The night was as dark as spilled ink.
Campbell moved within it like a ghost.
Swift. Silent. Merciless.
His targets were clear—the loathsome human traffickers who had stolen his wife and trampled countless lives beneath their boots.
One.
Two.
Three…
Dozens vanished.
Then scores.
At first, the traffickers noticed nothing unusual. But as the hours passed and more companions failed to return, unease crept in like a chill wind.
By the time panic finally set in, hundreds had already disappeared—erased without a trace.
Terrified, the remaining traffickers gathered together, huddling in groups, hoping numbers would grant them safety.
It was useless.
The Campbell they faced now was no longer human.
Their strength.
Their physiques.
Their experience, instincts, and hard-earned survival skills—
All of it became nourishment for his growth.
In a single night, the sprawling slave-hunting syndicate that had plagued the Sabaody Archipelago collapsed completely, wiped from existence as though it had never been there.
No bodies were found.
No clues remained.
Only silence.
At the same time, those unfortunate souls who had been dragged into slavery were freed by the hand of the Earthly Executor.
Yet while the shackles around their wrists were broken, the chains in their hearts proved far harder to sever.
A small number of slaves trembled at the mere mention of the Celestial Dragons. Fear rooted them in place. They worried that fleeing would bring calamity upon their families.
Even when Campbell personally opened their cages, they hesitated—unable to take that final step.
Seeing this, Campbell felt both sorrow and helplessness.
Still, he did not force them.
Nor did he silence them.
He knew full well that some might betray him the very next day, reporting everything to the World Government.
It didn't matter.
God stood behind him.
And those without sin… would never be harmed by his hand.
His targets were singular and absolute—
those corroded by black flame.
From that night onward, the name "Mortal Executioner" spread among the slaves of Sabaody like a whispered legend.
All who bore guilt trembled in the dark.
None escaped his judgment.
High above, among the clouds of power and arrogance, the Celestial Dragons erupted in fury when they learned their slave-hunting force had been annihilated by a mere "citizen."
Their rage was thunderous.
A bounty was issued—500 million Berries, fresh and public.
The charge?
Attacking merchant ships.
Murdering over three hundred sailors.
Extremely vicious criminal.
The World Government's reversal of truth and lies was flawless—masterful enough to stand as a textbook example of propaganda.
Campbell had expected nothing less.
When he once sought justice through the Navy, he had already understood the truth:
the Celestial Dragons stood beyond even the reach of "justice."
Having dared to strike their property, retaliation was inevitable.
What he didn't expect… was Saint Charlos himself.
Blinded by fury, the Celestial Dragon of the Roswald family personally descended upon the Sabaody Archipelago, determined to hunt the Executioner down.
That was his mistake.
The moment Campbell located him, he acted.
Charlos was captured.
Before any admiral could arrive, Campbell convened a public trial.
Through live Den Den Mushi broadcasts, the spectacle was transmitted to every corner of the world.
Before countless witnesses, Saint Charlos was pronounced guilty.
And executed.
The guillotine fell.
Blood sprayed like a fountain.
The world froze.
People screamed.
Some fainted outright.
Others trembled—not from fear of Campbell, but from dread of the retribution that would surely follow.
Unthinkable.
Those were Celestial Dragons—living gods in the eyes of the world.
And yet… one had been judged.
And killed.
A hole had been torn in the heavens.
The admirals who arrived moments too late wore expressions darker than thunderclouds.
Failure to protect a Celestial Dragon was an unforgivable sin.
Worse still, the execution had been public.
Alongside them, the God's Knights—enforcers of the Celestial Dragons' divine authority—burned with quiet fury.
Charlos was useless, yes.
But his public trial shattered something far more important:
The illusion of divinity.
For centuries, the Celestial Dragons had claimed godhood.
Now, before the entire world, the executioners of the mortal realm had declared:
Gods can bleed.
Gods can die.
From this moment on, who would still kneel?
Before the execution, the God's Knights had secretly authorized CP units in Sabaody:
If rescue fails… kill Charlos.
Yet every CP strike failed.
Bullets passed through harmlessly.
Blades struck nothing.
Charlos—and the Executioners surrounding him—behaved like phantoms.
Some suspected projections.
Illusions.
But the Vivre Card told another story.
It still pointed precisely to the execution ground.
Vivre Cards never lie.
And yet… detection was blocked.
For the first time, the World Government realized something horrifying:
The Earthly Executor possessed a technology—or power—that could override even the Vivre Card.
With no alternatives left, the Navy and CP could only watch.
And swear vengeance.
Only by bringing the Earthly Executor to justice could they begin to atone for their failure.
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