South Sea · Sorbet Kingdom.
In a ruined town, countless unarmed elders, women, and children were mercilessly slaughtered under the lighthearted laughter of the Holy Knights.
Every spray of blood from gunfire seemed to bring perverse delight to the world nobles, who craved nothing more than the thrill of cruelty.
Squads of CP agents rounded up the so-called "lucky ones," capturing survivors to be held as hostages against Bartholomew Kuma.
High above the carnage stood Figarland Galin-sei, clutching a Den-Den Mushi in his hand. As he listened to the urgent communiqué from Navy Headquarters, his expression grew dark and grave.
He hadn't expected Souta Kiryuu to have such ability—enough to draw so many powers into the Sorbet Kingdom.
Yet, instead of admiration, this only deepened Galin's sense of offense. His resolve to annihilate both Souta Kiryuu and Bartholomew Kuma hardened even further.
"Blueprints of Pluton? Pure Gold?"
Galin's brows furrowed. He immediately dragged forth the former king of the Sorbet Kingdom, King Bekoli, demanding answers.
"There's nothing—absolutely nothing of the sort! I've never even heard of such things!"
The old king stammered in terror. He had naively believed the World Government intended to restore his throne, a hope that had made his heart soar for an entire day.
But reality struck cruelly: the southern outlaw zones of Sorbet had been massacred, and the prosperous northern cities pillaged and ravaged by the Celestial Dragons. The once-vibrant kingdom had been reduced to nothing but a living hell.
"Useless trash!"
A flash of steel split the air—Bekoli's head tumbled away, a geyser of blood rising as Galin slowly sheathed his beloved blade.
To him, it was obvious—this rumor of Pluton's blueprints and Pure Gold was nothing but a ruse concocted by Souta Kiryuu and Kuma.
And yet… both were treasures the Celestial Dragons desperately desired.
For Souta Kiryuu to spread such whispers suggested he might know something. Which meant—before killing him, Galin intended to wring every last secret from his flesh through torture.
"Galin-sei! The Navy's lapdogs only sent two Admirals this time. You'd better take this plan seriously!"
The words came from Mamaye Foss-sei, a fellow member of the Holy Knights. He spoke without reverence, addressing Galin by name. After all, they too were elite among Celestial Dragons, and though Galin held the title of commander, his strength barely set him a step above them.
Mamaye frowned at the entire operation. To cleanse a member nation so publicly, all for the sake of threatening a single Buccaneer slave—wasn't this overkill?
In the past, their "cleansing games" had always targeted non-member nations, and were carried out under a shroud of secrecy to prevent public unrest. Such transparency risked fueling outrage among the common people—a risk to the World Government's control.
"What's wrong, little one? Getting cold feet? This mission comes from that one directly. I won't botch it."
Galin chuckled, looking down at Mamaye, who stood nearly two heads shorter despite wearing an oversized, jewel-studded crown.
"Hmph! If this plan fails, the command of the Holy Knights will pass to the Foss family!"
Mamaye glared upward, his height a raw wound. Galin's teasing was deliberate. Anyone else who dared to call him "little one"—even fellow Holy Knights—would have found themselves challenged on the spot.
As for royals, nobles, or commoners who mocked his stature? He would send them screaming to the underworld without hesitation.
"Don't worry. Whitebeard and his worthless sons are still holed up in the far reaches of the New World. At most, two of the Yonko crews will come, and two Admirals are more than enough to deal with that."
Galin's voice was cool, dismissive. He didn't even mention Red-Haired Shanks, that unfilial wretch who had time and again rejected returning to the Holy Land. Truly, a disgraceful failure.
As for Big Mom's crew and Kaido's Beasts? There was no chance they would commit their full forces to the South Sea, so far from the New World. They had their own territories to guard, lest rival pirates—or the Navy—strike while they were gone.
Even if Kaido and Charlotte Linlin themselves appeared, the Holy Knights, bolstered by two Admirals, could hold their own.
The only true concern was the Revolutionary Army. With cadres and cells spread across all four seas, their ability to deploy en masse posed a threat greater than even the Yonko.
"This time, the mission is simple: capture Souta Kiryuu and Kuma, then track their base and bring back Vegapunk."
The ultimate objective was neither Yonko nor Revolutionaries—it was the scientist Vegapunk himself, personally ordered by Imu-sama.
The research of the world's greatest scientist tied directly to the Mother Flame, the ultimate energy, and the limitless power of the National Treasure.
If the National Treasure could be unleashed at will, then Yonko and Revolutionaries alike would be nothing more than insects crushed with a flick of the hand.
"We understand!"
Mamaye Foss-sei and the other Holy Knights responded in unison. They knew this mission was far more dangerous than their usual extermination games. If they failed Imu-sama's command, the punishment would be dire.
As the World Government encircled the Sorbet Kingdom, forcing Kuma and Souta Kiryuu into the open, the conflict spiraled out of control.
Dark underworld forces fanned the flames, spreading rumors and intelligence that drew countless powers into the South Sea.
The entire region plunged into chaos.
Even the reclusive Golden Lion Shiki, hidden away above a remote corner of the Grand Line, learned of the upheaval through the reports of dozens of captains in his fleet.
"Gehahahaha! Who would've thought in this pathetic age of wannabe pirates, a true monster would appear!"
Shiki roared with laughter as he read the intel, especially the proclamations made by Souta Kiryuu.
So many so-called pirates nowadays were nothing more than treasure-chasing fools, lured by Roger's ridiculous "One Piece."
Treasure hunting? To hell with treasure hunting!
What this world needed was plunder. Conquest. War.
"Roger… back then, you refused to tell me the secrets of the Ancient Weapons. Fine. I'll seize them myself!"
The rumors of Pluton's blueprints stirred something deep within him. Once, he had dreamed of joining forces with Roger, of claiming the weapons and ruling the seas.
But Roger had defied him to the end, fighting to the death at Ed War. Shiki's magnificent flying fleet had been torn apart—not by Roger, but by a freak storm.
The disaster had left a ship's rudder lodged deep into Shiki's skull, a wound that threatened his very life and clouded his mind, crippling his Haki.
Yet even diminished, with the power of the Float-Float Fruit and his swordsmanship, he remained a force the Navy dared not underestimate.
"Boys! Load up the beast experiments! We're heading to the South Sea!"
Shiki's laughter thundered across the skies. He had no interest in striking Navy Headquarters. What he wanted was to descend upon the Sorbet Kingdom itself.
A war on the scale of the God Valley Incident—how could a legend like him resist making an appearance?
And above all, the whisper of Pluton's blueprints called to him.