When Shamrock returned to the center of Mary Geoise alongside the [God's Knights], the atmosphere remained heavy.
This time, the Gorosei had convened for a single purpose—
To ensure that the remnants of the Roger Pirates would not appear and cause chaos on the day of Pirate King Gol D. Roger's execution.
"If you ask me, this is unnecessary," Saint Sommers muttered under his breath.
"If Roger hadn't turned himself in… who in the world could have captured him? We, of all people, understand his strength best."
Saint Figarland Garling suddenly stopped walking.
Today, he was in an unusually good mood.
He cast a glance at Sommers and replied calmly,
"Caution is never a mistake."
After a brief pause, his tone deepened slightly.
"The Roger Pirates are the only ones who know the truth of the Void Century. If his surrender itself is part of a greater scheme… the consequences would be unimaginable."
"…Fair enough."
As the God's Knights entered the training grounds exclusive to the Celestial Dragons, even those long accustomed to luxury couldn't help but feel a trace of awe.
The place rivaled—no, surpassed—the palaces of most kings.
The ground was paved with intricately carved, gleaming stone tiles. Jewel-studded pillars lined the surroundings, and a faint scent of sandalwood lingered in the air.
At the center of the field—
Saint Figarland Garling came to a stop.
His gaze fell directly on Shamrock.
Shing—
He slowly drew the sword at his waist.
A pressure—almost tangible—spread outward.
It was the unmistakable aura of Haoshoku Haki.
"Shamrock," he called, voice steady and composed."Come. Let me see what level you've reached after forming the contract."
"Garling is serious this time…" Gunko crossed her arms, her expression solemn.
A trace of wariness flickered in Saint Sommers' eyes.
"His Haki… it's even stronger than before. That man…"
News of the father-son duel spread instantly.
Within moments, the training ground stands were packed with Celestial Dragons dressed in dazzling, extravagant attire.
Excited murmurs rose like waves.
"Lord Shamrock… he's so dazzling! Just like in my dreams!"
"He's actually going to duel the commander? My heart can't take this!"
"Lord Shamrock—good luck!!"
The girls' cheers rang out one after another, their eyes shining like stars.
Nearby, the elder Celestial Dragons stroked their beards, smiling faintly.
"Garling was just as popular in his youth."
"It's hard not to feel envious… judging by that presence, he's already reached the level of a [God's Blade]. Even earlier than his father did."
"…Wait."
"Look at his left arm."
Someone suddenly inhaled sharply.
Their voice cut off mid-sentence.
Several gazes locked onto Shamrock's arm at once.
The mark there—ancient, complex, and ominous—was unmistakably not the mark of a God's Blade.
"…No way."
"At his age… a Divine Knight?"
Silence.
Then—
A wave of uncontrollable gasps swept across the entire training ground.
At the edge of the crowd, a few young Celestial Dragons curled their lips, their voices dripping with jealousy.
"What's the big deal… he's just a brat."
An elder beside them shook his head, letting out a quiet chuckle.
"Young fools… you have no idea what that mark represents."
A gust of wind swept across the field, lifting the loose strands of hair from Shamrock's forehead.
He stared straight at the blade in his father's hand.
Then—
Slowly—
He tightened his grip on his own sword.
Suddenly, a thought crossed his mind.
Oh right—
"Yo, System."
[What is it, my son?]
"Where's the mission?"
[…What mission?]
"The one where I defeat my biological father."
[There isn't one.]
"…Why not?"
[Because your current strength is roughly equal to his.]
The system paused before continuing flatly,
[He poses no real threat to your life. Without danger, there is no mission.]
"…So unless I'm actually in danger, you won't trigger anything?"
[Correct.]
A brief pause.
[And incorrect.]
Shamrock's eyebrow twitched.
"…Make up your mind."
[I don't assign missions just to make you work like a slave.]
[They only appear when you truly need something.]
Before Shamrock could respond—
A sharp, mocking voice cut through the air.
"What? Don't tell me you're too scared to make a move?"
A Celestial Dragon, clearly displeased with Shamrock, sneered openly.
"Relax—he's your father. He'll go easy on you."
The moment those words were spoken—
The expressions of the God's Knights darkened instantly.
Even the elder Celestial Dragons frowned.
Within Celestial Dragon society, hierarchy was absolute.
At the very top stood Imu—the supreme ruler.
Beneath him were the Gorosei, who governed the world.
Then came the Divine Knights, who held authority over life and death.
And at the bottom—
Ordinary Celestial Dragons.
Now—
A mere "low-ranking" Celestial Dragon had dared to mock a Divine Knight in public.
A grave offense.
By the laws of Mary Geoise—
Shamrock had every right…
To kill him on the spot.
The moment the Celestial Dragon spoke, he realized—
He had just invited disaster.
Under the cold, piercing gazes of everyone present—especially the near-tangible killing intent radiating from Saint Figarland Garling—his legs began to tremble uncontrollably.
Garling had always taken pride in his son.
Now that Shamrock had become the youngest Divine Knight in history, that pride had only deepened.
There was no way—
He would allow anyone to belittle him.
Not even slightly.
Saint Sommers' expression darkened as he stepped forward, closing the distance one step at a time.
He wasn't defending Shamrock.
He was disgusted.
This kind of insolence… in this place?
Arrogance elsewhere could be tolerated.
But here?
What he hated most… were those who didn't understand their place.
Though he had never liked Garling, he acknowledged one thing—
Garling was stronger than him.
And strength… commanded respect.
Now, after witnessing Shamrock's overwhelming display of power, even Sommers couldn't help but reassess him.
Even among the Celestial Dragons—
Strength was absolute.
The offending Celestial Dragon's face turned deathly pale as he watched Saint Sommers approach.
Terror consumed him.
But before anything could happen—
An invisible pressure spread across the field.
"So noisy."
Shamrock's voice was quiet.
But the moment his sword left its sheath—
Everything changed.
BOOM.
His Haoshoku Haki erupted like a beast breaking free from its cage.
Dark-red lightning exploded outward, tearing through the air in violent arcs.
The atmosphere itself trembled, letting out a strained, distorted hum.
The Celestial Dragons in the stands—
Didn't even have time to scream.
One after another—
They foamed at the mouth and collapsed.
In an instant—
Only the members of the [God's Knights] remained standing.
Cold sweat formed on Saint Sommers' and Gunko's foreheads.
Even from afar—
Within the Room of Authority—
The Gorosei lifted their heads simultaneously.
They had felt it.
A presence…
That could not be ignored.
"It seems… we must exercise greater caution moving forward."
One of the Gorosei spoke slowly, his voice devoid of emotion.
"For such a monster to appear… I cannot decide whether this is reassuring… or deeply troubling."
"Isn't this a good thing?" another replied, lightly tapping the table."At the very least, it proves that true monsters can still be born from our bloodline."
A third let out a quiet chuckle.
"There's no need to dress it up so nicely."
A fourth voice cut in—cold and direct.
"Let's not pretend."
Finally—
An aged voice brought the discussion to an end.
"His existence alone is a signal."
A brief pause.
"It means… that one day, someone capable of replacing us may emerge."
"…From this moment on, every step we take must be made with absolute caution."
They were called the highest authorities in the world.
But in truth—
They were merely puppets standing at the forefront.
At the command of Imu—
They could vanish at any moment.
Back on the battlefield—
Saint Figarland Garling watched the storm of Haki surrounding Shamrock.
Slowly—
A deep smile spread across his face.
His eyes shone with unmistakable pride.
In the next instant—
Shamrock moved.
His figure blurred—
Then vanished.
He appeared directly before Garling.
His blade descended.
Garling reacted instantly.
Their swords swung—
But never touched.
BOOM.
A violent clash of Haki erupted between them, stopping just inches apart.
The air itself distorted under the pressure.
"…No contact?"
Gunko's eyes narrowed, disbelief flashing through them.
"An air strike… at his age?"
Saint Sommers felt his back grow cold.
He recognized it instantly.
The Haki coating Shamrock's blade—
It was Haoshoku infusion.
Fragments of their earlier clash flashed through his mind.
If he had used this then… I would've been crushed.
"…He's mastered it," Sommers muttered under his breath."Shamrock has already mastered Haoshoku coating…"
Dark-red lightning crackled violently between the two blades.
Invisible shockwaves spread outward, forcing the air into a constant, strained vibration.
And yet—
This was only the most basic application.
Garling moved first again.
Experience spoke louder than raw power.
With a single, decisive strike—
Shamrock was forced backward.
Before he could recover—
A flash of steel cut across his arm.
Thud.
His arm fell to the ground.
Pain surged through Shamrock like a tidal wave.
His brows tightened—
But only for a moment.
In the very next second—
A brand-new arm regenerated instantly.
He stared at it, a flicker of awe passing through his eyes.
So this is… Immortality.
He hadn't fully adapted yet.
His instincts still hesitated.
Still tried to defend.
But that was wrong.
No matter how our bodies are destroyed… we regenerate instantly.
This is why… we are called "Gods."
Before the thought could settle—
Garling attacked again.
Relentless.
Like a storm.
Shamrock raised his blade to meet him.
BANG!
Their Haki collided violently once more.
The battle escalated.
Arms severed—
Regenerated.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Slowly—
Shamrock adapted.
His hesitation vanished.
Defense became meaningless.
Pain became irrelevant.
He abandoned everything—
Except attack.
Now—
He fought like a true immortal.
A being that could not be worn down.
A monster that only advanced.
The clash between father and son raged on—
From midday…
Until nightfall.
Neither side yielded.
Neither side fell.
When it finally ended—
It was a draw.
The battlefield was left in ruins.
Deep ravines carved through the earth.
Endless sword marks crisscrossed the ground.
And at the center—
Two figures stood.
Unyielding.