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A blinding flash of light erupted in Saint Jalmack's bedchamber, its radiance scorching the gilded walls.
Shielding his eyes from the bright light, Saint Jaygarcia Saturn, stepped through the doorway, his observation Haki buzzing like a swarm of hornets.
Seconds later, the light vanished, leaving no hint of its origin—only blood and silence.
Saturn's thickset frame filled the threshold, his white dreadlocks spilling from beneath a flat black hat. A scar sliced diagonally across his left eye, stark against his full white mustache and beard. His black suit, crisp over a dark purple tie and white shirt, clung to his broad form, a cane gripped in his gnarled hand.
[Insert picture of Jaygarcia Saturn here]
Saturn's appearance, unchanged for two centuries, was a testament to Imu's blessing—immortality that made him a god among men.
As the Warrior God of Science and Defense, he was one of the Five Elders, publicly steering the World Government's iron will.
His Haki pulsed, sensing the echo of a fight. The room was empty, its marble floor streaked with crimson, severed batons scattered among three dead guards.
Saturn's lips twitched—a breach in the Holy Land was no trivial matter.
Saint Jalmack stumbled in, his face contorting in fury. "My toys!" he screamed, eyes locking on the bloodied spot where Hancock, his favorite, had lain. "Where are my toys!"
Marigold's pedestal stood barren, its rusted chains snapped. Jalmack's hands shook, his voice a shrill wail. "Who dared steal from a Celestial Dragon?"
Saturn's cane tapped sharply, silencing his grandson. "Toys are replaceable, Jalmack," he said, voice cold as the void. "What you should be worried about is the intruder who managed to break into your home and escape unharmed."
Jalmack froze, his rage cowed by his grandfather's authority.
Saturn cared nothing for slaves—less than insects, disposable in the grand scheme of things. His only concern was the threat this theft posed to the World Government's divine order.
For over two centuries, Saturn had ruled as an Elder, his immortality a gift and a burden. He doted on Jalmack, seeing promise in his cunning and ambition, grooming him as a potential successor. One day, far in the future, Jalmack might relieve him of his eternal duties.
Saturn knew his grandson's twisted hobbies—his home filled with broken slaves, their screams a perverse symphony.
But, such quirks were no consequence; every Celestial Dragon had them. As long as Jalmack's actions didn't harm the Government, Saturn would indulge him.
"Grandfather, they took her!" Jalmack spat, kicking a guard's corpse. His eyes gleamed with entitled wrath. "Hancock was mine to break! Mine!"
Saturn's mustache twitched, a rare flicker of indulgence. "You'll find new toys to play with," he said, tone clipped. "First, we must hunt the thief who dared step into the Holy Land."
Jalmack's grimace lingered, his fingers twitching with malice. He was displeased with the situation but knew further complaints would genuinely irritate his grandfather.
"Wait, don't I still have one sister left?" Realizing this, a cruel smirk graced his lips. "Sandersonia… she's still in her cell downstairs, right?"
He turned, striding toward the corridor, his mind alight with ways to torment the last remaining sister. His boots echoed, a predator's cadence.
Saturn observed impassively—Jalmack's cruelty was a spark to be sharpened for the World Government's purposes, not snuffed out.
Saturn knelt beside a severed baton, his cane resting against his shoulder. The cut was precise, clean even. 'Perhaps a skilled swordsman?'
As a scientist, he relished the puzzle; but as an Elder, he demanded retribution.
"Cipher Pol," Saturn called, his voice a decree. Shadows stirred, agents kneeling in the corridor. "Seal Mary Geoise. No ship leaves."
His cane tapped slowly, each strike a verdict. The World Government's might would crush this thief—across seas, across stars if needed. Lord Imu's will allowed no defiance.
Saturn stood, his scar glinting in the candlelight. Jalmack's distant laughter drifted from the dungeons, Sandersonia's fate a footnote.
The true war was against the precedent this theft set.
If slaves could vanish from the Holy Land, the Government's divine authority could crack. Saturn would unravel this mystery, his agents would scour the earth. The thief would kneel before Imu's throne—or die.
"Find them," Saturn commanded.
The hunt was on.
————
White light dissolved, spitting Muyeon back into his bed chambers. He exhaled sharply, heart still hammering from the close escape.
Hancock and Marigold slumped against him, unconscious from their injuries and the dimensional shift.
[Emergency Quest Complete!]
[Reward: None Listed]
Muyeon's shoulders eased, relief flooding his veins. They'd made it out—just barely.
'But who was that strong presence Nano sensed?'A Cipher Pol agent, cloaked in secrecy, or a Marine admiral, wielding monstrous power?
Either way, the One Piece world was a death trap for him right now.
{Probability of safe return to previous coordinates: 5.6%.}
Muyeon grimaced, picturing the blood-drenched chamber. Returning now would plunge him straight into the clutches of whoever he'd been fleeing from.
'I'll have to wait a while before returning…'
He focused on the sisters beside him. Their battered forms demanded immediate care.
Muyeon called for maids, his voice sharp. He accessed the chat's inventory, summoning Querehsha's herbs—Starbloom Petals and Moonlit Saffron. Healing them was his first step to securing their loyalty.
The maids arrived, their steps silent on the stone floor, surprised to see two foreign women in their Young Masters bedroom.
Under his orders, they gently washed Hancock and Marigold, revealing bruises, cuts, and all sorts of injuries, including the dragon paw tattoos on their backs.
Muyeon worked as they did, grinding herbs into a glowing cream.
Once they were clean and dry, the maids applied the cream to their wounds, its luminescence sinking into their skin.
Hancock healed slowly but surely, her breathing less ragged.
Marigold's injuries, less severe, stabilized quickly.
The maids then dressed them in soft silk robes, their forms fragile against his large bed.
Muyeon sat at the edge of his bed, mind racing with possibilities. Saving them should earn their gratitude—which in turn would be his key to the world of One Piece.
Devil fruits, Haki, Marine techniques, weapons, subordinates—the potential made his pulse quicken. One Devil fruit alone could shift his power dramatically.
But returning now was suicide.
{Suggest cultivating trust through continued aid.}
Muyeon nodded, eyes narrowing. He needed Hancock's loyalty, not just her gratitude.
He replayed the rescue. Hancock's defiance, even near death, hinted at her resolve. Binding her to him fully required more than just this...
Sandersonia's absence gnawed at him. He'd promised to retrieve her, a vow to solidify the sisters' trust. But the dangers kept that plan on ice for now.
Muyeon's fingers tapped his knee. He'd heal them, house them, and present himself as their savior. Every act would tighten the chains of obligation around their hearts.
In the meantime, Hancock and her sister were stabilizing, but regrettably, his mother would soon learn of this.
The maids' glances confirmed his fear. Loyal to Lady Mu, they'd report two women in his bed immediately.
Muyeon sighed, bracing for the fallout.
And as he expected, the chamber door soon creaked open, cutting Muyeon's thoughts short. 'Here she is..."
Lady Mu stood in the doorway, her sharp eyes scanning Hancock and Marigold on his bed.
Muyeon rose, suppressing a groan. He'd expected this—the maids' reports were swift. Two women in his bedroom screamed trouble, after all.
Lady Mu stepped forward, her silk robes whispering against the stone. Her gaze lingered on Hancock especially, surprised by her stunning beauty.
The maids stood dutifully, gazes lowered, avoiding the Young Masters they'd just reported on.
His mother's presence filled the room, her authority absolute.
Muyeon sighed again, 'This is going to be annoying…'
"Explain yourself, Muyeon."
————
Meanwhile…
Cheon Yeo Woon stirred, disoriented, on clean sheets in his modest bedroom. Morning sunlight streamed through the open window, casting a glow on the bloodstained clothes discarded in the corner from the previous night.
His body felt whole, unmarked, despite the assassins' blades that should've claimed his life last night.
Jang Gakyung loomed nearby, his grizzled face etched with worry. The older man, Yeo Woon's only trusted confidant, had served his mother until her death. His presence was a rare anchor in a world of betrayal.
"You're awake," Jang said, his rough voice filled with relief. He'd found Yeo Woon in the forest, covered in blood near his mother's grave.
Before Yeo Woon could even think, Jang summoned a doctor.
The doctor, an old white-bearded man, examined Yeo Woon. "No injuries," he muttered, puzzled, oblivious to the crystal beetle in Yeo Woon's heart.
Jang ushered the doctor out, his eyes never leaving Yeo Woon. The bloodied clothes had worried him, yet his body was perfectly fine.
Yeo Woon sat up, mind racing, the memory of steel and pain still vivid.
"What happened?" Jang asked, his tone gentle but firm. Yeo Woon hesitated, then spoke. "I snuck out to visit Mother's grave before the Demon Academy… assassins attacked."
He frowned, voice low. "I should be dead." The blades had pierced him, yet here he was, alive.
Jang's face darkened, his calloused hand pulling a folded letter from his pocket. "This might explain it," he said, handing it to Yeo Woon.
Yeo Woon opened the letter, frowning curiously.
[My Dear Brother,
By the thread of our shared fate, I crossed your path and ensured your safety. As a token of our first encounter, I leave you a gift, one that will light your way in the trials ahead. Prove your mettle, and should the stars align once more, we shall meet again.
—Your Family]
Yeo Woon's brow furrowed, suspicion coiling in his gut. 'My Dear Brother…' he read the opening again. Who was this benefactor? 'Could it be one of the other heirs?'
He looked at Jang. "What gift did they leave?" His voice held a wary edge.
Jang crossed to a closet, his steps heavy. He opened it, and dozens of spiritual herbs—Starbloom, Phoenix Pollen, Shadow Lotus, etc.—tumbled out, their glow illuminating the room. They'd been hastily packed, hidden from the doctor's prying eyes.
Yeo Woon's breath caught. For a powerless boy, these herbs were a godsend, a fortune to build his strength. His heart raced, torn between thrill and caution.
"They need testing for poison," he said, voice steady. He doubted this 'Family' of his would save him only to kill him, but trust was a luxury he couldn't afford since birth.
Jang nodded, unsurprised by his wariness.
"There's more," Jang said, retrieving two scrolls from the closet's shadows. He handed them to Yeo Woon, his expression unreadable. "These were left with the herbs."
Yeo Woon unrolled the first scroll: Crescent Blade Technique, a sword technique of flowing arcs. The second was Pure Breath Art, a Ki-gathering method that maximized absorption with minimal waste.
Both were high-grade, leagues beyond what a guard like Jang could ever get his hands on.
His hands trembled, shock overtaking suspicion. Who wielded such generosity? The Demon Academy loomed, a crucible where power meant survival, and these gifts were a much-needed lifeline.
He clutched the scrolls, eyes narrowing. The benefactor's identity eluded him, but their motives didn't. This was an investment—someone expected him to rise.
Yeo Woon's gaze hardened, determination carving his features. Whoever this "Family" was, he'd use their gifts to claw his way up.
The Demon Academy would be his proving ground.
A/N: 1919 words :)
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