Years ago, the Marines had assigned Commodore Flat and Teno to the Kingdom of the Bridge, tasking them with taking over from the previous administrator. From that point onward, the two became the highest-ranking overseers of the kingdom's fortified region, each managing half of the territory.
Naturally, given their greedy natures, conflicts and friction between them were inevitable in their day-to-day affairs. Deep down, both secretly wished the other would drop dead on the spot, leaving them free to seize control of the entire fortified region for themselves. Even a brief period of sole dominion would be enough for either to siphon off a hefty sum of Berries from the Kingdom of the Bridge.
This was precisely why Teno had felt such a pang of regret earlier.
Meanwhile, up ahead, Saint Charlos stood amidst the crowd, his lips still pursed in that signature haughty expression. As he walked, he occasionally cast sidelong glances at the slaves being herded to the edge of the bridge, packed together like sardines. Seeing the fear and panic in the eyes of those "crawling insects" filled Saint Charlos with an overwhelming sense of delight.
For as long as he could remember, he'd relished this feeling—sweeping aside every obstacle in his path with no one daring to stand in his way. Compared to simply killing slaves outright, he far preferred tormenting them psychologically. Of course, if someone had the gall to obstruct him—or worse, appeared out of nowhere and ruined his mood—Saint Charlos wouldn't hesitate to use his beloved hand cannon to grant them a swift death.
After all, nothing irritated him more than unfamiliar intruders suddenly barging into his presence. It drove him absolutely livid.
The only reason he'd spared that dog Flat earlier was because the man's servitude over the past few days had been tolerable enough. Flat had ensured his journey was thoroughly enjoyable. Otherwise, with the insolence that fool had shown, Saint Charlos would've blasted him to smithereens with a single shot long ago.
As Saint Charlos continued strolling forward, savoring the expressions of the slaves along the way, something caught his eye. Far ahead, atop a lamppost near the edge of the great bridge, a tall figure stood with hands in pockets, eyes locked intently on the group—specifically on the plump, white-robed, hooded figure waddling among them. The blazing intensity in that gaze wasn't diminished in the slightest by the swirling snow and wind.
"So, the 'big shot' that bastard Shet was talking about turns out to be a Celestial Dragon," the figure muttered to himself. "I'd always thought I'd have to reach the Sabaody Archipelago at the very least to catch sight of a creature like that. Who'd have guessed I'd run into one right here in the East Blue!"
"This truly brings me joy!"
Watching the Celestial Dragon surrounded by his entourage, Will couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from curling upward, a glint of unrestrained glee flashing in his eyes. "What's a surprise, you ask? To me, this is a surprise!"
He could feel the blood in his veins boiling, a murderous intent surging uncontrollably within him. In the next instant, Will's figure vanished from the lamppost, as if he'd melted entirely into the blizzard.
…
Back on the main road at the center of the bridge, the Celestial Dragon's entourage continued their leisurely march forward. Saint Charlos, however, was starting to feel a bit weary. He was about to order everyone to stop so they could tend to his rest—and perhaps have those two lead Marines whip up a makeshift shelter for him like they'd done the past few days.
But before he could even open his mouth, the two special slaves crawling ahead of him abruptly froze in place. At the same time, the towering man in the black suit standing nearby narrowed his eyes, his gaze sharpening with a hint of wariness as he peered ahead.
"What's going on?" Saint Charlos blinked in confusion, a spark of anger flaring in his chest. He assumed these two slaves were itching for another beating. Raising his scepter, he prepared to give their backsides a good thrashing—when suddenly, a tall silhouette began to emerge from the snowy haze ahead, walking straight toward them.
Saint Charlos wasn't blind. The moment he saw this, realization hit him, and his expression darkened even further. Nothing irritated him more than some random fool popping up out of nowhere right in front of him!
Moments later, the figure—a tall, muscular man—stepped into full view, stopping a short distance away to survey the group. Will stood there, steam rising from his body in the cold, hands still stuffed in his pockets. His fiery gaze locked onto the Celestial Dragon, and when he finally spoke, his tone was chillingly calm.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm feeling very fired up right now," he said slowly. "So, who's going to step up and let me vent a little? Or better yet—why don't you all just come at me together?"
The sheer audacity of those words left Saint Charlos momentarily stunned. Then, a wave of fury crashed over him. His first instinct was to order someone to fetch his trusty hand cannon so he could personally blow this insolent wretch to kingdom come. But then he paused, a new thought crossing his mind. He'd been planning to stop and rest anyway—why not turn this into a bit of impromptu entertainment? No need to cut the show short so soon.
A sinister smirk crept onto Saint Charlos's face as his anger began to ebb. Letting go of the two iron chains in his hands, he barked an order laced with twisted amusement. "Go on, my two good dogs—tear this filthy insect apart for me!"
"Yes!" came the immediate, unified shout from the two slaves as the chains slackened. They rose to their feet in unison, striding toward Will with purpose. Both towered over two meters tall, and oddly enough, their eyes glinted with a strange pride as they glared at him—almost as if they took honor in their status as the Celestial Dragon's slaves.
At that moment, the Marines trailing behind finally sensed something was off. Commodore Flat and Commodore Teno, the two Marine Headquarters officers, hurriedly led their squads forward from either side of the procession. When they caught sight of the unfamiliar figure blocking the path, a cold sweat broke out across their foreheads. In an instant, their eyes filled with murderous intent.
They both knew one thing for certain: if this random interloper managed to sour the Celestial Dragon's mood, they were all as good as dead. Right now, out of everyone present, Flat and Teno were the ones most desperate to see this intruder eliminated.
For once, the two—who normally couldn't stand each other—set aside their rivalry. Stepping forward together, they dropped to one knee before Saint Charlos and spoke in unison, their voices trembling with fear. "Lord Celestial Dragon! We're terribly sorry for startling you! Please rest assured, we'll—"
"Enough!" Saint Charlos cut them off with an impatient wave of his hand. "Get out of my way already! Don't ruin my show!"
"Uh…" The two commodores froze, their faces stiffening. "Yes, sir!" they replied quickly, bowing their heads before scrambling to their feet and retreating. As they stepped back, they turned their pent-up fury toward the intruder, their glares practically burning holes through him.
The man in the black suit standing nearby said nothing, remaining silent and still. As a member of CP9, his sole priority was ensuring the Celestial Dragon's safety. The fates of everyone else? Utterly irrelevant.
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