The crowd fell deathly silent before erupting into thunderous uproar.
Some trembled in fear, others burned with excitement, fists clenched and eyes gleaming. The words "Cross Guild" struck like a bomb dropped into stagnant waters, sending tidal waves through every heart present.
Bahr's gaze settled on the Celestial Dragons crucified upon the crosses. Slowly, he raised the Black Sword Autumn Water, its blade catching the sunset's glow with a cold sheen.
No unnecessary movements. Not even a single wasted word.
With a flick of his wrist, the black blade traced a perfect crescent through the air, dark purple Haki coiling around its edge as it tore through the atmosphere with a low hum.
The slash was too fast for the eye to follow—just a blur before two soft "thunks" sounded...
Blood gushed simultaneously from the necks of Saint Charloss and Saint Roswald, their heads sliding down the crosses before thudding to the ground, their bulging eyes frozen in terror.
Scarlet fountains erupted from headless torsos, staining the white bandages and iron chains crimson, like two grotesque flowers blooming in twilight.
Absolute silence gripped the square. Even the sea breeze seemed to freeze as everyone stared, dumbstruck, at the two once-untouchable Celestial Dragons now lying in pools of their own blood, eyes wide with disbelief.
Who dares kill Celestial Dragons?
The thought detonated in every mind, fear and awe intertwining until many collapsed to their knees.
Bahr flicked blood from his blade and surveyed the crowd, his calm voice carrying undeniable authority: "This is the price for harming our people."
He pointed at the corpses. "No exceptions."
Without another glance, he leaped skyward, tracing a clean arc through the air before landing gracefully on the deck of Ark Maxim.
Nico Robin's fingers twitched at her sides. Miss. Valentine covered her mouth in shock. Even the perpetually stoic Mr. 1 furrowed his brow.
Every face bore undiminished astonishment. None could believe someone would publicly execute Celestial Dragons—and with such casual brutality, as if swatting insects.
"Stop gawking." Bahr brushed nonexistent dust from his coat and called to the stunned crew: "We sail."
"Aye, Captain!" The crew snapped to action.
Leaning against the railing, Bahr watched the chaos ashore with a derisive smirk. Today's strike hadn't just severed Celestial Dragon necks—it had cut through the fear of "divine right" festering in countless hearts.
Consequences? When you're already flouting the rules, what's one more defiance? The World Government's kill-on-sight order wouldn't change whether these two lived or died.
He never sought trouble, but when it came knocking, he either ignored it or ended it permanently.
Keeping them alive via Enel's mercy had been deliberate—this public execution would cement their reputation. To establish dominance required the most shocking demonstration: proof that so-called "holy blood" was just mortal flesh beneath a blade.
They say Celestial Dragons are hard to kill? Let them try reattaching heads.
And let no one mistake this for impulse.
With Whitebeard's dying words—"One Piece is real!"—igniting the Great Pirate Era 2.0, the World Government desperately needed stability. Why waste resources avenging two worthless tyrants?
The "untouchable" myth existed solely to maintain control. For such low-value targets, they'd send CP0 assassins at most, perhaps rouse the God's Knights.
So what?
Bahr ran his thumb along the sword hilt, eyes glinting coldly.
He wasn't some pushover. Let them come—he'd cut down every last one. By the time the Government mobilized properly, the Cross Guild would be firmly entrenched.
Besides, the New World belonged to the Four Emperors—those warlords wouldn't let Marines trespass easily, creating a perfect buffer zone.
Transparent bubbles enveloped Ark Maxim as it descended into the sea, picking up speed as it submerged. Sunlight filtered through the waves, casting dappled patterns across the hull while blood still pooled beneath the crosses ashore.
Bahr's declaration—"No exceptions"—lingered like a stone dropped into deep waters, its ripples spreading endlessly through every witness's mind.
...
High above Sabaody Archipelago, a massive hot air balloon hovered at the cloudline. Inside its wicker basket, Morgans adjusted his bowler hat while pressing a brass camera against his face, its lens fixated on the bloody crosses below.
His iconic beak-like nose nearly touched the viewfinder as sea winds ruffled his feathers. Behind his glasses, eyes burned with fiery intensity.
"Click—click—" Shutters fired rapidly as he ignored the salt crusting his wings, his tail feathers bristling with excitement. "Magnificent! A story for the ages! 'Celestial Dragons Executed Publicly, Cross Guild Emerges'—this headline will set the world ablaze!"
His ashen-faced assistant tugged his sleeve. "Boss, we can't publish this! The World Government will silence us!"
Morgans whirled, his beak clacking sharply. "Fool!"
He pointed a quivering wing at the retreating figure sheathing his sword, feathers puffing with excitement: "News exists to reveal truth! When gods fall to mortal blades, when 'untouchable' lies shatter—that's not taboo, it's history's thunderclap!"
Adjusting his lens to track Ark Maxim's descent, he muttered: "This public execution is the first domino in divine authority's collapse. That man Bahr isn't mad—he's a prophet wielding steel!"
The assistant trembled. "But—but the repercussions—"
"Let the storm come!" Morgans' laugh screeched like rusty hinges as he reloaded film, eyes alight with fervor. "See the crowd's eyes—fear hiding longing, rage wrapped in hope! That man shattered chains of submission with one stroke. From today, he's their compass!"
Studying the photo of Bahr's decisive slash, his tone turned solemn: "Journalists aren't government mouthpieces—we're history's scribes. The moment gods fall, the dawn of power's redistribution... these must be inked onto paper, nailed to time's monument!"
As the balloon ascended, leaving Sabaody's chaos below, Morgans stretched his wings and suddenly bellowed into the wind: "Homeward! Front page headline—'Blasphemer Bahr Slays Celestial Dragons, Cross Guild Rises'!"
The assistant's protests died under his piercing gaze.
Watching the shrinking island, Morgans' beak curled cunningly. He knew better than anyone the quakes this story would trigger.
So be it. For him, no prey was worthier than truth, no symphony sweeter than breaking news.
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