The top-floor private box of the Furnace was sealed off from the outside world by thick one-way glass.
Kael pushed the door open and stepped inside. The arena's tsunami of fanatical cheers instantly dropped by ninety percent, as if an invisible wall had shaved it down, leaving only a heavy, muffled drone.
Robin followed behind him and casually shut the door.
The box was lavish to the extreme. Plush carpeting, soft genuine leather sofas, and a long table lined with delicacies and fine liquor.
Kael didn't sit. He walked straight to the glass wall and looked down at the vast arena below.
At the center of the field, a smear of mangled flesh lay spread across the sand, dark red blood mixed with pale fragments of bone. It was so pulverized there was no longer any trace of a human shape.
The sand around that mess shimmered with an eerie metallic sheen, as if it had been soaked in molten gold.
That was the Furnace's ten-win champion, "Bonecrusher" Barro.
A desperado who took pleasure in grinding opponents' bones inch by inch, laughing at their screams.
He probably never imagined that when death finally came, his own end would look far more horrific than any of the ghosts he'd created.
And opposite that ruined heap, a man stood quietly.
Yellow-green hair slicked neatly back. A loud pink suit jacket left open, revealing a white shirt beneath.
Several oversized gold rings gleamed on his fingers, throwing off harsh reflections under the arena lights.
There was no joy of victory on his face. Only a numb calm, as if he'd merely swatted a fly.
A few Furnace staff, faces drained white, pushed carts onto the field to clean up.
With shovels in hand, they stiffly loaded the minced remains into buckets. More than one of them couldn't hold it and sprinted to the edge to retch.
The audience didn't calm down. It only grew crazier.
Bloodshed was the finest vintage served here.
While the staff worked, the man in the center seemed to sense something. He slowly raised his head, and his gaze locked precisely onto Kael's top-floor box.
Even through one-way glass, Kael could clearly feel the tangled emotions inside that stare.
Desire. Madness. And a final, all-in resolve.
Gild Tesoro.
After escaping the flames of Mary Geoise, his life's trajectory had been completely rewritten.
With sharp business instincts and ruthless methods, he'd amassed staggering wealth in just a few years.
But he quickly learned that on a sea ruled by the strong, wealth without absolute power was nothing more than rotting meat, bait for endless wolves.
Every success brought greedier eyes. Every rise invited deadlier betrayal.
Until he met Doflamingo, the man in sunglasses with that wild, grating laugh.
At that underground auction in the North Blue, Tesoro had bet everything he had, and bought the Gold-Gold Fruit from Doflamingo's hands.
He'd expected a slaughter for it.
Instead, Doflamingo offered him an olive branch, and a single line that hit like prophecy.
"Fuffuffuffuffu. Your eyes are good. But ambition alone isn't enough. Go to Sabaody. If you catch his eye, then you'll truly have a place on this sea."
So he came.
And he chose the most direct route.
The bloodiest route.
Deathmatches.
That look just now…
That had to be him.
The legendary pirate who stood at the top of the world and treated the World Government like dirt beneath his heel.
The so-called "Aura King," Aaron Kael.
This was Tesoro's only chance.
His heart slammed inside his chest, blood heating with exhilaration.
Rumble.
On the opposite side of the arena, a gate of refined steel slowly rose, and an even more massive figure strode out.
A brute over four meters tall, muscles knotted like cables, skin covered in vicious scars. He carried an axe taller than a man. With every step, the ground trembled.
"It's 'Landslide' Gray! 150 million bounty!"
"That guy's an ability-user killer! They say his Armament Haki can tear through any defense!"
"The newcomer's done for! That last win had to be luck!"
A fresh wave of debate exploded from the stands. Almost no one believed in the young man in the pink suit.
Tesoro stared at his new opponent, eyes burning with something called madness.
Come on.
Let's gamble.
I'll bet my life. I'll bet everything I have.
Either I take it all.
Or I lose everything.
"Roar!"
Gray didn't bother with words. He bellowed, legs exploding with power.
His massive body became a cannonball, charging Tesoro with crushing momentum. His huge axe was wrapped in pitch-black Armament Haki, and the wind it tore up was strong enough to ruffle Tesoro's slicked-back hair.
Facing an attack that could split mountains and shatter stone, Tesoro didn't dodge.
He simply raised his right hand, fingers splayed.
And at the instant the axe was about to smash into his face, something changed.
The sand beneath Tesoro's feet surged without warning, erupting into a golden flood. It moved like a living thing, shooting upward and forming a towering wall of gold in front of him.
Clang!
The axe struck the golden wall, producing a shrill, ear-splitting ring of metal on metal.
Gray felt an overwhelming force slam back through his arms. His palms split open instantly.
His unstoppable charge was stopped dead.
He stared in disbelief at the smooth, mirror-like gold wall.
There wasn't even a scratch on it.
"What the hell is this?!"
He roared and tried to pull his weapon free, only to realize the axe's edge had been "bitten" into the wall, locked in place.
Then the surface of the gold rippled like water.
Countless golden tendrils burst out, whipping forward at a speed too fast for the eye to follow, wrapping around Gray's body.
"Get off me!"
Gray struggled violently, Armament Haki surging as he tried to snap the bindings.
But those golden tendrils were far tougher than anything he'd imagined. No matter how he strained, he couldn't budge them.
Worse, a cold, heavy sensation began spreading from the places the tendrils touched, racing through his entire body.
His skin. His muscles. His bones.
They were being assimilated by some unknown force.
"No… no!"
Gray's eyes widened in terror as he watched his arm turn, inch by inch, into pure gold.
He wanted to beg. To scream for help.
But when he opened his mouth, what poured out wasn't sound.
It was molten, scalding gold.
The golden tide surged from beneath his feet, crawling up his body. In the blink of an eye, his entire huge frame was swallowed whole.
Only seconds passed.
When the golden light faded, there was no more "Landslide" Gray in the arena.
In his place stood a lifelike statue of solid gold.
It preserved the exact pose of his final struggle, his face frozen in absolute horror and despair.
The entire arena went silent.
Everyone was stunned by this beautiful, grotesque method of killing.
Tesoro walked slowly to the gold statue, lifted a finger, and flicked it lightly.
Thunk.
A dull impact.
In the next instant, spiderweb cracks spread across the statue's surface.
With a sharp, cascading collapse, the statue shattered, exploding into a storm of golden powder. Under the lights, it glittered as it fell, drifting down like a radiant snowfall.
Beautiful.
And lethal.
When Tesoro finished, he lifted his head again and stared straight up, gaze piercing hundreds of meters of distance to the top-floor box.
This time, his eyes weren't only filled with resolve.
There was pride now, the pride of a man showing his worth.
And a nervousness, the tremor of someone awaiting final judgment.
Inside the box.
Kael sat down on the leather sofa and gently set his red wine glass onto the table. The liquid inside trembled with a small ripple.
"Interesting," he murmured, finally letting the corner of his lips lift.
"A decent powerhouse."
Robin stood to the side and added softly, "And a qualified gambler."
Kael laughed.
"Yeah. A gambler."
He leaned back slightly, eyes still on the man below.
"Someone, bring up our future… God of Wealth."
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