In the courtyard, blood seeped from Ginny's calf. Every step stamped a dark red footprint onto the pristine white marble.
She clenched her teeth so hard her jaw trembled. Her lungs burned as if they were on fire, yet her pace never slowed.
Behind her, Saint Charlos's shrill laughter mixed with the whistle of bullets tearing through the air, the ugliest noise in this so-called holy land.
"Run, toy! Faster, yoi!" Saint Charlos fired again and missed. He pouted in irritation, cheeks wobbling.
He lifted the gun to aim once more.
Then a dull, heavy boom rolled in from the western side of Mary Geoise.
Boom!!
A visible shockwave surged skyward, ripping the spire off a distant castle like it was made of paper.
A heartbeat later, flames erupted high enough to paint half the night sky red.
The hall's noise stalled.
Saint Charlos paused and glanced toward the blast, annoyance creasing his face.
"Which bastard is playing with fire during my hunt?"
On the main seat, Saint Rosward swirled his wine. Through the glass dome, his cloudy eyes followed the glow lazily.
"Probably some family testing a new toy they picked up," he drawled. "Ignore it."
The Celestial Dragons were used to such things. Their giggles returned in seconds, urging Charlos to continue his "game."
To them, a little commotion in the Holy Land was just another form of entertainment.
But before the words even settled…
Boom! Boom!! BOOM!!
Explosions erupted one after another from different directions, each closer than the last, each louder than the last.
The ground began to tremble. The crystal chandelier overhead rattled, clinking madly, while dust sifted down in steady sheets.
This time, no one could pretend it was nothing.
In the East District, by the slave market in the south, even near noble residences closer to the outer ring of Mary Geoise, enormous fireballs rose one after another. Black smoke gathered into vicious pillars, swallowing the Holy Land's brilliant lights.
In the span of moments, Mary Geoise turned into a burning hell.
"What's going on?!"
"Guards! Where are CP?! Useless trash!"
"My pet is scared and peed itself! Drag it out and dispose of it!"
Panicked shrieks replaced the earlier laughter.
The Celestial Dragons fell into chaos, hurling curses as they vented fear and rage on the slaves closest to them.
One Celestial Dragon kicked over the human "mount" beneath him and stomped wildly on the trembling body.
"Filthy commoner! It's because of you dirty insects that holy Mary Geoise has been tainted by disaster!"
White figures flashed through the firelight.
A CP agent used Soru, appearing before Saint Rosward in a blur, dropping to one knee.
"Saint Rosward, please proceed to the shelter immediately! The cause of the explosions is unknown. We suspect an enemy intrusion!"
"Intrusion?" Saint Rosward's voice jumped an octave, thick with disbelief. "Who dares invade the dwelling of gods?!"
The agent did not answer. He only bowed his head.
More CP members scattered. Some rushed toward the flames, but more formed a human wall around the Celestial Dragons, preparing to escort them out.
In the chaos, no one noticed that the pink-haired woman who had been treated as "prey" had vanished into the courtyard shadows.
And no one noticed, at the corner of a burning ruin.
As a squad of CP agents hurried past to protect another screaming Celestial Dragon, a boulder in the shadow shifted… slowly… silently… as if the rock itself was breathing.
It slid aside.
A towering figure climbed up from below.
His skin was the red of a blazing sun. In the firelight, he looked like a god of vengeance crawling out of hell itself.
Fisher Tiger.
He glanced at the chaos he had created with sheer brute force and didn't spare it another second.
His target was not the buildings.
His target was not those bloated "gods," either.
His gaze cut through flame and panic, locking onto the deepest heart of the Holy Land.
The hell where countless brethren and slaves were caged.
Tiger moved.
A flicker.
And he melted into a deeper darkness.
…
Mary Geoise's slave prison was damp and cold, the air thick with rot and despair.
The uproar outside could not be heard clearly here. Heavy stone walls smothered the world. Only the prisoners' numb breathing remained, and the occasional scrape of a dragged chain.
In a narrow cell, a black-haired girl curled in the corner. Behind her lay two younger sisters, asleep in exhaustion.
On their backs were the marks that meant eternal slavery and humiliation.
The Hoof of the Celestial Dragon.
Boa Hancock.
She no longer remembered how long she'd been held here. Time had stopped mattering. Each day was a slow flaying of the will.
Then a faint vibration traveled through the cold floor, like some enormous thing beating a drum in the distance.
Hancock jerked her head up. The eyes that would one day topple nations were filled with wary shock.
The tremors grew more frequent, more distinct.
Then came muffled booms from deep underground, one after another.
Her sisters stirred awake.
Sandersonia rubbed her eyes. "Sister…"
"Shh." Hancock covered her mouth at once, her other hand calming the shaking Marigold.
She pressed her ear against the iron door, straining to catch the sounds beyond.
Screams. Roars. The crash of collapsing stone.
They bled through layers of barriers, blurred but real.
Hancock scrambled toward the cell's only small window.
It sat far too high, letting in only a thread of light.
She clawed at cracks in the wall, braced her feet on slick stone, and forced herself upward until her eye finally reached the opening.
Outside… flames reached the heavens.
The sky that was usually "holy," like a god's kingdom, had been stained an ominous red under the night.
Black smoke rolled across the air. Far-off castles became silhouettes in the firelight. Debris and sparks rained down from above.
The Holy Land… was in chaos.
The thought detonated in Hancock's mind, leaving a moment of emptiness followed by a violent pounding in her chest.
She slid down from the window, knees stinging from the fall, and rushed back to her sisters.
"Marie, Sanda, wake up. Wake up!" she whispered, voice low but urgent in a way she'd never used before.
"Sister?"
"Listen to me." Hancock stared into their frightened eyes. "Something happened outside. The guards can't spare attention for us right now."
She drew in a breath, forcing down the thunder in her chest.
"This might be our only chance."
"Chance?" Marigold didn't understand.
"A chance to escape." Hancock's voice held a brutality that didn't belong to a child. "Remember. No matter what you see, no matter what you hear, stay quiet and stay close to me. Understand?"
The two nodded hard, half-comprehending, shaken by the severity in their sister's face.
Hancock's gaze locked on the cold iron door.
…
In another sector of the prison, cages held different "merchandise."
Gild Tesoro leaned against the bars. His ash-green hair was smeared with filth. Bruises colored his face.
He felt the outside turmoil too.
The tremors that shook the ground. The booming that seemed to strike the soul itself.
To him, it wasn't the sound of disaster.
It was an overture.
A symphony of fate.
In his mind, a girl's smiling face rose without permission.
Stella.
The only girl who had ever smiled at him when he was at his lowest, his most pathetic.
He had sworn to buy her out of this hell. He worked without rest. He stole. He bled himself dry chasing money, finally scraping together a ransom so huge it felt unreal.
Then a Celestial Dragon, simply because it was "interesting," bought Stella right in front of him.
He fought back.
All he got was a beating, and then his broken body thrown into this prison.
"Tesoro, you're going to become someone incredible. I believe it."
"Keep smiling, okay? Your laugh sounds so nice."
"Meeting you was the happiest thing in my life."
Those words, spoken before she was taken away, carved themselves into him. Sweet comfort, and at the same time a poison that gnawed at his sanity every waking moment.
He still hadn't received word that Stella was dead.
Which meant she was still alive.
And if she was still alive, there was still hope.
Tesoro slowly stood, both hands gripping the freezing bars.
Outside the corridor, guards' frantic footsteps rushed past. They were desperate to protect those lofty "gods," not to watch over lowly "toys" like him.
Chaos was a staircase.
And this riot swallowing the Holy Land was the only staircase he would ever get.
The only one that could pull him out of the abyss and give him back everything he'd lost.
"Stella…" Tesoro whispered her name.
In his eyes, which despair had once turned dull and dead, golden fire ignited again.
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