The fast-moving ship cut through the waves beneath the night sky, its bow aimed straight at that vast crimson landmass.
Inside the cabin, the air was heavy.
Bartholomew Kuma sat rigid as stone. He had left his Bible behind at Baltigo, forgotten in the Revolutionary Army's headquarters.
Ginny's words kept replaying in his head, over and over.
"Let's get married, Kuma-bear!"
Her cheeks had been flushed, but her eyes had shone like they were filled with stars.
He still remembered how he had refused her.
The bloodline of the Buccaneer race was an original sin in the eyes of the World Government, a curse that invited catastrophe.
He could not, and he would not, drag someone he cherished into that crushing fate.
And yet, Ginny had still been taken. Because of him. Because of the Revolutionary Army. Dragged into the deepest hell of all.
His refusal, his cowardly retreat, hadn't protected her.
It had only ensured she faced the worst alone.
Kuma clenched his fists. His huge hands trembled from the force, joints clicking faintly.
Silent pain was worse than any scream.
"Hey, Kuma, chin up!" Emporio Ivankov lifted a hand with that dramatic flourish, trying to lighten the mood. "Ginny isn't some fragile little girl! She's tougher than anyone! Vee-hah! We're definitely getting her out!"
Kuma didn't respond. He only lowered his head further.
Monkey D. Dragon stood at the prow, gaze deep and unreadable. The sea wind snapped his dark green cloak, and his thoughts had already flown to the Holy Land.
Kael Grylls's name circled in his mind like a vulture.
The sudden move had disrupted everyone's rhythm.
What was Kael trying to do?
Was it just provocation, a slap in the World Government's face?
Or was there something deeper… something hidden beneath the blaze?
"Dragon, we're here!"
Ivankov's shout yanked Dragon back to the present.
The three of them lifted their heads, and their pupils tightened all at once.
At the top of the Red Line, that holy city that should have been spotless and sacred was now crowned with multiple pillars of fire reaching into the sky.
Black smoke twisted and rose into the night. Even across the sea, they could feel the heat, the violence, the total collapse of order.
"This is… Kael's doing?" Ivankov's jaw nearly hit the deck.
Dragon didn't answer, but he knew.
This was a once-in-a-lifetime opening.
This fire had drawn the World Government's full attention.
It would give Revolutionaries hidden across the world room to breathe, yes.
But it also pushed the Revolutionary Army into a razor-thin, dangerous position.
Do they strike now?
Or do they remain in the shadows?
Dragon slowly raised his hand, palm aimed toward the sea of flames.
Wind began to gather around him, howling like a living beast.
"Wind feeds fire," Dragon said, his voice cutting clean through the roar. "And wind carries seeds of freedom to every corner of the world. A single spark can ignite a prairie."
The moment the words fell, a visible cyclone surged upward, leaping across the ocean and lunging toward Mary Geoise!
Wind fed the blaze. The fires that had been confined to a few districts were instantly whipped into shape, turning into snarling fire dragons that swallowed everything in reach.
Chaos would be their finest cover.
…
At the same time, Mary Geoise, the slave prison.
Clang! Crash!
The last guard went flying from Fisher Tiger's punch, smashing into the wall and slumping unconscious.
Tiger strode to the prison's main gate. Under the firelight, his crimson muscles bulged like carved stone. He planted his feet, wrapped both hands around the freezing steel, and pulled.
"HRAAAAH!"
With a roar that shook the world, the gate that was said to be unbreakable was ripped from the stone by sheer brute force!
Boom!!
The door slammed to the ground, exploding dust into the air.
Inside the prison, countless numb eyes finally flickered with something like life, startled by the sound.
Tiger stood in the doorway, flames painting him into something between man and demon.
"I am Fisher Tiger!" His voice thundered into every corner of the prison. "I've come to free you! If you don't want to be a slave anymore, then follow me! Charge out and take back your freedom!"
Silence.
A brief, frozen silence, followed by a restless tremor.
Then one prisoner stumbled out.
Then a second.
A third.
And finally, hundreds, then thousands of slaves poured from the hellhole like a broken dam.
Rage and despair, crushed down for countless years, erupted in a single moment.
Boa Hancock gripped her two sisters' hands tightly, swallowed by the flood of bodies.
She didn't run mindlessly like the others. She stayed sharp, scanning the surroundings, using the chaos as a cloak while she moved toward the edge of the Holy Land, guided by memory.
Gild Tesoro, on the other hand, forced his way against the flow, searching every face that escaped.
"Stella! Stella!"
His voice vanished into the roar of the crowd, but he didn't stop. In the firelight, those golden eyes burned with his last hope.
…
On the walls of Mary Geoise.
Kael Grylls, Dracule Mihawk, Gecko Moria, and Donquixote Doflamingo stood like spectators in a theater's highest private box, looking down at the grand drama unfolding below.
"Kehehehehe… what a magnificent sight!" Moria let out his trademark laugh.
Mihawk folded his arms, hawk eyes sweeping the chaos with clinical calm, tracking CP's every movement.
Kael said nothing. He only watched.
Doflamingo adjusted his sunglasses, his body trembling with a thrill so intense it bordered on madness.
He watched his fellow Celestial Dragons, once untouchable, now screaming and running like headless flies.
He watched the pure white castles, symbols of divine authority, twist under flame and collapse into blackened ruins.
This was his former home.
And this was the place that had dragged him and his family into hell.
"Fufufu…"
A low laugh leaked from his throat, impossible to contain. He felt no sorrow, no righteous fury.
Only a sick, warped exhilaration.
Burn.
Burn hotter.
Burn it all.
Burn this false holiness, and those so-called gods, into ash.
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