Above the ruins of God Valley, a temporary viewing platform had been hastily constructed from gold and velvet, a glaring monument of extravagance amidst devastation.
Standing atop it, Saint Top, a Celestial Dragon adorned in elaborate robes and a bubble mask, raised his hands to announce the rules of the "grand event."
"Esteemed compatriots! Welcome to our triennial tradition—the Grand Cleanup Competition!"
The Celestial Dragons below raised their glasses and offered sparse, half-hearted cheers. Their attention, however, was less on politeness than anticipation.
"This year's venue, God Valley, has been cleared entirely for us! And now," Saint Top's arms spread wide, "it's time for the eagerly awaited hunt!"
He pointed toward rows of giant iron cages on the plains below. "The rules are simple, as always. Within the venue, anything that moves is our rabbit. We have specially prepared one hundred and fifty 'rare rabbits,' each worth five hundred points, and thirteen 'super rare rabbits,' handpicked from across the world! Each worth ten thousand points!"
A greedy murmur rippled through the audience. Saint Top paused, savoring it. Then he added, his voice sharp and almost musical in its cruelty, "To encourage marksmanship, any one-shot kill scores double points. The competition lasts three days. The highest scorer will receive lavish prizes beyond imagination!"
His smile twisted into something resembling a viper's. "Then… I declare the competition… begins!"
At his signal, the iron gates roared open.
Thousands of ragged, terrified slaves and the surviving residents of God Valley poured out blindly, herded like livestock. Someone screamed, a sharp, piercing cry, and bolted toward the distant forest and crumbling ruins.
The crowd panicked instantly, chaos spreading like wildfire.
"Bang!"
The first gunshot echoed across the plains. Saint Marcos's ivory pistol spat fire. A slave at the forefront fell, collapsing into the dirt.
"I hit him! Father! I hit him!" Marcos shouted, jumping with glee.
"Well done, my son! But aim for the head—double points!" Saint Top encouraged, his doting smile hiding the venom of his intent.
The Celestial Dragons eagerly raised their weapons, shooting indiscriminately. Accuracy was irrelevant. It was the thrill of ending life that intoxicated them. Bullets tore through the crowd. Screams rose and fell like twisted music.
Meanwhile, the God's Knights operated differently. Their movements were precise, efficient, and deadly. Each swing of a sword or thrust of a blade sent one or multiple lives to the afterlife. They were perfection incarnate in the art of killing.
High above on a cliff, one of the Gorosei, Satan Saint, observed the carnage seated upon his chair. He had neither wine nor weapon, only a cane. His expression was unreadable, neither joy nor pity evident. To him, the massacre below was no more than an ant nest, struggling futilely beneath his gaze.
Deep in the chaotic forest, a group of slaves lay flattened in a muddy gully, stifling their breath.
A broad-shouldered young man used his massive frame to shield two others. This was Bartholomew Kuma, young yet resolute.
"Vee-haw! This mud is killing me! My perfectly styled hair is ruined!" muttered a boy with a huge head and thick lips. This was Ivankov, future Revolutionary Army Captain, his bravado faltering for a moment in the face of reality.
"Shut up, Ivan! Do you want to be discovered?" whispered a short pink-haired girl wearing glasses. This was Ginny, the backbone of the group, her eyes fierce even amidst chaos.
She scanned the hellish landscape beyond Kuma's shoulder. "The plan… must succeed."
Ivankov's smile faded. "Are you sure the message got out, Ginny? Will they really come… for a vague 'treasure'?"
"They will," Ginny replied, resolutely. "To desperadoes, the combination of 'Celestial Dragons' and 'treasure' is irresistible. They will come, and when they do, they will shake this stagnant pond to its very core."
Kuma remained silent, his resolve firm. His mission was clear: save as many innocents as possible amidst this orchestrated nightmare.
---
Marineford.
Fleet Admiral Kong frowned over top-secret intelligence about God Valley. His temples throbbed as he absorbed the details. The Rocks Pirates were on the move, and their destination was unmistakably God Valley.
"We must stop them," Kong muttered, setting the document aside. He picked up the emergency Den Den Mushi, its tone echoing urgency.
---
Meanwhile, on a remote tropical island, the sun baked the beach golden. The sea breeze carried hints of salt, warmth, and a lazy serenity.
Monkey D. Garp lounged in a chair, snacking on senbei. Clad only in flashy swim trunks, his bronze muscles glistened in the sunlight.
Suddenly, the Den Den Mushi rang, mimicking Kong's serious expression.
"Yo, Kong, what's up?" Garp lazily answered.
A tense silence followed, before Kong's voice finally came through:
"Garp. Immediately cut short your vacation and head to God Valley."
Garp blinked, annoyed. "God Valley? Isn't that just a field trip for Celestial Dragons? With God's Knights and CP agents there, it's safer than Marineford. Why am I babysitting them?"
"This is not a request. It's an order," Kong's voice deepened. "The Rocks Pirates are moving. Their target is God Valley."
Garp finally straightened, eyes wide. "Rocks? Where's Roger? I'm leaving!"
Kong remained calm. "Coordinates have been sent to your log pose. Primary objective is…"
"Got it! Arrest Gol D. Roger!" Garp interrupted, tossing the Den Den Mushi aside and leaping into action. In seconds, he donned his Justice coat, wind swirling around him.
"Dad, what's happening?" a young man asked. It was Monkey D. Dragon, newly enlisted, following his father for training.
Garp grinned, ignoring his son's confusion. "Time for some action, Dragon!"
He scooped Dragon by the collar, striding toward the docked dog-head battleship. "Bogard! Hoist the sails! Full speed ahead!"
The ship sliced through the waves, Garp's laughter echoing across the sea. Dragon clutched his father, still bewildered, as the battleship cut a path toward God Valley, leaving only the abandoned Den Den Mushi behind, frozen in a mimicked frown.
---
Hachinosu Island.
A stark contrast unfolded. The entire island buzzed like a storm. Pirates of every shape and size bellowed with roaring laughter, swords and guns in hand. The air smelled of sweat, alcohol, and gunpowder.
Hundreds of massive pirate ships crowded the bay, ready for departure. Leading them, the colossal flagship of the Rocks Pirates dominated the port like a floating fortress.
Future legends gathered: Edward Newgate, polishing Murakumogiri; Kaido, drinking from a barrel and carrying a spiked club; Charlotte Linlin, Golden Lion Shiki, Captain John, Silver Axe, Wang Zhi—all eyes burning with ambition.
At the center, a figure shrouded in shadows raised his hand. The signature wild hair flared like flames, eyes darker than the abyss.
Rocks D. Xebec.
"Lads!" His voice silenced the commotion. Every pirate fell into devoted stillness.
"The gods are having a banquet, but we weren't invited. Since that's the case…" Rocks smiled arrogantly. "We'll overturn their tables and take everything for ourselves!"
The roar that followed could have toppled mountains. Countless ships hoisted sails, powered by ambition, greed, and sheer force. The storm of pirates surged forward, unstoppable.
An unprecedented clash of gods, pirates, and destiny was about to ignite.
---
Ãdvåñçé çhàptêr àvàilàble óñ pàtreøn (Gk31)