In the courtyard, Ginny's calves bled freely, each step leaving a dark red footprint on the pristine white marble. She gritted her teeth, her lungs burning, but she refused to slow down. Behind her, Saint Charlos's shrill laughter and the whistle of bullets cutting through the air created a jarring symphony in the supposedly sacred place.
"Run, toy! Faster, faster!" Charlos shouted, firing another shot that went wide. He pouted in dissatisfaction.
Just as he was about to aim again, a dull thud echoed from the west side of Mary Geoise.
Boom—
A visible shockwave shot into the sky, tearing the spire clean off a distant castle. A moment later, towering flames dyed half the night sky a hellish red. The commotion in the hall paused. Charlos stopped shooting, glancing impatiently in the direction of the explosion. "Which bastard is playing with fire during my hunting time?"
From the main seat, Saint Rosward swirled the wine in his glass. His cloudy eyes gazed at the flames through his protective hood. "It's probably just another family testing a new toy they've acquired," he said slowly. "Pay it no mind."
The Celestial Dragons, accustomed to such casual displays of power, quickly resumed their laughter, urging Charlos to continue his "game." To them, a little chaos in the Holy Land was just another form of entertainment.
But their words had barely left their mouths.
Boom! Rumble! Boom—
A chain of explosions erupted from different directions, one after another, each one closer and louder than the last. The ground began to tremble. The crystal chandeliers on the dome rattled, sending a cascade of dust down onto the nobles below. This time, no one could remain calm.
In the East District, near the southern slave market, and even in the noble residences on the outskirts, giant fireballs rose into the sky. Black smoke gathered into monstrous pillars, swallowing the brilliant lights of Mary Geoise. In an instant, the entire Holy Land seemed to have become a burning purgatory.
"What's going on?!"
"Guards! Where are the CP agents?! Are they all useless?!"
"My pet got scared! Drag it away and dispose of it!"
Panicked screams replaced the cruel laughter. The Celestial Dragons fell into disarray, hysterically cursing and unleashing their fear on the slaves around them. One noble kicked over the human seat beneath him, savagely stomping on the slave's trembling body. "Scum! It's because of you filthy bugs that disaster has come to Mary Geoise!"
White-suited figures darted through the flames. A CP agent used Soru to appear before Saint Rosward in a blur, kneeling on one knee. "Saint Rosward, please proceed to the shelter immediately! The cause of the explosions is unknown, but we suspect an enemy has infiltrated!"
"Infiltrated?" Rosward's voice rose in disbelief. "Who would dare to invade the home of the gods?!"
The agent didn't reply, merely lowering his head. More CP members fanned out, forming a human wall around the Celestial Dragons to escort them to safety. In the chaos, no one noticed that the pink-haired woman who had been their "prey" had vanished into the shadows of the courtyard.
Even more unseen, in the ruins of a burning building, a large stone was slowly pushed aside. A tall figure climbed out from the darkness below. He had sun-red skin, and in the light of the flames, he looked like a god of vengeance returned from hell.
It was Fisher Tiger. He glanced at the chaos he had created with his bare hands, his expression grim. He did not linger. His target was not these buildings, and it certainly wasn't the bloated gods cowering in their halls. His gaze pierced through the fire and the panicked crowds, aimed at the deepest part of the Holy Land—the hell where countless slaves were imprisoned. Tiger's figure flickered and silently merged into a deeper darkness.
The slave prison of Mary Geoise was damp and gloomy, filled with the stench of despair. The clamor outside couldn't be heard here; the thick stone walls isolated everything, leaving only the numb breathing of prisoners and the occasional scrape of chains.
In a narrow cell, a black-haired girl huddled in a corner, her two unconscious younger sisters curled up behind her. On their backs, the Hoof of the Flying Dragon was branded into their skin—a mark of eternal shame.
Boa Hancock. She no longer remembered how long she had been trapped here. Time had lost its meaning.
Suddenly, a faint tremor ran through the cold ground. Hancock's head shot up, her beautiful eyes, which would one day captivate the world, now filled with surprise. The tremors grew stronger, more frequent. Then came a dull roar from deep underground. Her two younger sisters woke up. "Sister…" Sandersonia mumbled, rubbing her eyes.
"Shh." Hancock covered her sister's mouth, her other hand soothing a trembling Marigold. She pressed her ear against the cold iron door, trying to make out the sounds from outside. Screams, roars, the crash of collapsing buildings… the sounds were muffled, but they were real.
Hancock scrambled toward the cell's only small window. It was set high in the wall, allowing only a sliver of light to enter. She struggled, pulling herself up by the cracks in the stone, and finally managed to peer outside.
The sky was on fire. The Holy Land was burning. This thought exploded in Hancock's mind, followed by the violent pounding of her heart. She slid down from the window, ignoring her bruised knees, and rushed back to her sisters.
"Marigold, Sandersonia, wake up!" she whispered, her voice filled with an urgent energy they had never heard before.
"Sister?"
"Listen to me," Hancock said, looking into their frightened eyes. "Something is happening outside. The guards won't be paying attention to us." She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. "This might be our only chance."
"A chance?" Marigold asked, still confused.
"A chance to escape!" Hancock's voice was fierce. "Remember, no matter what happens, stay quiet and stick close to me. Do you understand?" Seeing their sister's serious expression, the two younger girls nodded vigorously. Hancock fixed her gaze on the cold iron door, waiting.
In another area of the prison, Gild Tesoro leaned against the iron bars of his cage. He, too, had noticed the commotion. For him, the earth-shaking tremors were not an omen of disaster, but the symphony of fate.
In his mind, he saw a girl's smiling face. Stella. The only person who had ever been kind to him when he had nothing. He had sworn to buy her freedom from this hell. He had worked, stolen, and risked everything to save up the astronomical sum for her ransom. But just as he was about to greet his light, a Celestial Dragon bought Stella for his own amusement. When Tesoro resisted, he was beaten and thrown into this prison.
"Meeting you is my greatest happiness." Stella's last words were a brand etched on his heart—a sweet memory and a poison that ate at his sanity. He had not yet heard that she was dead. That meant she was still alive. As long as she was alive, there was hope.
Tesoro slowly stood up, gripping the cold iron bars with both hands. The hurried footsteps of guards echoed in the corridor outside; they were rushing to protect their gods, not to watch over their toys.
Chaos is a ladder.
This turmoil sweeping through the Holy Land was his only ladder out of this abyss. "Stella…" Tesoro whispered her name, and in his eyes, once dimmed by despair, a golden flame reignited.
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