—Broadcast—
Donquixote Mjosgard believed it was worth sacrificing himself in exchange for the safety of the entire Fish-Man Island. He harbored no complaints about his heroic sacrifice today, accepting death as the price for protecting people who'd shown him what genuine nobility meant.
But he felt profound regret about one person before dying.
"Wendy," he thought silently, unable to speak with the rope already tightening around his throat. "I didn't expect that a brother like me would break his promise. I hope you won't resent me. I hope you'll live your own life without being haunted by my death."
The reason the Marine had been concealing the public execution from little Wendy was specifically to prevent her from learning about it. As her brother, Mjosgard was terrified that his sister would do something catastrophically stupid.
Wendy had been raised by Grandine—a creature who'd lived as a wild beast for centuries before regaining human consciousness. The girl's values of right and wrong might align more with birds and beasts than human society. She didn't understand the world's complexity, could easily fall into binary thinking.
She believed right was right and wrong was wrong with absolute conviction—an extremely dangerous worldview when combined with godlike power.
Moreover, Saint Mjosgard had always felt there were hidden dangers in the Tori Tori no Mi, Model: Seiryū left by the divine bird Grandine. He'd desperately wanted to prevent Wendy from consuming that fruit. He'd hoped his sister could live a happy life as an ordinary person, uninvolved in larger conflicts and political machinations.
There was nothing wrong with living an ordinary existence. Sometimes ignorance was genuine blessing.
Because the more you knew about the world's true nature, the more painful existence became. Living in comfortable ignorance was always preferable to knowing the truth about most things and existing like a walking corpse, hollow with awareness of systems you couldn't change.
The rope tightened incrementally, degree by agonizing degree. Saint Mjosgard felt his throat being slowly compressed by mechanical precision. The upward pulling force made him stand on tiptoes, trying to relieve the pressure even slightly.
The man closed his eyes and prepared to face his own death with dignity.
Just when the assembled audience was reaching peak excitement—wealthy politicians practically salivating over witnessing a Celestial Dragon's execution—the originally clear sky suddenly transformed.
Dark clouds materialized from nothing, instantly covering the sun. The entire sky filled with wind and thunder as though nature itself objected to what was occurring below.
What proved even more terrifying: directly above the execution platform, black clouds began spinning and condensing with unnatural focus. They actively built a black passage toward heaven—a vortex of storm clouds rotating with hypnotic intensity.
Anyone with discerning eyes could see immediately this was definitely not normal weather change. This was deliberate. Intentional. Targeted.
The temperature dropped ten degrees Celsius in mere seconds, making the assembled politicians feel genuine chill despite their expensive furs and heated seating. They hugged their arms for warmth and looked up at the suddenly gloomy sky with growing unease.
"How does weather change so suddenly?" one noble muttered nervously. "It was perfectly clear just moments ago."
"Could it be a Devil Fruit user's doing?" another suggested, voice carrying barely suppressed fear.
"Don't talk nonsense!" a third noble snapped, clinging desperately to denial. "This is Mary Geoise, the holy land! There's no place safer in the entire world! The Celestial Dragons themselves live here!"
The other member states' representatives possessed great trust in the birthplace of the World Nobles. On one level, many converts fanatically hoped to eventually become Celestial Dragons themselves through sufficient service and wealth accumulation. On another level, the Marine and God's Knights maintained permanent guard here.
Which fool would choose this exact moment to cause trouble in the holy land? Who would commit robbery during a public execution when security was at maximum?
The fish-man standing at the forefront of the Marine contingent wore an increasingly solemn expression. His blue-tinted skin and gill slits marked him as obviously non-human, though his Admiral's coat commanded respect despite species.
Some things were moving in an unpredictable direction beyond anyone's control. The situation developing on-scene had completely exceeded the initial expectations provided by senior Marine leadership.
"The Acting Fleet Admiral underestimated the seriousness of this matter," he stated grimly, his voice carrying authority that made nearby Marines snap to attention. "Everyone, prepare for combat immediately. A terrifying opponent is coming."
Character Notes: Admiral Kisame Hoshigaki
Fish-Man from the Mist
"I've seen many monsters. This one feels different."
Hearing their admiral speak with such obvious caution, all sailors surrounding him began war preparations. Some drew melee weapons—swords, clubs, axes. Others loaded firearms with practiced efficiency, checking powder charges and ammunition supplies.
They finally realized at this moment that they might be participating in an extraordinary event. Something that would appear in history books. Something people would remember.
The fierce wind swept across everything on the ground with hurricane intensity. Even the slaves responsible for operating the execution mechanism's joystick couldn't withstand the wind pressure. Their bodies were blown backward violently, feet leaving the ground entirely.
The lucky ones grabbed onto solid buildings and avoided being carried away completely. The unlucky ones tumbled across the square like leaves in autumn, striking walls and stairs with bone-breaking force.
The execution of Saint Mjosgard had to be halted—the mechanism operator had been blown away from his post.
The frail condemned man opened his cloudy eyes with tremendous effort and looked upward. What he saw made his heart stop.
Dark clouds pressed down on the sky like a descending ceiling. The black passage was nearly complete—a vortex of rotating storm clouds creating a tunnel between heaven and earth.
A terrible realization struck Mjosgard with the force of physical blow.
He thought of the Sky Dragon Fruit left by Grandine. Could a Mythical Zoan Devil Fruit really achieve this level of weather control? Such absolute atmospheric manipulation?
The Celestial Dragons had once possessed a dragon-type fruit centuries ago. Unfortunately, it had been stolen by pirates during the God Valley Incident, leading to the rise of Kaido, King of the Beasts—one of the Four Emperors whose power threatened even the World Government itself.
The former Marine Fleet Admiral Sengoku had possessed a Mythical Zoan Devil Fruit as well—the Hito Hito no Mi, Model: Daibutsu (Human-Human Fruit, Buddha Model). Unfortunately, Sengoku had died of old age several years ago. Now a bronze statue of him stood at Marine Headquarters for young recruits to admire, learning the spirit of absolute justice.
The black passage in the sky finally converged completely.
A massive white head poked through from the other side.
The creature's eyes resembled two azure moons—dark and deep despite their luminescence, carrying a terrifying sense of oppression that made even hardened warriors want to flee.
After witnessing this nightmarish sight, everyone present finally realized things had developed in an absolutely unpredictable direction. A horrific confrontation was inevitable.
And if the dragon accidentally stepped on a few weaklings to death during the battle? They could only blame themselves for their catastrophically bad luck.
The powerful and wealthy were most afraid of death despite—or perhaps because of—their privileged lives. They immediately demanded their expensively hired bodyguards escort them away from this increasingly dangerous location.
However, in such critical moments, everyone shared the same thought. Only one word occupied their panicked minds: escape.
The square where the execution platform stood became crowded within seconds as thousands of people attempted fleeing simultaneously. Everyone ran like headless chickens in whichever direction they believed was safest, not realizing they were creating a stampede.
People collided with each other repeatedly. Bodies fell and were trampled. The scene descended into catastrophic chaos.
The government agents positioned throughout the crowd to maintain order shouted until their throats went raw, but they couldn't make these terrified aristocrats stop their panic. Fear overrode all social conditioning and civilized behavior.
The enormous white creature slowly crawled out from the black vortex in the sky, serpentine body undulating with supernatural grace.
Only half its figure had emerged, but already the surrounding wind pressure increased to devastating levels. Gusts strong enough to knock grown men off their feet swept across the execution grounds.
If the dragon fully exited that portal, nobody could imagine what destructive forces would be unleashed.
Then the creature opened its mouth.
"GIVE HIM BACK TO ME!"
The scream that emerged exceeded the maximum decibel threshold the human body could withstand by catastrophic margins. The sound wasn't merely loud—it was weaponized. Sonic energy condensed into physical force, slamming into the assembled crowd like an invisible tsunami.
In mild cases, eardrums shattered directly. Blood trickled from ears as delicate membranes ruptured under impossible pressure.
In severe cases, blood erupted from all seven orifices—eyes, ears, nose, mouth. Some of the pampered nobles who'd never experienced violence, whose bodies had grown soft from luxury, had their skulls explode outright.
It was as if invisible bullets struck heads simultaneously. Bone and brain matter burst outward in grotesque sprays, splattering across nearby aristocrats who screamed in horror at the warm gore coating their expensive clothes.
The continuous brain explosions—a dozen heads detonating like overripe melons in quick succession—finally stopped the chaotic crowd's movement.
Their hearts became deeply occupied by primal terror. Entire bodies shook uncontrollably from stress reactions. Many lost the ability to move entirely, frozen in place by overwhelming fear.
This was the power of the Sky Dragon. This was what happened when you threatened Wendy's family.
At this moment, Admiral Kisame Hoshigaki stood with his massive sword Samehada resting on his shoulder. The entire blade was wrapped in bandages, concealing its true nature—a living weapon that absorbed chakra and energy.
He glanced around, assessing damage with professional detachment.
Most of his Marine colleagues had blood leaking from their ears, indicating ruptured eardrums. They'd lost basic hearing entirely. Communication would require hand signals and gestures until medical treatment could restore their damaged hearing.
Looking toward the execution platform again, Kisame was more worried about Saint Mjosgard's safety than the fallen nobles. Ordinary people with average physique and no combat training had been seriously injured by this sonic attack. Some had died instantly, their biology unable to withstand the assault.
And Mjosgard had endured frequent torture over the past months. If that devastating attack had struck him directly in his weakened state, the consequences would be absolutely catastrophic.
However, things turned out better than Kisame expected—far better.
Saint Mjosgard was not only uninjured but appeared to be recovering. His entire body was enveloped in blue ethereal light that pulsed gently with healing energy.
The luminescence didn't merely provide defense—it was actively healing wounds. Bruises faded. Cuts closed. The rope burns on his neck smoothed over as though they'd never existed.
This discovery genuinely surprised Admiral Kisame. Healing abilities were extraordinarily rare across all the seas. Devil Fruits that could restore others rather than merely empowering their user were among the rarest classifications.
The blue light emanated from the dragon above—specifically from its focused gaze upon Mjosgard. The creature was protecting him. Healing him. Ensuring her brother survived the chaos she'd created.
Kisame's eyes narrowed with professional assessment.
The dragon wasn't just attacking indiscriminately. It possessed precise control, could distinguish friend from foe, and was actively shielding specific targets while devastating everyone else.
This wasn't a mindless beast. This was an intelligent combatant with strategic awareness and emotional motivation.
"This is going to be difficult," Kisame muttered to himself, gripping Samehada more tightly.
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