In Mary Geoise, the pinnacle of world power, the air was thick with an unusual clamor. Far from the turbulent seas and the shouts of pirates, this was a sickening frenzy hidden beneath a layer of false peace.
Inside a lavish palace, luxurious carpets were piled high with luggage of every shape and size. Servants knelt on the polished floors, carefully packing diamond-encrusted hunting rifles, golden goblets, and silk pajamas into custom-made leather cases.
"Father, did you remember to bring my 'little darling'?" Saint Marcos, a ten-year-old Celestial Dragon with a distinctive topknot, tugged excitedly at his father's flowing robes.
His "little darling" was a small pistol, custom-made for his hands from Sea Stone and ivory.
"Of course, my dear Marcos," his father, Saint Top, replied, his fat belly jiggling as he smiled dotingly. "For this year's 'competition,' you must win the grand 'prize.' You can't let that snot-nosed brat from the Musgard family beat you again."
"Don't worry, Father!" Saint Marcos declared, waving his chubby fists. "This time, I'm going to hunt the fastest one! I'll turn him into the most beautiful specimen for my bedroom!"
Their conversation was casual and light, as if they were discussing a family picnic rather than a bloody hunt. The surrounding servants and slaves bowed their heads even lower, their bodies trembling almost imperceptibly. They didn't dare make a sound. To them, the "competition" the Celestial Dragons spoke of was a word more terrifying than hell itself.
This was the World Nobles' grand event, a hunt held every three years. For this "entertainment," they would randomly select a "lucky" nation from outside the World Government's list of affiliated countries to serve as their hunting ground.
And this year's "lucky one" was an island in the West Blue called God Valley.
Soon, a fleet of unprecedented size departed slowly from the port of the Red Line. Dozens of the Marines' most advanced warships formed a steel wall, escorting a collection of exquisitely decorated ships that looked more like floating palaces. Onboard these ships, the Celestial Dragons, sealed within their transparent bubble helmets to protect them from the "filthy" air of the common world, pointed excitedly at the sea below.
The scale of the escort was staggering. Elite agents from Cipher Pol were scattered like shadows in every corner, their eyes as sharp as knives. Sailing at the very front of the fleet was an even more formidable force—the God's Knights. Their commander, a man with a unique crescent-shaped hairstyle and a stern, emotionless face, stood silently at the helm, fulfilling his duty.
The fleet broke through the clouds, crossed the Calm Belt, and finally arrived at the valley that had been "favored" by the gods.
God Valley was a peaceful and beautiful country. Its lands were covered in lush greenery, and waterfalls cascaded down its cliffs like rivers of silver. Its residents lived simple, tranquil lives in their small towns, never imagining that disaster was about to descend upon them from the heavens.
When the enormous fleet appeared on the horizon, obscuring the sky, the island's residents came out of their homes, looking up with curiosity and wonder. What awaited them was not a miracle from the heavens, but a judgment delivered by monsters.
"To ensure the 'fairness' and 'fun' of the competition, we must first clear the venue!"
The next moment, the God's Knights and CP agents descended like birds of prey. Without warning and without mercy, a one-sided slaughter began. The quiet streets were instantly consumed by fire and explosions. With a single flash of a sword, a child who had been running to find his parents fell into a pool of blood, along with the father who had rushed to protect him.
The soldiers of God Valley took up their weapons to resist, but their swords were as fragile as rotten wood against these battle-hardened killers.
All the while, the Celestial Dragons sat comfortably on the decks of their ships, sipping from their goblets and enjoying the "fireworks display" below.
"Look, Marcos!" Saint Top pointed to a village that had just been leveled by an explosion. "What a fun game!"
Saint Marcos nodded vigorously, his young face twisted with an excitement and fanaticism far beyond his years. He gripped his small pistol tightly, already itching to go down and personally shoot at the scattering targets.
The massacre did not last long. When the last person fighting back was beheaded by the commander of the God's Knights, the entire island fell into a deathly silence. The once-beautiful country was now a smoldering ruin. Thick smoke billowed into the sky, and the air was filled with the pungent smell of blood and burning.
"The venue has been cleared," a cold voice reported back to the flagship.
Only then did the Celestial Dragons, looking pleased, slowly descend onto the blood-soaked land in their bubble cable cars. Their expensive shoes stepped on charred corpses, but they didn't even frown, as if they were merely stepping over piles of insignificant dirt. Slaves were herded down to quickly set up luxurious tents beside the ruins, arranging exquisite food and fine wine on long tables. A feast celebrating death and destruction was about to begin.
Saint Top placed the ivory pistol into his son's hand and affectionately stroked his head.
"Go on, my child," he said, his voice as gentle as any loving father's, but his words were pure venom. "The competition hasn't officially started. You can get some practice in before then."
"Yes, Father!" Saint Marcos replied excitedly. Gripping his gun, he skipped off into the depths of the ruined forest like a child on an Easter egg hunt.
Behind him, the "Gods" began toasting each other with clinking glasses, their laughter echoing across the weeping valley.
No one on the island knew that far out at sea, a pair of eyes was watching the entire hellish scene through a high-powered telescope.
"Kishishishi… Celestial Dragons. They're as nauseating as ever," the Golden Lion, Shiki, sneered from the deck of his ship, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "But that's what makes this interesting. Rocks wants a prize much bigger than this little island."
Meanwhile, in the waters around Hachinosu, Rocks D. Xebec himself stood at the bow of his flagship. His face was hidden in shadow, but his eyes glinted with an ambition darker than the deepest abyss. He stared in the direction of God Valley, as if his gaze could pierce through space itself and see the fools who called themselves gods.
"Celebrate all you like..." his low voice drifted on the wind.
"...Because your divine thrones are about to change hands."
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