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In the One Piece world, at the third omniversal layer…
A portal ripped open above Mary Geoise, the Holy Land. Out of it stepped Ashborn.
The city sparkled with luxury, sitting high above the Red Line, but what he saw made his face twist in disgust.
Humans, fishmen, even children were chained like animals. They were dragged, whipped, and beaten until some coughed blood. Their bodies were too weak to handle the torture.
Meanwhile, the so-called masters—the Celestial Dragons—laughed while wearing silk robes and strange bubble helmets. They sat on golden cushions and chairs carried by slaves with broken backs and shattered arms.
Ashborn's eyes darkened. A purple light began leaking out of him. The sky above turned black, the sun itself hid. The whole planet trembled as his fury spread like a storm.
The Celestial Dragons looked around in panic.
"What's happening?!"
"Is this an attack? A devil fruit ability?!"
Ashborn clenched his jaw. His voice was low, but it carried like thunder.
"Father warned me about this world… about these self-proclaimed gods. I thought maybe there would still be some light in them, some innocence left… but no. All I see is filth. Only darkness. They don't deserve mercy. They deserve… erasure."
He raised his hand. For a moment, he considered summoning his shadow army—but then he shook his head.
"No. Using my army on these pigs would be an insult."
Darkness spread from his hand, wrapping around reality itself. His fingers curled into a fist.
In an instant—snap!—all the slaves vanished from Mary Geoise. They were teleported far away, to quiet villages where the air was free and the land was peaceful. The slave marks carved into their backs dissolved into nothing.
Back in Mary Geoise, the chains and shackles hit the ground with a loud clang. Empty.
The Celestial Dragons froze. Their faces twisted in fear. For the first time in their lives… they felt powerless.
Ashborn stepped forward, his aura crashing down like a tidal wave. The shadows around him swirled like an army of demons, even though he hadn't summoned a single soldier. His voice echoed like the judgment of a god.
"Your reign ends today."
The Celestial Dragons froze.
From above, a voice thundered across the sky:
"Your sins have reached their limit… mortals."
Fear spread like fire. One of the Celestial Dragons screamed,
"C-Call the Marines! Hurry! Call them now!"
But it was already too late.
The clouds ripped apart as a massive hand—larger than the entire island—descended. It was made of pure darkness, dripping with power. With one single finger pressing down, the hand crashed onto Mary Geoise.
BOOOOM!
The alabaster towers shattered like sandcastles in the waves. The ground split apart, crumbling into dust. Fire burst out, smoke roared to the sky, and the mighty Red Line itself cracked. Whole parts of it collapsed into the sea.
The screams of the Celestial Dragons were brief. Blood splattered, chains snapped, and then silence. Their arrogant laughter was erased forever.
As the dust and smoke began to clear, five dark auras descended from the sky.
The Gorosei—the Five Elders—had arrived.
They had just been with Imu, their hidden ruler, discussing the O'Hara incident. But the destruction they sensed at Mary Geoise was so great, they rushed here immediately. And what they saw left even them shaken:
Mary Geoise… gone.
With them was a tall man, hair white as snow, wearing the armor of a knight. His eyes were sharp, filled with killing intent. He was Saint Garling Figarland—a man whose strength rivaled the legends of old. He was a master of all three types of Haki, standing on the same level as Roger in his prime.
Their eyes locked on Ashborn, standing calmly in the middle of the ruins. The elders unleashed their Haki at full force, black lightning crackling across the sky. Conqueror's Haki so strong it shook the seas below.
But Ashborn didn't even flinch.
The elders' faces twisted. They recognized immediately—this man wasn't just strong. He was far beyond Rocks D. Xebec, far beyond Roger. He was something else entirely.
The Gorosei transformed, revealing their awakened mythical forms—shapes born from humanity's deepest nightmares.
Saint Jaygarcia Saturn was the first to move. His massive spider form spread across the ruins, venom dripping from his fangs. He hurled webs strong enough to melt even seastone straight toward Ashborn.
Saint Marcus Mars unfurled vast wings that blotted out the sun. His screech split the sky as he dove with a blade infused with Haki and roaring wind, slashing down at Ashborn.
Saint Topman Warcury stomped the ground, his tusks glowing crimson. The land itself shattered, spewing molten magma and shards of earth faster than lightning, all launched at Ashborn.
Saint Ethanbaron V. Nusjuro mounted his skeletal horse, its mane blazing with frostfire. With his sword raised, he charged, swinging with Haki so sharp it could cut the world itself, freezing and burning everything it touched.
The battlefield trembled as their combined attacks rushed toward Ashborn.
And yet… he stood still.
A calm shadow spread from beneath his feet, swallowing the ruins and creeping across the battlefield like a living ocean. His eyes glowed with endless power.
"So… these are the Self Proclaimed gods of this world?.....Pathetic "
Then, on the left side, Saint Shepherd Jupiter unleashed his full power, taking the form of a giant sandworm-like bug. He swallowed up debris and stone, mixing it with acid, then spat it out at high speed toward Ashborn like a rain of destruction.
At the same time, Saint Garling coated his Holy Lance with Armament Haki, sharpened his senses with Observation Haki, and let his Conqueror's Haki explode like a storm. With all his strength, he hurled the glowing Holy Lance straight at Ashborn.
Ashborn stood there, calm. To him, everything was moving in slow motion. He sighed.
Why… why are these people so corrupted? They speak of justice, but all I see is arrogance and lies. Justice? Hah…
Memories of another man surfaced.
That fool… Akainu. Killing the innocent and calling it justice. Disgusting. If Father had sent Andreas here instead of me, this whole world would already be dust.
On the other side, Saturn launched poisonous webs, but Ashborn's shadow aura disintegrated them instantly. Mars swung blades of slicing wind, but Ashborn simply raised his hand and formed a dark sword. With one wave, the wind shattered like glass.
Warcury tried to create an earthquake, shaking the ground violently. Ashborn, using his Ruler's Authority, stopped the quake before it could spread. If he hadn't, the sea would've risen and swallowed the land.
Then came Nazjaro's frozen flesh attack. Ashborn let it hit him on purpose. He wanted them to believe, for just a second, that their attacks worked—just to crush their hope right after. Nazjaro smirked, but the smile faded when his ice melted into nothing against Ashborn's armor.
Meanwhile, Jupiter's sandstorm and acid blocks rained down. Ashborn stepped forward. This time, he used something deeper—Monarch's Authority. Unlike Ruler's Authority, which controlled territory and mana, this was pure fear. The power of a king of death itself.
The moment it spread, Jupiter's massive body cracked apart. His insect form twisted, split, and collapsed into a pile of rotting flesh.
The glowing Holy Lance still came flying. Ashborn caught it with one hand, clenched, and crushed it into dust. His cold voice followed:
"So fragile… even your divinity means nothing to me."
For the first time in millions of years, Ashborn released his true killing intent. The aura of death he once used against the Apostles of Itharim. The whole world trembled, skies darkened, seas roared—but Ashborn controlled it, keeping innocents safe.
Then he moved. With a simple swing of his dark sword, Saturn was split in half, his monstrous form burned to ash. A shadow spear formed in Ashborn's hand; he threw it mid-air, piercing Mars straight through the chest, impaling his giant bird form, reducing him to nothing.
Warcury, charging in his massive boar form, roared. Ashborn caught him by both arms, ripped her apart, and cast him remains into the shadows for his Army to feast upon.
Nestoros, in his skeletal horse form, charged next. Chains of shadow erupted from the ground, wrapping around his legs, pulling him down. Ashborn thrust his blade straight into Nestoros's chest, draining the last spark of life from him. The corpse fell into dust.
Jupiter was already nothing but scattered flesh.
Only one remained—Saint Garling. His eyes shook, fear creeping into them as he looked at Ashborn. He saw what no one believed possible—the Five Elders, who were supposed to be immortal, unable to regenerate, dying one by one like nothing.
They couldn't even send a warning to MArine. It all happened too suddenly, too fast.
And Ashborn stood there, silent, his dark aura swallowing everything.