While Kong, Sengoku, and Kuzan worked in silence, the Gorōsei stood nearby, their eyes fixed on every movement.
But progress was painfully slow.
This was the Red Line, after all. It wasn't something that could be broken apart in a single strike. That was exactly why Rain had chosen this place to forge the seal that bound Imu.
Even knowing their efforts were barely scratching the surface, the three Marines still pushed themselves to look as though they were giving it everything. With the Gorōsei watching from behind, how could they afford to appear half-hearted?
Besides, Sengoku and the others weren't fools. From the way the Gorōsei carried themselves, it was clear the one sealed inside wasn't just anyone. Their nervous, reverent expressions said everything—Imu's status was unimaginably high.
Otherwise, when had the Gorōsei ever humbled themselves before anyone?
Half an hour later
Boom!
The massive sealed sphere began to tremble violently.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
Hairline fractures spread across its surface, multiplying in every direction.
"If it's breaking, fall back!" Kong barked.
The three immediately withdrew. And then, with a thunderous roar, the sphere shattered.
BOOM!
From within emerged Imu—the sovereign of the world. Once a figure of untouchable majesty, now disheveled and worn from imprisonment.
"Lord Imu!"
The Gorōsei rushed forward, their composure shattered. They didn't spare a glance for Sengoku, Kong, or Kuzan. In this moment, nothing mattered more than their ruler's safety.
As they bowed and groveled, their loyalty plain for all to see, Kuzan frowned slightly, muttering under his breath.
"…Are we supposed to be doing the same thing?"
"Kuzan, you're confused."
Sengoku gave him a sharp look, almost like an old veteran lecturing a rookie.
"Don't you see the Gorōsei falling over themselves to curry favor? If you run up there too, what does that make it look like? You want to compete with them for credit?"
"…So?"
"So just do nothing. Sometimes, doing nothing is the smartest move."
Sengoku folded his arms with the air of someone who'd survived decades of political trenches.
"…I get it now."
Kuzan nodded slowly, an almost enlightened expression on his face.
What was this? A masterclass in workplace survival, courtesy of Fleet Admiral Sengoku?
From the broken seal, Imu emerged, his expression unreadable as the Gorōsei scrambled before him like desperate dogs.
But as Imu's gaze shifted, comparing the perfectly polished robes of the Gorōsei with the dust-covered, sweat-soaked Kong, Sengoku, and Kuzan, who looked every bit the laborers they were, a flicker of disdain crossed his face.
The more he looked, the more those five overly clean "loyal servants" irritated him.
With a single flick of his right hand—
BOOM!
The Gorōsei were blasted away like rag dolls, their bodies smashing into distant ruins.
And then, without a word, Imu vanished.
Hmph… did they really think I didn't notice them sipping cola while I was sealed?
"???"
Kong, Sengoku, and Kuzan froze, dumbfounded.
"…So, uh—shouldn't we pretend we got blown away too?" Kong muttered under his breath.
"…Not necessary, but… why?" Sengoku frowned.
To be honest, even he couldn't understand why the Gorōsei had been smacked around.
Kuzan, however, studied his own dust-stained coat, then recalled the neat, spotless suits of the Gorōsei. His eyes narrowed as realization struck.
"I think I've got a rough guess," Kuzan said slowly.
"What guess?" Sengoku and Kong pressed, leaning in.
Kuzan sighed.
"…Maybe it's because their clothes looked way too clean. Like they didn't lift a finger."
"…This—"
Kong and Sengoku exchanged bewildered looks. The thought gnawed at them: Imu's own clothes had been dusty after emerging from the seal… yet the Gorōsei, standing pristine in spotless suits, had looked like they hadn't lifted a finger.
"…It's possible."
The same conclusion flashed through both their minds.
Of course, neither of them dared say it aloud. They just buried the thought deep in their hearts.
"..." ×5
Buried under the rubble, the Gorōsei themselves sat in silence, dazed and covered in dirt.
So… the reason we were struck down by Lord Imu was because our suits looked too clean?
The idea actually made a strange sort of sense.
If we'd known, maybe we shouldn't have bothered changing into fresh clothes beforehand…
But another thought crept in, chilling them further.
No—even if we hadn't changed, wouldn't we still have been punished? What if Lord Imu noticed the coffee stains? Would he think we'd been drinking coffee while he was sealed?
Their faces stiffened. Truly, there was no safe option.
Deep within Pangaea Castle, in a palace untouched by the collapse, the Gorōsei gathered before Lord Imu, who had already changed into fresh robes. They dropped to their knees, not daring to raise their heads.
"Lord… how should we deal with that one?" one of them asked cautiously.
"That is not something you can deal with."
Imu's calm voice cut them down. The implication was clear: unless Imu personally acted, anyone sent against that person would only be walking to their death.
"…"
The Gorōsei bowed lower, too frightened to speak further.
"I will give you fifteen years to bring order to the seas. If you cannot… then be ready to be replaced."
Imu's gaze swept over them, cold and indifferent. "As for him… I will handle it myself."
And with that, Imu vanished.
"Fifteen years…"
Panic flickered across the eyes of the Gorōsei as the words sank in.
In the Gorōsei's council chamber
"What do we do now?"
The five elders stared at one another, voices heavy with unease. Fifteen years—given the current chaos tearing across the seas, it was far too little time.
None of them could muster much confidence.
"…If only we had the power of the Nika Fruit," one of them muttered bitterly.
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