From within the towering curtain of dust that stretched into the sky, a series of dull, heavy thuds echoed outward.
The sound was like thunder rolling across a cloudless day. It struck the soldiers' nerves with invisible force. Faces drained of color. Hands trembled around rifle stocks.
Then, before their widening eyes, a figure emerged.
Roughly 2.2 meters tall, clad in thick, heavy armor. Two sharp black horns curved upward from his helmet like a demon's crown. A respirator mask concealed his face, erasing any trace of identity or gender.
Beneath the armor, nothing human could be clearly discerned.
In his right hand rested a massive long-handled war hammer. In his left, a towering shield nearly eighty centimeters wide and two meters tall, more than ten centimeters thick. It looked less like equipment and more like a moving fortress.
He raised the shield.
Artillery fire from atop the wall slammed into it, shells exploding against reinforced steel. The air shook. Flames licked across the metal surface.
Behind him, ragged refugees gathered, eyes sharp despite their torn clothing. They held crude shields and advanced step by step under his protection.
At the same time, within the thinning dust, women and children quietly appeared. Each carried a bucket. They moved toward the river choked with refuse, toward the water they had been denied.
The soldiers on the wall saw this and their expressions changed instantly. Mockery vanished. Panic replaced it.
They pulled their triggers wildly, desperate to stop the refugees' advance.
But this time, their advantage in firearms meant nothing.
The armored figure did not fall.
He lowered the hammer. The flames surrounding his body faded as he lifted a hand and dispersed them. Then he reached beside him and drew out a bone spear thick as a man's thigh.
Under the soldiers' horrified gaze, he hurled it with everything he had.
A sharp whistle cut through the battlefield.
The spear tore through smoke, pierced fire, and carved a pale streak through the air like a phantom.
It struck before the city gate.
Impact.
The seemingly impregnable gate exploded apart. Shockwaves rippled outward. Splintered fragments blasted through the air, hurling defending soldiers dozens of meters away.
Heavy footsteps sounded again.
The oppressive figure stepped through the breach.
Behind him, a flood of ragged bodies surged forward, roaring as they charged toward the panicked defenders.
The soldiers instinctively retreated.
Then a man in ornate armor leapt down from the high wall.
The king of this nation shoved aside his own men and walked to the very front. His gaze swept contemptuously across the refugees.
"Wasn't life on the plateau good enough?" he said coldly. "Why come down here to die?"
From within the heavy armor came a voice, distorted and unnatural.
"This land was ours by birth."
King Nathan slowly drew the sword at his waist, arrogance settling across his features.
"And who will prove that?" he asked.
"Everyone in the East Blue, even the whole world, knows this land belongs to the second most noble and enlightened people alive. The World Government recognizes us. And you? You are nothing more than commoners buried by history."
Silence followed.
After a long pause, the armored figure lifted the war hammer. Killing intent rolled off him in waves, bone-deep and suffocating.
"We should never have sheltered you when your ancestors fled persecution and shipwreck…"
King Nathan scoffed.
"What gave your ancestors the audacity to look upon us with such disgusting pity?"
Outwardly, he radiated arrogance.
Inwardly, he was calculating.
Be angry, he thought. Lose control. Give me the opening I need.
Though he believed he held absolute advantage, he sought a single decisive strike. He would not allow CP0 any chance to interfere. The kingdom's future would not hang in another's hands.
On the far side of the wall, a man in a white suit observed everything, unease stirring within him.
King Nathan would not truly dare kill the one the Five Elders had personally ordered returned… would he?
The thought drained the color from CP0's face.
He leapt upward, launching himself forward with Sky Walk, rushing toward the battlefield.
But the instant he stepped beyond the wall, a violent sense of danger crashed over him.
He looked up.
His expression twisted.
A streak of golden fire had already descended above him. A blurred figure dove at terrifying speed, as if intent on mutual destruction.
"Iron Body: Steel!"
CP0 Joseph hardened his body, Armament Haki flooding across his form. Without hesitation, he vanished from his original position.
The impact came a heartbeat later.
The wall trembled violently. Cracks split across hundreds of meters. Soldiers stumbled and fell as stone shattered beneath the force.
Where Joseph had stood became nothing but broken masonry and choking dust.
From a short distance away, he stared at the collapsed section of wall. Even behind the mask, uncertainty radiated from him.
Who was that?
He had never expected such a monstrous attack in the East Blue.
"He dodged…"
From within the drifting dust came a voice tinged with faint regret.
A tall silhouette slowly rose amid the rubble. Nonhuman limbs that had extended during the strike withdrew behind his back.
Joseph's gaze locked on the center of the collapse.
A figure about two meters tall stepped forward.
"Who are you?" Joseph demanded, brows drawn tight. "Why attack us without cause?"
No answer came.
That silence darkened his expression.
If the other party would not speak, then negotiation was impossible. Only life or death remained.
Footsteps echoed.
Through the dust, a winged figure dragged a spear across the broken stone, the scraping sound sharp and deliberate.
Louis shook dust from his hair. His broad white wings unfurled behind him, scattering the haze overhead.
He stepped forward, revealing himself fully.
Golden hair gleamed under the sunlight. Pure white wings spread like fresh snow. A faint golden radiance surrounded him, lending him a sacred, almost untouchable presence.
Joseph's gaze swept over the wings and the halo of light.
Understanding flickered in his eyes.
"Human-Human Fruit, Mythical Zoan, Angel form… is that it?"
Behind him, more than a dozen agents in black suits exchanged glances. The same thought had surfaced in each of their minds the moment they saw Louis.
Louis offered no reply.
His eyes moved coldly over them.
Then the golden light around him surged.
It expanded outward in rippling waves. Wherever the light passed, the world seemed to take on a faint golden hue.
Joseph did not hesitate.
Using Shave, he flashed backward dozens of meters, retreating before the wave could touch him.
The battlefield held its breath.