Did Magnus have another card?
Lucas Saint didn't know, but he knew this: if the God's Knights didn't move now, even if Magnus had no hidden play, turning the tide would be near impossible.
"Move."
They had planned to take out the White Wolf's embedded reporters first, but with the field slipping, delay was no longer an option.
"Ha—Captain Claude Saint, Vice-Captain Granreed Saint, make sure you kill that old man and avenge us!"
Every time he recalled Sabaody, Kurt Saint's head throbbed—the image of Magnus one-shotting him flashed unbidden.
Pedro Saint felt the same.
Among the Knights here, only those two had followed Granreed to Sabaody to deal with Magnus.
They lost, and Magnus took their heads and punted them like balls.
They were mocked for a long time.
Of course, since both Captain Claude and Vice-Captain Granreed also had their heads taken, the others didn't dare go too far.
Even so, it was the shame of a lifetime.
"Of course."
Granreed Saint's voice was venom.
This time the Knights had come in full—eleven in all, captain, vice-captain, and commander included—and every one of them bore "immortality."
On an ordinary day, any one of them could erase a nation; only a war of this caliber merited them all stepping out.
"Too bad those samurai didn't come. We'd have flipped the board outright."
"Hehe—if White Wolf knew his attack coincided with eleven member nations under siege, what would his face look like?"
"Hmph—and the number even matches ours."
...
They didn't take the field before them seriously; Marines and CP operatives didn't even enter their eyes. In their view those were cringing servants—not worth notice.
If not for the Marines and CP being useless, they would still be in Mary Geoise enjoying life—not wading through this filthy lower world.
"Haha—against these lowborns, this is still the best."
Pedro Saint snapped his fingers.
"Come out—my shadow army!"
Crates stashed in the corners were popped open; one by one, zombie soldiers crawled out, groaning low.
Eight members of the Knights had eight different gifts.
But a one-man army?
That was the Shadow-Shadow fruit of Pedro Saint.
There was, in the Celestial vaults, another fruit with a similar but stronger effect—but that was for a worthy junior to eat someday.
"Tch. Compared to you, my ability's not great in a mess like this."
Kurt Saint clicked his tongue.
His fruit could outdo the shadow fruit in area lethality—but only with conditions:
First, a quiet field.
Second, his voice reaching all clearly.
Meet those two,
and even enemies stronger than he could fall.
Unless they could see the future:
cut him off before he spoke, or make sure they couldn't hear him.
Here—
BOOM!
Giants and Admirals smashed together, birthing thunderous shock after shock; outside that deafening crash, nothing could be heard.
Seeing that,
the cloaked girl of the Knights—the one who hid her face and left only her eyes bare—moved first.
She pointed; an arrow-straight strike lanced for Harold, who was dueling Ortega.
"What is this!?"
As a giant, Harold's Observation was superb; seeing seconds ahead was nothing to him.
But in the future he glimpsed, he saw himself blasted away by a human girl.
"Haha—going straight for the biggest ones?"
"Captain's prey is the White Wolf."
"Shall we pick on the strong ones too? I don't want to waste time on trash."
...
To the Knights, a war like this felt like a picnic. With "immortality," they could afford to be reckless.
They had earned their pride.
Meanwhile,
CP's commander, Stephens, staggered over, panting, and shielded Lucas Saint, Claude Saint, and Granreed Saint with his own body.
"Lucas-sama, Claude-sama, Granreed-sama—this unworthy one cannot stop White Wolf."
Head low, he was the head of CP in public—the commander of the world's strongest intelligence service.
Before Celestial Dragons—especially the Knights, who could judge even other Dragons—he played the humble, loyal servant.
"Stand down."
Claude Saint snorted.
"We'll handle White Wolf."
He had no intention of letting Stephens pile onto Magnus. Failing to take Magnus alone was shame enough; if not for a certain person's kill order, they wouldn't have stooped to a gang-up at all.
Leaving Stephens out was no loss.
From what Magnus had shown, the three of them were enough to bring him down; Stephens could go unlock other fights and free up power.
That, too, was a form of pin.
What they didn't expect was Magnus's reaction when he saw them—no tension at all. He actually looked relieved.
"Only you?"
One line—and Claude and Granreed went scarlet with rage.
Children of heaven, sneered at—by a pirate?
"Arrogant!"
"White Wolf, this is your grave!"
"You'll pay for what you've done!"
...
They barked—but neither moved.
Claude had a shadow from being backstabbed.
Granreed simply feared Magnus's tricks.
In the end Lucas spoke. "White Wolf—whatever cards you have, use them. Even if Akechi Rona stood here, she couldn't help you escape."
Right.
In Lucas's mind, Rona was the only hidden piece—former Admiral or not, she could hold any of the other two while the three crushed Magnus.
Even if Magnus had grown since Mary Geoise—facing two Admirals wasn't three.
And enduring meant nothing by itself.
With the Knights on the field, the Marines had a fresh heartbeat. Eight weird abilities, all "immortal"—the balance would tilt.
Even if Magnus held out three-on-one,
what would he do once all his people died?
"Ha."
Magnus smiled.
"Who said I'd ask Rona? She's my woman—I don't make my woman do what she doesn't want."
"Your woman!?"
Before Magnus finished, Claude Saint's eyes went bloodshot.
"I knew it—that wench!"
He had courted Rona—wanting her as one wife among many—but given her strength, she would have stood above the rest.
She hadn't just refused him—she'd stabbed him in the back. Ever since, when he met other Dragons, he felt something in their eyes:
derision?
mockery?
Now he knew why.
Rona turned him down because she had already chosen Magnus.
"Fine."
Claude's voice dropped. "Once I take your head, I'll catch that wench and show her what she threw away."
"I don't think that day will come."
Magnus's face stayed calm. "Tell me—why do you think I started this war, knowing your Knights would step in?"
"Because of this."
He flicked a blade. A black-violet sword bit into the earth.
"This is…"
"Shusui—the national treasure of Wano."
Magnus grinned at the four.
"Know its master? I think you do."
Ryuma spent a lifetime stopping pirates and Celestial nobles from invading Wano. The aura lingering in the blade alone told the story; the Knights, apex of the nobles, had surely crossed him.
Nations like Wano and Elbaf stood free only by showing strength.
Wano fell because it lost that deterrence.
As Lucas's eyes narrowed in suspicion, Magnus barked:
"Ryuma—awaken!"
Lucas frowned harder. An absurd thought clawed up:
Could Magnus revive the dead?
Impossible.
Magnus's fruit held no record of raising the dead—
certainly not someone dead for centuries.
And yet—
The sword in the dirt
quivered at Magnus's call.
Then—
a thin current of Haki
slid from the blade.
And in this field,
those who noticed first were not Harold or Lucas—
but the girl sniping Harold with her strange fruit.
"This Haki…"
She froze mid-motion—didn't even guard against Harold's reflex swing.
Another's memory surged in.
She remembered the Government's first two hundred years—when they fought war after war to break countries to heel.
Only twice did they shatter.
Once, halted by a samurai who threatened to open Wano.
Once, by Elbaf's ancient giants.
Those failures made the Government abandon total conquest and use the Marines to maintain balance.
The Marines were born from that army that had never known defeat.
The samurai's name was forgotten.
Only the almost-peak Haki remained in memory.
A trickle became a flood—
in under three seconds.
Then Lucas watched a storming Haki pour from the black-violet blade like lightning, with no end.
"Haha—yes!"
Ryuma had been flagged by the "system" as Magnus's match—hardly weak.
As Magnus woke him,
the Haki bursting from the blade pricked Magnus's skin like needles.
The surge finally drew the other apexes' eyes; none reacted stronger than Takiichi, the Wano greatsword.
"This Haki…"
Takiichi looked stunned. He had felt it when young; their shogun had once used the blade that sealed it to crush a revolt.
Shusui was a national treasure not just because its master was a world-renowned sword god—
but because Ryuma had sealed a blow of his Haki inside it. Release it, and you unleashed a strike equal to Ryuma's full power.
At the right time, it could kill an ordinary greatsword.
Once used, Shusui became an ordinary black blade.
But now—
Takiichi could feel that edge that cut all things again.
So clear—
as if the owner had risen after centuries.
No "as if."
A man in white kimono, blue scarf, and wooden clogs stepped into the field and grasped the sword.
"Who is Magnus?"
It felt like waking from a long dream. In the fog of memory, a voice told him: a man named Magnus had called him.
"I am."
Magnus looked at Ryuma and smiled, regretful.
"If this were another time, I'd love to cross blades at our peak."
"Not now."
Ryuma frowned. He could sense it—his state wouldn't last.
This awakening was only a loan—
soon he would return to death.
Magnus's next words boiled his blood.
"Wano has fallen."
"Those Celestial Dragons did it."
"Cut them down with me. When it's done, I'll restore Wano."
No more words were needed.
If Magnus was not lying, Ryuma had only one answer.
"Then let's go."
He turned to Lucas Saint and spoke softly.
(End of Chapter)
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