Damn it…
Twisted and torn by the storm, Saint Michael could only watch as four razor-bright beams of icy light pierced him over and over, each strike bringing the agony of a thousand blades carving through his flesh. His pupils slowly dilated, losing their focus.
Compared to the hurricane's crushing winds and the magnetic shackles holding him in place, the true torment came from the invisible force raging inside his own body. It locked his muscles solid, paralyzing him so completely he couldn't even twitch a finger.
Coupled with his catastrophic injuries, he couldn't summon so much as a wisp of Armament Haki to protect himself.
Yet none of that compared to the humiliation gnawing at his heart.
The most noble blood in this world flows through my veins.
I am a Celestial Dragon, a god upon these seas.
And more than that—unlike those idle parasites rotting in the Holy Land Mary Geoise, I am Commander of the Knights of God. I am the "Strongest Celestial Dragon."
I, Jaygarcia Michael Saint, am not some insect to be dissected and experimented on by vermin.
Michael Saint's bloodied lips trembled, on the verge of twisting into a rabid roar.
Those damn fools were treating him like a laboratory specimen, meticulously observing and analyzing him.
This was treatment reserved for "vermin races" marked for extermination.
For him—the Strongest Celestial Dragon—this was the ultimate humiliation.
And then, as the black-haired brat raised his hand in a lazy, open-palmed gesture, Michael Saint felt the oppressive force binding him begin to loosen.
"You damned bastard… no matter what you do, you can't kill—"
He roared, eyes bloodshot with rage… only to realize, with a jolt, that he was falling.
"This is…"
His eyes widened.
The nightmare of every Devil Fruit User rushed up at him like a gaping maw.
The sea.
The endless expanse of deep blue.
"Let's see if you can defy the iron law of Devil Fruits," Darren sneered. "Cursed powers come at a steep price—eternal rejection by the sea."
He clenched his hand and drove his arm downward.
Saint Michael's descent abruptly accelerated. In the next heartbeat, the ocean swallowed him whole.
Thump… thump…
The instant the freezing water closed around him, Saint Michael's pupils shrank violently. His limbs went limp, his body hanging weightless as he sank, arms and legs dangling like broken marionette strings.
Bubbles streamed from his mouth and nose. A suffocating terror, as vast and heavy as the abyss itself, slowly engulfed his mind.
Am I… going to die?
How utterly absurd…
To think that I, Jaygarcia Saint Michael, would drown.
In a daze, fragmented memories flashed through his clouding vision like a dying projector.
The favored prodigy of the Jaygarcia line, raised beneath countless gazes of awe and reverence. The undisputed king of the Native Hunting Competitions. The youth who entered the Knights of God selection and carved a bloody path through every obstacle. The commander who led Government forces to hunt down and slaughter the Buccaneer Race. The silver-haired Celestial Dragon who, under the watchful eyes of the world, rose to become Commander of the Knights of God—the "strongest" of the Celestial Dragons.
He saw again the young silver-haired noble with rapier in hand, coldly severing the heads of those he deemed "insects," the earth running red beneath his feet.
And at the end of that flickering reel, all the images converged on an arrogant face framed by short, black hair.
He saw that "insect," Rogers Darren, announcing war to the entire world.
"Damn you… Rogers Darren," the Celestial Dragon whispered. "You have no idea… what horrors await you…"
The silver-white fur receded, vanishing into the water. The black wisps of flame guttered and went out, one by one.
His pupils lost their light.
---
Ten minutes later.
Beside the massive ravine that split the island in two, Dragon and Darren squatted on the shattered edge, both of them bruised and battered, each with a lit cigar between his fingers.
The sea roared through the island's cracked belly, crashing and churning in a thunderous torrent. Steam rose from the impact, filling the air with a salty, bone-deep chill.
"His presence is gone," Dragon said suddenly, his expression shifting. He shot to his feet, gaze locked on the sea, and a triumphant grin spread across his face. "He's dead! Darren, your method worked!"
"Just as I thought," Darren replied, an electric spark dancing between his fingers. There was no jubilation on his face at having slain the Commander of the Knights of God—only a deep, somber gravity.
Under Dragon's questioning gaze, he shook his head and frowned.
"Even with his body in tatters and his life force nearly exhausted, Saint Michael still held on for a full ten minutes."
"I don't have to explain what that means, do I?"
Dragon froze, the realization slowly dawning on him. His smile stiffened, and he sank into silence.
For people at their level, holding their breath for ten minutes was trivial.
But that standard only applied to those without Devil Fruits.
The sea instantly strips Devil Fruit Users of their strength, shutting down their life functions in a matter of moments.
In the water, most Devil Fruit Users performed even worse than ordinary humans.
Yet that bastard Saint Michael had clung to life for a full ten minutes.
And their next opponents… were the Gorosei.
Knowing those five undying old monsters, once a true war broke out, they wouldn't be facing only the Gorosei themselves, but the full might of the World Government.
A situation like today—isolating someone as high-ranking as the Commander of the Knights of God and drowning him with no support in sight—would be nearly impossible to replicate.
Dreaming of sending the five old undying into the sea and drowning them one by one was just that—a fantasy.
Ten minutes would be more than enough time for the World Government to rescue them again and again.
"So… there really is no way?" Dragon muttered, dropping back down to sit on the fractured rock. His voice carried a note of weary confusion.
Darren studied Dragon's slightly weathered face—a face that, despite everything, still belonged to a man in his early twenties. After a moment's thought, he clapped Dragon on the shoulder and smiled.
"At least we've found a potential weak point."
"It's still just a theory, but the Gorosei should fear the sea. With high-purity Seastone, we might be able to restrain them."
To be continued...