Mariejois – The Holy Land
The stillness of Mariejois had always been artificial—gilded silence atop buried screams. But today, it was different.
It was quiet.
Unnaturally so.
No parades of chained slaves. No shallow laughter from bloated nobles. No guards barking orders or punishing shadows.
Something was wrong.
I knew the smell of power when it turned rancid.
Return to the Ivory Cage
My ship docked without fanfare. No escorts greeted me. Not even the usual bluster of low-born Celestial sycophants licking at my boots for favor.
Raisa and Mireille flanked me as we ascended the pristine marble steps.
At the gates of my estate, the twin guards did not salute.
They stared.
Blank. Still. Pale.
"Open the gate," I said, bored.
No movement.
Mireille stepped forward and whispered into one of their ears. A moment later, he collapsed, clutching his throat. Poison? Fear? Does it matter?
The other guard opened the gate with trembling hands.
The message had been sent.
The Warped Garden
Inside the estate, the flowers were blooming wrong. Jasmine vines spilled over the walls in chaotic webs. The koi in the pond had eaten each other. Bloodied fins floated beneath the surface.
I knew who had been here.
Mjosgard.
The only Celestial Dragon who still dared oppose me publicly. The one who had thrown away his title in favor of "justice." The one the commoners whispered of with hope.
Pathetic.
He had snuck in. Left a message.
But not for me.
For the others.
The Gathering Storm
Later that night, I summoned one of the elder retainers.
An old man. Eyeless. Loyal only to survival.
"Speak," I ordered, seated beneath the ancestral portrait of the Donquixote line—the real one, not Doflamingo's mad little branch.
"There's a faction, young master," he rasped. "The lowborn nobles… the ones who married into the bloodline. They whisper of Mjosgard behind closed doors."
"And what do they say?"
"That he is… the rightful future."
I laughed.
Loud.
Joyful.
"Then let's give them a future they deserve."
The Knife Behind the Curtain
The Celestial hierarchy was crumbling from the inside. The Five Elders had grown distant, their meetings fewer and more erratic. Rumors of Imu-sama were spreading among the smarter families. Panic rippled beneath their powdered faces.
While they screamed about power slipping away, I built my own foundation—one piece at a time.
Hancock in the west.Doflamingo's shattered legacy in the south.And here… in the heart of false heaven…
I would plant fear so deep, it would bloom into obedience.
An Invitation
Three days later, a golden-lettered scroll arrived.
A summons.
From the Five Elders themselves.
Few ever received such a thing.
Fewer still returned from answering it.
Beneath the Red Vault
The chamber beneath Pangaea Castle was darker than it should've been. Torches cast flickering shadows across towering stone pillars carved with the history of the world's sins.
The Five sat as they always had—silent, old, cruel.
But I saw it.
Cracks.
One of them—the bald one with the sword—studied me like prey. Another, the one with the thick beard, clenched his fists behind his robe.
And the one with the scar over his left eye spoke first.
"Lucien. We've heard… troubling things."
"I hope they were entertaining."
The air grew heavy.
"Your alliances. Your ambitions. The Warlord system's collapse. Hancock's neutrality. The Straw Hat boy's rise. Too many threads… leading back to you."
I smiled.
"Then maybe you should be grateful I'm not pulling harder."
The Ultimatum
They offered me a deal. One final command.
Withdraw.Step back.Let the balance return.
In return, they would preserve my name, my estate, my legacy.
I pretended to consider it.
Then I set the letter on fire in front of them.
"Balance," I said, "is the lie weak men use to sleep at night."
I turned to leave.
"And I've never needed sleep."