Sabaody Archipelago, Grove 1.
On the wide boulevard outside the Human Auction House, the silence was so heavy it made the skin crawl. The once-bustling crowd, from cutthroat pirates to arrogant mobsters, was now kneeling in a perfect, terrified line on either side of the street. Not a soul dared to breathe loudly.
In the center of the road, three figures dressed in bloated, white suits swaggered along.
The man in the lead wore a transparent bubble helmet, a heavy iron chain gripped in his hand. At the other end of that chain was a bloodied pirate captain, forced to crawl through the mud like a beaten dog.
"Crawl faster, you lowly mongrel! How dare you dirty my boots!"
Saint Charlos yanked the chain with a sharp jerk. He pulled a gold-inlaid flintlock from his waist and, with a casual bang, fired a shot into the pirate's leg.
"Ah!" The captain let out a shrill, agonizing scream, but in the face of the World Nobles, he didn't even dare to resist. He simply dragged his shattered limb through the dirt and continued forward.
Behind Charlos, his father, Saint Rosward, and his sister, Saint Shalria, watched the kneeling masses with expressions of profound disgust. A phalanx of Marine soldiers and black-clad bodyguards flanked them, their eyes scanning for the slightest hint of disrespect.
"Revolting. The air is thick with the stench of these low-lifes." Saint Shalria kicked a civilian who had knelt too far forward, her nose wrinkling behind her glass dome. "Why hasn't the auction begun? I'm eager to purchase a few strong Fishman slaves for the palace."
As the sickening procession moved forward, two tall figures at the end of the street remained standing. They didn't kneel. They didn't bow. Instead, they walked straight toward the Nobles with rhythmic, steady steps.
Ace and Sabo.
"Hey! You two! Commoners!"
A black-clad bodyguard immediately spotted the anomaly. He drew his blade, pointing it at them with a snarl. "The World Noble lords are present! Kneel immediately! Do you wish to be executed?!"
Ace stopped. His cold gaze swept over the figures in the bubble helmets. In his previous life, he had felt a detached disgust for these "gods" from behind a screen. But seeing them now—seeing human beings treated like vermin while the world watched in silence—a hidden, violent streak in his marrow began to surge.
"Sabo," Ace said. His voice was low, but it carried to every corner of the street. "What color do you think the blood of a 'god' is?"
Sabo's hand tightened on his alloy staff, a long-suppressed fury igniting in his eyes. "I don't know. But I'd really like to find out."
Saint Charlos stopped, his stupid, snot-streaked face contorting with rage. He raised his flintlock, aiming it squarely at Ace's head.
"You lowly trash! How dare you speak such heresy against the Creators! Die—"
Bang!
Before the trigger could be fully pulled, a high-speed blur tore through the air.
Sabo appeared before the Noble like a vengeful ghost. His staff whistled as it swung in a brutal arc, slamming directly into the transparent resin of the bubble helmet.
Crack!
The helmet shattered into a thousand shards. Saint Charlos's bloated frame was hit with the force of a high-speed locomotive. Half of his face deformed instantly, and he was launched like a cannonball, crashing through a stone wall dozens of meters away.
Silence. Absolute, terrifying silence.
The crowd kneeling on the sidewalk looked up, their eyes bulging with a horror that defied words. That blonde youth... what had he just done?
He had just sent a World Noble flying.
"Charlos!!!" Saint Rosward shrieked, his voice cracking with terror and rage. "Kill him! Tear these commoners to pieces! Call a Marine Admiral immediately!!!"
The bodyguards and Marines finally snapped out of their shock, frantically raising their rifles and charging.
Ace didn't even look at the fodder. He simply raised his right hand and issued a command into the mental link. Thanks to the power of Carina's Communication Fruit, his voice rang clearly in the mind of every officer.
"Everyone, assemble at Grove 1. Now."
Ace's voice was a calm, cold broadcast. "I've prepared some training sandbags for you. You have three minutes. The first to arrive gets first crack at the World Nobles."
Far away in Grove 24, Leona stopped mid-haggling, her hand instinctively going to her hilt. "Celestial Dragons? The Captain certainly knows how to entertain."
In Grove 33, Shark—who had been staring blankly at a ferris wheel—felt a murderous light erupt in his triangular eyes. "Gods, is it? An exciting target."
At the docks of Grove 41, Jeno laughed as he ripped a gear set from the wreckage of the candy ship. The thrusters on his back ignited, and he streaked into the sky.
"Fire! Kill them all!"
On the street, a hundred rifles roared. A leaden rain of bullets and shells converged on Ace and Sabo.
Boom!
A violent pillar of blue-white lightning descended from the heavens, charring a dozen soldiers in a heartbeat. Enel landed beside Ace, his golden staff crackling with electricity.
"Yahahaha! I'm the first, Ace!"
A split second later, a peerless blade of sword-qi slashed through the air, cleaving both the bodyguards and their weapons in half. Leona stood there, her red ponytail snapping in the wind, her gaze that of a butcher eyeing a side of beef.
"Sorry, Captain. I ran into a few distractions."
With a heavy thud, Shark landed nearby, casually crushing the throat of a bounty hunter who had tried to block his path.
In less than three minutes, the Eclipse Pirates had assembled—a line of monsters with a combined bounty exceeding three billion berries, standing defiantly before the rulers of the world.
Saint Rosward and Saint Shalria collapsed, their legs turning to water. They finally recognized the man at the front. The 1.5 billion berry nightmare. The Outlier.
"You... you pirates... do you have any idea what you're doing?!" Shalria screamed, her voice trembling. "If you touch us, an Admiral will burn this island to the ground!"
"An Admiral? Perfect." Ace stood with his hands in his pockets, looking down at them. "Listen up, boys."
His voice carried the weight of an unquestionable decree.
"These two trash heaps, and the one in the wall, are yours. Those of you without Conqueror's Haki—take turns. I want to see if treading on these 'gods' can forge the spirit I need from you."
The remaining pirates and civilians in the area felt their minds break.
Using World Nobles as sandbags to train their resolve? This wasn't just lawless. This was the utter destruction of the World Government's foundation.
"Wuhahaha! This monk loves a good funeral rite!"
Urouge stepped forward first. His mountain-like shadow swallowed Saint Rosward.
"Don't... don't come closer! I am a descendant of the Creators!" Rosward blubbered, backing away.
"Creators?" A twisted, ecstatic laugh split Urouge's face. "Under this monk's fists, all living beings are equal!"
Boom!
The Mad Monk's fist, as large as a boulder, smashed ruthlessly into Saint Rosward's face.
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