Ritter rested his chin on his hand, listening with a faint, almost leisurely smile. Blood-mist curled around his fingertips, occasionally brushing against his combat suit with a soft, sizzling hiss.
"Quite an amusing little toy." He suddenly placed his hand on the Judge's shoulder. "But do you know why I am more interested in your so-called bloodline factor?"
The Judge's entire body stiffened.
"B-because..." His Adam's apple bobbed as cold sweat slid down his temple. The human experiments he tried to hide, the cruel genetic alterations done to his own children, the countless clone soldiers who died miserably in the process... everything flashed before his eyes like a frantic reel of memories.
Ritter leaned close to his ear, his voice soft and serpentine.
"The next time you report to me, if you hide anything again..." Blood-mist suddenly wrapped around the Judge's throat. "I'll throw you into a cultivation chamber and let you personally experience what a 'perfect modification' feels like."
The Judge's pupils shrank to needlepoints. His mouth opened, but only a hoarse rasp escaped.
"Now..." Ritter released him and lounged lazily on the throne. "Prepare a complete research report. Including how you turned your own sons into... failures."
A salty, blood-tinged breeze swept across the deck. The Judge collapsed to his knees, staring at his trembling hands. Hands that once built armies, rewrote genes, and dreamt of conquering the North Blue. Now, they trembled with an undeniable truth:
He had never been in control.
He had simply exchanged one master for another. A sharper, far more terrifying one.
As for the bloodline factor, Ritter had held many different opinions in his past life. So far, one thing was certain: Germa did use it to clone soldiers. In simple terms, it was genetic manipulation, but Ritter doubted that explanation. After all, artificial Devil Fruits were also products of bloodline factor research, and people had never truly gained full control over them. Oh, and of course, there was always the possibility that Caesar's technology was just terrible.
But if that were true, how would you explain Spandam's elephant sword? Or Crocodile's underling who wielded a gun that ate a dog Zoan? Call that gene-modding? Please. Look at Ritter's blood-mist. These weapons didn't even have meat to modify.
The Judge steadied himself and looked up. "Lord Ritter, is there anything you require of me? Please allow me to prove my worth. I want to serve you."
Ritter tapped the arm of his throne, blood-mist swirling around him as though it were thinking on its own. The Judge bowed so low his sweat almost dripped onto the floor.
"I've heard your technology is quite advanced."
"I can uncover anything my lord needs."
Suddenly, Ritter spoke.
"Show your worth. I need you to complete two tasks."
The Judge straightened, eyes flashing with the fanatic determination unique to research maniacs. His mind raced through weapon prototypes. Energy cannons? Upgraded battle suits? Perhaps
"First," Ritter raised one finger, "a fully functional cradle. With protective features."
"You can rest assured, my weapons never come into contact with blood... blood? A cradle?"
The Judge froze mid-sentence.
"...A cradle?" His voice trembled, unsure whether he misheard, and unwilling to accept it, he repeated it again.
"Yes. A cradle." Ritter repeated lazily. "It needs to be bulletproof, fireproof, shock-resistant, ideally with automatic rocking, soothing lullabies, and a temperature-regulation system. And it should defend itself. Even if I toss it into the desert or the ocean, the baby inside must remain safe and comfortable."
A long, painful twitch tugged at the Judge's mouth. He opened and closed it several times, but all he managed was a dry, "Yes, Lord Ritter."
Nearby, Enel chuckled under his breath, while Moria's belly shook with suppressed laughter. "Hehehe... A new research subject for the scientist?"
The Judge's face burned red, but Ritter ignored his embarrassment. From the blood-mist, Ritter drew a long blade, a replica of Ace of Spades.
"Second," Ritter tossed the sword to the Judge, "design a sheath that can switch between gun, cannon, and sword forms within half a second."
The Judge scrambled to catch it, visibly relieved to return to familiar territory. He stroked the blade, mind already assembling mechanical schematics at frightening speed.
"No problem, Lord Ritter! Germa's technology will accomplish it flawlessly!"
Ritter nodded. Several white-cloaked technicians emerged from the blood-mist and stood respectfully behind the Judge.
"They're yours to command," Ritter said coolly. "How long will you need?"
The Judge straightened and accepted the tasks solemnly. Yet he could not stop himself from muttering, "...May I ask who the cradle is for?"
Ritter glanced at him. The blood-mist in his palm condensed into the silhouette of a tiny infant, then dispersed.
"Care to guess?"
The Judge: "..."
He decided he would stop asking questions forever.
"My lord, I will begin immediately! The cradle will take one week. The weapon... longer. Forgive me."
Ritter nodded. "Take your time with the weapon, but the cradle must be perfect. And we'll need several."
The Judge left with the replica weapon and an armful of cradle blueprints, his posture filled with the quiet tragedy of a mad scientist forced to develop baby products. And unfortunately, this was not a metaphor.
Moria slapped his thigh. "Hehehe... Make sure those cradles are well-built. Very important!"
Enel scratched his ear, unimpressed. "Boring." Though his smirk betrayed amusement.
Ritter leaned back on the throne, his eyes half-hidden behind drifting blood-mist.
"Alright. Playtime is over. Go do your jobs." He waved lazily, then pointed at Reiju. "She'll arrange your accommodations. This girl has no observational skills at all."
As for why he chose Reiju? Simple. Compared to the others, the little girl was far more perceptive.
Reiju held her hands together nervously. "This way, please, my lord." Though outwardly calm, fear lingered in her eyes.
Ritter nodded. Good. Fear was healthy.
For the next few days, while waiting for Judge to fulfill his tasks, Ritter's group stayed in a side hall of Germa.
Why the side hall?
You'd have to ask Moria and Enel. Ritter told them not to damage any laboratories since they would all belong to him soon. So naturally, they caused chaos in the living quarters instead, running wild until the place was uninhabitable. Which was how they ended up in the side hall.