— — — — — —
In one of the East Blue kingdoms, Shion and Hakuro walked side by side through a supposedly "prosperous" city.
"So these are the nobles Rimuru-sama was talking about?" Shion's face darkened. Not far ahead, a noble was lashing a civilian with his riding crop, screaming insults as the man bled.
The victim bowed over and over, apologizing desperately, too afraid to resist.
And the onlookers only clenched their fists in anger; none dared step forward as the noble's guards stood close by, a silent threat.
"Trash like that doesn't deserve to live in this world," Shion growled. She took a deep breath, then looked at Hakuro. "Let's start by liberating this kingdom."
"No objection," Hakuro replied calmly. But the cold fire in his eyes could have frozen anyone's blood.
"You filthy commoner," the noble sneered. "Daring to block my path? I'll make sure you learn your place." He raised his whip again—
Crack!
Shion's kick sent him flying. A second later, his body was embedded in the wall of a nearby house.
"D-did she just hit a noble?"
"This has to be a joke!"
"She's insane! Striking a noble is a criminal offense—she'll be executed!"
The crowd stared in shock. No one in living memory had ever dared touch the upper class in public. He might not have been a World Noble—a Celestial Dragon—but he was still a noble of this country.
"Seize her!" the guards shouted, finally shaken into action. They rushed at Shion with weapons drawn.
Shion didn't even glance at them. Hakuro stepped forward instead. With an almost lazy grace, he drew his sword. One flicker of movement later, every guard collapsed at his feet.
"Enough delay," Hakuro sheathed his sword and looked toward the palace. "Let's take control of the king."
"Right. Maybe Rimuru-sama will praise us for finishing quickly." Shion's eyes gleamed with excitement as she gazed at the distant castle.
Their plan to overthrow the World Government wasn't complicated. For countries rotten to the core, brute force would topple their rulers. For nations that still had hope, they would use diplomacy, draw them in if possible, or at least establish friendly ties.
Meanwhile, others monitored the Government and Navy, intercepting aid, weakening their reach, and winning over the good-hearted inside their ranks.
Finally, Roger and Whitebeard were tasked with gathering good pirate crews, rallying support for the cause.
---
At this time.... Across the West Blue, North Blue, South Blue, the first half of the Grand Line, and even the New World—the same kind of uprisings had begun.
"What… what kind of monster is that?" A soldier, drenched in blood, trembled as he looked skyward.
Veldora had taken on his True Dragon form, his colossal wings blotting out the sun, plunging the city into darkness.
With casual ease, he crushed the king in his claws. Then, turning to the stunned populace below, he declared, "I am the Storm Dragon, Veldora Tempest. From this day forward, this country is mine."
...
Elsewhere, in another kingdom's throne room—
"This is supposed to be a king?" Milim scoffed, lifting the fat monarch off his throne with one hand. "He's not just ugly, he's a slob. Hey, listen up, idiot! I'm Milim Nava, the greatest of Demon Lords. Starting today, this kingdom belongs to me. Got it?"
The king shrieked. "Y-you can't do this! I'm under the protection of the World Government! Defy me, and you'll be crushed! But… if you beg me nicely, I might take you as my sixth wife. How about it?" His fear twisted into arrogance, as though he were the one doing her a favor.
Milim blinked. Was this buffoon for real? Her frown deepened. Without another word, she punched him. The impact launched him through dozens of walls before his body disappeared into the rubble, fate uncertain.
"Whatever. Not like I expected him to agree." She stretched with a yawn. "This way's faster anyway. Hehe! If I end up conquering the most countries, Rimuru will totally praise me. And then—tons and tons of candy and new games! Yep, that's the plan. Go me! Milim's the best! Milim's invincible!"
The soldiers who had been pretending to play dead watched her in horror. A moment ago she looked furious, now she was cheering herself on like a kid. None of them understood what was happening, but one thought echoed in their heads: 'Just stay down. Don't move. Don't breathe.'
Milim stomped her foot. "Hey! How long are you losers planning to lie there? Even if you're playing dead, at least act like pros about it! Do you really think you can fool me? I can hear your hearts beating, you know."
Her eyes lit up. "Up! All of you! Or I'll hand out free punches!"
"I-I'm up!"
"Me too!"
"...I was checking the temperature of the ground."
"We are up, ma'am."
Soldiers scrambled to their feet, tripping over each other.
Why waste brainpower when raw strength solved everything? That was Milim's life philosophy.
— — —
On top of the Red Line - Mary Geoise
"Damn it… damn it all!" One of the Five Elders slammed a fist against the table, his composure completely gone. The others wore equally grim expressions.
"Where did these people even come from? Why have we never heard of them before?" Saint Ethanbaron V. Nusjuro, the sword-bearing Elder, muttered. His voice was calm, but the fury lacing it sent a chill through the room.
"We couldn't find anything," reported a man clad in black, bowing low. "It's as if they appeared out of thin air. We have no record of their origins."
"Then what the hell are we paying you dogs for?" Saint
Shepherd Ju Peter sneered, leaning back against the wall. "When it's time to run, you're faster than anyone. But when it's time to give us answers, suddenly you're useless. What, did you burn all that funding we gave you?"
Cold sweat dripped down the black-clad man's face, his body trembling.
"Enough. Blaming him won't solve anything." Saint Topman Warcury sighed. "The problem is, more than ten nations are in revolt at once. Each invasion is being led by someone ridiculously powerful. Milim Nava resurfaced, along with others—a dragon the size of a mountain, a swordmaster of terrifying skill, some pig-headed monstrosity… it's one bizarre powerhouse after another. Who are these people, and why are they openly declaring war on us?"
Silence fell again. Each Elder was thinking the same thing. One strong enemy was nothing to the World Government. Even a hundred scattered across the seas posed no real threat. But a hundred strong enemies united? That was the nightmare scenario—the kind that could shake the Government to its very core. Judging by what they'd seen, this was no loose collection of outlaws. This was an organized force, one that could rival them.
Buru buru buru…
The sharp trill of a Den Den Mushi shattered the heavy atmosphere.
Saint Jaygarcia Saturn picked it up.
As the voice on the other end spoke, his face darkened more and more until, at the final word, he crushed the Den Den Mushi in his hand. His aura exploded, suffocating the room.
"What happened?" Saint Marcus Mars asked cautiously.
"Roger," Saturn spat through gritted teeth. "He's back. And he's allied with Whitebeard. They've rallied a fleet of pirates—Shiki, Redfield, and more. Dozens of top-tier monsters are joining forces. They really mean to destroy the world itself!"
The words froze the room. Then Warcury gave a sore laugh. "Destroy the world? No… they mean to destroy the Celestial Dragons."
"Then there's no choice. We must consult Lord Imu."
No one disagreed. Without another word, the Five Elders rose and filed silently from the chamber.
.
.
.