-Real World, Pangaea Castle, Mariejois-
Joy Boy—the number one enemy of the Celestial Dragons for eight hundred years—had been killed unceremoniously by the Sky Screen's narrative. His second attempt at revolution had failed before it truly began.
How utterly pathetic.
In the Empty Throne room of Pangaea Castle, Imu sat motionless, contemplating the message the Sky Screen had conveyed. Could it truly be this simple? The opponent he'd waited centuries to face, the prophesied inheritor of that accursed Will—had history's wheel crushed him so easily?
The Sky Screen had mocked Joy Boy's spirit openly and subtly throughout its broadcasts. Kozuki Oden, that foolish prince, had become circumstantial evidence of the Liberation Warrior's ultimate insignificance. Later humans would destroy the Celestial Dragons' order, yes—but only after abandoning Joy Boy entirely.
Imu had maintained vigilance for so many years. Sleep interrupted by prophetic warnings. Preparations layered upon preparations. Resources diverted to counter a threat that apparently dissolved on its own. Had it all been for nothing?
A strange, bitter feeling stirred in Imu's ancient heart.
As someone from the same era as Joy Boy, Imu understood what it meant to be abandoned by history while still living. To watch the world move on, to see your name become meaningless—it was a death more profound than any physical end.
Even for an enemy, such a fate seemed cruel.
"History is written by the victors." Imu's voice echoed through the cavernous throne room, barely louder than a whisper yet carrying absolute authority. "The Celestial Dragons must take positive action. Let the unstable forces across the seas understand who truly rules the world. Begin."
The command hung in the air like divine mandate—which, from Imu's perspective, it was.
Below the Empty Throne, five elderly men knelt with foreheads pressed to the cold marble floor, bodies trembling despite their positions as the World Government's highest public authorities. They'd remained in that prostrate position throughout Imu's contemplation, not daring to move, barely daring to breathe.
Lord Imu descended from the throne with ethereal grace, flowing robes trailing behind like morning mist. The God of the Celestial Dragons walked past the kneeling Five Elders without acknowledging their presence, departing for the private gardens where specially cultivated flowers might soothe an immortal's troubled thoughts.
Only after Imu's footsteps had faded completely did the Five Elders dare to rise.
Saint Ethanbaron V. Nusjuro straightened slowly, his aged joints protesting. His Wano-esque features twisted with frustration as he finally gave voice to thoughts that had been building for months.
"It's all because of that cursed Sky Screen." The words came out as barely contained fury. "If it hadn't appeared, none of this would have happened. Every single revelation makes our lives more complicated!"
Serving Imu was like serving a tiger—one never knew if the beast would accept offerings or devour the servant instead. The Five Elders, who once held genuine power and stood as the most noble members of their entire race, now lived in constant anxiety. When had they ever experienced such humiliating treatment?
Topman Warcury Saint glanced at his colleague, then sighed heavily. "The future is far more complicated than we anticipated. Buggy the Clown has somehow surpassed Joy Boy to become the true enemy of the Gods. As for that ridiculous legend of Liberation Warriors—it made us waste decades of preparation on a phantom threat."
The irony was almost laughable. In the future, when the Holy Land Mariejois incident occurred, when Buggy the Clown carved a bloody river through the Celestial Dragons' sanctum—where had Joy Boy been? Nowhere. A loser was destined to remain a loser.
Joy Boy had been defeated by the twenty kings' coalition once despite possessing superior ancient technology. That he might be defeated a second time by other forces wasn't particularly surprising.
"The Sky Screen's reassurance was timely," Marcus Mars Saint interjected, his analytical mind already working through implications. "But we must continue the encirclement and suppression of Kaido, King of the Beasts. Solving the Joy Boy problem while simultaneously eliminating one of the Four Emperors—the value is immeasurable. Success would elevate the World Government's power to unprecedented heights. Other maritime forces would have no choice but to submit, pay Heavenly Tribute, and restore the previous order."
While his colleagues exchanged strategic observations, Jaygarcia Saturn Saint remained silent. The God of Scientific Defense was lost in contemplation about his research into Joy Boy—decades of work with no tangible results. Enormous funding consumed. Countless experimental subjects dead or ruined.
Yet in the future shown by the Sky Screen, there would be a major breakthrough. Homelander, the second-generation Seraph, would be successfully created. But Saturn still couldn't identify the breakthrough point that would lead to such success.
Had the research direction been flawed from the beginning?
Perhaps he needed to consult with Vegapunk again. Pool their knowledge, reassess the fundamental assumptions...
"Speaking of timing," Shepherd Ju Peter Saint interjected, pulling Saturn from his thoughts, "if we count the days properly, Bartholomew Kuma should be losing his self-awareness quite soon. It's rather wasteful that such a powerful Devil Fruit ended up in his possession rather than with one of our own."
Saturn's lips twitched into something resembling a smile. Bartholomew Kuma—the one unambiguous success of his Joy Boy research program. Tricking that naive fool into voluntary servitude had granted them another Warlord combatant and the prototype for the Pacifista project. The other Elders had praised this sinister scheme extensively, and with good reason.
But the situation had changed. Plans needed to adapt.
"Issue orders to Fleet Admiral Sakazuki," Saturn said decisively. "Have him bring Jewelry Bonney back to Mariejois. Keeping her at sea is no longer productive. We need to provide an explanation to certain members of our race. As for Bartholomew Kuma's opinion..." He waved dismissively. "The bear's thoughts are irrelevant."
The other Elders nodded in understanding.
Jewelry Bonney carried Celestial Dragon blood—not as some shameful bastard, but as the legitimate daughter of a certain high-ranking Celestial Dragon. Her return could quiet some of the noise within their faction.
But there was another, more strategic reason for recalling her.
"The Sky Screen revealed that Saint Donquixote Mjosgard will have a remarkable sister in the future," Saturn continued, his aged eyes gleaming with calculation. "This 'Admiral Seiryū' holds extraordinary status in the new Marine. Countless soldiers were willing to die for her."
The implications were profound. When Mjosgard committed his unforgivable crime—defending Fish-Men over his own kind—his sister had fought the Knights of God on his behalf. Even the Five Elders had been forced to back down rather than face her wrath.
Who wouldn't covet such high-end combat power? A warrior capable of single-handedly changing the strategic landscape?
"Therefore," Saturn explained, "various Celestial Dragon families are searching for scattered divine bloodlines across the seas. If we can cultivate someone comparable to the Admiral Seiryū, the investment would pay for itself a thousand times over."
The recall of lost bloodlines had become a priority project. Jewelry Bonney—the infamous Big Eater—suddenly appeared quite valuable from this perspective, especially how her blood tied to the God Knight.
Saturn's plan was already taking shape in his mind. When the time came, he would return Kuma's body—now a mindless cyborg—to Bonney. Let the adopted daughter ride her adoptive father like a beast of burden while shopping through Mariejois. The humiliation would be exquisite.
It would all depend on whether the girl's actual father valued his daughter enough to invest in her development.
"The topic of Lord Imu's true nature remains forbidden for open discussion," Nusjuro reminded the others firmly. "Everything about the God above Gods must be released gradually, allowing our people time to accept such a radical shift in their worldview. Perhaps time will smooth over the initial resistance."
Even Celestial Dragons accustomed to bullying all other races struggled with the concept of a superior being above themselves. The existence of a God among Gods threatened their fundamental identity as the world's chosen people.
Fortunately, the real violence agencies weren't controlled by the majority of their pig-like nobility. As long as the Celestial Dragon families who comprised the Knights of God remained loyal and didn't cause trouble, they wouldn't bring excessive complications to the Five Elders' rule.
"Speaking of the Knights of God," Warcury interjected, "there haven't been any unusual movements recently. Saint Figarland Garling is still concentrating on completing our assigned tasks. With luck, he'll secure the Red Dragon Fruit before anyone else."
Unfortunately, Figarland Garling had been a step too slow.
Admiral Kizaru, utilizing his light-speed capabilities, had already searched the laboratory location provided by Caesar Clown. Borsalino had scoured every corner, investigated every storage unit.
He'd found nothing.
The Admiral had since returned to Marine Headquarters to resume his preferred state of relaxed inactivity, reporting failure to the Five Elders with his characteristic lazy indifference.
The location Caesar and Vegapunk had indicated might have been accurate years ago, but the Red Dragon Fruit could have been moved to any corner of Egghead Island's vast research complex over time. A thorough systematic search, checking layer by layer, would require significant time and resources.
The worst-case scenario loomed like a dark cloud: the Red Dragon Fruit had already been consumed by Kozuki Momonosuke. If that proved true, Kaido's second-in-command would still make his mark on future history exactly as the Sky Screen had shown.
Which would make eliminating the Joy Boy problem significantly more complicated.
"We proceed as planned," Saturn declared, his voice carrying the weight of finality. "Recall Jewelry Bonney. Complete Bartholomew Kuma's transformation. Continue the search for the Red Dragon Fruit. And prepare forces for the encirclement of Wano Country."
"The Sky Screen has shown us potential futures," Marcus Mars added gravely. "Now we must ensure those futures bend to our advantage. Joy Boy may have failed, but we cannot allow ourselves to grow complacent. Buggy the Clown, whoever he truly becomes, represents a threat we must take seriously."
"Eight hundred years of preparation weren't wasted," Warcury concluded, straightening his formal robes. "They simply need to be redirected toward actual threats rather than mythological ones. The Celestial Dragons will continue to rule. That is the only future that matters."
The Five Elders exchanged glances—a moment of unified understanding passing between them.
Lord Imu had given his command. The direction had changed, but the ultimate goal remained constant: maintain absolute control over the world, by any means necessary.
Whether that meant crushing Joy Boy's legacy, exploiting naive fools like Bartholomew Kuma, or weaponizing Celestial Dragon bloodlines like Jewelry Bonney—morality had never been a consideration for those who viewed themselves as Gods.
-Elsewhere in Mariejois-
In a private chamber far from the Empty Throne, a young Celestial Dragon sat reading reports about scattered bloodlines being recalled. Saint Donquixote Mjosgard—one of the rare nobles who had learned compassion after being saved by Fish-Men—felt unease growing in his chest.
Something terrible was being set into motion. He could feel it in the way his fellow Celestial Dragons spoke of "investment opportunities" and "strategic assets" when discussing human beings.
But what could one dissenting voice accomplish against eight centuries of institutionalized cruelty?
Mjosgard set down the reports and stared out his window at the pristine sky above the Holy Land, wondering if kindness was possible in a system built entirely on subjugation.
The answer, he feared, was already clear.
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