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Mary Geoise, the city that stood atop the Red Line like a jewel in the crown of the world, was gone.
The fairyland of white marble and mist had been reduced to a apocalyptic wasteland. Countless opulent skyscrapers had collapsed under the rain of debris, leaving only shattered skeletons of gold and stone.
The wide, pristine avenues were now choked with rubble, the corpses of mutated beasts, the bodies of pirates, and the severed limbs of Marine and Army soldiers.
Ice froze the blood—magma melted the stone—lasers pierced the dust. The three Marine Admirals moved through the chaos like reapers, their wide-range attacks slaughtering the endless waves of beasts and pirates without mercy.
The collision of top-tier combatants was no different from a natural disaster. For the weak, even a stray shockwave was a death sentence.
Blades clashed, sparks flew, and the thunderous roar of battle cracked the very foundation of the Red Line.
Shiki laughed maniacally, burning the last of his life force in a display of terrifying brilliance. The Marines roared back, desperate to extinguish his flame.
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In the residential district of the Celestial Dragons, however, there was not a single "god" to be seen.
The World Nobles had vanished, scurrying like rats into their massive, reinforced underground bunkers at the first sign of trouble.
Directly in front of the Celestial Dragons' plaza lay a sea of clouds, and below that, a sheer, vertical drop of ten thousand meters leading to the ocean below.
"Finally."
Arthur, hovering high above and watching Shiki's final stand, smiled. He expanded his Observation Haki, casting his sensory net over the entirety of Mary Geoise. He finally saw the guests he had been waiting for.
At the base of the Red Line, hidden in the shadow of the cliff, a dragon-headed ship breached the surface.
Dragon and his commanders stepped onto the deck. They exchanged a few brief words, and then, a red-skinned fish-man in adventurer's garb leaped from the ship. He latched onto the stone face of the Red Line and began to climb, moving with the agility of a spider, scaling the sheer wall as if it were flat ground.
Fisher Tiger.
The Revolutionaries and the fish-man adventurer had lived up to Arthur's expectations. They were here to liberate the slaves.
Two months ago, when Arthur had accompanied Hack and Tiger to Baltigo to retrieve Vegapunk, he had overheard whispers of this plan.
He hadn't stayed to hear the details, prioritizing Vegapunk's extraction. But on his return trip, meeting the broken Golden Lion gave him an idea. He wouldn't just watch history happen—he would direct it.
He orchestrated Shiki's assault on the World Government, turning Mary Geoise into a graveyard.
Such a world-shaking event would inevitably draw every ounce of the World Government's attention. The Five Elders, Kong, Sengoku, Garp—they would all be focused on the sky, on Shiki.
Arthur didn't know exactly when the Revolutionaries planned to strike, so he created the perfect window of opportunity for them. A once-in-a-lifetime distraction. An organization like the Revolutionary Army, dedicated to overthrowing the government, could not possibly ignore such a gift.
Among the slaves to be freed, the future "Golden Emperor," Gild Tesoro, was a certainty. But Arthur's true target was a woman named Baccarat—the future user of the Luck-Luck Fruit.
He needed to know if she was there. He needed to know if she had already eaten the fruit.
If she died in the crossfire, or if the fruit was lost… well, Arthur would just have to take his frustration out on Dragon. A billion volts of lightning would be a fitting reminder of the price of crossing him.
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The Revolutionary Ship.
Dragon stood at the bow, flanked by Kuma, Ivankov, Inazuma, and Hack. But standing with them were two unexpected figures: "Dark King" Rayleigh and Shakky.
They all watched as Fisher Tiger began his ascent.
"That is the plan," Dragon said, his face set in stone, radiating absolute trust in the fish-man. "It's all in your hands now."
It had to be said: the Monkey bloodline possessed a terrifying kind of magnetism. When guided correctly, it drew like-minded souls together like moths to a flame.
This charisma was potent in Garp, but it reached its zenith in Dragon and his son, Luffy.
Anyone who stood by their side, anyone who truly knew them, eventually found themselves offering their absolute trust.
Fisher Tiger, a man who had been a slave, a man who held a deep-seated hatred for humanity, had only contacted the Revolutionaries because of Hack. But after two months of working with Dragon, that hatred had evolved into respect. He followed Dragon's lead almost implicitly.
The ideal of the Revolutionary Army was simply too seductive for those at the bottom of the world's hierarchy. Perhaps, after this, Tiger would abandon his life as an adventurer and join the cause for good.
Slavers were becoming more rampant across the globe, and the price of fish-men and merfolk remained astronomically high. It drove humans to take risks, to hunt them like animals.
The people of Fish-Man Island lived in constant fear, afraid to leave their underwater sanctuary. Tiger had had enough.
"Don't worry," Tiger said, nodding solemnly. The fire in his eyes was blinding. "This plan will succeed. The slave quarters are unguarded. Every soldier has been pulled to protect the Celestial Dragons' bunkers."
"The world should have no slaves. All lives are free. All lives are equal," Dragon murmured, looking up at the towering red cliff.
"ALL LIVES ARE FREE! ALL LIVES ARE EQUAL!"
The crew on the ship roared in response, their necks thick with passion, their eyes red. They looked less like soldiers and more like zealots.
"Make a scene! Turn the world upside down! Let the philosophy of the Revolution spread to every corner of the seas!"
"Hahahaha! I've been waiting for this!"
The Revolutionaries were boiling with adrenaline as they watched Tiger disappear into the mist. They had their own part to play. There were too many of them to climb the cliff without being noticed, so under Dragon's command, they moved to a secondary location to extract the slaves once Tiger set them free.
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"Huff… huff…"
Fisher Tiger gasped for air, his chest heaving. One hand gripped a protruding rock, the other wiped sweat and grime from his eyes.
He looked up. The summit wasn't far now.
Relying on the innate superiority of fish-man physiology—grip strength, wrist strength, arm strength far beyond any human—Tiger scaled the vertical hell. On some inclines, he didn't even use his legs, hauling his body weight up rock by rock with just his arms.
Time ticked by. The earth-shattering battle in the clouds above continued to rage, masking the sound of his ascent.
Finally, after hours of grueling effort, Fisher Tiger conquered the ten-thousand-meter cliff.
His webbed hand slapped onto the railing of the plaza at the edge of Mary Geoise. He pulled himself up, peering over the edge.
Empty.
With a final heave, he vaulted over the rail, landing silently in the Holy Land.
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