"Harald, King of the Giants!"
Grappling with Magnus and seeing Harald block Grindlewin, Lucas Saint's face tightened. He knew Magnus had come prepared.
But—
"Even with the giant king sharing your pressure, so what?"
Catching sight of Magnus's twisted arm, Lucas Saint shouted, "Stephens and I are enough to defeat you!"
"Haha—so you admit you're below me, is that it?"
Magnus laughed, utterly unfazed. If he were afraid, he wouldn't be here; he wouldn't stake his life in every fight.
True—
with what he knew of the future, he could simply cultivate Rocks, Newgate, and the others. In time he'd harvest several top-class powerhouses, and when they finally came to Mary Geoise, they'd be far more composed.
But wasn't that also a kind of cowardice?
To believe the World Government, standing for eight hundred years, was therefore unshakable—
that very thought was weakness.
Magnus had never bowed to anyone. Even when weaker than Marine Admirals, hunted by the strongest, he still completed his goals with stubborn will.
This time, freeing the slaves—if the situation spiraled out of control, if the Five Elders chose to cast aside the kings of the member nations and bare their ugliness in front of them—
Magnus would pull back.
He craved stronger fights, but he wasn't a brainless brute.
You only press a fight you can win.
A fight you can't win is just suicide.
But now, he faced only two whose power lagged a step behind his.
Why should he yield? Why should he fear?
"How do you grow without fighting?"
Magnus's Haoshoku stirred. His gaze even slid past Lucas Saint and Stephens toward distant Pangaea Castle, as though he wished to pierce the secrets hidden within.
"Impudent!"
Seeing Magnus ignore him, danger flashed across Lucas Saint's face.
"You truly are a threat!"
Kill him.
A voice struck like a spike through Lucas Saint's mind, and composure slipped from his grasp.
As if promising something to some existence,
he drew a breath and barked, "Stephens—execute the slaves!"
At those words, everyone present jolted.
"Magnus, don't you want to free them? These slaves who betrayed their masters have no right to live! You can face the two of us without flinching—but can you watch them butchered before your eyes?"
As a Celestial Dragon and the Holy Knights' commander, Lucas Saint had his pride. From the day he could think, he had never believed he could lose to anyone.
Even now.
Were it not for the need to end this quickly, he wouldn't mind a one-on-one with Magnus.
But time was short.
That person had given the order: strangle the threat in its crib.
"Do it!"
"Yes!"
At Lucas Saint's command, Stephens hesitated not at all.
Even if thousands of slaves stood here—even if among them were women and children—
the CP organization existed for the Celestial Dragons.
Their orders were absolute.
"So, Magnus—what is your choice? Will you turn your back on me to save those slaves? Or watch them die while chasing the 'freedom' you promised?"
Lucas raised his voice.
"Tell me, Magnus—how do you choose?"
Sending Stephens to execute the slaves meant he'd fight Magnus one-on-one for a time. He thought he could risk it. He was leagues above his two foolish sons; even without immortality he could stand toe-to-toe with Magnus.
With immortality, even if Stephens slaughtered the slaves, Magnus still wouldn't take him down.
What would Magnus choose?
In truth, he had no choice.
No matter what he chose, he would pay for invading Mary Geoise.
The slaves went blank.
Whether Magnus, Lucas Saint, Stephens, Grindlewin, or Harald—
their battle was a natural disaster to the slaves.
How do people resist a calamity?
Many prostrated themselves, kneeling and waiting for Stephens's judgment.
More turned to Magnus—
eyes full of hope, clinging to a last spark, praying he would save them.
He can do it… right?
Since Magnus and the Marine Admiral named Rona chose to save them—
surely there was a way?
However—
there wasn't.
Not even Magnus could protect a crowd while fighting two top-tier foes. Blocking Lucas Saint's Haoshoku shock at the start had already been his limit.
"Run."
Magnus's voice rang through the Holy Land, in every slave's ear.
"I can't save all of you."
Stephens lifted his hand; the gale from the mere sweep of his palm swallowed hundreds.
Magnus didn't move.
With Lucas Saint locked on him, he didn't choose to shield the slaves.
The arm he'd twisted by forcing power earlier knit itself straight. As Stephens moved to butcher the fleeing slaves, Magnus's state rose again to its peak.
"Run."
Magnus spoke again.
Now he looked less like a wolf—
and more like a lion with mane flaring.
He endured; he restrained himself; he knew what he should and shouldn't do.
In the end—
"Why do you assume I'll feel guilty?"
"I gave them the right to choose. The choice is theirs."
"Someone once told me—"
"'Norse, you're more arrogant than anyone.'"
"Haha. That's right. I'm not their babysitter. I gave them a choice—is that not enough? If they die, I won't grieve."
Magnus wasn't some naïve child who thought he could save everyone. Freeing the slaves might be pushing them from one hell into another.
And so what?
If he didn't even have the courage to bear deaths, what right did he have to be captain of the White Wolf Pirates?
What right to claim he'd challenge the World Government?
"I'll avenge them."
"However many slaves you kill today—I'll kill that many Celestial Dragons."
His words even made Stephens falter.
Because he could feel Magnus wasn't lying. As Magnus finished speaking, his aura swelled to an unadorned, absolute height—as if some shackle had shattered.
Haoshoku is the power of the heart.
And in that instant, Magnus chose to bear everything.
"So—run with everything you've got!"
"I've given you the right to choose freedom. Whether you gain it depends on you."
"I can't promise you'll live to embrace it."
Magnus looked at the slaves around him.
"But I can promise this: right now, you are free. You can run with everything you have for that freedom."
"You can also stay."
"And trade your deaths for the deaths of Celestial Dragons."
His voice thundered, leaving every slave wide-eyed with disbelief.
"Stephens—you've killed one thousand six hundred fifty-three slaves. From this day, I'll kill at least one thousand six hundred fifty-three Celestial Dragons to bury them with you."
Ignoring Stephens and Lucas Saint, Magnus suddenly looked far off—
to the splendid, extravagant buildings around Pangaea Castle.
"How much time has passed since this uprising began? How many Celestial Dragons can you evacuate? Those arrogant pigs you've raised for centuries—will they meekly obey your orders?"
He spun and bolted deeper into the Holy Land.
"Will you keep slaughtering those you deem worthless—"
"or save your Celestial Dragons?"
"Come."
"Now you choose."
…
(End of Chapter)
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