The North Blue
the sea's waves slapping against the hull of the stolen pirate ship like the hands of the Cursed reaching for the living. On the figurehead, the man who is responsible for annihilation of germa kingdom sats there.
Saint Nerona Imu
King Of The World
Hidden Ruler of the World Government
Devil Fruit :- Mythical Zoan , Model :- Umibōzu
Imu sat motionless, his dark cloak whipping in the wind, eyes fixed on the horizon where the last remnants of daylight bled into the sea. In last 24 hours In that span, he had become the architect of ruin, the reason thousands no longer able to live. The Germa Kingdom was ash and memory, its soldiers and royal family reduced to corpses.
Behind him, the ship's deck creaked as Gunko approached, her steps was light and careful. She carried two steaming mugs, the scent of tea cutting through the briny air. "The wind shifts north," she said, her voice calm despite the carnage they'd recently unleashed. "We will reach the next port by dawn if the currents hold."
Imu didn't turn. His mind was adrift in a sea of contrasts. In my Previous life...The thought echoed like a funeral bell. In his Previous life, a single death would have mobilized every police force in the country. A murder would mean manhunts, checkpoints, the entire machinery of justice grinding into gear to hunt him down. Destroying a kingdom? That wasn't just crime - it was insanity. It was courting death on a scale so vast it defied comprehension.
Yet here he was. The architect of Germa's annihilation. And the world hadn't come crashing down. No fleet of warship hunted them. No divine retribution had struck him down. Only the endless, indifferent sea.
"Imu sama here is your tea" gunko said with respectfully
Imu accepted the mug without turning, the ceramic warm against his cold fingers. The scent of tea cut through the air, a small comfort in the vast, indifferent ocean. He took a slow sip, the heat doing little to thaw the ice in his veins or the turmoil in his mind. The weight of thousands of lives pressed down, a stark contrast to the weight of a paintbrush he once held.
"Thank you, Gunko," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the waves. He remained on the figurehead for a moment longer, staring into the darkening water.
With a fluid movement that belied his deep exhaustion, Imu descended from his place. His boots landed softly on the damp deck. "Maintain course. i will be back in few moments" He did not wait for Gunko's acknowledgment, striding past her towards the ship's interior, the dark cloak billowing behind him like a shroud.
Gunko watched him go, a flicker of surprise crossing her usually impassive face. '?' But she knew better than to question. "As you command, Imu sama," she called after him, her voice carrying across the deck.
Imu stepped into the cabin of the stolen ship.
His eyes, sharp even in the dim light, swept across the room. Then he spotted something in the corner, partly hidden under a wooden case. He knelt and pulled the cover aside. Inside, among coils of rope and rusty tools, were painting supplies. Tubes of oil paint, brushes of all sizes, a palette knife, and several canvases on wooden frames probably stolen from a merchant ship or a raided coastal town.
A ghost of a smile touched Imu's lips. Fate's cruel irony.
He pulled a canvas from the crate, propped it against a barrel, and selected brushes and paints. Standing before the makeshift easel, he squeezed colors onto a palette. The familiar scent of linseed oil and pigment filled the cramped storage hold, momentarily transporting him.
As his brush dipped into crimson, his mind drifted not to Germa's ashes, but to fluorescent lights and suffocating expectations.
in his Previous life... The thought echoed, not with death's weight, but with a different ache. He remembered cramped apartments, city buzz, and the joy of losing himself in color and texture. He saw his parents' disappointed faces when he suggested art school: "Painting? A hobby, It won't pay your bills."
They did not said him No, but the message was clear: passion or poverty. in which he chose to Buried paints, locked canvases, and took admission into STEM field.
Now, standing before the canvas, brush moved with practiced ease. Muscle memory returned instantly. The first painting completed: strong features, intense eyes burning with revolutionary spirit, wild black hair with a tatto on his face Monkey D. Dragon.
This person is the ideological enemy of imu for now he is now his biggest enemy.
He cleaned the brush, selecting deep blacks and grays. A massive, hulking form took shape: wild beard swallowing half his face, cruel eyes gleaming with avarice. wearing a pirate hat which resembles three pirate skull like jolly roger. Marshall D. Teach AKA(also known as) Blackbeard.
This person is not that troublesome for now but in future he ultimate dream is to take my place.his dream is my reality but how long can he maintain this reality only time will tell.
'The ultimate opportunist' Imu thought, 'according to my knowledge in 20 days the marineford war will start which will change the course of history and shape this world'
Switching to blues, whites, and soft pinks, the third figure became ethereal: enormous, gentle eyes holding ancient sadness and power, long pink hair flowing. She seemed part of the ocean itself. Shirahoshi. Imu painted swirling currents around her, the faint glow of ancient magic, capturing innocence and world-altering strength.
'The key,' he realized, brush moving gently. 'The sleeping ancient and living biological weapon Poseidon. The Ancient Weapon they fear. If she awakens... chooses a side... the balance shifts. Shirahoshi is not just a person, she was a force of nature.'
Finally, vibrant primaries - red, black, yellow. A smaller figure radiated energy: wide grin, messy black hair under a straw hat, eyes sparkling with unshakeable joy. Monkey D. Luffy. Imu painted the hat with care, a sunrise breaking behind the boy, capturing boundless optimism and stubborn will.
'The Ultimate wildcard,' Imu felt a mix of exasperation and admiration in his thoughts. 'Grandson of a Marine Hero, son of a Revolutionary. second coming of the Joyboy and his biggest enemy Luffy represented chaos of a different kind the chaotic force of freedom itself.
On deck, Gunko stood by the helm, scanning the darkening horizon. her face has a surprised by imu's action. 'He is painting? so Imu sama also have this talent.'
'Finally,' she thought, grim satisfaction cutting through confusion. 'He acts personally. No more shadows, no more playing with butterflies in the Room of Flowers.' The image of Imu on the Empty Throne in Pangea Castle felt distant.
She paced slowly. 'The first portrait... Dragon. The Revolutionary leader.' Dragon was obvious in this bloody game.
But the others... 'Who is the second? That figure with the beard... the darkness... three skull jolly roger?' Gunko frowned. The name eluded her, but the menace was palpable. 'Rival? Ally? Or a Threat?'
'The third... the woman?' Gunko tilted her head. 'She is beautiful maybe imu sama.....no not like that i think imu sama have some other plans every person have their own Significance' but the image felt heavy which makes her confused.
'And the fourth...' A small smile touched Gunko's lips. 'The boy. The Straw Hat. Luffy.' She knew him. The troublemaker who declared war on Enies Lobby, The grandson of garp and The son of dragon. The captain of straw hat pirates with 300 million bounty.