Half a day later, an official World Government vessel glided into the inner sea of the Red Line. Upon docking, its passengers transferred to a concealed carriage that rolled quietly through the heavily guarded gates of the Holy Land—Mary Geoise.
Inside the smooth, velvet-lined carriage, Lone Wolf sat across from Stussy, his posture straight but his tone ingratiating. "How's your recovery, Fox? The organization's medical division is top-tier. I can arrange for a full examination—just in case there are any aftereffects."
Stussy, her face hidden once again behind her elegant mask, replied evenly, "That won't be necessary. I've nearly recovered."
Lone Wolf exhaled, visibly relieved. His composure returned only long enough for his anger to flare again. "That damned Marine… how dare he lay a hand on you!" His fists clenched. "Don't worry, I'll make sure he pays for this!"
Stussy turned her masked face toward him, a soft laugh escaping her lips. "Thank you."
Lone Wolf froze. His pulse quickened, his mind spinning.
She smiled at me.
His heart pounded like a war drum.
Moments later, the carriage came to a stop before a colossal structure that loomed high above the clouds.
As she stepped out, Stussy instinctively tilted her head back. Behind her mask, her eyes shimmered with awe—and unease.
The white marble walls gleamed beneath the sun, the emerald roofs rising like spears of glass toward the heavens. Their sharp, spired tips seemed to pierce the clouds themselves. Time had not dulled its majesty; weathered stones and creeping vines only made the fortress feel older, deeper, eternal.
Perched atop the Red Line, the Holy Land Mary Geoise stood as the throne of the Celestial Dragons—the symbol of their divine dominion over the world. And at its heart, crowned in sunlight and mist, rose Pangaea Castle, the seat of the World Government's power.
A place untouched by time or mercy.
"The Gorosei summon you."
The words came from a ghostly figure that appeared silently behind them. Dressed in white from head to toe, its face hidden behind a featureless mask, the figure seemed less human than spectral. Even its voice, distant and hollow, felt like a whisper from the abyss.
"Understood," Stussy said softly.
Together, she and Lone Wolf knelt.
Escorted by guards clad in silver armor, they entered Pangaea Castle. The corridors were wide, the air perfumed with sandalwood and tea. A chamber awaited them—quiet, refined, its walls lined with ancient scrolls and priceless paintings. A kettle simmered softly on the charcoal stove, wisps of fragrant steam rising lazily toward the ceiling.
Both agents knelt as one, heads bowed low. "We greet the Gorosei."
Five men occupied the room—five ancient figures whose very presence distorted the air around them. Their gazes were calm, almost detached, but to Stussy it felt as if five beasts had turned their eyes upon her. Her breath hitched, her pulse pounding as invisible pressure bore down upon her shoulders.
This… this was the seat of the world's true rulers.
"Impressive reaction," one of them murmured. The man wore a white robe and spectacles, seated cross-legged with a jet-black katana resting across his knees. As he polished the blade with slow precision, its steel reflected his faint smile. "It seems entrusting the Pleasure District to you was the right decision."
Saint Ethanbaron V. Nusjuro, the Warrior God of Finance.
At his words, the suffocating weight pressing on Stussy's chest dissipated. She inhaled softly, lowering her head further. "I am honored by your praise, Lord Saint Nusjuro."
Another man, with neatly combed blond hair and an air of cold gentility, poured himself a cup of tea and glanced at Lone Wolf. "And the mission?" he asked.
Saint Shepherd Ju Peter, the Warrior God of Agriculture.
Lone Wolf bent low, his voice trembling with equal parts reverence and fear. "Reporting to Lord Saint Peter—the mission was a success. Admiral Sengoku has been informed and pledged to accelerate the investigation."
Saint Marcus Mars, the Warrior God of Environment, gave a thoughtful nod. His deep-blue suit and flowing white hair lent him an almost regal air. "Sengoku is reliable enough," he said. "Who's leading the investigation?"
Lone Wolf hesitated, resentment darkening his tone. "Vice Admiral Rogers Darren, of Marine Headquarters. But…" He clenched his teeth. "He's reckless and arrogant, my lord. Hardly trustworthy."
Stussy's fingers twitched slightly, though she kept her head low.
"Oh?" said Saint Nusjuro with mild amusement. "So the mission wasn't entirely smooth, then."
The next to speak was a man with curly white hair, a thick beard, a scar carved across his cheek, and a flat cap casting shadow over his sharp eyes. He leaned on his cane and smiled thinly. "What happened?"
Saint Jaygarcia Saturn, the Warrior God of Science and Defense.
Lone Wolf's pulse quickened. He recognized the opportunity instantly.
"Lord Saint Saturn," he began, bowing low, his tone steeped in righteous indignation, "that Marine—Rogers Darren—attacked us without provocation! If Admiral Sengoku hadn't intervened, Fox and I would be dead!"
He spoke faster, voice trembling with fury that wasn't entirely feigned. "He ignored the authority of CP0, defied the will of the World Government itself! Such insolence cannot go unpunished! His behavior insults not just us—but you, my lords!"
Lone Wolf's heart raced. He knew their pride was absolute. No one defied the Gorosei and lived.
And he was right.
"How dare he?!" Saint Saturn roared, slamming his cane against the marble floor. The sound cracked like thunder. "Such audacity cannot be tolerated!"
A dark crimson light flared behind his eyes, waves of killing intent pouring into the room. The air rippled and warped as an oppressive energy filled the chamber.
Lone Wolf's lips twitched upward beneath his mask. He had done it. He'd won.
"Is that true?" Saturn's voice, cold and clear as steel, sliced through the air. His pupils burned like coals. "Raise your head, Lone Wolf. Look at me—and answer."
Triumph surged through him. He lifted his head, his voice ringing with conviction. "This humble subordinate would never dare deceive the Gorosei!"
A faint smile crossed Saturn's lips. "Very well."
Then, his gaze hardened. A red spark flashed in his pupils.
Pop.
Lone Wolf's head burst apart like a ripe melon.
The explosion was sharp and wet, a spray of crimson and pale matter splattering across the pristine tiles. The body collapsed forward with a heavy thud, blood pooling beneath it in a widening stain.
Stussy's eyes widened in horror. Her breath caught in her throat. Just one glance—one instant of direct eye contact—and he had been annihilated.
The metallic scent of blood filled the room, hot and cloying.
Yet none of the other four men so much as flinched. They continued their quiet rituals—drinking tea, smoking cigars, polishing blades. Their serenity made the scene all the more horrifying.
"Clean it up," Saturn said coolly, his aura retracting, the black flames fading from his form. "The quality of CP0 has fallen disgracefully low. To think one of them believed he could deceive us—utterly absurd."
Stussy bowed deeply, trembling despite herself. A bead of cold sweat slid down her temple beneath her mask. Every breath she drew felt like a step on the edge of a blade.
To be continued...