His lips parted slightly, and after some effort, he forced out a few words.
"That woman… actually…"
His voice was hoarse and low, like gears that had rusted for years grinding painfully into motion.
At the same time, the metal tip at the bottom of his cane, a symbol of his authority, stabbed into the hard marble floor with a sharp crack.
The force of the impact instantly sent spiderweb-like cracks spreading across the surface.
Those cracks spread outward like creeping fear.
Saint Ethanbaron V. Nusjuro, the Warrior God of Finance, lowered his head slightly.
The gold-rimmed glasses that had been sitting properly on the bridge of his nose had quietly slipped down to the tip.
The delicate lenses reflected a shocking image as clearly as two little mirrors.
Big Mom was lowering her head respectfully before Ron.
His hands were fat and thick, and without realizing it, he clenched them so hard that he crushed the exquisitely crafted solid-gold saucer in his grasp.
In an instant, fine flakes of gold drifted down from between his fingers like falling snow, glittering in the air with a luxurious yet faintly panicked light.
"The third one."
Saint Topman Warcury, the Warrior God of Legal Affairs, broke the brief silence with his cold voice.
His arm trembled slightly, and the harsh sound of metal scraping against metal followed, like the whisper of the Grim Reaper.
Spread out on the table before him was a thick Four Emperors Threat Assessment Report.
Driven by anger and anxiety, he seized it with both hands and tore it in half.
The sound of ripping paper was especially clear in the silent hall.
Through gritted teeth, he continued, "Kaido, Whitebeard, and now even that crazy old hag…"
The worry and unease in his words were impossible to hide.
Nearby, Saint Shepherd Ju Peter, the Warrior God of Agriculture, slowly rose from his seat. His movements were not hurried, but they carried a steady, heavy force.
The old scar on his chin had turned an even darker purple-red in the tense atmosphere, like a hideous mark carved into his face.
He walked firmly toward the enormous world map, his eyes locked onto it.
The attendants had already marked the Eternal Divine Kingdom's sphere of influence with bright red ink, and that area had expanded a full threefold.
It almost seemed ready to swallow the entire New World.
That glaring red silently declared an ambition of expansion.
"Convene the World Council immediately."
Saint Saturn's low, powerful voice rang out.
He yanked his cane from the floor, sending a scattering of broken stone flying up.
The fragments bounced and rolled across the ground with crisp little sounds, like warning bells announcing the major decision about to come.
His eyes were sharp as a hawk's as he swept his gaze across everyone present and said solemnly, "Inform Vegapunk. Move up the preparations for activation."
In the corner of the hall, three CP0 agents stood silently.
Yet when they heard the word "activation," their bodies trembled at the same time.
Outside the window, the bright sunset was suddenly swallowed by a mass of dark clouds, and darkness spread rapidly.
A muffled rumble of thunder rolled across the sky above Mary Geoise, as if nature itself were roaring over the tension of the moment.
When a dazzling bolt of lightning tore through the night sky, the tall shadows of the Five Elders were stretched long and twisted across the world map.
And the section representing the New World had already been completely covered in shadow, as though the Eternal Divine Kingdom's endless ambition was slowly devouring everything.
A chill rose from the soles of their feet.
...
Whole Cake Island.
A grand candy castle towered over the island.
At that moment, everyone had gathered inside its spacious, magnificent hall.
Looking up, thousands of mirrors had been cleverly pieced together to form the dome.
Like countless magical mirrors, they reflected the blazing sunlight into brilliant patches of color.
Those spots of light danced and shimmered in the air like lively spirits, but no matter how they shone, they could not drive away the deathly pallor from the faces of the Charlotte Family members.
That pale color carried terror, confusion, and disbelief, foretelling the arrival of a tremendous storm.
The eldest son, Perospero, stood upright before the throne crafted entirely from candy.
In his hand, he tightly held an old piece of parchment.
The paper rustled from the trembling of his fingers, as if whispering of the fate that was about to descend.
Fine beads of sweat covered his forehead, and his eyes revealed nervousness and unease.
"B-By Mama's order…"
For the first time, his voice stumbled. His usually smooth speech became halting and broken.
The candy cane that symbolized his power and status had also lost its usual dignity.
Syrup dripped uncontrollably from it, drop by drop, landing on the priceless carpet and leaving small dark stains behind.
"From this day onward, the entire Big Mom Pirates… will join the Eternal Divine Kingdom…"
He gathered his courage and finally forced the sentence out in full.
Every word landed on the hearts of everyone present like a heavy hammer.
Crash—
A burst of chaotic noise suddenly erupted.
Dozens of Charlotte children nearly collapsed to the floor at the same moment, the sound sweeping through the entire hall like surging waves.
The third daughter, Amande, wore a gorgeous dress, but her normally elegant steps were completely thrown into disorder.
The heel of one of her shoes snapped, and she staggered.
The fourteenth daughter, Compo, was holding her beloved harp, but all the strings snapped from the violent tremor, producing an ear-piercing sound.
The sixtieth son, Opera, had been holding a beautifully made cake and preparing to taste it, only for the sudden news to scare him stiff.
The cake in his hand slapped directly onto his terrified face.
"Impossible!"
The thirty-fourth son, Charlotte Moscato, suddenly let out a shrill scream, shattering the brief silence.
His eyes were wide and bloodshot as he frantically tore at his fluffy hair, as though trying to prove that he was dreaming.
"How could Mama possibly—ah!"
Before he could finish speaking, his body went limp like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
His eyes rolled back, and he fell straight into the nearby chocolate fountain, sending up a splash of brown liquid.
At the same time, dozens of chairs toppled over in the chaos with a tremendous clatter.
"N-No… impossible!"
The books in the nineteenth son Mont-d'Or's hands scattered across the floor in panic.
His eyes were hollow and desperate, and he kept repeating the same words as if refusing to accept the cruel reality before him.
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