The sky darkened.
Gild Tesoro's gaze lifted, and what he saw above hollowed his chest with dread. The sun was gone, smothered by wings vast enough to eclipse the heavens. He forced his eyes to focus, to trace the outline of the shadow—until the form revealed itself.
Towering like a mountain. A war god stepping down from the firmament, armored in violet light.
Now, Tesoro realized, that figure was not merely blocking the sun. It was watching him.
A weight settled over his body and mind, heavier than gold, heavier than chains. The sensation was unlike anything he had ever known. Not even when he was a slave—chained and whipped before the Celestial Dragons—had he felt such helpless awe.
His lips trembled. "What… is that?"
Beside him, Donquixote Doflamingo tilted his head, glasses glinting. He did not look confused. He looked entertained.
"Have you forgotten so quickly?" His grin sharpened. "Didn't you just praise the collar on my neck? Perhaps you'll get the chance to wear one yourself."
The Heavenly Yaksha's laugh was a blade of mockery. For him, Rosen's shadow was not only a master's weight, but also a perverse satisfaction. If he must wear the chain, why shouldn't others?
Misery shared was almost amusement.
Tesoro's pupils shrank. A whisper slipped out, half recognition, half disbelief. "North Sea Admiral…"
The name alone tightened his throat.
Even here, obsessed with refining the Golden Fruit, he had not cut himself off entirely from the world. The newspapers told him enough:
—The King of the North Sea, Donquixote Doflamingo, collared.
—The King of Germa, Vinsmoke Judge, subdued.
Two sovereigns, unmatched in their own spheres, broken by the same man. And that man was not a pirate, but a Marine.
Vice Admiral Rosen.
The new master of the North Sea.
Doflamingo's earlier words returned like a hammer: "You can't even tell who's the hunter and who's the prey."
Tesoro's chest clenched. His body stiffened as though crushed beneath a mountain. He did not need to guess further.
He was the prey.
The figure above—the one standing as if carrying the sun itself—was the hunter.
And the hunter had come for him.
With a sound like thunder, Susanoo flapped its wings. A hurricane swept across Golden Island. Waves slammed against its coasts, sand and gold dust whirled into the air, trees bent nearly double.
Then, with impossible grace for a form so vast, the two-hundred-meter giant descended. Its landing was near-silent, its wings folding inward as violet light collapsed.
The armored god of war dissolved. What remained was a single man.
Rosen.
Standing on the golden earth less than a hundred meters away, calm, composed, his crimson eyes fixed upon Tesoro.
"You…" Tesoro's throat cracked. "What do you want here?"
The arrogance he had wielded against Doflamingo vanished. Facing Rosen was different. His body screamed alert. Muscles taut, nerves blazing, as though every fiber knew this was not a man one could afford to test.
Rosen's voice was even, commanding, stripped of ornament. "To give you a chance to follow me. Golden Fruit ability user—Gild Tesoro."
A faint red gleam flickered in his eyes, as if peering past skin, past thought, into Tesoro's very marrow.
The last sliver of hope Tesoro clung to crumbled.
"Follow you?" His voice cracked into a roar. "Don't be ridiculous!"
His memories flooded back unbidden: Mary Geoise, the chains, the lashes. The Celestial Dragons laughing while Stella
—his Stella
—was taken from him forever. His dignity stripped, his humanity spat upon.
That was why, when he escaped, he swore an oath upon his very soul.
Never again.
Never again to be controlled. Never again to kneel. Not to nobles, not to pirates, not to the World Government, not even to God.
That was why he risked his life to steal the Golden Fruit from Doflamingo in the height of his reign. That was why he had buried himself here, honing his power, gilding an entire island as proof of his dominion.
He had not endured all of it to wear another man's chain.
His eyes blazed. "I swore, when I fled that hell, that I would never accept control again! One day, I will trample the world itself under gold!"
The air shimmered. His fury bled into power. Gold rose around him like a tide, his fist sheathed in molten brilliance, shaping itself into a gauntlet that gleamed like a second sun.
"It doesn't matter who you are. If you want to control me—" His voice broke into a roar."
"Then die!"
Tesoro lunged. The earth split under his stride. His fist swung, golden flames bursting from its surface, heat and force converging into a cannonball of destruction.
"Gold Explosion!"
The punch blazed across the air, a comet aimed at Rosen's chest. The ground quaked with the force, wind tearing trees apart as his arm hurled forward.
Rosen did not move.
No shift of stance. No ripple of Haki flaring to shield him.
Only a single hand lifted. His index finger extended.
The golden fist crashed into it.
Bang—
And stopped.
No explosion. No shattering gold fragments. Not even a shockwave.
The golden gauntlet, crafted to detonate upon contact, simply rippled. The energy folded into itself, strangled by an unseen force.
Tesoro's charge froze in mid-air, his entire body locked against that one outstretched finger.
"What—" His breath died. "Impossible."
His eyes bulged, horror spilling across his face. His pupils shrank into pinpoints as realization carved into him.
"This punch… even Doflamingo couldn't ignore it. He was thrown back, pierced, bleeding…" His thoughts stumbled, frantic. "But him… with one finger…"
It was as if he had struck the Red Line itself. Unyielding. Indestructible.
A flood of panic crashed over him. For the first time since he escaped Mary Geoise, Gild Tesoro felt the same helplessness he had sworn never to feel again.
The prey had thrown its strike.
And the hunter had not even blinked.