A man in a crisp black suit walked through a long marble hallway, each of his footsteps echoing faintly in the still air. His gloved hands were clasped behind his back as he murmured to himself.
"Heard some commotion up ahead... not sure if I should get involved. But I was supposed to deliver a message to Saint Harloss anyway... might as well."
Just as he reached the towering double doors of the chamber, they creaked open on their own. He stopped mid-step.
From the shadowed interior stepped out a figure in a celestial gown and a bubble helmet. Bald, with a crooked nose and features twisted just enough to make him unmistakably repulsive. He looked like every other Celestial Dragon the man had ever served, and yet... he had never seen this one before.
The suited man blinked, hesitating. "Uh... Hello."
The Celestial Dragon paused mid-step.
"...Did you just say 'Hello'?"
The servant straightened, suddenly unsure. "Yes, my apologies."
The Dragon tilted his head slightly, smiling pleasantly. "That isn't very respectful."
"Oh... of course. Forgive me, my Lord."
"Mmm," the Celestial Dragon hummed, smile unwavering. "Still not quite there. Little more respectful, if you please."
The man blinked again, more nervous now. "Most noble and gracious Saint, it is an honour to be in your presence."
The Celestial Dragon nodded slowly, the smile still stretched across his face. "Better. But I'm not feeling it."
"Um..."
The servant knelt, on one knee.
"Most noble, gracious and benevolent Saint..." Before he could even finish, the Saint turned, calmly walking back into the chamber.
The servant furrowed his brow, unsure whether to follow, wait or continue.
Seconds later, the Celestial Dragon returned.
With a chair.
He hurled it with surprising force.
CRASH
The man ducked, the chair slamming into the marble wall behind him with a loud crash.
He turned wide-eyed as the Celestial Dragon stood with arms crossed, one finger resting on his chin.
"Why do you suppose I just hurled a chair at you?"
"I-I don't know, my Lord."
The Celestial Dragon's smile faded.
He stormed toward the man, fast and without warning. The servant froze, afraid to breathe. The Celestial Dragon leaned in, inches from his face.
"Greet me again. And this time, look at me."
The man, trembling, obeyed. "Most gracious and exalted Saint, I humbly off--"
SLAP
A hard slap across the cheek.
The man recoiled, but didn't run.
"Again."
"M-My exalted--"
SLAP
"Again."
"Supreme Saint and--"
SLAP
"Was that respectful? Or disrespectful?"
"I--I don't know..."
"Keep going."
"Most h-humble--"
SLAP
"Your divine--"
SLAP
"S-Sa--"
SLAP
The man held his burning cheek, breathing heavily, on the verge of tears.
"Was that respectful? Or disrespectful?"
"D-Disrespectful."
"SO YOU DO KNOW THE DIFFERENCE!"
The celestial dragon straightened his back, expression tight as he continued.
"If you deliberately sabotage my honour...I will ride you across this holy land like a mule till your bones turn to dust."
The servant, cheeks red and breath shaky, gathered what courage he had left.
"M-My deepest apologies, O most revered Saint. I mean no disrespect, it's just... I have never had the divine privilege of beholding your sacred visage before today. Had I known, I would have prostrated myself at the mere echo of your footsteps, Your Radiance."
He bowed deeply, his spine practically snapping in half from the effort.
Apparently, he didn't feel even that was good enough either as he worked his way to the ground, forehead on the floor.
"Please, most illustrious beacon of celestial grace, allow this unworthy one to bask in your presence and rectify his blunder."
The Celestial Dragon stared at him for a long moment, then slowly raised one brow, clearly amused. "Hmph. Now that's the spirit."
The Celestial Dragon's face darkened as he stared at the bowed servant.
"Now, say my name."
"W-What..."
"Say my name."
'I-I don't know your name.' The servant thought to say but couldn't.
"Hm, maybe this will help."
The servant didn't even need to look up. The cold metal pressed on the back of his head was enough for him to gauge what was happening.
Not that it really did help.
He still didn't know.
He'd never seen this figure in his life...
VTZZZ
A second passed as the servant froze, eyes wide.
He slowly looked up.
He didn't know what it was, whether it was a vague memory that resurfaced or a moment of pure realisation, hell, it sort of felt like something just whispered in his ear, but he didn't care.
He simply had a single name on his mind.
"Saint Lupintheus Burglar Genius III."
The servant barely caught the Saint's expression as the latter retracted his golden pistol, a satisfied expression on his face.
"That is correct. Now, go get me someone more competent and spread the word of my arrival. I want a golden statue of myself built by sunset, commemorating this blessed day."
With this, the servant nodded, crawling away until he felt it was fine to stand, darting at full speed.
'That's a Celestial Dragon if I've ever seen one.'
As for the Celestial Dragon himself...
"Damn...that was fun. I hate to admit it, but our boy Harloss might be onto something."
The Celestial Dragon, or rather Dante, grinned in satisfaction, closing the door to the chamber as he witnessed both Harloss and Juniper dead, in a pool of their own blood.
Dante, or rather Saint Lupinthues Burglar Genius III, walked through the hallways, escorted by a different servant than the one before.
Additionally, two guards followed behind them.
None of them knew who he was, but considering the very clear caution warning given to them by the previous servant, whose face was still red and swollen when he met them, it was safe to say they were too scared to even ask.
Besides, each of them somehow knew the name of the figure without the latter having to introduce himself, so they were fine with treating the man as they would any other Celestial Dragon...no, better, for their own sake.
"And to think, all it took was a bald head, a few broken facial bones and a fat man's attire," Dante mused.
Meanwhile, the servant beside him was sweating bullets, doing his utmost to answer the stream of questions coming from the Saint—questions about the layout of the castle, the names of the corridors, and what time lunch was served. Everything.
Eventually, the servant, voice trembling and laced with anxiety, bowed ever so slightly and said with absurdly exaggerated reverence, "Most radiant and transcendent Saint of unparalleled wisdom, might I, in my boundless ignorance and eternal devotion, dare to inquire what divine reason compels one as exalted as yourself to grace only this humble castle with your boundless presence? Wouldn't your magnificence better illuminate the Garden that Saint Harloss so modestly paraded?"
Lupintheus turned his head slightly, lips curling. "I'll use your corpse as nutrients for the plants there if you don't stop asking me so many questions."
The servant paled. "M-My apologies, my Lord! I meant no disrespect!"
Before the poor man could sputter another word, Lupintheus turned sharply to one of the knights following behind.
He locked eyes with him, watched as the man's pupils dilated like a mouse caught in a snake's stare.
"You," Lupintheus said, his voice like silk over steel. "Name."
The knight stammered, barely able to get it out. "T-Tyburn, m-my Saint..."
The other knight quickly stepped in, trying to save face for his comrade. "Forgive him, Lord Lupintheus, Sir Tyburn is...a bit of a coward."
"Coward?" Lupintheus echoed with amused incredulity. "Then why pick up a sword?"
Tyburn, still rigid with fear, managed to speak with strained dignity. "B-Because it was either this...or being a marine, my Lord. I chose the safer path if such a thing can be said to exist before Your Radiance."
Lupintheus blinked, then snorted a laugh. 'Poor bastard,' he thought to himself.
'He's probably long since figured out this place is more dangerous than out there.'
"No matter," Lupintheus stated, turning back with a dismissive flick of his wrist, as though sparing Tyburn's life was a minor inconvenience in his afternoon schedule.
They finally reached a large metal twin door as the servant said, "We are finally here, my Lord."
There, waiting for them, were a few guards. Among them stood Sirena, who greeted Lupintheus with a respectful bow and introduced herself in a composed voice, "Sirena, commander of the second guard unit, at your service, O Radiant One."
Dante gave her a sideways glance. 'Well, this is a nice change of pace. Usually, you're tryna kill me.'
Beside her stood her second-in-command, a strikingly handsome blonde-haired man with sharp blue eyes. He stepped forward, placing a fist to his chest.
"Saint Lupintheus, it is an honour. I am Aldric, head guardsman of the armoury. I hold the only key to this place. This vault is only ever opened in times of dire emergency. We house here the finest weapons, to protect our Saint in the most desperate of times. Every castle has such a chamber, and I have sworn to guard this one with my life."
He chuckled lightly, though there was nervousness beneath it. "To be honest, I thought this might be a Code Pegasus. Immediate access, emergency deployment. You gave me quite the scare."
Lupintheus walked right past him, waving a hand dismissively. "My, my, such eloquent yapping. You must be the pride of the chatterbox academy."
Aldric blinked, visibly confused but unwilling to speak further.
The servant opened his mouth, curiosity getting the better of him. "If I may be so bold as to ask, my Lord, why exactly have you come to se—" He abruptly stopped, the words dying in his throat as his eyes caught a flicker of something in Lupintheus' expression.
A twitch of the brow, a slight narrowing of the eyes. That was enough. The servant swallowed hard and quickly looked away, silently cursing himself for nearly asking what could've been his last question.
The twin doors groaned open, the sheer weight of them made evident by the deep, resonating rumble they released as they parted.
What lay beyond was an expansive chamber, cavernous and dimly lit by flickering wall sconces.
Rows upon rows of weapon racks stretched across the floor, blades, spears, axes, and even ancient firearms, many of them ornately engraved, others wrapped in cloth or bound in seals as if dangerous to touch.
Massive halberds taller than a man leaned against reinforced steel walls.
A glaive carved from what looked like obsidian glinted ominously under the torchlight.
There were weapons shaped like nothing from this world, double-bladed crescents that hummed faintly with energy, gauntlets covered in rusted spikes that looked hungry for flesh, and bows strung with what could only be sinew from something not quite human.
A few shackles also lay in the corner, a dark hue of green painting them as the servant explained them to be "Seastone Handcuffs", something Lupintheus took note of.
Lupintheus stepped inside, his expression one of muted wonder.
He walked slowly, glancing over the different displays before something caught his eye.
On a pedestal near the far wall, encased in a glass box, sat a single dagger, jet black, its blade matte and smooth, contrasted by an elegant golden hilt shaped like twisted vines.
He stared at it, enraptured. "That one. What is it?"
The servant stepped cautiously beside him, voice hushed. "It's a black blade, my Lord. Said to have belonged to a legendary swordsman from ages past."
Lupintheus raised a brow. "A swordsman? Who? Varnak the Crimson Gale? Jurok of the Thousand Cuts? Maybe old Lady Grentha the Limb-Reaver?"
The servant blinked in confusion. "I... I'm afraid I don't know any of those names, my Lord."
Lupintheus rolled his eyes, remembering the era he was in. "Right. Forget I asked."
The servant continued, "In truth, no one knows who it belonged to. It has simply been a treasured artifact for decades. Saint Harloss purchased it during a Sabaody auction some years ago."
Lupintheus said nothing, too mesmerised by the blade to respond.
Lupintheus paused, a knowing smirk creeping across his lips. "Took him long enough," he muttered, eyes flicking back toward the entrance.
All heads turned to follow his gaze.
There, standing casually at the threshold, was a red-haired man.
The servant blinked in confusion before speaking. "S-Sir Shamrock?"
"You...I know..."
"Yeah, I know you know me. I'm still curious as to how. Hell, I still don't know how you keep figuring me out. But..." Dante looked to a small pocket watch he carried in his pocket, smirking.
"57 minutes. That's how long it takes you to finally notice and arrive. That's how long I have to prepare..."
The others began to step back upon hearing the Celestial Dragon speak those words.
Then, Lupintheus began to strip, seemingly snatching off all his clothes at once, revealing his bare body, nothing but a rag covering his waist.
With a wicked smirk, he raised his hand to his face, fingers twisting counterclockwise as he whispered, "Rewind."
With that single motion, his face began to shift. Bones cracked back into place, skin stretched tautly, his posture straightened, and jet-black hair spilled down from a once-bald scalp.
Any hint of what made him partly terrifying was replaced by youthful sharpness, and his eyes burned emerald.
What stood in place of the grotesque Celestial Dragon was a man, hand still on half his face, the other half revealing a wide grin, eyes turned crescent.
The knights drew their weapons, including Sirena whose expression turned tight as the servant darted behind them. As for Shamrock, he simply stared.
"Now then," he said, stretching his arms with audible pops, "I'll be honest, before that, I want to know more about you. I feel like this relationship is very one-sided, let me do my part too."
Dante revealed a golden gun, and before anyone could react...
VTZZZ
The colour from the surroundings seemingly faded as the air itself became heavy, as though he were underwater.
Dante wasted zero time, knowing that two seconds was akin to nothing.
Despite that, he was just about able to close the distance, drawing his gun and pulling the trigger...
BANG
With it, time returned to normal as...
"Huh..."
Dante froze, staring.
Where he expected blood, a hole in his opponent's brain and shock at his greatness all around, instead, his bullet passed through air.
Instead, Dante could only slowly dart his eyes to the side, witnessing Shamrock weave, locking his feet in a stance as he swung.
"What in the Mr Miyagi..."
CRACK!!!
A gut wrenching CRACK rang out as Shamrock's fist dug into Dante's ribs.
Dante shot through the air, slamming into the armoury wall, his eyes rolling to the back of his skull as some weapons dropped to the ground due to the ruckus.
"What a shame. You'd have made a fine treasure, considering the time you lived in. But knowledge is useless if you're mad."
"R-Really...I'd say it goes hand in hand." Dante somehow managed to mutter, hand on his ribs as he mumbled, "Rewind".
Just then, Dante lunged forward as if he were never hurt to begin with, charging at Shamrock with a wild grin.
BANG
The sound of Dante's gun hitting Shamrock's sheathed sword rang out as the latter's expression remained a stark contrast to the youth before him, solemn and stoic.
As for said youth...
BANG
BANG
BANG
BANG
Dante continued swinging, each one blocked swiftly.
His movements were erratic, almost animalistic, prompting Shamrock to audibly scoff, "What is this? A barbarian's tantrum?" Yet that arrogance was quickly tested.
Though Dante's attacks seemed wild, they were far from thoughtless. Every swing was calculated.
And as Shamrock continued being pushed back, one step, two steps, three steps then more.
The boy's attacks were relentless, ten steps ahead as each one of the red-haired man's blocks were met with another attack that tested his balance.
'The way he fights...a Devil Fruit? Haki? No, seems more like...experience...experience that doesn't account with his age. Either way...'
"You fight like you act. Annoying." Shamrock scoffed, this part of Dante's style sticking out the most.
"And you fight like you act. A snob." Dante replied with the same grin, noting Shamrock's effortless defence, almost mockingly so.
"A snob? Hmph, you've been gone for a long time, boy. A lot has changed since you've been away."
Shamrock leapt away, creating distance as he paused for a second, raising his free hand.
"This is Marie Geoise," Shamrock declared, "The sacred land where the finest of humanity reside. Where bloodlines are untainted and purpose divine. We do not mingle with the filth of the lower world, we reign above it."
He raised his arm, as though presenting a holy shrine. "Is it any wonder we dwell so high in the sky? So close to the heavens themselves? It is our rightful place, above the rabble, above the chaos. We are the greatest of mankind, chosen by the world itself."
"The lower world only exists to amuse us. If they crawl, we laugh. If they scream, we cheer. And if they disobey... we simply erase them."
"What you call 'Snob' is simply Heavenly Pride."
Dante smirked, scoffing.
"Funny, you say that like this place isn't just a taller pile of shit with better curtains. But keep talking, I need something to laugh at while I rearrange your smug little halo."
Shamrock stared, quiet. Then...
BANG
He leapt off his feet, closing the distance between the two as he swung his sheathed sword.
"I just want you to know, I'd have destroyed you ages ago, had my body been in its prime."
It was slow, hard to move and as the numbness of the ice began to fade, his body began to twitch and ache all over.
It was getting harder to control smaller parts of his body like his fingers and hands.
Therefore...
'Work with me, gravity, my friend...'
Dante's body moved with a peculiar kind of grace.
He dodged not by leaping or dancing but by collapsing, letting himself drop like dead weight just enough for a sword to whizz past him, catching his balance in the final millisecond.
Shamrock did the same as he recovered quickly, swinging once again, only for Dante's gun to appear lazily hung in the air, in the path of the sword until...
BANG
The two weapons hit each other, Dante's arm shot back, the interference of his gun acting as just enough of a detour for the sword to barely pass him as he dropped.
This continued on a few more times, neither side landing any attacks. Well...that was until...
VTZZZ
Dante's figure glitched, a brief distortion of space and colour, and then reappeared right beside Shamrock...a familiar black blade in his hand.
Before anyone could even breathe, a slash was carved clean across the noble's eye.
Shamrock reeled back, hissing in pain as blood spewed.
"Sorry," Dante smirked, cocking the gun. "Was aiming for the other one."
Dante didn't stop. With a dagger in one hand and a gun in the other, he rushed in for the finishing blow...
Only for Shamrock to vanish.
Dante froze mid-swing as the chill crept up his spine. Shamrock reappeared behind him, faster than Dante's eyes could register.
The boy didn't move.
"Huh," Dante muttered, still mid-turn.
"You...I underestimated you..."
A voice that shook the ground spoke, one that was different to the one Dante had been hearing from Shamrock despite him knowing it was from the same person.
"This is where your cheap tricks and lousy existence end."
Dante finally turned, gaze narrowed as he witnessed an almost crushing force bear down onto his shoulders.
The surroundings shook as if an earthquake had begun and glass shattered here and there, but most notably, a crushing force had borne down on Dante's shoulders.
At that moment, he stared, smirk turning to a helpless grin of realisation.
'Ah, I see. He's no longer fucking around...like he was before..."
Without a word, Shamrock drew his sword with a hiss of metal.
The blade gleamed for a moment before it began to...change.
Dante stared, his eyes widening at the transformation.
The sword grew unnaturally, darkening until it was black as obsidian. The metal rippled, mutating.
With a sudden crack of force, it split into three distinct blades, each forming the snarling head of a monstrous dog.
Their jaws were lined with sword-like fangs, mouths agape in silent snarls as they hovered menacingly above him, casting a jagged shadow over his body.
Dante stared, eyes wide and jaw dropped. He blinks once, twice, before muttering in disbelief...
"Oh...my...Oda."
CRUNCH