In the distance, at the steel factory, Karasu looked up.
Deep in the coal mines, Dragon saw the red glow reflect off the cave entrance.
They turned to their respective armies and declared in unison.
"NOW."
In the coal mining area, the illusion broke.
The shantytown doors flew open. Group after group of miners, 50,000 strong, formed ranks and marched out.
They were tattered, gaunt, and filthy, but their eyes burned.
And in their hands were not just picks, but long spears and rifles.
At the steel factory, the workers threw off their coveralls, revealing weapons.
"Karasu!" a subordinate rushed over. "What about the prisoners? The port overseers?"
A flicker of disgust passed through Karasu's eyes.
"Gather the rebel brothers," he ordered. "Bring the prisoners to the main floor. Everyone needs to see this."
In a massive, cavernous factory building, hundreds of overseers—the cruel men from the port city who had whipped and beaten them for years—were tightly bound.
They knelt in rows, surrounded by thousands of silent, armed workers.
These men, who had previously swaggered like kings, now trembled and wept.
The whips that once gave them power lay discarded on the dirty floor, trampled under dusty boots.
Karasu stood on a platform, looking down at them. He felt a surge of rage, but he suppressed it.
He was no longer the hothead of old. Dragon had taught him to think.
Dragon had said these men were just lackeys, bought by the nobles.
In a perfect world, they could be re-educated.
But time was tight.
The mysterious ally, Raleigh, had given them a window of opportunity that would close soon.
They couldn't afford mercy. They needed unity. They needed blood to seal the pact.
"Karasu! Please!" an overseer begged, snot running down his face. "Spare us! We were just doing our job!"
"We'll join you! We hate the nobles too!"
Karasu looked at them with cold pity.
"Fire!"
At his command, a line of Freedom fighter Corps soldiers raised their rifles.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The volley echoed like thunder in the enclosed space.
Smoke filled the air.
Karasu raised his hand again. "Finish them."
Another volley. Silence returned, heavy with the scent of iron and gunpowder.
Now, Karasu turned to the young soldier.
"We move," Karasu declared with unwavering determination. "We seize the high walls. We capture the King's Guard. We open the gates."
"YES!"
...
Atop the High Walls.
"Captain! Something terrible has happened! Captain!" A trembling soldier burst into the commander's office, interrupting the man's early dinner.
"What's the panic?" The commander burped, wiping wine from his lips. "Can't a man eat in peace?"
"The miners! They're rebelling again! But... it's different this time!"
"Damn troublemakers," the commander grumbled, grabbing his sword belt. "Always rioting. Grab the whips. We'll make them bleed until they learn."
He didn't take it seriously.
Miners had sticks. He had walls. It was simple math.
Grumbling curses, he stumbled onto the battlements, slightly drunk.
He looked down. "Mother of god..."
The alcohol evaporated from his blood instantly.
Below him, a sea of people stretched as far as the eye could see.
It wasn't a mob. It was an army.
Tens of thousands of them, moving in silence, moving with purpose.
"Quick!" he screamed, his voice cracking. "Contact the Marines! Get the Den Den Mushi!"
"Reporting, Captain!" a soldier yelled back, holding up a snail that looked like it was in a coma. "It's jammed! We can't get a signal out! They have a White Den Den Mushi nearby!"
"What?!" The captain's face went pale. "They have military-grade jammers?!"
He looked down at the dark mass surging toward the wall.
And then he saw it.
The glint of steel on their backs.
"They... they have guns," he whispered. "All of them."
...
Down below.
Dragon walked at the front of the formation.
He showed no urgency.
"Go back!" a nervous soldier on the wall shouted, his voice shrill with terror. "Lay down your weapons and return now, and we'll act as if nothing happened! Please!"
The soldier didn't know why, but when he saw the hooded man walking calmly toward the gate, his mind went blank.
"Hah," Dragon chuckled softly. "They're afraid."
He didn't stop.
The sound of a hundred thousand footsteps pounding the earth was like a drumbeat of doom.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The terrified soldier on the wall snapped.
"Come any closer and I'll kill you!"
Bang! He fired blindly.
The bullet struck the dirt near Dragon's feet, kicking up a puff of dust.
Dragon didn't flinch. He bent down, dug the flattened bullet out of the ground, and held it up.
Behind him, Swore raised his hand.
"AIM!" Ten thousand rifles swiveled upward, aiming at the parapets.
"Damn commoners!" The captain roared, trying to regain control. "Drive them back! Fire at will!"
Bang!
A gunshot rang out—but not from below. It came from the wall itself.
The captain stared blankly as one of his own men collapsed with a hole in his chest.
He looked across the ramparts.
The "overseers" who were already on the wall... the ones Tara had led... were pulling guns from their coats.
"Traitors!" the captain screamed, pressing himself flat against the stone. "We have traitors on the wall!"
It was chaos.
Bullets whistled through the air, carrying the thick smell of gunpowder.
The King's Guard was caught in a pincer attack.
They were being shot from below by the army, and from the side by the infiltrators.
And then, the gates of the steel factory opened.
Like a mountain stream converting into a raging river, the steelworkers poured out, flanking the wall from the inside.
Karasu stood at the forefront.
He wasn't shouting orders anymore.
He didn't need to.
"CHARGE!" A gut-wrenching, earth-shaking roar burst from the chests of the workers.
All the pain. All the hunger. All the humiliation. It erupted in a single sound that shook the very foundations of the city.
Infected by this power, Karasu snatched a rifle, firing as he ran.
"For freedom!"
The walls, which the captain had believed were impregnable, crumbled like paper before this force.
The gates were breached in minutes.
The King's Guard, bullies who were used to beating unarmed men, broke immediately.
They threw down their weapons, huddling in corners, begging for the mercy they had never shown.
...
7:15 PM.
The sun had set, but the city was bright with the light of torches.
The towering walls of Coal-Iron City were occupied.
The flag of the Kingdom was torn down, replaced by a simple red cloth.
"Dragon-san." Karasu approached Dragon near the main gate, his face smeared with soot and blood, but his eyes shining.
"As planned, we've secured the port. Our people are also in position at the nobles' residences to block their escape." He took a breath. "We've taken the city."
Dragon nodded, showing no outward emotion, though his heart stirred.
He patted Karasu's shoulder. "Well done, Karasu. But remember, our success stems from thorough preparation and the mistakes of our enemy. Don't get arrogant."
He looked toward the glittering lights of the upper district, where the palace sat on the hill.
"Such a victory is only what we deserve. But the head of the snake is still there." Dragon checked his pocket watch.
"Let's accelerate. At 8:30 PM, in the Royal Palace... we will pass judgment on this nation's greatest evil!"