The navy headquarters towered like a fortress under the gray sky, silent but for the faint hum of activity. Inside, Sora Nithel, Supreme Admiral of the navy, sat rigidly in his chair. His cold, unreadable eyes stared into the distance.
"What should I do, Dad?" he murmured to himself, his fingers resting lightly on the armrest. A subtle shadow of thought flickered across his expression.
Known as the greatest swordsman of the current era, Sora's calm was deadly — a still ocean before a storm.
The doors to the room burst open. Seraph Admiral Seraphel Dawn strode in, wings flaring faintly with holy light.
"Celestial Being has been cut down in the village of Aurelia," he reported, his voice tense.
"So?" Sora replied, voice flat, eyes never moving.
"This calls for immediate action. Grant permission to burn down the entire village," Seraphel urged.
Sora's gaze sharpened slightly. "It's not a big deal."
"It's an order from above, sir!"
Sora waved a hand dismissively. "Get out of my sight. Do what you want."
Seraphel Dawn's wings folded, and he left the room. Silence returned. Sora's thoughts drifted, cold and calculating: Why do we even care about those stupid celestial beings?
Meanwhile, in his private chamber within the Holy Enforcers' headquarters, Dravon Valenor sat quietly, his black obsidian sword glinting under the dim light. Fingers lightly grazing the hilt, he whispered, "This sword… it's the only thing I have left of the Captain."
The room felt heavy, silent, echoing with the weight of history and vengeance.
Beyond the navy, the world shifted quietly, waiting. The Revolutionary Army had yet to strike, but whispers spread like wildfire. The second successful revolution ever recorded in history was imminent — led by the world's most wanted man, the Red Emperor, Dracule Xerox.
The pieces of the world were moving. And the next storm was coming.