew that light.

He had hunted this glow for decades, through caves, ruins, entire realms. 

And now, at long last, the thing he had sacrificed entire species for…

It was right there.

Bular's lips curled into a jagged smile," (low, triumphant) …Finally."

The Penguin King saw it too and all the color drained from his face," (horrified whisper) No…No—NO!"

With a desperate cry, the Penguin King lunged forward, slipping across broken ice. His instincts screamed. He didn't care that most of his army lay in chains. He didn't care that he was bruised, bleeding, and barely standing.

If Bular touched that object...…..everything was over.

But the king didn't make it far.

A clawed hand grabbed the back of his head.

SLAM!!!

Angor Rot shoved the king's face into the snow with effortless cruelty.

The king choked on ice, struggling, but Angor held him easily with one hand, forcing him to watch.

The Penguin King's muffled scream went unheard beneath the grinding snow.

Bular stepped through the rubble like a god descending a broken throne. Penguins in chains were dragged away at his sides; he didn't even look at them. His attention was locked solely on the radiant glow.

Bellroc followed behind, staff blazing with violet flame, their eyes reflecting the brilliance.

Bellroc raised their staff and slammed it into the snow as a wave of purple energy surged outward, lifting slabs of broken palace debris into the air. They spun slowly, forming a rising staircase of drifting, glowing ice platforms.

Bular ascended them with heavy, deliberate steps.

The higher he rose, the brighter the light became. His silhouette was framed in gold, purple, and molten orange. His horns cast monstrous shadows across the city's broken walls.

There, nestled in the last surviving alcove, was a floating yellow Question Block, glowing like something sacred.

The trolls knew this relic all too well.

It was a source of power.

Of weapons.

Of rare items born from magic beyond their world.

But this block…

This one held something far more valuable to Bular.

It Bular a few more steps before he finally reached it.

He stopped, staring into the glowing white question mark as if mesmerized by its pure shine.

Then he reached out with one huge hand and gently plucked the block from the air.

While he held it in his palm it almost looked as if he were studying it.

The Penguin King strained against Angor Rot's grip, voice raw and breaking,"NO! NO—STOP!!"

Bular didn't even turn or acknowledge what he was saying at all.

His fingers began to tighten around the item.

CRACK.

A fracture split across the block as it began to start cracking.

CRRUNCH.

The metal bowed and twisted as it was beginning to cave.

CRRRRACK.

The glow rippled violently as the box finally started to give.

And then—SHATTER!!

The entire Question Block exploded into fragments of gold, scattering like burning confetti in the wind. 

The trolls shielded their eyes as the light burst outward.

When the light faded…

Something sat in Bular's palm.

A stone.

Not very large, but it was carved with ancient symbols that hummed like whispered prophecy. A piece of something older than any kingdom on the map.

The Penguin King stared at it with total despair,"Oh no…Oh no… no no no…

Bular lifted the stone up to his face, the glow illuminating his jagged teeth and burning eyes.

A wild, triumphant grin spread across his monstrous features.

Then he threw his head back and LAUGHED.

A deep, echoing, victorious roar that shook the broken palace walls," YES! YES!! AT LAST!!"He raised the stone high, letting its glow spill across the army,"(bellowing to the heavens) I FINALLY FOUND IT!!! THE FINAL PIECE!!! THE LAST PIECE OF THE BRIDGE!!!"His voice echoed like a quake.

Trolls beat their weapons on the ground in thunderous celebration.

The Penguin King closed his eyes, sinking his head back into the snow.

Bular stood on the highest ruin, stone in hand, glowing like a god of fire and conquest,"(snarling triumphantly) NOW WHO THINKS THEY CAN STOP ME?!?!"

His laughter rumbled like an earthquake, shaking the scorched remains of the palace.

The trolls below bellowed in victory.

The penguins cried in despair.

And the Penguin King, still pinned to the snow beneath Angor Rot, felt his heart break.

His kingdom was dead.

His armies were destroyed.

And now the entire world itself was in doom's grip.

Bular's final triumphant roar echoed.

And then—

CUT TO BLACK.

(One Piece World: Water 7)

In a small town in a land far far away from the Ic kingdom, the air inside the courthouse was heavy, as if the walls themselves carried the weight of the world's judgment. 

The courthouse of this sleepy Water 7 town had the kind of hush that made every footstep sound like a verdict. It was a low building of salt-streaked wood and brass fittings, the kind of structure that remembered more winters than anyone in the gallery. 

Inside, the air lay thick and heavy, the heat of breath and wax and old varnish making everyone move a little slower, speak a little quieter. Candlelight guttered in wall sconces. The benches creaked as the 20 townsfolk shifted forward, curiosity and dread making a soft chorus of movement.

"Did you hear? They say he was pissing on the town well at dawn," a woman in a headscarf whispered to the man beside her, the words folded tight like contraband.

"No—no," muttered an old boatwright, leaning in so far his spectacles nearly fell. "That's not the worst of it. Someone said he tried to barter with Tontatta miners for a keg of grog. He—" he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial rasp, "—asked them if they'd ever seen a whale fall out of the sky."

A guy near the aisle snorted. "Oh please alcoholics like him'll say anything when they're black out drunk. I saw some homeless man half an hour ago staggering down the canal like he'd been swallowed by a sea snake."

"Is it true it was one of the Straw Hats?" a matron asked, fingers twisting the edge of her shawl. "A yonko's crew in chains? I don't know about you guys but that doesn't sound like some small-time alcoholic crook."

Gossip ran like water through the gallery like a wild-fire, one woman fretting that the straw hat Captain's reappearance here would bring more trouble than the islands could handle. An older man, who'd once fought on a merchant runner, squeezed both small hands of the children beside him and told them under his breath that if the Straw Hats reappeared, the town would be toast. The bench was a stage for a hundred little dramas: a jealous lover, a bored soldier, a merchant tallying losses in his head, a bored scribe copying names into an endless ledge, all speaking in hushes.

Ten jurors sat in their box, shoulders squared and faces imperturbable, but the eye could catch the twitch of a knuckle here, a whispered nod there, small signals exchanged with the economy of men who'd learned the currency of lies. Half of them were no ordinary jurors; beneath their plain coats were the quick glints of navy insignia, the hidden seams where orders could slip through. They were planted, sentries of pretense meant to sway the illusion of law into a weapon of strategy. In order to lure in the real target of this whole court case bullshit. One of them, a broad-shouldered man with a scar running like a river through his cheek, kept looking at the den-den mushi placed on a side table, fingers worrying the stem as if it were a live thing.

And At the center of this whole plan, sat the judge's seat, a looming chair carved from black wood, its high back casting a shadow over the courtroom floor.

Upon it, Jaygarcia Saturn rested with calculated stillness. He and the other four elders are a council of the highest-ranking Celestial Dragons that make up the head of state for the World Government. They essentially hold the greatest authority over the entirety of the world; the only exception being the mysterious sovereign Imu whom they answer to as king of the world in secrecy. Jaygarcia was acting as judge for the accused that was about to stand before him in the defense seat. His presence was ever so commanding even without words. His scarred face was half-hidden beneath the shadow of his black hat, his white dreadlocks cascading past his shoulders. He leaned upon his cane, not because he needed it, but because the weight of authority seemed more tangible when carried like a weapon disguised as a walking stick.

Saturn's deep, gravelly voice finally broke the tension,"Ensure the broadcast lines are tested again. I want every snail in Water 7,and every whisper beyond it, to hear the weight of justice in this room. I also want eyes and ears watching every section of this town and this courtroom for any signs of him."

One of the jury members, a burly man with a scarred lip, nodded quickly. "The den-den mushi have been placed, Elder. The transmission will begin the moment the accused is seated. We already have him being escorted to the room right now as we speak"

Saturn's single visible eye narrowed. He let the pause stretch until the man swallowed hard,"Good. We cannot afford another embarrassment. Actually after what happened in wano with Kaido and the beast pirates." 

The navy guard nodded at him in a confirming response before walking away back to his station.

The air inside the chamber was stagnant, weighed down by the smell of polished wood, candle wax, and the faint tang of iron from the shackles waiting to be locked on the accused. 

Saturn sat like a statue at the judge's bench, his posture unyielding, his dreadlocks spilling over his shoulders, the black hat resting low on his brow. The scar across his eye caught the lamplight, drawing a faint white line over his weathered skin. He rested both hands over the knob of his cane, tapping it ever so slightly against the floorboards, the sound hollow, deliberate, unsettling.

He didn't need to speak to command the room, yet when his gravelly voice came, it carried through the courtroom with the weight of an executioner's axe."Remember," Saturn said, his eye narrowing at the jury box, "The whispers outside these walls are as important as the judgment inside them. All that must reach the people is that the pirate hunter, the so-called King of Hell, was captured and brought to trial."

A murmur rippled through the gallery, quickly stifled when Saturn's gaze swept across them.

One of the jury members cleared his throat nervously, his voice thin and wavering. "Elder Saturn, forgive me… but some of us wonder if this is wise. The Straw Hat pirates have toppled two warlords, defied the Navy's justice at Enies Lobby, defeated Big Mom's forces and Kaido himself. If he truly The kind of threat Everyone is always rumoring him to be… isn't luring him here dangerous beyond—"

Saturn's cane struck the floor with a sharp crack. The sound silenced the man instantly.

"Dangerous?" Saturn repeated, his tone dripping with disdain. "Everything is dangerous when left to fester. These titles… pirate… emperor of the sea… these are just masks a boy wears. And masks can be ripped away with the adequate amount of force." He leaned forward, his single eye glinting with a cold fire. "The world must see the so-called 'savior' crushed under the weight of his own loyalty. "

He leaned back again, letting the silence return, only his thoughts grinding forward like heavy gears. 

A Buster Call would have been more effective against the emperor of the Seas pirate crew, yes, with the simple, ten ships, endless firepower, and the assurance of annihilation The perfect offensive attack against the post-war pirate crew. But that would create too much of a spectacle and it would scatter the Straw Hats before they could be cornered.

Besides the military couldn't afford to look perfectly bad adding a buster call would only cause massive scale destruction that, unfortunately, they didn't have time to deal with at the moment. 

No… the plan demanded subtlety and secrecy and it needed to be kept far away from the public until they were ready to publicly address the situation. 

A courtroom is their best way of making it look like they were trying to do this fairly and to not stir the public into the straw hat Pirates favor. 

It was a stage, and Saturn intended to script the ending to better uphold him and the other Celestial dragons.

The situation happened to take a turn and it got ugly and violent, a few human casualties wouldn't affect them that much. people die every day and these pathetic ants would prove to be no exception 

Still, he could not ignore the unease gnawing at the edges of his mind.

He had studied the reports, every reckless charge, every miracle escape. 

Straw Hat Luffy never abandoned his crew under any circumstances. 

He burned down Enies Lobby for a single crewmate, shattered Marineford's order to reach his brother. 

And he's narrowly escaped from the Navy countless times making them look like fools.

Thankfully this time he thought about this nice and clearly he took notes from all the other failings to capture the straw hats from before and now he's made the perfect plan.

Beyond the bench a guard shifted, he wore a sash studded with small pieces of sea-prism stone, white-frosted slivers set into leather, and they glinted with a cold, hard light. 

A bucket of water guns sat under the nearest tables: an odd, practical instrument against Devil Fruit powers, small barrels and tubes, their nozzles clean and pointed. The Navy had not expected visitors like this and had prepared anyway, They were able to pull together everything they had. 

Sure it may have looked silly but it would definitely get the job done when it came to this devil fruit user. 

And of course there was Saturn himself who with his own power should be more than enough of a fight for the straw hat crew if they show up. 

Saturn's lips curled upward in something caught between a smirk and a snarl just thinking about the success of this mission. 

And today will be the day that he ends their little journey. 

The man lowered his gaze, nodding, though the tension in the room only thickened.

Outside the great doors of the chamber, the faint clink of chains and the heavy steps of boots echoed down the corridor.

 The guards could be heard from outside dragging their prize from his cell, though the doors remained closed as they made their way to them..

Saturn shifted slightly in his chair, adjusting his grip on the cane. His expression was unreadable, but in the depths of his eye, a spark of unease lingered.

"Bring him in," he said finally, his voice low but cutting through the silence like a blade. "And let this plan go into motion."

The gallery leaned forward, the jury stiffened, and the candle flames flickered as though the air itself were bracing for the arrival of the King of Hell.

The iron doors creaked open, groaning under their own weight, and the sound alone sent a ripple of unease across the gallery. 

The chains rattled first, harsh, metallic clinks echoing like war drums, before the figure himself stepped into the light.

A hush fell over the room.

The man who emerged was unmistakable, The King of Hell: Roronoa Zoro, first mate of the Straw Hat Pirates, a living legend in his own right. His green hair, shaggy and untamed, caught the lamplight as he stepped forward, his scarred left eye shut in permanent mystery, his jaw set in a scowl that could cut deeper than any blade. He wore a long, dark green coat, open at the chest to reveal his powerful frame, his torso crisscrossed with faint lines of battles past. The muted red sash at his waist, which usually held the weight of three swords, the infamous trio that had torn through Marines, pirates, and emperors alike.

Every guard at his side was trembling, as their armor clinked from the quivering of knees barely holding their stance.

"Keep him steady," one whispered, his voice breaking Holding one of the swordsman's chain tightly..

"I—I am keeping him steady," the other hissed back, his knuckles white on the chain links. "It's him that doesn't move!"

The irony was sharp, Zoro walked as if the chains were decoration, Completely uninterested in anything that was going on in that current moment

He carried the aura of a predator so certain of his strength that a cage was nothing but an inconvenience.

Whispers ignited among the crowd of twenty in the galleryAs they watched the infamous Pirate hunter Enter the courtroom..

"That's him… that's really him," a dockworker muttered, hat crushed in his hands. "The demon of Wano…"

A woman beside him grabbed his sleeve. "They say he cut Kaido," she whispered, breath trembling. "Like completely scarred him for life."

An older man, face furrowed with old sailor's wrinkles, shook his head. "They say he split a mountain in Wano clean in half, just to get a better view."

"That's not true!" the woman insisted. "They said he cut through King's skin like it was paper."

A teenager leaned in, eyes fever-bright. "I heard he once drank an entire bar dry and still fought ten Vice Admirals with one hand tied behind his back and the other doing push-ups."

"That's stupid," someone scoffed. "He'd never waste time doing push-ups, have you seen that guy's physique?"

"That's what makes it impressive!",Teenager shot back. 

Rumors spilled over rumors, some half-true, some fabricated from drunken nights and pirate songs

Some spectators leaned forward, their eyes wide with morbid fascination, others shrank back, averting their gaze, as though staring too long at the swordsman would draw his wrath. Parents held their children's shoulders tighter, afraid even the boy's breath could slice them.

The jury box wasn't much steadier. Several jurors swallowed nervously, their eyes darting from Saturn to Zoro and back again, silently praying the swordsman wouldn't suddenly decide to break free.

Five looked like actual townsmen: a baker with flour still dusted into the creases of his fingernails, a bookkeeper with ink on his cuffs, a retired shipwright with broad shoulders and an old injury that made him favor his right leg.

The other five wore the same costumes, but the mask slipped if you looked closely enough. Their backs were too straight, their shoulders too even, their eyes too sharp. Beneath their sleeves, the faint trace of Navy stencils showed at the edges of their cuffs. Hell they won't even trying to hide the fact that they smelled like bacon. 

One of those men swallowed hard as Zoro passed within a few meters of the box.

On a table to the side, a large den-den mushi sat on a small cushion, a neat brass headset framing its shell. Its sleepy eyes were half-lidded, but its antennae twitched, sensitive to vibrations and voices. A small glowing bead of light traced slowly along the rim of its shell, rhythmically pulsing as it synced with the transmission lines outside the courthouse.

The guards flanking him shook visibly, their grips tightening on their rifles though they dared not raise them. One wrong move from the swordsman and they knew they'd be corpses before their triggers were even pulled.

Zoro's presence alone was crushing everyone in the room because they knew this was the man who scarred Kaido, who split mountains with his blades, who once challenged Dracule Mihawk, the world's greatest swordsman, only to be defeated and then train under him. 

Saturn barely moved, his silhouette was a carved shadow in the judge's seat, hands folded on his cane like a man who weighted his words with iron as he watched Zoro's approach with cool, predatory interest.

A guard near the bench swallowed audibly and tried to straighten his uniform as if posture could armor him. He kept his hand on his rifle, not to aim, only to feel the rough wood. "If he moves—" the words died in that cold hush, because everyone in the room already knew how that sentence ended.

Zoro's face did not change, he stayed the same bored and unimpressed expression all the way down till he finally reached the center of the floor and paused as if taking inventory. The chains drooped and made a lazy clink that sounded like a challenge rather than a restraint.

He looked up, his gaze swept the gallery until it landed on the child with the doll; the kid flinched and hid his face. 

That response simply caused the swordsman to just roll his eye and yawn, like a slow unbothered.

This stretch of his jaw that made the nearest soldier flinch as though it were the beginning of a roar, As he turned back to face the front of the courtroom.

From the judge's bench, Saturn watched intently as he studied the swordsman brought before him.

"So," Saturn said at last, his voice rumbling through the chamber, "this is the man they call the King of Hell."

Zoro raised his head lazily, his single visible eye glaring back at Saturn with no shred of fear,"Yo", He said nonchalantly with no respect for the authority that stood before him, like a warrior annoyed at being forced into a board meeting..

"King of Hell, vice captain, monster of the Worst Generation…" Saturn continued, leaning slightly forward. "I must say you gained yourself quite a title during your time at sea, haven't you? And yet here you sit in chains."

Zoro tilted his head, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I mean, yeah, you know, every now and again, life hits you with its surprises." He casually responded while shrugging his shoulders.

There was a slight bit of irritation on the Celestial Dragon's face at being so blatantly and casually spoken to like this.

It wasn't something he was very used to, not at all really.

He was not accustomed to being spoken to like that by a pirate of all individuals.

For the sake of the plan, he forced his fingers to remain still on the cane instead of grinding it into splinters.

At Zoro's right side, close enough to sweat on his sleeve but far enough to avoid an elbow, stood a thin, nervous man in a tattered black coat.

His hair was slicked back with too much cheap oil, and his collar was frayed. He clutched a stack of parchment and a half-dried quill in shaking hands, eyes bouncing between the judge, the jury, and the mountain of a swordsman he had somehow been assigned to "defend."

He looked like he wanted to be anywhere else in the world.

This was the "lawyer" in name only.

No one in the room believed this man would protect Zoro from anything.

He was there because the image of justice required a defense, someone to nod and look overwhelmed.

He licked his lips nervously and whispered, "M-Mister Roronoa… i-if you would please, try to—uh—answer respectfully, we m-might—"

Zoro didn't even look at him or acknowledge his existence.

The lawyer swallowed the rest of his sentence and stared down at his own shoes.

Saturn tapped his cane once, the hollow tok commanding silence. His gravelly voice rolled out with the weight of finality.

"Let the record state," Saturn began, "that the Water 7 Navy Court is now in full effect. Temporary judge, Jaygarcia Saturn of the Five Elders, presiding over the case of The People versus Roronoa Zoro."

The room shivered at the formality of it as the words hung heavy, sealing the swordsman's presence into the annals of history.

The den-den mushi's eyes snapped fully open, its mouth moved in slow mimicry as it relayed each word across the lines running along the canals and rooftops of Water 7.

Outside this room, people were already gathering around public receivers, whispering:"A Yonko's right hand… on trial?"

"Defendant," Saturn said, leaning forward, "step forward."

Zoro's lips curled into a faint scowl, but he shuffled forward when tugged by the chains. His heavy boots thudded against the courtroom floor. Each step echoed, a sound that drew the eyes of every person in the room. When he finally stood at the center, his broad frame straightened, he looked less like a prisoner and more like a warrior entertaining a pointless game.