Just as the tense proposal concerning the Road Poneglyph hung unresolved between Gern Reginald Sigmar and BIG MOM—
"Who was it…"
A low, icy voice drifted in from not far away, slicing cleanly through the fragile equilibrium.
Instinctively, every gaze shifted away from Gern and BIG MOM, turning toward the source.
Among the gathered Charlotte siblings—where several of them were supporting the unconscious Perospero—the crowd parted like a tide rolling back from the shore.
A tall, upright figure stepped forward with measured, heavy strides, each footfall carrying a palpable pressure.
He had striking amaranth-red hair cropped short. His muscular frame was powerful yet perfectly proportioned, long legs lending him an almost statuesque presence. Around his neck draped a uniquely styled white scarf. His attire bore a strong black punk-metal aesthetic.
In his hand, he gripped a massive, gleaming trident—Mogura.
But what drew the eye most were his sharp eyes, now flickering with an ominous red light. They swept across the battlefield before locking onto the unfamiliar figure at its center.
Then he repeated his question, voice calm and low.
"Who defeated Perospero?"
The moment the words fell, it was as though cold water had been splashed into boiling oil—igniting the emotions of every Charlotte family member present.
"Brother Katakuri!!!"
The shout burst forth almost in unison—filled with reliance, reverence, and the desperate relief of finding their pillar of support.
The panic and unease stirred by Gern's intrusion and their mother's fury seemed to find sudden refuge in his arrival.
The man who had stepped forward was none other than the second son of Emperor BIG MOM, Charlotte Linlin. The Minister of Flour of Totto Land. The highest-ranking combatant of the BIG MOM Pirates.
The foremost of the "Sweet Commanders."
The true right hand of the Emperor.
The unquestioned core and pillar of the Charlotte Family.
Renowned for his supreme mastery of Armament Haki and his top-tier Observation Haki capable of glimpsing the future—hailed as a man who had never tasted defeat in his life.
He was the Charlotte Family's greatest masterpiece.
The most beloved and trusted elder brother in the hearts of all his siblings.
With a bounty of 1,057,000,000 Berries—
Charlotte Katakuri.
The instant he appeared, the atmosphere shifted. Even the suffocating tension between BIG MOM and Gern was momentarily diluted by his presence.
Katakuri's gaze cut through the crowd and fixed directly on Gern. His voice rang out again, cold and steady.
"Was it you…?"
At the moment the tension tightened once more under Katakuri's arrival, Cracker stood nearby, his expression dark as he watched his seemingly flawless brother.
By all rights, he should have immediately warned Katakuri that the man in the black shirt before him was Gern Reginald Sigmar.
But a faint, almost imperceptible sneer tugged at the corner of his lips. He swallowed the words that rose to his throat.
And chose to watch in silence.
Meanwhile, BIG MOM, seeing her most prized son step forward, allowed a meaningful smile to spread across her massive face.
"Oh? Katakuri's here."
The words sounded casual, but the warning beneath them was unmistakable.
She was telling Gern: however powerful you may be, you are alone—deep within Totto Land.
If my commanders continue to gather and form a siege, then regardless of who wins this clash, there will be nothing advantageous about this for you.
Gern naturally caught the unspoken message.
He answered with nothing more than a faint, disdainful chuckle.
"Oh? Katakuri…" Gern said, as though only just noticing someone behind him. He turned slightly, his calm gaze settling on the towering figure.
"The man hailed as the Charlotte Family's greatest masterpiece?"
A trace of amusement crept into his voice.
"I've heard of you from Enel. He said your Observation Haki has been honed to a level even he couldn't help but admire—that you can 'see' things others could never reach…"
His tone gradually cooled. His eyes sharpened.
"Then why don't you use those future-seeing eyes of yours to take a good look…"
Before he even finished speaking—
"Bzzzz—"
A killing intent so refined, so frigid, so purely lethal surged from Gern.
Not scattered.
Not wild.
It was focused—precise—entirely directed at Katakuri alone.
At the exact instant that killing intent brushed against him, Katakuri's Observation Haki—trained to its absolute peak—flared into action with unprecedented urgency.
But what he "saw" was not a smooth, continuous vision of the future.
Instead—
It was a series of heart-stopping fragments.
A pair of cold eyes igniting in the darkness, glowing crimson.
A black blade of light tearing through space, wrapped in crackling dark-purple Conqueror's lightning.
And—
His own head separating from his body.
Blood spraying into the air.
"—Ha!"
Katakuri's pupils contracted violently. A sharp gasp tore from his throat before he could stop it.
His body moved before thought could intervene.
Within the infinitesimal fraction of a second in which that vision of death flashed across his mind, both legs exploded with power. The ground beneath him shattered as he launched backward like a spring compressed to its absolute limit.
He retreated with the fastest speed of his life—desperately widening the distance between himself and Gern.
"Boom!"
Katakuri landed heavily, gripping Mogura with both hands. In a single fluid motion, he assumed his strongest combat stance.
His chest rose and fell violently. His breathing turned coarse. Fine beads of sweat had already formed along his forehead.
Those sharp eyes—eyes that could see the future—were now filled with unprecedented gravity and shock as they locked onto Gern, who had not moved a single step from where he stood.
"Something wrong, 'masterpiece'?" Gern asked softly, a faint smile still resting on his lips.
"Did you glimpse an inconvenient future?"
Katakuri swallowed hard, forcing down the tremor in his chest. His voice emerged dry.
"Just now… at that distance…"
He paused, steadying his breath.
"If he had wanted to kill me… I would have… already died once."
He inhaled deeply, then repeated with clear-eyed recognition born from staring directly into terror.
"This man… is terrifyingly strong."