North Blue, Felsek Island.
"The flying fleet!"
"How is this possible?!"
"You little brat!"
"Damn it!!"
"The Holy Land is being bombed?!"
The Gorosei stared at the Visual Den Den Mushi, eyes bloodshot and bulging. The sky over Mary Geoise burned; the Celestial Dragons' sanctum had become a sea of fire, and above it, an invincible armada hung like a bad dream.
Lasers, cannon, and streaking light poured down in a delirious cascade, cleansing and erasing. Fireballs bloomed and rolled. Ancient walls collapsed. Revered "gods" wet themselves and fled. Splendor turned to rubble; priceless ornaments went to ash. The scale of it made their pupils tremble.
"This is a gift from the North Blue Fleet, Your Excellencies, to celebrate the perfect conclusion of the World Noble Native Hunting Competition!"
Darren's laugh was ragged and vicious, blood flushing his pallid face.
"This… this is the 'glorious achievement' you forced me to make!"
His hands became three-fingered dragon claws, catching Saint Nusjuro's inhuman blade-work. Each meeting threw off gusts and a shower of sparks.
"Do you think threatening the Holy Land buys your life, Darren?!" Saint Warcury roared, ramming through a coiling wind dragon. His Conqueror's Haki flared, a crimson-black storm that twisted the gale-beast's shape to a smear.
"Your fleet can't possibly destroy the Land of the Gods!"
"Who said I wanted to destroy the Land of the Gods?" Darren's smile turned mocking.
The Elders froze. If not to annihilate the Celestial Dragons' quarter, why hammer it so hard?
Then the answer crawled coldly up their spines as every Holy Land unit pivoted to defend the Land of the Gods.
Darren bared bloody teeth. "I'm just curious… can that Excellency truly descend from the Empty Throne?"
Their minds lurched.
---
Holy Land Mary Geoise.
If I raze Pangaea Castle… how far will my Conqueror's spike?
"I'm out of my mind for even thinking it," Momonga muttered, a bitter chuckle escaping him. His heart hammered; blood ran hot.
He had never pictured himself—the disciplined, law-bound officer—entertaining a thought this destructive.
This is Darren's kind of madness. Has awakening Conqueror's turned the current back through me?
He frowned, then shoved the question aside. Blue arcs climbed his skin and gathered into a storm. He hadn't brought the fleet to bathe piggish nobles in fire alone. However his will exulted at its birth, he kept a sliver of clarity.
He remembered each instruction.
Probe their depth. Map their secrets.
For eight centuries the World Government had stood at the summit. Beyond CP, beyond the knights swaddled in divine titles, beyond the hundred thousand-strong Holy Land Guard—what else slept in Pangaea Castle?
We have to move fast, he thought. Heavy laser use is bleeding our reserves.
He scanned. The Holy Land's true defenses were terrifying. The disorder was shock—nothing more. After the first carpet-bombing took nobles, Guards, and officials, most strikes were intercepted by CP agents and Knights of God, their blades and wills slapping light from the air. Explosions bloomed like wildflowers, but casualties dwindled.
Hold for minutes, and the fleet runs dry.
Momonga's fists clenched. A sinister red glint rose behind his eyes; electricity cracked the air. His Rumble-Rumble Fruit–sharpened Observation Haki swept out and wrapped the Holy Land—
—and his body jerked.
His heart felt crushed in a fist. His pupils pinpricked.
"What… is that?"
At the garden in Pangaea's deepest core—a quiet "Little Garden" of birdsong and blossoms—he felt a figure on an ancient throne, tall and slender beneath an elaborate headdress. Its gaze met his across the miles, cold and sovereign. The eyes were wrong—rings within rings, lines like sigils that compelled awe and dread. Before those pupils, masks fell; secrets lay open.
Soul-deep fear shoved him toward flight.
Unseeable. Unchallengeable. Invincible.
Kneel. Submit.
The Master of the Empty Throne.
Damn it—
Momonga's jaw clenched; his eyes went blood-red. Thunder detonated from his body and swallowed the sky.
"Don't underestimate me!"
BOOM.
Conqueror's burst from his chest, a palpable tide that tore holes through the cloud seas and slipped his mind from that crushing gaze.
Rip. Rip. Rip.
Lightning crosshatched the night, the firelit clouds flashing white-blue. Sparks leapt from his eyes. Branching bolts raced like roots across heaven and earth, turning the world blinding for a heartbeat.
He lifted his saber, blood and current spilling from his mouth and nose.
He stared into Pangaea's deepest dark and growled through his teeth, "Whoever you are, I will never submit."
Behind him, nine serpents of twisted lightning coalesced from the storm, coiling, roaring, and then hurtling toward Pangaea Castle in a single thunderous charge.
His gaze stayed level and proud.
"…I only obey the orders of Rogers Darren."
To be continued...