The Void Hall was eerily quiet, as if it had been designed that way on purpose. Unless the curtains were drawn back, not a trace of outside light could reach inside. The soundproofing was just as extreme.
Now, as Ortoren stepped into the hall, aside from the distant clash of battle leaking in from beyond the door behind him, the interior was utterly silent.
Whether he had triggered some mechanism or something else entirely, the moment Ortoren entered, the massive doors behind him began to close slowly.
At that instant, silence fell.
Dim lights flickered throughout the hall. Two rows of lamps curved inward, forming a path that led deep into the chamber. A red carpet ran along this path, ending at a three-tiered platform.
The first tier was the widest. Twenty Meito swords of different designs were planted there in disarray. Despite having endured more than eight hundred years, each blade still gleamed with a sharp, icy light.
These were the swords once carried by the twenty kings who founded the World Government over eight centuries ago. They were placed here to guard the highest throne.
They symbolized the legitimacy of the twenty kings' authority and the glory of their founding of the World Government.
Above those twenty blades, on the second tier, hung the World Government's cross banner. There was little to say about this level. It was merely the final step leading upward.
At the very top, the summit of the three-tiered platform, stood a throne.
Its armrests were forged from pure gold, sculpted into roaring lions. The backrest bore the emblem of the World Government. This throne was meant to symbolize equality, declaring that no one could stand above the twenty kings, no one above the World Government. It was a seat that should never have been occupied.
And yet, in Ortoren's sight, someone was sitting there.
He wore a tall, ornate crown and a flowing royal robe. His eyes were sharp as a hawk's, his features handsome and refined, though his build was somewhat slender.
Seated there, he truly carried the bearing of a king.
Ortoren looked at him, and he looked back at Ortoren.
Imu. The ruler who stood above the World Government, above the Five Elders, the king who governed the entire world from the shadows.
After a long moment of silent scrutiny, Imu spoke first, his voice low and soft.
"So young… enviably young. Your entire body seems to radiate boundless vitality."
"You look quite young yourself," Ortoren replied with a faint smile. "Why envy me?"
By coming here, Ortoren had already made it clear that he and Imu were enemies. Even so, when facing the king who had once ruled the entire world, Ortoren still chose to show proper respect, addressing him with courtesy.
"Me?" Imu gave a small laugh and shook his head. "Beneath this splendid exterior, my soul is rotten beyond repair. Time is a terrifying thing. Even with endless life, the mind and spirit, things that transcend the flesh, still cannot withstand its power."
In Ortoren's mind, Imu had always been someone supremely self-centered and autocratic. Even the Five Elders, holders of the highest authority, could only kneel before him and listen in silence.
Before meeting him, Ortoren had imagined arrogance, tyranny, and cold disdain.
Instead, Imu gave him an unexpected impression. Calm. Gentle. His words carried little hatred or resentment.
As if noticing Ortoren's surprise, Imu smiled again and asked, "Surprised? Did you think I would greet you with anger, fury, or loathing? Or perhaps with lofty arrogance?"
"Yes," Ortoren answered frankly. "A king who has sat on this throne for over eight hundred years, facing someone as disrespectful as me, shouldn't he be angry? As far as I know, even the five outside have to kneel and bow their heads when they come to pay their respects."
"That is because they are unworthy of standing alongside me," Imu said calmly. "And therefore, they have no right to my goodwill."
After a brief pause, he continued, "But you are different, Benn Ortoren. Tell me, what do you believe is the only thing in this world that measures value?"
"Strength," Ortoren answered without hesitation.
In this world, money, wealth, status, reputation, all of it was nothing more than castles in the air. Only strength was eternal truth. The strong took everything. The weak were trampled at will.
"Correct. Strength." Imu nodded. "In this world, strength alone is the standard by which all things are judged. You may be young, but you already possess the power and the qualifications to stand alongside me. Naturally, you are worthy of my goodwill."
In other words, to Imu, whether it was the Five Elders or anyone else, none of them possessed the strength required to stand on the same level as him.
That was precisely why Imu never spared these people a second glance, much less any respect or goodwill.
"Last year, on a whim, I watched your battle with the man known as the world's strongest, Whitebeard, Edward Newgate. When you revealed your full strength and crushed that so-called 'strongest' with overwhelming force, I knew that one day, we would meet here," Imu said, his tone tinged with reflection.
"Why?" Ortoren asked, a trace of curiosity in his voice.
"Because in you, I saw my former self," Imu replied with a faint smile. The sharpness in his eyes softened, drifting as though lost in distant memories.
After a moment, he continued, "The strong are always lonely. A lion never keeps company with hyenas. That empty throne was right there. As the strongest, how could I suppress the ambition to go even further? How could I ever convince myself to stand on equal footing with the weak?"
As Ortoren listened, a flicker of surprise crossed his eyes. A moment later, realization dawned.
"So that's why you broke the covenant of the Twenty Kings and sat upon the throne?"
"Betrayal?" Imu let out a cold chuckle. "They betrayed me, not the other way around. Do you know why we, the so-called Twenty Kings, established that covenant and set up the Empty Throne in the first place?"
Before Ortoren could answer, Imu lifted a hand and beckoned. "If you don't mind, come closer. Let's talk at a shorter distance."
Ortoren gave a small nod and stepped forward without hesitation. He climbed the tiers, passed the twenty blades, crossed beneath the banner of the World Government, and finally stopped before the throne.
Imu also rose from his seat and stood beside it.
At that moment, there was no hostility between them at all. They stood side by side like old acquaintances, gazing at the throne and speaking calmly.
"So," Ortoren asked, "why did you establish that covenant and create the Empty Throne?"
"Because they were afraid," Imu said with a smile. "Afraid of my strength, afraid of my power. Back then, all twenty of us were exceptional figures upon this sea, each one heroic, intelligent, and resolute, true kings by any standard. But that was only compared to the masses. Among the twenty kings, aside from myself, the remaining nineteen were, in my eyes, nothing more than ordinary men. And they could sense that unbridgeable gap as well. That was why they banded together, clinging to one another, trying to restrain me from advancing any further."
Ortoren remained silent, allowing him to continue.
"Do you really think they were so noble and selfless?" Imu said. "That they willingly limited their own power and status with that throne and those blades? You couldn't be more wrong. The truth is, they understood perfectly well that once our common enemy was defeated, all conflicts would turn inward, among the twenty of us. That throne is too small. Only one person can sit upon it and become the true king of the world. And they knew how strong I was. They knew that only I was qualified to sit there. But they refused to let anyone stand above them. So instead of letting one person rule, they chose to let no one rule. That is why they hoisted the throne out of reach, forged a covenant, and paraded their so-called greatness and selflessness. And all of it came at the cost of my interests."
Listening to this, Ortoren began to understand.
Imu continued his story, his eyes fixed on the throne as if he had returned to centuries past. There was regret in his gaze, along with nostalgia and a trace of quiet satisfaction.
"Back then, I was as young as you are now. I knew everything they did was meant to restrain me, to limit me. But the bonds we had built over the years made me choose silence. I didn't oppose the covenant, and I didn't stop them either. Among the twenty blades below, one of them was mine."
After a brief pause, Imu went on, "Later, they all died. As time passed, those old bonds faded away. And after that, my interest in the throne resurfaced. In the end, I chose to sit upon it."
He turned to Ortoren and smiled.
"Tell me, was it wrong for me to make that choice?"
Ortoren was silent for a moment, then shook his head.
"There was nothing wrong with it. If it were me, I would have done the same."
Just as Imu had said, with the throne right there before one's eyes, how could the strongest possibly suppress that ambition?