Just as the world order had stagnated into a dead pool, a great being shrouded entirely in golden light appeared out of nowhere.
He was strikingly handsome and imposing, his shoulder-length black hair lending him an air of even greater resolve.
His eyes constantly blazed with the light of wisdom and courage, brighter and more dazzling than the stars in the sky.
With steadfast conviction, he stepped forth from Laugh Tale, taking his first step toward saving the world.
From the moment he appeared, he became the savior of the poorest and most downtrodden.
For he selflessly taught those ordinary people — who, lacking Devil Fruit abilities, could only be bullied and oppressed — the ways of cultivation.
Under proper training, their bodies grew strong at an astonishing rate, and they developed all manner of martial arts and weapon-based fighting styles.
The gap between ordinary people and Devil Fruit users narrowed quickly.
Soon, backed by these no-longer-feeble commoners, he launched a revolution to overhaul the world's order.
He came, he saw, he conquered.
Island after island, undersea city after undersea city, all were taken by the pure martial army he led — a force composed solely of combat masters.
Before long, the world's strength was gathered under a single, powerful regime.
From then on, the once-oppressed masses hailed him as "Emperor," worshiping him as though he were a god.
In this new regime, those without Devil Fruit powers held the reins of authority, while the formerly lofty Devil Fruit users became the enslaved class.
The Emperor was unbothered by this reversal — indeed, he publicly encouraged and endorsed it.
For he never dared forget the terrifying scene he had once witnessed.
Though all life on this world had been bred from the seeds cast by that pyramid, the mysterious fruits that granted strange powers had also been planted by the pyramid.
And too many lives had already been lost over those fruits.
There was no doubt in his mind: Devil Fruit users had been deliberately cultivated by the alien civilization that controlled the pyramid.
In time, the Emperor's attention turned toward the properties of seastone.
The empire's key locations began to be heavily outfitted and decorated with seastone — its purpose, naturally, to completely suppress Devil Fruit users.
The empire settled into stability, but the Emperor found himself gazing up at the night sky more and more often.
For he was certain the pyramid would return.
The seeds they had sown were drawing ever closer to harvest.
But alas, after seizing control of the world, the once-oppressed commoners gradually lost their drive to improve themselves.
They sank into the same indulgent, decadent lifestyles the Devil Fruit users before them had once reveled in.
Martial arts fell into neglect. The military was riddled with corruption and complacency. The empire slid into decay with alarming speed.
The Emperor saw it all, and worry gnawed at him.
Yet he could not reveal the truth of the threat from beyond the stars to his people.
His powerful awareness had long since discerned the weakness in the human heart: no human could bear the knowledge that they were nothing more than livestock, raised on this planet by a higher civilization.
No matter how much he might encourage them, no matter how he might lead them toward light and hope,
… if they learned the truth, they would fall into the abyss of despair, awakening the chaos and darkness buried deep within their very genetic code.
With no other choice, the Emperor extracted from his own memory every detail he could recall of the pyramid's structure, along with every scrap of information he had gleaned in his fleeting glimpse of it.
At this moment, all he could do was learn as much as possible about the mortal enemy that was his destiny.
He gathered the empire's entire wealth and its most skilled craftsmen, and began secretly constructing a replica of the pyramid beneath the imperial capital.
This young yet already decaying empire had found another grand goal to rally around — and once again, the machinery of the state roared into motion.
The martial corps that had once struck terror into the hearts of Devil Fruit users reassembled under the Emperor's command.
Those who had rotted beyond redemption were instantly crushed by the Emperor's will — purged like infected flesh from the body of the empire.
Vast quantities of materials poured into the capital from every corner of the world.
Countless prisoners and slaves were transported aboard warships into Mary Geoise.
Day after day, the skies above Mary Geoise were choked with the heavy smoke of foundries, while the surrounding seas churned restlessly.
The strain of such relentless exploitation of national strength grew so great that even the loyalty of the island governors began to fray.
Each year, voices of dissent grew louder.
Yet the Emperor they worshiped and revered remained silent — offering no explanations, ignoring all petitions.
At last, the pyramid was complete.
Though its interior was still empty, the Emperor could already feel the dreadful aura emanating from the great throne atop it.
Without hesitation, he sat upon the throne — an exact replica, built in his own bedchamber from the terrifying image burned into his memory.
In an instant, the golden light surrounding him was drawn away by the throne, shooting into the distant void like a beacon.
The energy-forged body he possessed collapsed in that moment — not even dust remained, vanishing utterly.
The once-invincible Emperor managed to preserve only a wisp of his essence, fleeing in disgrace back to his birthplace of Laugh Tale.
But to the outside world, no one knew that their revered and beloved Emperor had suffered total defeat at the hands of their creators.
They continued, by sheer inertia, to send resources and people to the capital, year after year.
And so a hundred years passed.
When the legend of the Emperor's invincibility finally faded, no longer binding the minds of a new generation of humans,
… a newly appointed governor at last dared to proclaim autonomy, declaring the founding of a fully independent kingdom.
That man… was Imu.
After a period of watching and waiting, the people discovered that the Emperor did nothing in response to Imu's blatant act of sacrilege.
And so, in a single night, twenty more kingdoms were born.
These kingdoms quickly formed an alliance and, in one bold strike, captured Mary Geoise.
In the battle where they stormed the capital, the martial corps who still loyally defended the Emperor's bedchamber fought to the last man — dying in the gardens outside the palace.
From that day on, the flowers in that garden never again withered.
Imu naturally assumed the title of Emperor and, just as naturally, took up residence in the bedchamber — sitting upon that unusually massive throne.
In that instant, a wisp of dark-green flame tore through the void, instantly transforming all the glory of this newly risen Emperor into complete betrayal of humanity.
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