Totto Land—the absolute heart of the kingdom, the seat of the Four Emperors' authority—Cake Island, where the grand palace of Big Mom, Charlotte Linlin, rose like a monument to gluttony and power.
At this very moment, the entire island was drowning in sweet, jubilant chaos.
To welcome the grand tea party, the vast plaza before the castle had been transformed into something straight out of a fairy tale. Decorations crafted entirely from food filled every corner—candy archways, chocolate fountains, macaron towers stacked higher than a man. Cheerful music soared into the sky, mingling with laughter and clinking porcelain.
Representatives from Totto Land's many unique islands, along with select "distinguished guests," reveled in the feast of desserts laid out before them.
Unlike the tea party that would one day be held for Sanji and Pudding's politically charged wedding—thick with tension and hidden schemes—this gathering bore no such undercurrents. When no arranged marriage was at stake, Big Mom's tea parties were less diplomatic events and more extravagant stages upon which she indulged her authority, basking in flattery like a monarch playing house with the world as her toy.
Yes, the ever-present fear of her sudden hunger pangs still lurked in the back of every guest's mind—but for now, the atmosphere remained relatively relaxed.
Yet while laughter and sweetness reigned before the castle, the port told a very different story.
Overseeing the coordination and reception of specialty confections shipped in from the surrounding islands were the Charlotte Family's twelfth son, Transport Minister Charlotte Nusstorte, and the thirteenth son, Charlotte Basskarte.
At this moment, the two officers stood rigid at the edge of the dock, cold sweat streaming down their foreheads. Their eyes were locked on a lone figure approaching slowly from the distance.
All around them, dozens of elite soldiers and Homies who had been responsible for security and unloading cargo now lay collapsed on the ground.
There had been no screams. No sounds of battle.
It was as if some invisible force had stripped their consciousness away in an instant.
They lay sprawled in eerie uniformity, clearly felled at the exact same moment by an overwhelmingly powerful burst of Conqueror's Haki.
And the source of it all was walking toward them now.
Step by deliberate step, he advanced along the candy-paved avenue connecting the port to the island's interior.
No coat. Just a black shirt that clashed violently against the island's saccharine aesthetic. A blade wrapped in white cloth rested at his waist. His posture was straight, his stride steady, his face utterly devoid of expression.
But what truly shattered Nusstorte and Basskarte's composure—
Was the man's hand.
Because dangling from it—dragged like a dead dog across the ground—was their eldest brother…
The Candy Minister, Charlotte Perospero.
Perospero's signature long tongue lolled lifelessly from his mouth, swaying faintly with each jolt of movement. His pale yellow coat scraped against the hardened candy surface, producing a grating, sandpaper-like rasp that clawed at the nerves.
Clack… drag… clack… drag…
The sound of footsteps interwoven with the scrape of a body being pulled echoed through the deathly silent harbor.
Each step felt as though it crushed down directly onto the hearts of the two younger brothers.
They watched him draw nearer.They watched their eldest brother—reduced to a limp rag doll—trail helplessly behind him.They watched their fallen comrades scattered across the dock.
Their minds went blank, a single thought spinning wildly in the void.
Brother Perospero… lost?
Who is this man?
As Gern Reginald Sigmar approached, dragging their unconscious brother behind him, Nusstorte and Basskarte finally forced their bodies to move.
"S-Stop right there!" Nusstorte shouted, terror clawing at his throat as he yanked his sword free and pointed it forward with trembling hands. "Release Brother Perospero!"
"This is Totto Land!!"
Beside him, Basskarte snapped out of his shock with a roar. Flames erupted from his hands—whether from Devil Fruit power or racial ability hardly mattered now—as he assumed a battle stance.
"Intruder! Halt immediately!"
Gern's steps did not falter.
He did not even spare them a glance.
He simply continued forward, dragging Perospero behind him at the same measured pace.
The disregard was more insulting than any curse.
"Bastard!" Nusstorte's fury burned away his hesitation. He gripped his sword with both hands and lunged forward.
Basskarte roared and stepped in beside him.
But at the very instant their muscles tensed—
"BZZZNNNN—!!"
Gern did not raise a hand.
He did not shift his stance.
His eyes merely sharpened.
From the depths of his soul, an indescribable pressure detonated outward.
This was not the invisible, sweeping Conqueror's Haki he had used to clear the soldiers moments earlier. No—this time it condensed into something tangible.
Dark violet energy burst forth in a circular shockwave, visible to the naked eye as it rippled through the air like a violent distortion.
"BOOM—!!!"
There was no physical sound—yet it struck harder than thunder, shaking the very spirit.
The thin clouds drifting above the harbor were obliterated in an instant by the sheer force of will, scattered clean from the sky to reveal a flawless expanse of blue.
And standing at the epicenter of it—
Nusstorte and Basskarte bore the brunt.
Every shred of courage.Every ounce of strength.
Crushed.
"Thud."
"Thud."
Their knees buckled without resistance. They slammed down onto the dock, utterly unable to fight back. A heartbeat later, their bodies collapsed forward completely, sprawled face-down before Gern.
Consciousness blurred beneath a tidal wave of terror and domination. They could not lift a single finger. All that remained was the faint, uncontrollable trembling of their bodies.
Gern did not slow.
He did not look down.
Dragging the unconscious Perospero behind him, he walked past the fallen sons of Charlotte as if stepping over discarded debris.
The harbor fell into absolute silence.
...
At that same time, deep within the castle at the heart of Cake Island, the grand tea party continued in full splendor.
One of the Four Emperors, Big Mom—Charlotte Linlin—sat enthroned upon her specially crafted, extravagantly ornate seat.
Around her gathered her many children, administrators from various islands, and a select few invited guests. Smiles—some sincere, others dripping with sycophantic devotion—adorned every face. Laughter rose in time with the music, painting a scene of harmonious delight.
Big Mom herself was immersed in bliss.
Her massive frame leaned back comfortably, her enormous face creased into a grin of pure satisfaction. From the towering mountain of desserts beside her, she grabbed cakes, cream puffs, pastries of every shape and color—shoveling them into her cavernous mouth without even looking.
Chewing noises mingled with pleased hums.
"Mamamamama~! Such delicious sweets!"
And yet—
At the very moment the celebration seemed to crest—
Her hand froze midair.
A strawberry-topped cream cake hovered inches from her open mouth.
The smile stopped.
Her eyes, once narrowed to slits of indulgent delight, slowly opened. The lazy satisfaction evaporated in an instant.
Though distance had dulled it, her Kenbunshoku Haki had unmistakably caught it.
This was not Haki belonging to any of her children.
It was foreign.
Powerful.
And hostile.
Without a word to her confused offspring, Big Mom slowly turned her head toward the direction from which the Haki had originated.
Cake Island's port.
The smile on her face faded.
Around her, the once-boisterous music and laughter seemed to sense the sudden shift in atmosphere, gradually diminishing as an uneasy stillness spread.
Some of the more perceptive children had already paused, gazes grave and fixed toward the same direction.
"Mother…" Charlotte Compote ventured carefully, her voice tentative.
Big Mom ignored her.
She rose from her seat, staring toward the harbor.
Her voice, when it came, was no longer sweet.
"That Haki… Who is it?"