As Michael awoke, the first thing he noticed was the towering, ornate ceiling above him — gilded patterns woven into polished stone, reflecting the soft morning light. For a moment, he just stared, still adjusting to the reality that this was now his room—his room, in a castle belonging to the God's Knights.
Luxury. That was the word. And it still felt alien.
Back in his previous life, he hadn't been poor. He could afford what he wanted — a decent life, a few indulgences here and there. But this… this wasn't about affordability. This was about status. Name. Here, what you wanted didn't matter — things were bought not because of need or desire, but because it was expected of you. Because excess was a symbol, not a luxury.
He shook his head as he rose and began to prepare for training. The bathroom alone could have passed for a private onsen. The bathtub — more like a small swimming pool — looked large enough to fit twenty people comfortably. The kind of extravagance that seemed common among the Celestial Dragons.
After his bath, he stepped out and found his training uniform neatly folded on a nearby desk. The fabric was immaculate — black and silver, marked with the subtle insignia of the God's Knights. The design resembled the uniforms he had seen worn by Garling and Shamrock in the manga — regal, martial, and terrifyingly clean-cut.
Michael put it on, the fabric molding to his form with surprising comfort. He stood before the tall mirror, adjusting the collar. For a brief second, he caught his reflection — and it stopped him.
He looked... handsome. Sharper jawline, eyes steadier, posture stronger. A far cry from the soft, pampered faces of the other Celestials he'd seen. For a moment, Michael allowed himself a rare, quiet satisfaction.
After finishing his preparation, Michael then called Ingrid, who just floated in his side, without its scabbard, something that Michael did not mind. He then went towards the dining hall, where Saint Ju Peter was already there, holding and reading a newspaper, with servants on standby, ready for their orders, after detecting that Michael had come down, Ju Peter then ordered the servants to bring out their breakfast and refill his coffee.
"How is your initiation?" Saint Ju Peter then asked, curious to see what happened in the selection of God's Knight, as even though he was informed already, he wanted to hear it from his Great Grandson's perspective, still not looking away from his newspaper.
"It was fine, I was accepted in the Shamrock's squad as you already know, and I spar against Shamrock for the entire day, it was nothing unexpected," Michael said, while signalling the servant near him to get him some coffee, something that Saint Ju Peter did not order to the servants.
"Is that so?, I supposed this would be the time to tell you that I am proud of you, but I would not say that, you just did what was expected of you as you are a product of mixture between 2 incredibly strong individuals," Saint Ju Peter said, not praising Michael as he did not want Michael to be linient in his would be training if he had learned that he already reached as strength that many of the God's Knight cannot hope to achieve.
"I already know that, plus I'm not really that happy to tie against Shamrock who was holding back his strength by more than 70%, I find it insulting to be honest," Michael said, with Saint Ju Peter, looking away from the newspaper to glance the true expression in Michael's face, to see if this was the truth, when he saw the eyes of Michael, he saw an extremely prideful person getting his pride hurt, leading Saint Ju Peter to believe that what Michael was telling is the truth, something that relieved Saint Ju Peter a little bit.
After a few minutes, the servants returned with their food — a spread full of luxurious dishes made from top-quality, highest-grade ingredients found throughout the One Piece world. This made Michael genuinely happy; it was one of the few things that Michael, Andrei, and Cain all agreed on — good food with great taste. As he ate, a thought stirred within him: the desire to go on an adventure to Baratie, the sea restaurant where Zeff and Sanji were currently working
'After I am allowed to roam by myself, I would go to that place,' Michael said, even though he was eating the best food that was available, he could not help but be curious as to the taste of their cooking.
After an hour of eating in silence, Saint Ju Peter had already stopped speaking to him following his last response—Michael headed toward the Main Quarters of the God's Knights, where another day of training awaited. As he walked, Michael observed his surroundings intently. He noticed the Celestial Dragons' utter lack of sympathy toward the slaves. One stark example was a male slave, covered in wounds and blood, being whipped for failing to carry his master to their destination quickly enough. This brutality made Michael reflect on the cruelty of Cain from his memories. Yet even with all the atrocities Cain had committed over millennia, they paled in comparison to the savagery of the people before him now.
It did not take long for Michael to reach his destination. There, waiting for him at the entrance of the quarters, was none other than his father, Figarland Garling himself. Garling sat staring directly at him, and Michael—unsure how to respond—met his gaze and slowly approached, curiosity mingling with wariness.
"Hmm. It seems Shamrock was not exaggerating," Garling said, his voice dripping with condescension. "You truly possess strength rivaling the CP-0 agents at such a young age. I'd expect nothing less from my offspring." His tone suggested he'd had other children with power akin to Michael's, though none seemed to linger in his praise. Without warning, Garling stood and summoned an abyssal sigil, its dark energy swirling around them. Michael already guessed their destination.
"Yesterday, you faced your brother. That… intrigued me," Garling continued. "Now, I wish to witness the strength Shamrock described firsthand. You've no objections, have you, son?"
The patronizing edge to his words irritated Michael. In response, Ingrid flew into his hand, its form shifting into a hybrid of Byakko and blade. Wind and lightning crackled along the steel, sharpening its edge as elemental energy pulsed within.
Seeing this, Garling grinned coldly—a mix of amusement and contempt—and unsheathed his own sword. He readied himself for a clash against someone who, despite being his son, was practically a stranger to him, a child he had not raised.