— — — — — —
The sound of footsteps echoed through the massive palace halls.
Milim and her two companions strolled inside without the slightest hint of urgency. They didn't look like executioners here to behead the rulers of the world—it was more like they were on a sightseeing trip.
"So, where are those guys hiding?" Milim skipped ahead, cheerful as ever, not a shred of tension in her body.
"This palace really is huge." She craned her neck, staring up. The ceiling towered at least two hundred meters above them. Just building something this extravagant must've cost an impossible fortune.
"Now's not the time to gawk like a tourist," Veldora grumbled. "I was playing my game at home, perfectly happy, then you two drag me here. My rank's gonna tank again for sure." His voice was dripping with despair, as if losing points in his online game was a tragedy worse than death.
Guy shot him a flat look. "With that just-barely-silver account of yours, what's the big deal if you lose a few more?"
That hit a nerve. Veldora flared up instantly. "Do you even know how hard it is to climb to silver? I practiced that role for three whole months! Blood, sweat, and pain! And you—what rank are you? If it's too low, don't say it out loud. You'll disgrace the title of Demon Lord."
"Me? Just a measly Diamond rank," Guy said with a lazy smirk. "But sure, I guess that's still a little higher than… silver."
He gave Veldora a sidelong glance, eyes practically spelling out 'we're not even in the same league.'
"No way…" Veldora froze like he'd turned to stone.
While the two of them bickered (well, mostly Guy enjoying himself), an unwelcome voice cut in.
"Ahem. Don't you think you're being far too casual in front of us?"
The Five Elders sat waiting further ahead, lined up in formation. The killing intent radiating from them was so thick it seemed to coat the entire palace.
"I'll leave these guys to you two." Guy acted like they didn't even exist and kept walking forward.
"Don't worry!" Milim thumped her chest with a grin. "I won't let them bother you."
"Hmph, don't underestimate us," Warcury snapped.
Guy's expression didn't change. "Even if I ignored you, you're just ants. A mild annoyance at best." He strolled on without a glance.
"Hold it. You don't get to just walk past." Nusjuro glared at Guy, blade already drawn. The others all shifted into combat stances, ready to strike.
Guy didn't stop.
"Then die here!" Nusjuro lunged, his body blurring with afterimages.
"You think you can ignore me?"
Before Nusjuro even registered what happened, a fist filled his vision. A split second later, his body rocketed backward faster than he'd charged forward.
"I'm here, y'know." Veldora retracted his fist and flashed a feral grin at the remaining Elders. Then he charged.
The Elders immediately stiffened. This guy was no joke.
"Super Iron Body!" Saturn roared, his muscles bulging as Armament Haki wrapped his entire frame. He looked like a demon born straight out of hell.
But it didn't matter. The moment he clashed with Veldora, blood spewed from his mouth and his body was hurled dozens of meters away.
The other Elders froze.
"Interesting," Veldora chuckled. "You actually tried to go head-to-head with me? Must've skipped your meds today."
Nusjuro darted back in using Moonwalk, and Saturn staggered to his feet, blood still dripping. Both looked shaken. For the first time in centuries, they were up against opponents who terrified them.
"Attack!"
The Elders all surged forward, but none of them dared block Guy's path. Holding back Milim and Veldora was already hopeless enough—splitting their forces further would mean instant death. Whatever fate awaited Guy inside was his problem.
The battle erupted in full force. But it wasn't really a battle—it was a slaughter.
Milim and Veldora tore through them like kids swatting flies. One punch, one Elder. They were blasted back again and again, coughing blood, yet stubbornly forcing themselves upright only to be smashed down again. Not one of them managed to land a decisive hit.
The only "success" was when Nusjuro managed to slice off a single lock of Milim's hair. For that, he got grabbed and pummeled so brutally that the floor was painted red. He collapsed unconscious, twitching in a pool of his own blood.
...
Meanwhile, Guy reached the end of the grand hall. At the far end, high atop a raised platform, a lone figure was waiting for him—watching silently.
"Hmm… so you're their leader? You actually think you can go against a god?" Imu's voice was cold and flat.
Guy couldn't help but laugh. "A god? Don't make me laugh. You're just a pathetic traitor who started believing his own lies." He looked Imu up and down, disappointment flashing in his eyes. At first, he thought this guy might actually have some presence, but now? Just another fool.
At least he will get a new skill soon.
"Huh?"
The word "traitor" made Imu's face twist with rage. His calm composure vanished, replaced by bloodshot eyes and murderous intent that locked squarely onto Guy. "What did you just say?"
"I said traitor. Didn't hear me the first time, trash?" Guy mocked.
"Time Erosion!" Imu roared, throwing out his hand. Golden light erupted, swallowing Guy whole.
"Under the erosion of time, everything becomes weak. You'll wither, decay, and turn to dust. That's the fate of all things." Imu's voice was calm. No one had ever survived this ability.
He didn't even like to use it, just so he could watch the pathetic fools scramble to take his place. Same as when he let Rocks live. Imu wanted entertainment, not to make everything stable or fair. Chaos was far more amusing, but only when he knew this chaos wouldn't harm him.
Suddenly, his eyes widened in disbelief. "Impossible!"
Guy Crimson walked out of the golden glow completely unharmed. "Sorry to disappoint. I'm a Primordial. This little time trick of yours? It's a joke to me. Pathetic."
This was exactly why he'd chosen to come here with Milim and Veldora—beings who were practically immortal. Unless someone could manipulate millions of years, "time erosion" was useless. And this guy clearly wasn't anywhere close.
Guy vanished and reappeared in front of Imu. A glowing magic circle snapped into place around them.
"Isolated Battlefield!"
An enormous cage covered in glowing runes dropped from the sky, locking the two of them inside.
Imu instantly flickered to another spot, glaring. "What is this?"
"Just a little spell," Guy said casually. "It won't open unless one of us dies. So go on—struggle all you want."
"I am the King. The Creator. I won't lose to a lowly creature like you."
"Time Stop!"
Time stopped. The world froze. Only Imu could move. His body was wrapped in black Armament Haki, hardened into armor. He pounded on Guy with storm-like fists, blow after blow slamming into him.
Seconds later, time flowed again. Imu pulled back, watching. Guy straightened, bloodied but smirking.
"Annoying ability," he muttered, brushing himself off. Even though he could technically ignore that ability, he chose to stay under its effect—that was his goal in coming here in the first place.
Guy grinned. "But hey, that makes it more fun, doesn't it?" His magic power surged, crushing the air. "And a man who says 'I am the king' is no true king. Or that's what Tywin Lannister said in the show."
Imu's Conqueror's Haki erupted in response, colliding with Guy's. The two clashed head-on, shaking the entire space.
Imu was really strong. Eight hundred years of training, combined with that broken time fruit, meant Guy could barely get a counter in. For the first time in ages, he was being pushed back.
What really amazed him was when he cast Time Stop—Imu actually sensed it and canceled the spell. Imu's mastery over time was on a whole different level.
--
Meanwhile, outside, the battlefield had taken a strange turn.
"Hey!" Garp shouted between punches. "What's your name, kid?"
"Shion. Why are you asking? We're enemies, you know!" She parried his strike with her blade, though her movements were losing strength.
"Aw, don't be like that," Garp said cheerfully. "I want to topple the World Government too. Fighting each other's kind of pointless, don't you think? How about we just pretend? Swing at each other a bit, no real harm done."
Shion froze, then hesitated. She didn't answer, but her softened strikes spoke for her. Soon the two of them were throwing punches and slashes that looked deadly but had no bite at all.
...
Another side:
"Hey, Sengoku! I know you didn't drink milk when you were a kid—your mom told me!" Whitebeard laughed, swinging his Katana down. "But at least put some muscle into it! Try to be a man! Gurarara~"
"Dammit, stop going all-out! And quit slipping in those cheap little insults like a slut—if you've got something to say, say it to my face!" Sengoku snarled, barely managing to block the blow. His eye twitched in irritation. Of all people, why the hell did he have to be stuck fighting Whitebeard? That monster never gave him a moment to slack off!
...
"Maybe we should fake it too," Roger suggested to Kong, looking far too relaxed.
Kong's face was stone dark. He stayed silent for a long time before finally grunting a single word. "Fine."
And just like that, two more joined the Slacker's Club.
It's worth noting that the first one to not just join—but actually create—the slacker's club in this battle was Kizaru. He was taking it easy before the fight even started.
...
But not everyone played along, thou. The CP0 chief and all CP agents fought with fanatic loyalty, refusing to hold back even a little. But against Benimaru and Hakuro, they were completely outmatched. They were beaten black and blue, unable to fight back.
"Black Flame!"
Seizing an opening, Benimaru unleashed his attack. A storm of black fire spread into an inferno, trapping the CP0 chief inside. His screams echoed for only moments before he was reduced to ash.
"Tch." Benimaru slung his blade over his shoulder, glancing at the distant battlefield. "Honestly, with the others' strength, they shouldn't be taking this long. Must be slacking again." He sighed. "Whatever. Let's finish up here first."
The moment his eyes turned, the CP agents around him shivered under his gaze.
"Hope those guys hurry up a little," he muttered.
.
.
.