"Big brother, why…"
As the fist struck the ground, a blinding light poured into the earth, splitting it with glowing white cracks that reflected the terror in the slave boy's eyes.
The shockwave surged out from Ignyr's position, sending a violent wind through the dense crowd. The slaves staggered, blinded by dust, their balance lost as the very ground twisted beneath them.
The tremors intensified rapidly, growing in frequency and force. The unstable terrain made standing impossible.
Some slipped into gaping fissures and perished. Others were crushed by falling slabs from the collapsing ceiling, buried in debris, their lives snuffed out instantly.
Panic turned the mass of slaves into chaos. They trampled over one another in desperation. The small boy who had led them to their so-called savior was crushed underfoot, reduced to a mangled pulp in the frenzy.
"Aaaah!"
"Save me! Somebody, save me!"
"It's the end of the world!"
The screams rose and fell in a chorus of despair, like a living nightmare of the underworld.
Centered around Ignyr, the cracks spread like a spiderweb across kilometers, tearing through the underground slave farm with apocalyptic force.
The dust blotted out the air. The ground beneath Ignyr and the slave beside him caved in, collapsing several meters deep in an instant.
But it wasn't just the floor. The ruptures extended to every inch of the vast underground complex, destroying both machinery and life indiscriminately.
Thick ropes once used for brutal labor snapped or fell into the fissures. Steel infrastructure collapsed like paper under the pressure.
The core chamber, once protected by reinforced plating, fell apart like the layers of an onion. Deep within, an enormous silhouette stirred.
Above ground, manors, towers, and villas directly overhead crumbled and sank into the widening crater.
The once-imposing slave farm—constructed with over ten thousand tons of steel and stone—was now pulverized into fine debris, like crushed tofu beneath the wrath of divine punishment.
Soccer fields, underground workshops, and the vile heart of Celestial Dragon slavery—obliterated in moments.
With this, the largest slave operation in the world perished, and the system of slavery itself was torn apart alongside the carnage of the Holy Land.
As the crater settled, the boundless night sky—long hidden—was visible at last. Rain began to fall, mingling with the smoke, washing away blood and dust. The scent of wet earth mixed with iron filled the air.
A large slab of rubble trembled, then flipped aside with a metallic crack. A black-gloved arm emerged, gripping the edge.
"Huff… Huff…"
Ignyr, his body coated in black Armament Haki, climbed out of the wreckage and collapsed onto a tangle of steel rebar, gasping for breath.
Unleashing the full power of the Tremor-Tremor Fruit to annihilate the underground complex had taken its toll.
Tens of thousands had perished in an instant, and now Ignyr sat beneath the open sky, inhaling the faint life energy that lingered like the whispers of fading souls.
He meditated silently, and with each breath, strength returned. His complexion brightened. He felt the sluggish ache in his bones fade.
Only ten minutes remained before his allies' scheduled arrival.
Before departing, Ignyr extended his Observation Haki, scanning the area for survivors. A faint smile crept onto his face when he sensed none.
Until—something flickered.
His gaze shifted to the heart of the ruin. Beneath several tons of debris, a strange pulse of life flickered in and out, like a weak flame refusing to die.
The rhythm quickened, growing stronger by the second, like an alarm light flaring before an explosion.
Suddenly, the center of the ruins bulged upward, and with a violent blast, debris exploded outward like flower petals in a storm.
From within the dust cloud, a massive black silhouette emerged. A thick arm clutched the crater's edge, hoisting an enormous body up from below.
Smoke rose from the hulking figure as it planted its feet. A towering presence—seven meters tall—loomed over Ignyr.
He wore a bear-like hat. His eyes were hidden behind round glasses.
"Tyrant… Bartholomew Kuma."
Ignyr's expression darkened.
He recognized him instantly—one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea, user of the Paw-Paw Fruit. Once a king, later turned into a Pacifista under Dr. Vegapunk's experiments.
In the manga, Kuma had surrendered his consciousness, reduced to an obedient weapon. His likeness had become mass-produced as Pacifista soldiers, a technological extension of the World Government.
Two years after the war, his body had become property of the Celestial Dragons—abused daily as a human mount.
But now… here he was. Imprisoned beneath the earth in this wretched place, bound in steel, forgotten by the world.
Ignyr narrowed his eyes. "So this is where they dumped you…"
Why the World Government had hidden him here remained a mystery. Maybe he had become a plaything for the nobles, locked away after they tired of him.
Before Ignyr could move, Kuma raised a massive hand.
"Going to strike your rescuer?"
Ignyr stood his ground, watching calmly as Kuma's paw-shaped palms began to glow, pink pads trembling with built-up pressure.
A soft, round bubble of compressed air formed in the center—seemingly harmless, almost playful.
But Ignyr knew better.
He dodged quickly, letting it sail past him. The bubble floated on, slow and light, until it touched the distant manor wall.
"Boom!"
In a flash, the bubble expanded, unleashing a deafening shockwave. The entire manor evaporated. The blast radius surged back toward Ignyr, raining debris and thunderous pressure.
His ears rang. The rain momentarily vanished beneath the roar of destruction.
---
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