"Pheeew…"
The faint glow of a cheap cigarette flickered in the darkness as a low exhale of smoke curled into the night air. Leaning on the cold iron railing of the World Government flagship, the marine guard gazed toward Grove 66, where the grand fleet of the Celestial Dragons lay anchored beneath the silver glow of the moons above.
His uniform was pristine, his posture disciplined, but his eyes—his eyes held the weary, sunken look of a man who had seen too much.
He was born in some nameless village in the South Blue, an insignificant place swallowed by the world's vastness. He had never dreamed of joining the World Government's elite guard, but fate had a way of twisting ordinary men into pawns. Many envied those who stood so close to the gods of the world, but only those who served them truly understood the terror that came with it.
All it took was a single whim, a single moment of boredom from a Celestial Dragon, and his life could be snuffed out like the embers of his cigarette.
He had seen it himself—servants shot for walking too slowly, slaves executed for tripping over their own feet, guards cut down just because a "god" wanted entertainment.
"Sigh…"
His fingers trembled slightly as he took another drag, letting the acrid burn calm his nerves.
"Bastard…"
A rough punch to his shoulder jolted him from his thoughts. Another guard, clad in the same standard issue uniform, grinned at him before snatching the cigarette from his lips.
"You know it's against protocol to smoke during duty."
He rolled his eyes, reaching forward and snatching it back, taking another slow inhale.
"How else am I supposed to calm my nerves…?" His voice was low, serious, his fingers tightening around the cigarette as if it were his only anchor. His friend let out a chuckle, shaking his head.
"Come on, man. You're getting paranoid. You jump at your own damn shadow nowadays. We serve the gods. Do you think anyone would be stupid enough to attack us?"
The words were meant to be reassuring, but they only made his unease deepen. His brows furrowed, his grip tensed, and even as the smoke curled between his lips, his hands refused to steady.
"You don't understand…" His tone was different now. Darker. His friend raised a brow, amused but curious.
"What do you mean?" The marine guard took another deep inhale, as if summoning the courage to speak of something long buried.
"You weren't there," he murmured, his voice a whisper of dread. His friend frowned.
"What are you talking about?" His eyes grew distant, his mind dragging him back to that day. The day the world changed.
"The Holy Land burned." His friend's smirk faltered.
"Tch. Everyone knows what happened. A freak accident. A single pirate crew can't—"
"More than half of Mary Geoise was in flames."
His voice cut through the air like a blade, making his companion fall silent. He clenched his fist, his knuckles white.
"They never told the world how many Celestial Dragons actually died that day."
His friend opened his mouth to argue, but the look in his eyes—the raw, unshakable terror—froze the words in his throat. The silence stretched between them, thick with something unnamed. Finally, his friend scoffed, shaking his head.
"You're exaggerating. If the Donquixote family was truly that strong, why are they still hiding in the New World?"
His tone was mocking now, desperate to dismiss the unease creeping into his own mind.
"And that guy—what was his title again? 'Heaven's Equal'? How audacious." He let out a dry laugh. "Does he really think he can surpass the world's order? If he was so strong, where is he now? He's been missing for over a year. A war is raging against the Donquixote family, and he hasn't shown his face once. You know there are even rumors saying that Doflamingo's little brother has already been hunted down by the World Government?"
He chuckled again, but this time, the sound was forced. Something about this conversation was unsettling. He was speaking his thoughts aloud, but now that he had, he wasn't so sure if he believed them anymore.
The first guard's face had gone pale. His breath came shallow. His lips parted slightly, but no words came. Because his eyes were no longer on his companion. They were fixed skyward.
His companion frowned, confused.
"What? What's with that look?" No response. Just widening pupils. Just a single drop of sweat trailing down his temple. A shuddered breath.
His hands—one still holding the cigarette—began to tremble uncontrollably. The second guard let out an annoyed sigh, rolling his eyes.
"What? You think he's just going to drop from the sky and smite me?" He snorted. "Come on, you're acting like—"
And then he saw it. A massive, looming shadow stretched over the deck. The world darkened. The hairs on his arms stood on end.
The air around them shifted, heavy and thick, like the calm before an unstoppable storm.
He turned his gaze upward, his mocking words dying on his tongue.
A silhouette. Dark. Enormous. A presence so vast, so overwhelming, that for a brief, terrible moment, it felt like the sky itself had cracked open. A chill shot down his spine, his breath caught in his throat.
And then— The shadow descended. And that was the last thing he ever saw.
BOOOOM!!
The night shattered. All of Grove 66 trembled, the very earth quaking beneath the weight of the catastrophe that had just unfolded. A massive, monstrous ship, unlike anything seen before, had descended from the heavens like the judgment of a god.
With a deafening crash, the colossal vessel landed directly atop the World Government flagship, reducing the once-proud fortress of the celestial regime to splinters and fire. The flagship, a symbol of the World Government's absolute authority, crumbled like a child's toy, its steel hull buckling beneath the raw force.
The shockwave was instantaneous—a monstrous explosion of force that rippled through the sea and air alike. Water surged in a titanic wave, swallowing the surrounding ships, their hulls shattering like glass against the sheer impact. The anchored vessels nearby fared no better, tossed aside by the violent displacement of the ocean as if they were mere driftwood caught in a hurricane.
None of them saw it coming. None of them could have.
The sun had long set, and the cover of night masked the harbinger of their destruction. A shadow had fallen, and before they could even comprehend their doom, the World Government's grand fleet had been annihilated in a single blow.
As the devastation settled, I stood at the railing of my ship, my left hand resting lightly on Shusui's hilt, my Observation Haki surging outward like a tidal wave.
I saw everything. The entire island lay before me in perfect clarity—every heartbeat, every flicker of intent. My senses stretched across the archipelago, threading through the maze of groves, seeking out the cancerous filth that festered within the grand auction house.
My eyes narrowed. There they were. Those depraved parasites, reveling in their vices, their laughter dripping with sadistic pleasure as they indulged in the suffering of others.
They wouldn't be laughing for long.
I turned my gaze toward Dora, standing near the ship's prow, her massive form crackling with unrestrained power. She was restless, eager, her hands twitching at her sides as if she could barely contain the storm within her.
A smirk tugged at my lips.
"You've been dying to cut loose since you got your Devil Fruit, haven't you?" I mused, my voice carrying over the chaotic scene. "Well, now's the time… Let the world remember the terror of a true giant."
Dora's eyes lit up with glee, her lips curling into a wicked grin.
"HAHAHAHA! About damn time the world came to know the name DORAAAA…!"
And then—she roared. Her entire body erupted into pure electricity, blue lightning surging across her skin as her giant frame expanded, arcs of power snapping through the air like celestial whips. Her laughter turned thunderous, resonating with the heavens, and in a single colossal motion, she swung her lightning-clad fists toward the surviving World Government ships.
The sky answered her wrath. Massive bolts of lightning speared down from above, piercing through the fleets like the spears of enraged gods. Pillars of crackling destruction rained down in rapid succession, their sheer intensity vaporizing entire vessels on impact.
Screams filled the air. The World Government's proud warships were now nothing but charred husks, their burning remains sinking beneath the waves. I turned toward Lucci, who stood calmly beside me, his piercing eyes already scanning the battlefield.
"Keep an eye on Dora. Cover her back. We're too close to Marineford and Mary Geoise to let our guard down."
He nodded once, wordlessly acknowledging the order. Out of the two, Lucci was the one I could trust—unshakable, disciplined. Dora was a force of nature, but her enthusiasm often led her to reckless destruction.
"Understood Master…"replied Lucci.
With my orders given, I vanished—my form blurring into streaks of black lightning, moving at unparalleled speed.
Far across the Sabaody Archipelago, a lone figure came to a halt. His steps faltered.
Admiral Ginshimo, clad in his Justice coat, his katana resting leisurely against his shoulder, slowly turned his head. His silver hair, normally flowing freely, now felt like it was weighing him down.
His sharp eyes traced the source of the catastrophe. His breath left him in a quiet exhale as he took in the scene—the sky splitting apart, the heavens crying in blue flames, the unmistakable presence of overwhelming power now moving toward the auction house.
A storm had come.
"So… it's begun."
With a quiet sigh, he tied his silver hair back into a bun, his fingers grazing the hilt of his Meito, the legendary blade shivering in anticipation. He knew.
Whoever was leading this onslaught… They were a swordsman. And they had made no effort to conceal their presence, instead flaring their Haki for the world to feel.
Ginshimo's blood stirred. For the first time in years, a genuine smirk curled at the edge of his lips.
Inside the Auction House, pleasure and depravity mingled. A Celestial Dragon—one of the "gods" of this world—snickered with perverse delight.
His lust-filled eyes roved over the three trembling girls before him, his sick satisfaction evident as he admired his new "possessions."
The bidding had been brutal—his fellow kin had fought him for them, but in the end, he had won. He had paid more than expected, but what did that matter? The gods of this world never lacked for wealth.
And now, it was time for the final act. Time to mark them. Stripped naked before the leering eyes of the crowd, little Hancock curled in humiliation and shame, her tear-filled eyes staring at the cold, merciless ground.
Marigold and Sandersonia struggled against their chains, their cries of rage and despair ignored by all. It didn't matter. They were not human. They were property.
The Celestial Dragon smirked, taking pleasure in the moment, savoring it as he raised the searing-hot brand—the Hoof of the Soaring Dragon. The symbol of absolute ownership. With perverse glee, he pressed it against Hancock's bare flesh.
Ssssssshhhhhhh…
A piercing scream ripped through the auction house. Her voice—so raw, so agonized, so filled with despair—reverberated through the hall, but the only reaction from the gathered nobles and onlookers was twisted amusement.
A few even clapped. The iron was lifted and then pressed against Marigold's skin. Another scream. Then Sandersonia. One by one, their fates were sealed in fire, their lives stolen before they had even begun.
The Celestial Dragon let out a content sigh, admiring his handiwork. This was how it should be.
The world belonged to the gods. And these insects? They would learn their place.
Inside the grand Auction House, where only moments ago cruel laughter and self-indulgent pleasure filled the air, a sudden movement shattered the carefully orchestrated atmosphere.
Among the hundreds of government agents lined up along the grand marble walls, one figure moved. His step forward was so seamless, so impossibly fast, that even Admiral Akainu, seated beside the lead CP0 agent, barely registered it.
A ghost among men. The agent flickered, materializing beside the CP0 commander, his presence a cold knife in the room's tension. His voice, when he spoke, cut through the air like a blade.
"We need to evacuate the Celestial Dragons… NOW!"
There was no hesitation. No room for debate. This was not a request—not a cautionary warning—this was an absolute order. The very air shifted around him. The moment those words left his lips, the entire venue froze—as if the world itself held its breath.
Even the Celestial Dragons, who had spent their entire lives commanding others with impunity, found themselves momentarily paralyzed by the sheer authority in his voice. But one among them—puffed up with self-importance and the illusion of invincibility—was too blinded by arrogance to recognize the weight of the moment.
"You bastard—who do you think you are?!" The enraged noble reached for his pistol, his trembling fingers grasping at the golden handle. He never even got the chance.
SLAP.
A sickening crack rang out. The entire hall fell silent. The Celestial Dragon staggered back, his glass helmet shattering from the force of the strike. He stumbled, his eyes wide with disbelief, his mind struggling to comprehend what had just happened.
A Celestial Dragon had been struck.
Such a thing was unthinkable. The other nobles recoiled, gasping, their bodies tensing in horror. The auctioneer fell to his knees in terror, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, as the weight of this unforgivable offense settled in the room.
The CP0 commander, however, did not move. He knew. He knew who this man was.
A God's Knight.
While the Elders had forced the Celestial Dragons out of the Holy Land to reassert their dominance, they were not fools. They understood the danger of someone like Donquixote Doflamingo. They knew he would stoop to any level to undermine their authority.
And so, after long and careful deliberation, the Elders had personally ordered one of the God's Knights to watch over the mission from the shadows. And now—he had revealed himself.
But Admiral Akainu did not care for titles.
Lava bubbled from his clenched fists, molten rock dripping onto the pristine marble floor. His entire body radiated heat, the air around him distorting from sheer temperature. Harming a Celestial Dragon was an offense that could not be overlooked.
Akainu's voice was a low growl, a volcano on the brink of eruption.
"You dare lay a hand on a Celestial Dragon?"
The entire hall trembled, the tension stretching so tight it felt like the world itself would snap. But before the atmosphere could explode into violence—
BOOM.
The massive auction doors—crafted from reinforced iron and designed to withstand entire wars—shattered inward. A storm of dust and debris choked the entrance.
The echoing footsteps that followed were slow, measured, deliberate—each step an executioner's drum, announcing the arrival of something far worse than death. And then, out of the swirling ruin, a silhouette emerged.
Not a man. A monster.
Even in his passive state, his presence cracked the very foundation of the auction house—the same venue built to host the so-called gods of this world. The marble split apart beneath his steps, the sheer pressure of his sheer will pressing down on reality itself.
Some of the weaker nobles collapsed, their bodies convulsing in silent agony as their minds struggled to process the weight of his will. Others gasped for breath, their eyes rolling back in terror.
Even the Celestial Dragons, so used to treating the world like their playground, felt something they had never known before—
Fear. The dust slowly settled, revealing his form.
A smirk played at my lips. I let my gaze wander over the assembled filth, taking in the pathetic sight of their trembling bodies, their faces twisted in disbelief and terror.
"Heh…" My voice cut through the silence, dark amusement lacing my words.
"So, all of you vermin are still here? Good. I was afraid I'd be too late to the party."
Slowly, almost lazily, I reached for Shusui. There was no grand flourish. No unnecessary movement. With a single, fluid draw, the legendary black blade slid free—coated instantly in my Advanced Armament Haki.
Not a single ripple of wasted energy. Not even the faintest disturbance in the air. It was perfect. The CP0 commander stiffened. Admiral Akainu's eyes narrowed, recognizing the level of mastery in that single motion. The God's Knight who had just slapped a Celestial Dragon clenched his jaw, his hand twitching toward his weapon.
"Get them out of here, NOW!"
The God's Knight barked the order at the CP0 commander, his voice cutting through the tension like a razor.With deliberate slowness, he unsheathed his own blade, Haki surging to life along its edge, coating it in an obsidian-black sheen.
Yet—to a true master, the difference in skill was painfully obvious. My gaze drifted downward, falling upon the three crumpled girls on the auction floor. Boa Hancock. Marigold. Sandersonia. This was why I had come to Sabaody instead of returning to Dressrosa.
A personal request from Shakky-san to rescue the captured Kuja warriors and any remnants of the Donquixote family. But as my Observation Haki extended beyond the auction floor, reaching behind the curtains of this twisted marketplace, I felt it—
The suffering.
The women who had once served under my family, humiliated, broken, discarded as mere merchandise. Something inside me snapped.
And then— The world trembled. A primordial force erupted from my very soul. Like an ancient beast awakening from its slumber, my Conqueror's Haki flooded the hall in a violent storm.
The pillars of the grand auction house cracked.
The ornate ceiling splintered apart, sending shards of crystal and steel crashing down. A wave of unconscious bodies collapsed in an instant—nobles, marines, brokers—none of them could withstand it. Even seasoned warriors—men trained to endure the worst—dropped to their knees, foaming at the mouth.
Only a select few remained standing. Among them, to my surprise, was Boa Hancock. Curled on the cold marble floor, her tiny frame trembled under the crushing weight of my will. But she refused to break.
Her fingers dug into the stone, her teeth clenched in defiance, her young heart burning with something stronger than fear. Compared to me, she was nothing but a flickering candle before a raging star.
And yet—she fought. I could respect that. Even if her body crumbled, she wanted to engrave my face into her soul, never forgetting the man who shattered her chains.
Then, from the side— A CP0 agent, barely conscious, moved to shield a Celestial Dragon—
His hands trembled as he reached toward his own neck. A cold sensation.
Wet. His mind lagged—then it clicked. Blood. But not his own.
Before he could react—
BOOM.
"DAI FUNKA!"
Akainu roared, magma erupting from his fist as reality itself seemed to melt from his sheer presence. The ground sizzled under his steps. His rage boiled over as he processed the unthinkable sight before him. The God's Knight, too, stood frozen for a fraction of a second—caught off guard by the sheer pressure of my Conqueror's Haki.
And in that second— It was already over. The headless corpse of a Celestial Dragon crumpled to the floor. The glassed helmet rolled away, the severed head tumbling inside, eyes still locked in eternal shock. The thick carpet beneath it soaked up the divine blood like an offering to the abyss.
Silence.
A silence so deep, so absolute, it felt as though the entire world had stopped breathing. Then—the world moved. A magma-coated fist surged toward me, intent on reducing me to ash. At the same time, the God's Knight flickered, striking from my flank, blade poised to sever my head from my shoulders.
Two pseudo-emperor-level powerhouses. A joint execution. Too slow.
"SHIIIIING….!"
With one motion, I drew Shusui—the legendary black blade singing in the air—and cleaved through Akainu's magma attack like it was paper. With the same fluid movement, my left hand unsheathed Akatsuki, intercepting the God's Knight's strike, locking his blade in place with an ear-splitting clang.
The force of the impact sent shockwaves ripping through the hall, fracturing the walls, shattering the remaining chandeliers. Despite their combined assault—they barely pushed me back. The remaining CP0 agents quickly realized the truth.
They were useless here. This was a battle beyond them. The CP0 commander made the only choice available.
"GRAB THE CELESTIAL DRAGONS—WE'RE RETREATING!"
He lunged for the nearest noble, his instincts screaming for him to flee before it was too late.
I smirked. Too late. I had been absent for too long. For a year, Doffy and my family had fought alone, holding the line against the wrath of the World Government.
Now, it was my turn to even the score. And today—none of these so-called 'Dragons' would leave Sabaody alive. I sent a silent pulse of electricity, a message to Lucci and Dora.
Rescue the girls. I would handle the rest. I pressed forward, both blades clashing against Akainu and the God's Knight simultaneously, pouring my strength into the attack.
The world exploded. The God's Knight was lifted off his feet, crashing through the auction house wall in a shower of debris. Akainu barely held his ground, lava coating his arms in a desperate defense—but it wasn't enough. Even as he shifted into magma, my internal destruction Haki tore through his body.
He gritted his teeth, eyes flashing with rage and disbelief, as a deep gash ripped across his arm, lava dripping like blood. And then—he flew. The sheer force of my strike sent him barreling through the city, crashing through building after building, entire structures collapsing in his wake.
The ground trembled.
The sky cracked with my will. I exhaled, my grip tightening on Shusui as I casually swung the blade once more.
A single slash—
The auction floor split apart, a deep ravine carved through the marble, bisecting an unconscious Celestial Dragon. The noble's corpse tumbled into the abyss.
The remaining Cipher Pol agents stood paralyzed, their eyes wide with sheer horror. They were not facing a man. They were facing a demon. After a year of silence, the Sword Demon had returned.
And tonight—
Sabaody would drown in the blood of dragons.