For an ordinary person, traversing the vast expanse of the Sabaody Archipelago and reaching Grove 1 would undoubtedly take several grueling hours, navigating the intricate web of massive roots, precarious bridges, and unpredictable bubble-filled terrain that made every step a potential hazard.
For Zero and Victoria, however, the journey barely lasted ten minutes, a testament to their extraordinary abilities that rendered distance and obstacles utterly insignificant.
The duo propelled themselves across the bridges and gigantic roots like two silent comets streaking through the sky, their movements fluid, effortless, and impossibly swift, leaving faint trails of displaced air in their wake. The civilians and assorted pirates lingering around the auction area couldn't help but stare at their unusual attire with a mix of bewilderment and intrigue—a flowing white cloak that billowed dramatically in the wind and a luxurious rosy dress that gleamed with an almost ethereal shine, far too pristine and elegant for such a grimy, lawless locale filled with the stench of desperation and illicit dealings. But that initial confusion swiftly evolved into something far more primal and instinctive.
Fear.
They dismissed the prying gazes as one might ignore mere pebbles scattered along a forgotten path—tiny, inconsequential stones that weren't even worth the minimal effort required to crush them underfoot.
As they crossed through the main entrance of the auction house, the stuffy, oppressive atmosphere inside erupted into a chorus of hushed murmurs and whispers that rippled through the crowd like an undercurrent of unease. The grand hall was packed to capacity: heavily armed pirates with scars telling tales of brutal battles, wealthy merchants draped in opulent fabrics and dripping with ill-gotten jewels, and dozens of unfortunate slaves chained helplessly on the elevated stage, their eyes hollow with resignation. Yet, the undivided attention of everyone present was drawn elsewhere, fixated on a single figure of utmost importance.
A World Noble sat prominently in the central row, encased within his signature oxygen bubble helmet that isolated him from the "filthy" air of the common world, flanked protectively by three elite agents of CP0, their faces concealed behind stark white masks, their postures rigidly upright, and their eyes sharp as daggers scanning for any potential threats. One of them turned his head toward Zero and Victoria the very instant they entered, his senses alert and honed from years of covert operations.
'Strong Observation Haki,' Zero thought to himself with a subtle, knowing smile, shifting just enough to meet the agent's gaze head-on. 'He's skilled… but not nearly skilled enough to pose any real challenge.'
Undeterred by the intense scrutiny, the pair strode confidently to the seats directly behind the noble and settled into them as if they owned not just those chairs, but the entire venue and everything within it.
The World Noble, sensing the audacious intrusion, slowly pivoted in his seat. His eyes widened in a mixture of furious outrage and profound disgust, his privileged features contorting into a mask of entitlement.
"WHAT DO YOU FILTHY TRASH THINK YOU'RE DOING SITTING BEHIND ME?!" His shrill scream reverberated through the hall with such volume that it forced the auctioneer to halt mid-sentence, his gavel frozen in mid-air.
Heads turned en masse. Whispers spread like wildfire igniting dry tinder.
"Have they lost their minds completely?!"
"That's going to summon an admiral for sure!"
"Those two just signed their own death warrants…"
The noble fumbled for his pistol with trembling hands that betrayed his rage, yet were steeped in the unshakeable arrogance of someone who had never faced true consequences.
And then, before he could complete the motion, the entire hall registered a single, unmistakable sound.
A sharp, dry snap.
The sound of air being violently displaced.
As if gravity itself had momentarily blinked out of existence.
Every eye in the room widened in shock and disbelief.
Victoria had vanished from her seat.
In less than a heartbeat, she reappeared on the stage, gripping the noble's oxygen bubble helmet as casually as one might grasp the collar of a shabby shirt. The man thrashed wildly, his legs kicking futilely at the empty air, his fingers desperately clawing at the trigger without managing to hit anything, not even himself in his panic.
The three CP0 agents failed to react in time; the world simply couldn't keep pace with her blinding speed.
Victoria's amber eyes gleamed with unadulterated contempt, a look reserved for something utterly beneath her notice.
"So fragile… even in death," she murmured softly, her voice laced with disdain.
Then, before the noble could unleash another one of his porcine, grating shrieks that grated on the ears like nails on a chalkboard, Victoria delivered a devastating uppercut hook.
The bubble helmet shattered with a wet, splintering explosion, fragments scattering like fragile glass.
And immediately after, a much heavier, more grotesque, and definitively final sound echoed through the space.
CRACK
The noble's skull crumpled against the bare force of the Elder's fist, collapsing inward with sickening ease.
A vivid arc of blood sprayed across the stage in a macabre display.
The body slumped lifelessly to the floor, resembling nothing more than an abandoned sack of meat devoid of any lingering soul.
The entire auction house froze in stunned paralysis, time itself seeming to halt.
Zero watched from his seat in the audience, his face still adorned with that same wild, untamed smile from earlier.
He knew without a doubt: this was merely the first step in a much grander scheme.
The three CP0 agents sprang into action simultaneously, moving like ethereal white shadows launching toward Victoria with lethal intent.
The first agent surged forward, his index finger coated in advanced Armament Haki, executing a Shigan strike potent enough to pierce through reinforced steel, aimed precisely at her left heel to cripple her mobility.
The second, positioned in the center, twisted his body in a fluid spin and unleashed a compressed Rankyaku, manifesting as a razor-sharp blade of compressed air slicing straight through the distance toward her.
The third, flanking from the right, extended his hands forward as the surrounding air quivered with building energy, preparing to unleash Rokugan—the ultimate technique of the Rokushiki style—designed to rupture her body from the inside out with devastating shockwaves.
Their movements were in flawless synchronization: a lateral pincer attack, frontal pressure, and a lethal finishing blow. Cold, meticulously calculated, and utterly deadly, like well-trained hounds bred for the hunt.
Or at least… it should have been deadly. Outside the stage, marines finally burst into the auction house after hearing the escalating commotion. Upon laying eyes on the mangled, unrecognizable corpse of the World Noble, they froze for a split second—but only a second.
"C-Call Admiral Kizaru immediately!!"
"A World Noble has been killed! CALL THE ADMIRAL!!!"
Panic erupted in full force.
People scrambled in chaos.
Despair hung thick in the air like a suffocating fog.
But none of this mattered in the slightest to Victoria.
To her, everyone there moved at the sluggish pace of insects crawling through molasses.
The Elder tilted her head slightly, her smile of utter disdain widening, and took a single, elegant step to the left.
It was all that was needed.
The Shigan from the first agent grazed so close that it brushed against the invisible sheath of light enveloping her body, yet it remained so ineffectual that she didn't even deign to glance at her assailant.
The Rankyaku followed suit, cleaving the air like a honed blade. Victoria merely raised her index finger… and touched it.
She didn't block it outright.
She didn't deflect it with force.
She simply touched it.
The attack disintegrated as if it had collided with an impenetrable wall of divine glass, reduced to a feeble breeze against someone who had weathered cosmic storms of unimaginable scale.
"Pathetic," she murmured under her breath.
The third agent, however, believed he had exploited an opening. His arms trembled as he released the Rokugan, sending waves of destructive impact rippling through the air toward her.
Victoria extended her hand casually and caught the attack.
With her bare hands.
The agent smirked behind his mask, a confident, cruel, victorious grin. But that smirk faded into oblivion when he realized the truth.
Nothing.
No cracks in her defense.
No internal damage inflicted.
No shockwaves penetrating her form.
It was as futile as attempting to crush a planet with one's palms alone.
Victoria cocked her head, her amber eyes shining like blades forged from molten gold.
"Was that all…?" she inquired with genuine disappointment coloring her tone. "Your so-called supreme strike? Not even a scratch. It didn't even tickle." She squeezed her hand a bit tighter, crumpling the technique like one might wad up a piece of scrap paper. "How vulgar. How primitive. How utterly disappointing."
The ensuing massacre unfolded in less than a fleeting instant.
Victoria released the crushed Rokugan back into the air, discarding it as one might toss aside a broken toy no longer worth her attention. Her smile broadened, turning savage and sharp, yet retaining an odd, unsettling elegance.
"You'll have such a lovely dream," she whispered, her voice echoing like a soft, haunting murmur.
Then, light exploded in a brilliant cascade.
Several photon swords materialized in the air surrounding her, emerging with crackling bursts of energy, each one flawlessly formed, smooth, and translucent, resembling blades crafted from compressed stars themselves. They didn't merely appear—they were born, summoned forth by the Elder's mere whim.
Before anyone in the auction house could even comprehend what was transpiring, before the air had a chance to shift in response…
The swords launched forward.
Three beams of light pierced the space like divine judgments handed down from the heavens.
The first agent, the one who had attempted the Shigan, could only blink in confusion.
That was all he managed before the luminous blade swept away the entire upper right portion of his body, vaporizing flesh, bones, and porcelain mask in a single, curving arc. The remnants of his form collapsed like an empty sack, devoid of life.
The second, who had unleashed the Rankyaku, tried to take a desperate step back, but time eluded him. The light sword sliced through his waist with surgical precision.
His lower half thudded to the ground with a dull impact. The upper half, still clinging to life for a horrifying half-second, stared at Victoria in absolute, uncomprehending shock before toppling over.
The third, the Rokugan user, managed only a choked gasp. He never even grasped what had slain him.
The photon blade pierced his mask, then his face, and carried away everything above his chest in a flash. A burst of light, and the agent was gone. Only a delayed spray of blood followed, cascading like crimson rain onto the stage.
Silence descended.
Total.
Absolute.
Not even the most battle-hardened pirates dared to draw a breath. The marines didn't dare to flee. Even the chained slaves momentarily forgot their own profound despair, lost in the spectacle.
Victoria simply lowered her hand, as if concluding a meticulously choreographed performance.
In the back of the auction house, someone let out a stifled sob. Another person dropped to their knees in awe or terror. And numerous pirates realized, with a blend of horror and absolute fascination, that they were witnessing something far beyond any scale of power they had ever known or imagined.
Zero, still seated comfortably, observed the entire scene. Not with fear clouding his judgment. But with crystalline certainty that this was only the beginning of what was to come.
The marines finally shattered their state of shock, but only to plunge into absolute, unbridled panic.
Screams reverberated through the hall, boots pounded against the wooden floors in frantic retreat, and overlapping orders clashed in confusion:
"RETREAT! RETREAT!!"
"CALL HEADQUARTERS!! CALL ADMIRAL KIZARU RIGHT NOW!!"
"DON'T LOOK INTO HER EYES! DON'T EVEN GLANCE AT HER!!"
They backed away as if confronted by a primordial beast from ancient legends, and in a very real sense, that was precisely what stood before them.
The other attendees in the auction house… they lacked even the courage to attempt an escape.
Some trembled uncontrollably. Others swallowed hard, their throats dry with fear. And the majority simply averted their eyes instinctively, like submissive animals yielding to the alpha predator in their midst.
Victoria's narcissism was as overwhelming as her raw power. The entire room felt it viscerally. They understood that, to her, none of them held more significance than specks of dust drifting aimlessly in the wind.
Zero, maintaining his relaxed posture with his immaculate white cloak draped perfectly, merely clasped his hands together and applauded slowly. A genuine smile lit up his face—not one born of madness or overinflated arrogance… but of sincere, unadulterated pride.
"What a magnificent spectacle," he remarked.
Victoria didn't even turn her head. She merely lifted one corner of her lips, as if compliments were as natural and expected to her as breathing itself.
"It was nothing remarkable," she replied.
Her tone was gentle and smooth, yet it only served to make the entire room shudder even more intensely.
She approached him with slow, feline steps, her rosy dress rippling behind her like colored smoke caught in a breeze. As she leaned in slightly, her whisper carried a chill, infused with a rare spark of genuine interest from someone like her.
"Who, in this current era, is considered the strongest being on this land?"
Zero tilted his face toward her without a moment's hesitation.
"You, obviously."
She arched an eyebrow, clearly pleased with the self-evident response, and he continued seamlessly:
"But if you're referring to this world specifically… it would likely be Kaido of the Beasts. He's known as 'the World's Strongest Creature'."
Victoria smiled. It wasn't a broad, exuberant grin; it was small, dangerous, arrogant, and profoundly insulting in its condescension.
"The world's strongest creature…?" In her voice, the title sounded like a poorly told joke, unworthy of serious consideration.
Without adding another word, she turned and walked leisurely toward the auction house's exit. No one—absolutely no one—dared to intercept her path.
The marines guarding the doorway stood rigid as statues, sweat beading down their temples in rivulets. But they couldn't muster a single muscle to move, nor raise their weapons in defiance. It was as though her mere presence crushed any fleeting thoughts of resistance before they could form.
Victoria passed through them with the effortless grace of someone parting curtains woven from insubstantial smoke.
And Zero, rising to his feet behind her, simply smiled.
The show hadn't even truly begun yet.