On the walls of Mary Geoise, Kyle closed his eyes. His Observation Haki unfurled from him like ripples on water, spreading out in silent circles. The chaotic screams, collapsing buildings, and the roar of the flames were all automatically filtered out, fading into white noise. His perception pierced through walls and crowds, precisely locking onto several targets of interest.
Amidst the surging tide of fleeing slaves, a young man with grey-green hair was fighting his way against the current. He anxiously called out a woman's name, his eyes, burning with a golden fire, held a desire so strong it could devour the world. Gild Tesoro. Kyle's consciousness lingered on him for a moment. The potential of the future "Golden Emperor" was undeniable; such a talent could not be left to rot.
His perception continued to extend, sweeping past a chaotic courtyard and locking onto a shadow. A black-haired girl was fiercely protecting her two younger sisters. Her gaze, unlike the other slaves who only showed terror and confusion, held a cold calm and a ruthlessness that did not belong to a child her age. Boa Hancock. A thought flashed through Kyle's mind. A future powerhouse, without a doubt. One to keep an eye on.
Just then, a strong wind blew from below the Red Line, carrying with it three familiar presences. Kyle's perception shifted toward the sea, catching sight of the rapidly approaching ship and the man in a green cloak standing at its bow. So, the little dragon actually came. It seemed he had chosen not to abandon his comrades for some vague notion of the "greater good." Dragon's arrival was an unexpected variable, but a welcome one. It would only add to the beautiful chaos.
Kyle withdrew his thoughts and turned to give a few quiet instructions to Gecko Moriah. "Kishishishi… Leave it to me," Moriah let out a strange laugh, and his body melted into the shadow at his feet, disappearing without a sound.
After all this, Kyle finally turned his gaze to the other side. Doflamingo's body was trembling slightly, a spasm of twisted pleasure. He adjusted his sunglasses, his eyes beneath the lenses fixated on the burning hell below. That was his former home, and the root of all his hatred.
"How does it feel, Doffy?" Kyle's voice was light.
"Fufufufu…" Doflamingo's throat emitted a suppressed laugh. He slowly turned his head, revealing a crazed smile. "I'm on top of the world! This feeling is the absolute best!"
"Go," Kyle said, his tone calm. "Whether you want to watch quietly or unleash a massacre, do what you want to do. I'll cover your back."
Doflamingo's laughter stopped abruptly. The madness on his face receded as he stared at Kyle in astonishment. A moment later, this Heavenly Yaksha, a man arrogant to his very bones, solemnly knelt on one knee and lowered his once-noble head. The next second, he shot back up. His fingers moved slightly, and several invisible strings attached to a distant building. His entire body launched forward like a streak of light, rushing headlong into the sea of fire and chaos below.
The commotion on the city wall finally attracted the attention of the CP units. A CP9 agent who was hoarsely directing his men in the field inadvertently looked up. His movements froze, and a chill like that of an ice cellar shot through his body.
"Hawkeye" Mihawk.
And the other one… the man whose mere presence seemed to make the very air condense… "Wave-Guiding King" Aaron Kyle! The man who had single-handedly turned the Great Pirate Era on its head!
"It's the Wave-Guiding King! The attack on Mary Geoise… it was him!" a piercing shriek ripped through the night sky.
Instantly, every CP member—those fighting fires, those escorting Celestial Dragons, and those pursuing slaves—froze. They all looked up at the city wall, and when they saw the two figures standing there, a paralyzing cold ran from the soles of their feet to the tops of their heads.
How dare he?! How could he possibly be here?!
After a brief moment of horror, an all-consuming rage took over. This was the ultimate blasphemy against the home of the "Gods"!
"All units! The target is the Wave-Guiding King on the city wall!"
"Take him down at all costs!"
"Protect the Celestial Dragons! Do not let him approach!"
The commands were almost unnecessary. Dozens of figures stomped on the air, creating sharp sonic booms as they soared up from all directions. Soru, Moonwalk, Rankyaku… the killing techniques of the Rokushiki, enough to terrify any ordinary pirate, were unleashed without reservation. A net of death woven from blades of wind and shadow shot toward Kyle.
Looking at the swarm of enemies rushing toward him, Kyle's expression remained unchanged. Gorosei, he thought, are you still able to sit still?
He slowly raised his right hand. Black and red lightning began to crackle out of thin air, raging around him.
The sky, at that moment, went dark. It was not clouds obscuring the moon, but a higher, more absolute darkness. The firelight, the moonlight, the starlight—every source of light was instantly devoured.
A colossal black hand, whose outline could not be described in mere words, slowly extended from the sky above their heads. The patterns on its palm were intricate and grotesque, seeming to be formed from billions of silently wailing souls. With an absolute indifference, like a god looking down on ants, it slowly pressed down toward the entirety of Mary Geoise.
Time and space became thick and viscous. The CP elites who were charging toward Kyle froze in mid-air. The fury and killing intent on their faces were replaced by an extreme, primal terror. Then, like puppets with their strings cut, they fell powerlessly from the sky, one by one.
On the ground, countless fleeing slaves and panicked guards were pressed down by an irresistible pressure, unable to move. They could only look up, their faces masks of fear and bewilderment.
And the Celestial Dragons, those who called themselves gods, were making a pathetic spectacle.
"What… what kind of monster is that?!"
"Someone! Guards! Guards!"
One Celestial Dragon's eyes rolled back in his head as he foamed at the mouth, fainting from sheer fright. Many more collapsed to the ground, the pungent stench of fear instantly soaking their luxurious robes. As "Gods," when had they ever felt such an intimate threat of death?
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