Gild Tesoro, the defeated king, pushed himself up with one trembling hand, his body aching from the brutal impact. He opened his mouth to speak, to perhaps concede or curse, but the words were stolen from him by a sudden, jarring sound from behind.
"Muuhohoho! How amusing! Truly, this is quite the show!"
A bizarre figure strode into the ruined casino, clapping his hands with childish delight. He wore the bulbous suit of an astronaut, his head encased in a transparent resin bubble. It was the unmistakable uniform of the world's most vile nobility.
"What game were you playing? Where did that giant gold man go?" the newcomer brayed, his voice nasally and grating. "Continue! Entertain me! If you please me, I might just grant you the honor of becoming my new slave!"
Jerry's eyes narrowed. The ridiculous attire, the vacant, inbred expression on the man's face—it could only be a Celestial Dragon, a World Noble.
Trailing behind the "saint" was a small entourage. A few trembling servants, a prim-looking butler, and, most notably, a tall man in an immaculate white suit and a stark white mask. His posture was ramrod straight, radiating a chilling aura of deadly competence. He was clearly a member of Cipher Pol Aigis Zero, the World Government's strongest intelligence agency, and he made no effort to hide it.
A quick glance outside the shattered walls revealed a chilling sight: every person on the street—tourist, resident, and guard alike—was kneeling, their heads bowed to the ground in a display of enforced reverence.
Jerry's gaze swept the room. In a corner, Weevil was still sitting dazedly on the floor, picking his nose. He seemed to have recovered significantly from their battle, likely waiting for his mother, Bakkin, who had vanished during the chaos.
"Well? Why have you stopped?" the Celestial Dragon demanded, puffing out his chest. "Keep going! Huh? And why aren't you kneeling? Do you not know who—"
He never finished the sentence.
FWIP!
A single casino chip, a worthless piece of plastic amidst the golden wreckage, shot out from the shadows. It moved with impossible speed and precision, a blur of red and white that cut through the air, completely bypassing the CP0 agent's guard.
CRACK!
The chip shattered the Celestial Dragon's protective bubble.
SMACK!
It connected squarely with his plump, pasty face, knocking several teeth loose and sending him tumbling backward with an undignified squawk. He landed on his rear with a heavy thud, his eyes wide with shock and pain.
The world seemed to hold its breath.
The lead CP0 agent froze for a nanosecond, his professional composure utterly shattered. An attack on a World Noble was an act of war against the entire world. It was unthinkable.
"How dare you assault a Celestial Dragon!" he roared, his masked face whipping around to glare at the only man left standing. He pointed a finger at Jerry, his body coiling like a spring, ready to launch a fatal attack. "This is treason of the highest order!"
"Is it now?" Jerry said calmly. He shook his finger, and in his hand, a small Den Den Mushi whirred to life, projecting a video into the air. "I believe you'll want to see this."
The projected image showed the scene from just moments before: the Celestial Dragon pontificating, and then, a hulking, snot-nosed figure suddenly appearing in the background. The angle of the projection was perfect, showing the figure—a perfect water-clone replica of Weevil—flicking the chip from a position that was in the CP0 agent's blind spot.
Because no one in their right mind would ever dream of attacking a World Noble, the CP0 agent hadn't bothered to activate his Observation Haki beforehand. The attack was too sudden, too audacious.
The Celestial Dragon, now whimpering on the floor, touched his swollen, bleeding face. His servants rushed to help him up. He looked up, his tear-filled eyes falling upon the image projected by Jerry's snail. Then, his gaze shifted to the corner, where the real Edward Weevil was still sitting, staring back at him with a grin of pure idiocy.
A primal rage consumed the World Noble. He spread his legs in a clumsy power stance, pointed a trembling finger at the giant, and shrieked through his broken teeth, "That's him! It was him! Seize him for me! I'm going to drag him back to Mary Geoise and flay him alive!"
The CP0 agent's intuition screamed that this was a setup, that "Leviathan" Jerry was the real culprit. But a direct order from a Celestial Dragon was absolute. He had no choice but to obey.
With an explosive bang from his feet, the agent vanished. He reappeared instantly in front of Weevil, his index finger extended like a spear.
"Huh? Why are you poking me?" Weevil grunted, his simple mind struggling to process the sudden aggression. He instinctively raised his massive, Haki-coated hands to defend himself.
"Finger Pistol: Impact Drive!"
The finger pistol struck his palms with the force of a cannonball. Weevil was blasted out of his seated position, sent skidding out of the casino and into the street, but he was otherwise unharmed. He had been caught off guard, not overpowered.
"Why did you hit me?" Weevil roared, scrambling to his feet. He swung his massive bisento in a wide arc, forcing the advancing CP0 agent to leap back.
"Hmph! You dare resist after striking a World Noble?" the masked man sneered, his white uniform fluttering. He pressed the attack, his fingers becoming a blur, stabbing forward with a flurry of lightning-fast Finger Pistol strikes.
The two titans clashed in the street, their battle shaking the very foundations of the city. Just as quickly, Miss Bakkin reappeared at Weevil's side as if from nowhere.
"Son! What's happening?"
"Mom, you're back!" Weevil cried, looking relieved. "This weirdo in white said I hit some 'Celestial Dragon,' and now he wants to poke me to death!"
"What?! Celestial Dragons?" Bakkin's face went pale. Her greed was legendary, but she was not stupid. She knew that angering the World Nobles was a death sentence. Her son's confused expression told her he was being framed, but it didn't matter.
"We're leaving! Now!" she commanded.
Hearing his mother's order, Weevil no longer bothered engaging his opponent. He unleashed a furious swing of his bisento, a gale-force blow that forced the CP0 agent back, and then turned to flee, his massive footsteps cracking the pavement.
"Protect Saint Chagama!" the lead agent ordered the other cloaked figures guarding the door. He then shot off in pursuit of Weevil and Bakkin.
Several more men in white suits and masks emerged from the shadows. After a brief, silent exchange, two of the higher-ranking agents entered the casino to stand guard over their whimpering charge, while the others dispersed to secure the perimeter.
As the sounds of the chase faded, the casino fell into a tense silence.
During the chaos, Jerry had quietly vanished.
Tesoro, however, was anything but calm. He had seen the entire thing up close. CP0's suspicion was correct. It was Jerry's handiwork. He had no desire to kneel before a pompous fool like a Celestial Dragon—the very thought disgusted him. A man's pride was not something to be thrown away so easily. Jerry had flipped his left hand to activate the video snail, and with a flick of his right, had manifested a perfect water clone to do the deed.
He felt no guilt about framing Weevil. The giant may have been simple-minded, but he was no innocent. He was a monster who had carved a path of destruction across the seas, all for his mother's greed, and had clearly enjoyed every moment of it. Jerry had already spared his life once; now, Cipher Pol could play with him.
Outside the casino, on a nearby street corner, the purple-clad figure of Issho stood motionless, his head tilted as if listening to a distant melody. He had remained outside, observing the subsequent events with the inner eye of his Observation Haki. He had "seen" the entire, sordid affair.
He let out a long, slow sigh. "What a truly reckless young man," he murmured to himself. "He wagers the entire world on a single, audacious throw." It was a level of defiance against the world's injustice that Issho himself had often dreamed of, but had never dared to attempt so brazenly.
"Thanks for the compliment, old man," a voice said from the shadows behind him. "But you must be mistaken. I didn't do anything."
Jerry stepped out, a faint smile on his lips. He felt it was necessary to have a word with the blind swordsman.
Issho turned his head, his blank eyes facing Jerry. A slow smile spread across his face as he understood the unspoken request. He waved a dismissive hand. "Worry not, young man. I do not tell tales." He paused, the smile growing wider. "Besides… I am blind. I saw nothing at all."
Jerry felt a wave of relief. "Is that so?" he chuckled. "Well, I appreciate your understanding, uncle. Can I help you find a guide dog or something?"
"Thank you, but no," Issho replied, raising the shikomizue that served as his cane. "This old friend is all the guide I need." He gave a slight, respectful bow. "Farewell, young man."
"Alright then. See you around," Jerry said, turning to leave. "Next time you're free, let me buy you a drink. We can play some cards, do some fishing."