"Captain!" Enel was the first to feel Karl's pressure crack across the sky and flashed to his side.
"Want me to end it?" he asked, lightning crawling over his shoulders.
"No." Karl's voice was ice. "This one's mine."
Out in the harbor, the Celestial Dragon's entourage—CP agents and an escorting Marine squadron—were already scrambling back aboard, engines roaring as they clawed for open water. The Marines had been warned not to provoke Karl; fear had them moving faster than orders ever could.
Ellie, Ann, and Daphne hurried in behind Karl. No one asked what had happened. They didn't need to. They could feel it on him—the kind of anger that made the air hard to breathe.
The ship crept farther from the pier. For a heartbeat, the CP agents dared to hope.
The sky went black.
Thunder peeled. Wind sheared. Karl rose from the quay like a verdict, crimson will saturating the port as clouds vortexed above him. Flames and pale cloud coiled around his limbs; muscle and bone twisted, elongated—
—and then a tiger-shaped colossus hung over the harbor, a mythical beast wreathed in white vapors and embered breath.
Every CP agent on the deck went cold.
"Lord Karl!" one of them shouted, voice cracking. "Please—compensation! We can compensa—"
"Kneel," the beast commanded, a command that shoved into marrow.
"Filthy commoner! You dare—? An Admiral will be here any moment!" the Celestial Dragon shrieked from behind his glass helm, panic making him brave. "Apologize and offer yourself as my slave or I'll have them kill you!"
The CP0 leader closed his eyes. It's over.
"Hellfire Cataract."
The tiger's maw opened. A river of flame tore from the sky, the heat warping reality as it fell. It swallowed ship, mast, marble, men—hissed through the sea and carved a smoking vortex into the ocean itself. When the light died, there wasn't even ash to mourn.
Farther out, the Marine escort had already banked hard away. They stared, wide-eyed, at the boiling hole in the sea where a ship and a Celestial Dragon had ceased to be. Then they ran harder.
Karl hovered, eyes like banked coals. "Marines. Tell Sengoku this: Where I appear, no Celestial Dragon is to appear. Now—get out."
"Y-Yes, Lord Karl! Leaving now!" The warships fled, discipline forgotten, survival instinct absolute.
Karl descended, the beast burning back into a man. Ellie exhaled the breath she'd been holding.
"You three okay?" he asked, gaze flicking over them.
"We're fine," Ellie said, heart still hammering. "You got there before it got ugly."
"That was your full-beast form, right?" Daphne's eyes shone with something between awe and excitement.
Karl nodded once. "First time I've shown it in public. Those swine tested my patience twice."
He looked down the terrified streets, civilians trembling on their knees. "We're leaving. They won't stand while I'm here."
They turned away as the kingdom found its breath again—some sobbing, some laughing, some simply collapsing where they stood.
Up on a rooftop, a black-feathered reporter almost fell off his perch, wings flapping madly as he jammed film into a transponder. He'd captured everything. Everything. Boss Morgans would have his front page.
By dusk, the World Economic Journal's presses were screaming. The headline wrote itself:
TIGER GOD KARL'S DECREE — "WHERE I STAND, CELESTIAL DRAGONS KEEP AWAY!"
Copies would ride the night currents to every sea by morning.
Marineford — Fleet Admiral's Office
"What?" Sengoku slammed his palm on the desk hard enough to rattle the Den Den Mushi. "Another Celestial Dragon dead? Already?"
Brannew, the briefings officer, winced. "Reports confirm it, Fleet Admiral. Cause… was the saint attempting to seize a woman associated with Karl."
Sengoku pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course it was. "Those idiots…"
"There's more, sir." Brannew slid a set of photos across the desk—grainy, but unmistakable. "These were taken by the escort before they withdrew."
Sengoku's eyes narrowed. The silhouette in the air was enormous—a tiger wreathed in cloudfire, jaws disgorging a furnace. "A mythical Zoan," he breathed. "So that's his Fruit…"
brru-brru-brru— The office snail phone rattled. Sengoku's eyelid twitched. He lifted the receiver.
The Five Elders didn't waste time.
"Sengoku," snapped a cold voice, "how does another Celestial Dragon die within months? And again to the same man! Are your Marines decorative? What do we pay you for—parades?"
Sengoku waited for the storm to spend itself. "With respect, my lords, this incident mirrors the previous pattern: a Celestial Dragon attempted to abduct a woman, and Karl responded decisively. As for capture—intelligence now places Karl at Emperor-class combat strength."
"Your point?"
"My point is resources." Sengoku's tone hardened. "Karl's Fruit is a mythical Zoan, power very destructive. Vice Admiral Garp assesses Karl's hulking crewman as Admiral-level, and Karl's team also includes the Rumble-Rumble user. If we attempt a clean capture, we need four Admiral-class powers minimum to ensure success."
A beat of silence.
"Akainu must hold the New World. Borsalino cannot leave Dr. Vegapunk's perimeter. That leaves only Garp and Aokiji—and two aren't enough."
"Then he struts free?" Another voice, older, more venomous.
"I propose we raise their bounties and elevate Karl to Emperor-equivalent threat. When he returns to the New World, the other Emperors won't tolerate a new claimant. Let them bleed each other. Then we move."
A long exhale through the line. "Do it. And keep our losses off the front page."
Click.
Sengoku set the receiver down and breathed out slowly. "Brannew. Summon every Vice Admiral and above for a war council."
Brannew snapped to attention, oddly energized. "Yes, Fleet Admiral!"
Rainbow Kingdom — Outer Roads, Night
Swiftwind Express sailed under a star-streaked sky. On the stern deck, Ellie's hand found Karl's.
"You didn't have to do it yourself," she said softly.
"I did," he said, eyes on the wake. "Because they thought they could do it again."
Daphne leaned on the rail nearby, watching torchlights flicker and fade on the distant shore. "Morgans will blast this everywhere."
"Good," Karl said. "Let the whole world hear it."
Ann hugged Hanyue to her chest, jaw set. "If they come again, I'll cut them first."
Karl smirked. "I know you will."
Enel drifted down from the mast with a yawn, an apple in his hand. "So… we headed straight for Paradise after this?"
"Yeah." Karl's gaze sharpened. "We collect from Judge in seven days, then swing for Jaya. Enel, you'll hold the island. Daphne, you and Ellie start drafting hiring slates and pricing tiers. We launch ten stations first—you know the plan."
Daphne's eyes brightened with that executive glint. "Already drafting. By the way, I want a public line in our manifesto: 'Swiftwind does not deliver to Celestial Dragons.' Brand stance."
Karl chuckled. "Stamp it."
The sea whispered. The ship cut on.
Marineford — War Council Chamber, Later
Maps spanned wall to wall. Red pins clustered in the New World; new crimson markers labeled KARL and TIGER GOD had just been hammered into the board.
Sengoku faced the room—Garp stone-faced, Tsuru cool as frost, Aokiji expression unreadable.
"Two priorities," Sengoku began. "One: prevent escalation with the other Emperors when Karl returns to the New World. Two: intercept and observe his logistics network in Paradise—reports indicate he's forming some kind of courier syndicate."
Garp grunted. "A delivery company? Hah. Guy's got jokes."
Tsuru's gaze was razor-thin. "Don't underestimate 'logistics,' Garp. Supply chains win wars."
Sengoku nodded. "We raise bounties at dawn. Prepare responses for the Journal. If Morgans' headline breaks before ours, we push a stability narrative and deny Marine casualties. We cannot look shaken."
Aokiji slid his hands into his pockets. "You can't stop the waves by scolding the sea."
Sengoku's jaw ticked. "No. But we can build a dam."
On the table, fresh posters hit the wood with a slap—new ink still tacky, numbers exploding upward under a single name.
BLOOD SWORD KARL — 2,890,000,000 BERRIES
'Rumble-Rumble' Enel — 1,430,000,000 BERRIES
Benson ('The Colossus') — 1,600,000,000 BERRIES
…and more, each one a spark tossed into a powder-keg sea.
Outside, presses turned. Inside, plans moved.
And somewhere beyond the horizon, a laughing giant raised a gourd and drank to the storm that was coming.
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