The calm before the storm didn't last long. At dawn on the third day, Princess Xia's army launched a fierce assault, capturing two fortresses in just one morning. Panic spread instantly among the king's forces.
"Hold the line! Hold it at all costs! Don't go on the offensive—just defend!" the king roared inside the palace.
"Take them back," Raymont ordered instead, his pride and ambition refusing to accept such a massive blunder under his command. Those two fortresses were far too important.
Thus, Raymont's troops were dispatched from the capital, while the king's own forces concentrated there, even abandoning a struggling fortress entirely.
The king had chosen self-preservation—consolidating his troops in the capital to ensure his own safety.
Though uncertain whether the World Government would send reinforcements, or whether they would even be enough to stabilize the kingdom, his immediate goal was survival. Princess Xia's momentum had become unstoppable.
Relying on the capital's fortress, he could hold out for a long time. It was the strongest city in the Andia Kingdom, designed to withstand assaults from a million soldiers.
"How foolish," Raymont said darkly. "To pull back and abandon the outer fortresses now—he's cutting off his own limbs, trapping himself inside. It seems our lofty king has finally learned the fear of death."
Because of the king's misguided actions, Raymont was forced to dispatch his troops outward; otherwise, the outer defenses would fall within days. And even if the capital was impenetrable, what good would that do?
Surrounded fortresses could easily cut off food and water supplies, slowly starving them out. Worse still, with such a large concentration of troops, the capital's provisions wouldn't last long.
It was little more than a slow suicide.
"Report! A massive sandstorm has appeared outside the capital walls—towering higher than the outer ramparts!"
"A sandstorm? There are no deserts near the capital… Everyone into cover! Wait—no, focus all artillery fire on it! That's the enemy!" Raymont's initial disbelief turned to alarm.
"At this timing… so it's the decapitation plan," he muttered, ordering Coulson to bring the Storm Battalion while he rushed toward the palace. The king must not die—if he did, the entire army would collapse.
No matter how incompetent the king was, he remained the symbol of rule. If he fell, what little morale remained would shatter instantly, bringing total ruin.
He had to reach the palace.
Boom!
The sandstorm surged like a tsunami, swallowing the earth and sky, carrying trees, rocks, and debris. Within it, countless twisting sand tornadoes rose like devils dancing in chaos, blotting out the sun.
"It's enormous!" Soldiers on the capital walls stared in despair. Could such a world-ending storm really have been conjured by a single person's power?
"Fire!"
Hundreds of cannons thundered, but the shells were swallowed instantly by the sandstorm.
"There are people inside the storm!"
"What? Impossible!"
"Look at the treetops—there are people standing on them!" a lookout cried in terror. Soldiers… riding the sand waves into battle? None had ever seen such a thing.
"It's real! Enemy attack!"
But by the time they realized, it was too late. The storm crashed against the walls like a colossal tide, sweeping away scores of defenders.
"Hold this position—they'll attack in waves, but our reinforcements are close behind," Rosen said to Alice and the others.
Alice led five thousand elite troops riding the sand surge, landing on the city walls. Their task was to draw as much attention and fire as possible, diverting the enemy so Rosen's group could strike the palace with less resistance.
Alice nodded, and chaos erupted. Reinforcements were already advancing, though Rosen could only carry this many without compromising speed and mobility.
Leaving Alice to hold the line, Rosen advanced toward the palace with Enel, Hathaway, and Daz Bones. Waves of soldiers charged them, only to be cut down—some by Alice's forces, others by sword slashes and lightning.
"God of Thunder—200 million volts: Discharge!"
Having suffered defeats before, Enel had learned caution. He now understood the need to go all out, even against weaker foes.
But wasn't this too much? These were just ordinary soldiers—his full thunder form could obliterate even a vice admiral. Using it here seemed excessive.
"Better not underestimate anyone," Enel said solemnly when Rosen and Natalie gave him puzzled looks.
"So tragic… they've all turned to ash," Natalie murmured as the charred remains crumbled to dust. Enel was speechless.
"Draw the king out in broad daylight," Rosen commanded. Their advance was unstoppable. Ordinary troops were powerless to hinder them; even a Marine elite unit without a strong commander couldn't have stood in their way.
"Natalie, Enel—use Observation Haki. If you detect any organized group trying to flee the capital, report immediately."
Rosen strode forward, cutting through soldiers like grass. He didn't even bother to conceal his identity.
The king's troops rushing forward were clearly loyalists—he killed them all without hesitation. Dead men told no tales.
Even if any survivors remembered his face, it wouldn't matter. If he won, he could rewrite the truth however he pleased. If he lost, exposure was meaningless.
"The inner city? Impressive fortifications," Rosen remarked as they breached the outer walls almost effortlessly.
He struck the wall with a Haki-infused punch—it cracked but didn't shatter.
"Hell Prison Slash!"
"Thunder Dragon!"
"Dark Hell Cluster Barrage!"
Boom!
Their combined assault shook the entire capital, blasting the inner wall to rubble.
"Have they reached the detonation zone?" The king stood beside Raymont in the high citadel, visibly shaken. Around them gathered every remaining elite fighter, including Allen, who had been forced to abandon his usual stealth to guard the king.
Raymont's tone was calm but grim. Rosen's attack had been swift and brutal, but since their enemies aimed for decapitation, it was better to lure them in and eliminate them all at once.
Beneath the inner city lay powerful explosives—centuries-old weapons buried by the royal family to protect the citadel. The amount was staggering.
The king had just revealed this secret. Even he knew that survival now required cooperation, and Raymont was the last noble still standing by his side.
"The inner city's breached!" someone shouted from above.
"They're in the target zone."
"Send them to hell!" Raymont ordered.
Suddenly, blinding light burst beneath Rosen's feet—an immense explosion engulfed the area within five kilometers.
Boom! A towering firecloud rose into the sky as the entire inner city collapsed. Thousands of civilians were swallowed by the flames and shockwaves—over ten thousand dead or wounded in an instant.
"Hahaha! Dead! They're all dead! Not even a Marine admiral could survive that! Serves them right!" the king screamed hysterically, madness and fear mixing in his laughter.
When Rosen's forces stormed in, terror had gripped him. He could be ruthless to others—but he himself had no desire to die.
He was a king, after all. There was still so much luxury left to enjoy. How could he possibly die at the hands of rebels?
(End of Chapter)