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For eight hundred years, the Celestial Dragons had sat at the apex of the world. Untouchable. Any harm that befell them was met with swift, apocalyptic retribution: a Marine Admiral dispatched to execute the insolent, or a Buster Call to erase the offending island from the map.
That was why the pirates and civilians who had been groveling in the dirt scrambled to flee the area as if the devil himself was snapping at their heels. In moments, thousands had vanished without a trace.
You do not offend the descendants of the Creators.
Arthur ignored the fleeing ants. He tossed a longsword onto the ground, its steel ringing against the stone. He looked down at Hancock, who had collapsed in terror at the mere sight of the Celestial Dragons. His voice was cold, devoid of pity.
"Hancock. Kill him. And be reborn."
"No..."
Hancock's exquisite face was bloodless, pale as a sheet of paper. Her small body shook uncontrollably, like a leaf in a hurricane.
She gripped the hilt of the sword Arthur had thrown, her knuckles white, but her eyes were empty, consumed by absolute terror.
Three years of trauma. You don't just shake that off in a heartbeat.
Any ordinary person would have been paralyzed. Forget fighting back; they wouldn't even have the courage to stand. The conditioning of the World Nobles was absolute.
But Hancock wasn't ordinary. She was one in a million. She possessed the disposition of a King. Her spirit was naturally higher than the common man's. The harder you pressed her down, the more violent the eventual explosion would be.
Arthur was forcing that explosion.
"Hancock?" The fat male Celestial Dragon, still rolling on the ground, blinked his piggy eyes in confusion before shrieking in recognition.
"I know that name! You're Saint Mjosgard's slave! You're finished! How dare you harm a Celestial Dragon?? You're done! No one can save you!!"
Even now, faced with a monster like Arthur, these two idiots couldn't read the room. Their arrogance was so deeply ingrained they genuinely believed their status was a magic shield. It was baffling.
"No... I am NOT A SLAVE!!"
The scream tore from Hancock's throat. A jolt ran through her body, snapping her out of her stupor. Her eyes focused, burning with sudden, frantic rage. She gripped the sword with both hands and lunged.
SHHLK!
The sound of steel parting flesh.
The spray of hot blood seemed to short-circuit Hancock's fragile nerves. She went berserk.
She raised the sword and brought it down. Again. And again. And again.
Her eyes were vacant, her movements mechanical. She stabbed the Celestial Dragon until his face was unrecognizable, as if trying to erase the mouth that had called her a slave, trying to destroy the evidence of her past.
A fragile heart, just escaped from hell, instinctively trying to bury the shame.
Stab. Stab. Stab. Without pause.
Blood pooled on the street, flowing into a small stream. The two Celestial Dragons were reduced to meat.
Her hand moved like a piston, fueled by adrenaline and trauma. She didn't stop for ten full minutes.
Finally, the adrenaline crashed. The sword clattered to the ground. Hancock collapsed, gasping for air, her face ghostly white. Tears the size of beans rolled down her cheeks, her body trembling with the aftershocks.
Sandersonia and Marigold wailed, clinging to Hancock's arms, looking utterly helpless.
The Lawless Zone, usually bustling, was a ghost town. The opulent buildings stood silent witness to the carnage.
In the middle of the street, three little girls cried, huddled together in a pool of noble blood. Arthur watched quietly.
This was a crucible. Whether the three sisters could walk out of the shadow depended on what happened next.
Arthur knew one thing for certain: if he helped Hancock step out of this darkness now, she would view him as her anchor for the rest of her life. She would follow him into hell.
He squatted down in the blood, ignoring the mess, and grabbed Hancock by her trembling shoulders. He forced her to look at him, locking his cold, intense gaze with her unfocused eyes.
Those eyes—domineering, wild, insane—held a strange power. They were like a towering mountain that reached the sky, a solid, immovable object that demanded reliance and trust.
"Hancock. You killed a Celestial Dragon. You have been reborn... From this day forward, your status is higher than any so-called World Noble. What are you still afraid of??"
"Higher... than a Celestial Dragon?" Hancock shuddered, looking at him with lost, pleading eyes, murmuring the words as if testing them.
"Yes. Because no matter what you do, no matter what monstrous sin you commit... the whole world will forgive you!" Arthur declared, his tone leaving absolutely no room for doubt.
"No matter what I do... I will be forgiven?"
Hancock repeated his words, clutching at them like a drowning woman grabbing a lifeline. Life began to return to her eyes as she looked at this titan of a man who spoke treason as if it were a law of nature.
A light called hope ignited in her gaze, pouring soul back into the empty shell of the terrified girl.
An invisible metamorphosis was taking place in silence. The slave died. The Empress began to wake.
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Sea Calendar 1506. Mid-Year.
It had been nearly three months since Shiki's assault on the World Government.
During this time, Arthur hadn't left Sabaody. He remotely commanded the Thunder God Pirates in the New World via Den Den Mushi, managing the chaos of the post-war era. But his primary focus was mentoring the Hancock sisters, guiding their transformation from the inside out.
Observation Haki. Armament Haki. Even Hancock's dormant Conqueror's Haki. And the usage of her Mero Mero no Mi.
Arthur held nothing back. He taught them everything, forcing them to shed the shadows of their past.
People whose worldviews and values are still forming are the easiest to mold.
News of the Celestial Dragons' murder had reached the World Government. They knew it was Arthur. They knew he hadn't left; he was practically waiting for them.
And yet, they did nothing.
They suppressed the news. Not a word appeared in the papers. No Admirals were dispatched.
Why? Fear. They were terrified of Arthur's strength, and they were paranoid he was planning another catastrophe. With the World Council—the Reverie—about to convene, they couldn't afford a war with the Thunder Emperor. So, they swallowed the insult. They let the murder of two "gods" slide to ensure the peace of the conference.
Sabaody Archipelago.
On the azure sea, fleets bearing the flags of various nations appeared on the horizon, rapidly approaching the archipelago.
Over five hundred ships representing nearly two hundred nations filled the outer waters. It was a massive convergence of power.
"The Reverie?"
Arthur stood on the beach, training the sisters. His gaze drifted to the armada, locking onto a ship flying the flag of Dressrosa.
"Didn't Doflamingo take over that place? How are they attending the conference?"
Doflamingo was a pirate. Until he secured the title of Warlord, he couldn't openly declare himself King of a World Government affiliated nation.
He must have installed a puppet to attend the meeting.
"Perfect timing. I need a word with him..." Arthur smirked.
He turned back, patting Hancock on her head. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with nothing but pure, unadulterated worship.
"I'm going to take care of some business. You stand right here. Don't move."
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