"Shut up! As a righteous Marine, how could I possibly believe the words of pirates like you!"
Crocodile snarled through gritted teeth, her voice growing louder and more intense.
If nothing else, now that she'd returned to her female form, her voice was certainly much clearer than the deep, smoky rasp she'd had as a man.
Though with her constant cigar-smoking, who knew how long that would last.
"Ahem… Crocodile, don't overdo the performance."
Suddenly, Michael's voice rang in Crocodile's ear. She turned reflexively and saw a pair of sacred, immense white wings flapping. Michael was now floating right beside her.
"You finally took care of it?"
"Yeah, it's done." Michael casually held up a massive glass jar nearly the height of a person. "Next up, the real show begins."
With that, he no longer whispered to Crocodile but instead raised his voice and proclaimed to the sky:
"Vinsmoke Judge, as a Marine, I hereby arrest you on charges of crimes against humanity!"
Michael's voice echoed across the entire Saint Germain, deafening in its volume, but no one answered.
Not even Vinsmoke Judge himself.
Crimes against humanity?
What kind of charge was that?
Did such a thing even exist in the laws of the World Government?
...
As Michael's words echoed, the grand gates of the Germa royal palace swung open, and another caterpillar tank rumbled out from within.
At the wheel was the Queen's maid, Époni.
Seated behind her on the throne were Vinsmoke Sora, flanked by the two young children, Reiju and Sanji.
The two little ones gripped Sora's hands tightly, one on each side, as if to lend their mother strength through their touch.
"S-Sora?!" Vinsmoke Judge's brow furrowed at once. "What are you doing?! Isn't your body in no condition to leave your room? Get back to the ward at once!"
"I know my body better than anyone," Sora said with a cold snort, lifting her head and smiling. "Go back to the ward and wait to die? And watch you turn my children into war machines born only to serve your ambition?"
"They are my children! Princes and princesses of Germa 66! Becoming the strongest weapons of war is the royal destiny of the Germa line!"
Judge's fury surged, as though long repressed. Perhaps it was the sight of his seemingly revitalized wife, or perhaps it was her repeated defiance after years of obedience.
First, she had taken powerful medication, interfering with the lineage factor modifications on Sanji.
And now, she had appeared in public, openly going against his will!
But at that moment, Michael's voice drifted gently into Judge's ear.
"If you really believe that modifying lineage factors and erasing emotions makes someone strong… then why haven't you erased your own emotions?" Michael's tone sounded curious—mocking, even. "Can't do it? Or don't want to? Because without emotions, you'd never again feel the thrill of ruling or conquering, would you?"
His words pierced Judge's heart like a razor-sharp arrow.
"This so-called erasure of emotion is just a lie."
"If it were truly as good as you claim, why haven't you used it on yourself?" Michael sneered. "Tch… It's just that deep down, even you don't want to erase your emotions. You know that without them, you're nothing more than a tool."
With a single sentence, Michael tore apart Judge's carefully maintained facade.
Mad scientist? Seeker of ultimate power?
All just excuses to make domination easier.
How dull.
Michael shook his head and tossed the jar of pale green liquid into the air. The jar shattered mid-air.
In the next instant, a brilliant burst of Holy Light enveloped the floating liquid.
"I know you can't accept the truth."
"But sadly, humans must live in reality."
"And now, I will shatter your narrow fantasy—"
"And make the Germa Kingdom a nation of true people once more."
As he spoke, Michael extended his hand, merging the Holy Light with the liquid perfectly.
The glowing liquid merged with the Holy Light in the air and descended upon the Saint Germain as a silent, life-giving rain.
At first, all the clone soldiers instinctively moved to defend against it.
But soon, they realized…
It really was just a strange kind of rain.
It caused no harm—on the contrary, it was healing their wounds, mending their bodies.
As the faint green droplets landed on their skin, seeping into their flesh and coursing through their bodies…
The unwavering, emotionless resolve in their eyes finally wavered. And something never meant to appear in them…
Doubt.
Where did we come from? Where are we going?
Why must we give everything—even our lives—for Vinsmoke Judge without question?
Why do we look so alike, all of us?
Why, at his command, have we always thrown ourselves in front of him like living shields?
Why? Why? Why?
Michael watched the shift in the clone soldiers with a slight smile tugging at his lips.
Back in Judge's lab, he had originally planned to reverse-engineer a cure to the emotional suppression with Sora's help.
But things hadn't gone as planned.
Judge may be an idiot, but his research into lineage factors was more precise than solid gold.
Still, in the lab, they had found something even better...
The powerful drug Sora had once taken to counteract the effects of the lineage factor modifications.
It had been diluted—then released as Tranquil Rain over the entire Saint Germain.
After all, their goal wasn't to completely undo every modification.
They just needed to help the clone soldiers recover their emotions—and erase the command embedded in their lineage factors: absolute obedience to the Vinsmoke family.
The diluted drug in Michael's jar was exactly that.
As the Tranquil Rain came to an end, the clone soldiers no longer stood in rigid formation like machines in human skin.
Instead, they exchanged confused glances, their eyes filled with something they'd never shared before.
They looked into one another's eyes—and saw something completely unfamiliar.
Something they didn't understand.
"Damn it! Clone army, obey my command!"
The clone soldiers all turned to look at Vinsmoke Judge again as he barked his order.
They didn't know what this scorching emotion flowing through their hearts was.
But Michael knew.
"This… is rage."
"The rage of the enslaved—awakened."
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