Thirteen years ago, a man named Fisher Tiger made history on the sea.
A Fish-Man adventurer and pioneer, he was the first to scale the Red Line barehanded. Upon witnessing the horrors inflicted by the Celestial Dragons and the suffering of countless enslaved races, he led a bold uprising.
He set fire to the Holy Land of Mary Geoise, liberated thousands of slaves, and proclaimed the ideal of equality among all races. His actions birthed the legend of the Sun Pirates—and forever changed the fate of Boa Hancock, earning her a seat among the Seven Warlords of the Sea.
But in the years that followed, the Celestial Dragons retaliated with cruelty. They bought and captured even more slaves, and their torture grew more inhumane.
For over a decade, people had longed for a second Fisher Tiger—someone to rise again and lead the oppressed from their chains.
Could that person now be Ignyr?
"Save... you guys? Are you talking about your parents?"
The Avenger looked at the young boy's sincere face. His eyes sparkled—clear, untainted.
Ignyr followed the child through the corridor to the place the boy called "home." The environment was heartbreaking.
Every shattered object, every corner of the squalid shelter, brought back memories of Yuni—the mother of Ignyr, Princess Nefertari—who had been treated as less than human.
Experiencing the brutal reality of this underground slave world firsthand made Ignyr's empathy deepen. The similarity to his mother's past stirred something raw within him.
"I don't have parents," the boy said, smiling with fragile innocence. "Everyone here is my family."
To him, this hellish slave pit was filled with parents, brothers, and sisters.
His words reminded Ignyr of the late Whitebeard—the strongest man in the world—who saw all his orphaned crew as his sons. That vision of found family, of bonds beyond blood, was something truly enviable.
Had Ignyr grown up in a place like this, surrounded by companionship and purpose... would his path have turned out differently?
"Go wake everyone. Bring them here."
Ignyr had rescued the boy from the manor and followed him through a secret tunnel into this underground world. Along the way, his mind had been a storm of memories.
But the decision had already been made. The method of dealing with these slaves—this wasn't an emotional whim. It was one more necessary step on the road to vengeance.
"Okay!" the boy shouted joyfully. He didn't understand the depth of Ignyr's words—he simply accepted them with hope.
Born in the shadows of Mary Geoise, the boy had known nothing but endless labor. He had no father, no mother, but the slaves of many races had filled those roles.
Despite their shared misery, he had never given up. The pain only strengthened his longing—for freedom, for the ocean, for the world beyond the dungeon.
"Uncle, wake up!"
"Sis, come with me!"
"Get up, you little crybaby! I'm gonna take you outside!"
The boy sprinted through the twisting corridors of the underground workshop, his legs filled with strength he never knew he had.
He woke one slave after another, dragging them along, pulling them toward the one person he believed could bring salvation.
The crowd grew larger and larger. A tidal wave of desperate people filled the tunnels, driven by a hope they'd never felt before.
"Hah… Hah… Everyone's here, big bro!"
Panting heavily, sweat dripping from his chin, the boy's eyes glowed with a light bright enough to cut through the gloom.
"Can you really save us?"
"Haha! Thank the heavens—we're finally free!"
"You're our savior, truly!"
The slaves cheered as though the sun had risen underground. The older ones saw Ignyr as a second coming of Fisher Tiger.
Then, Ignyr raised his voice—loud, clear, slicing through the crowd's celebration.
"My mother… was a slave too."
His words fell over the crowd like a blanket.
In every liberation, there comes a speech. One that shakes the soul, sparks fire in the chest, and stirs tears of pain and rage.
Ignyr's voice trembled—not with fear, but with feeling.
"I came to the Holy Land not just to mourn… but to avenge my mother. To destroy slavery!"
The crowd erupted, the air thundered with applause and cheers. But when the noise faded, Ignyr spoke again.
And this time, the words were strange. Cold.
"All of you here should die with the system."
(Bro's going to Hell, No shades😂)
A silence heavier than stone fell over the corridor. Not a single voice remained.
Confusion. Shock.
The slaves looked around at one another, their expressions frozen. Some turned toward the boy who brought them here—but even he had no answers.
They had seen Ignyr's hands shine with light, divine and pure. They thought they saw salvation.
"This… is true deliverance."
A glowing white aura expanded around Ignyr. The slaves whispered in confusion, clinging to slivers of hope.
They didn't know that from the moment he met the boy, saw the darkness of this place, and recalled his mother's pain—Ignyr had made his decision.
Every piece of debris, every exhausted face reminded him of Yuni.
The memories grew heavier. The sorrow became rage. And there was only one way to silence the torment in his heart—
To erase every trace of her suffering from the world.
They could know everything about Ignyr, even his deepest secrets—because none of them would live to speak of it.
Without another word, and under the wide-eyed gaze of the boy and the gathered crowd, Ignyr raised his glowing white fist.
Then, he struck the ground.
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