...
The light screen briefly sank into darkness, as if gathering strength for an even heavier revelation to come.
When it lit up again, the scene continued seamlessly from the previous thread.
Still in Holy Land Mary Geoise, but the atmosphere was even more solemn than before, carrying a hint of tension.
Harald was summoned once more by the Five Elders—this time in an even more secretive hall, adorned with countless ancient crests and murals.
Saint Ethanbaron V. Nusjuro announced in his flat, unwavering tone: "Given that Figarland Shamrock Saint… has gone missing, after deliberation, the holder of the 'Shallow Sea Pact,' Harald—you shall fill his position…"
"Effective immediately, you are promoted to full God's Knight."
"Shamrock Saint has gone missing"
These words didn't just shock Harald—the outside of the light screen exploded as well.
Saint Garling, who had just barely calmed himself with thick-skinned denial and refusal to admit anything, felt his heart gripped tightly once more!
His face turned deathly pale in an instant, lips trembling, yet he couldn't utter a single sound.
Although the reason for "missing" wasn't explicitly stated, when combined with the earlier shocking speculation that Shanks might have secretly helped Fisher Tiger escape, the truth was almost self-evident!
The son he had viewed as the glorious return of his family's pride, the "Shamrock Saint" he had just been smugly showing off in the future scenes—
had truly turned out to be a "rebel" who infiltrated the Holy Land, liberated slaves, and went completely against the family's stance—even "disappearing" because of it.
The massive blow and the dizzying sense of collapse from such a disparity made Saint Garling's body sway, nearly unable to stand.
Everything he prided himself on—bloodline, power, control over his son—felt, in this moment, like one enormous joke.
"Pfft… Hahahahaha!!"
Roger was the first who couldn't hold it in, pointing at the light screen where the Five Elders were announcing the news.
Then he looked at the real-world Saint Garling—utterly devastated, looking as if he had lost his parents—and laughed so hard he doubled over, tears streaming out.
"Scopper! Did you see that! Hahaha! 'Unable to fulfill duties due to circumstances'! I'm dying here! What an official way to put it, so damn euphemistic!
"Even his own flesh-and-blood son doesn't want to 'come back' to be this bullshit knight—Saint Garling, just how big a failure are you as a father?! Hahahaha!"
Scopper Gaban also grinned wide, letting out a rough, unrestrained laugh without any mercy: "Exactly! The precious son he went through hell to get back just turns around and runs off—and probably to help slaves slap him in the face! That taste, tsk tsk, absolutely exquisite!"
The pirates around them already despised Saint Garling to the core. Seeing Roger take the lead, they immediately joined in the jeering—various sarcastic, venomous taunts pouring toward Saint Garling like a tidal wave.
"Oho, leader of the God's Knights—your son disobeys and runs away, how does it feel?"
"Noble bloodline? More like 'rebellious bone' nobility!"
"Can't even teach your own son properly, and you still have the face to sit so high and mighty?"
"You're a worse father than the cook on our ship!"
…
The pirates' unrestrained laughter and mockery landed like handfuls of salt rubbed mercilessly into Saint Garling's bleeding wounds.
His face went from white to green, then from green to purple. His chest heaved violently, eyes burning with humiliated fury, yet he couldn't squeeze out a single word in retort.
Because the "future" clues revealed by the light screen, along with the deepest fear in his own heart, were all confirming the most terrifying possibility.
Rocks stood with arms crossed, coldly watching Saint Garling's pathetic state. Though he didn't burst out laughing like Roger, the icy, mocking curve at the corner of his mouth showed he was in quite a good mood.
Watching this arrogant, hypocritical man—who viewed all living beings as ants—eat such a defeat was always a pleasing sight.
The plot inside the light screen continued to advance.
The promotion ceremony was not held in an ordinary knights' hall.
Led by the Five Elders, Harald passed through layer after layer of heavy security, finally arriving at an unimaginably vast and dim space.
At the center of the space stood a towering stone throne of simple, ancient design, supported by countless steps.
What made Harald's pupils contract sharply and his entire body tremble violently was this: the "Empty Throne"—which had been vacant for eight hundred years, symbolizing "no one may rule alone"—now had a figure quietly seated upon it!
The figure's specific appearance couldn't be made out clearly; only a non-human, boundless sense of ancient indifference could be faintly felt.
Merely existing there, it emanated a pressure that made even Harald's soul shiver in dread.
No unnecessary words, no elaborate ceremony.
"Step forward!"
Harald felt as though invisible strings were pulling him; he couldn't help but take heavy steps, advancing one by one toward the lofty throne.
With each step closer, the pressure grew heavier, yet the "Shallow Sea Pact" mark inside his body began to heat up, resonating.
"Buzz!!!"
An indescribable roar didn't come from the outside—it exploded directly in the depths of his soul!
Deep within Pangaea Castle in the Holy Land, a terrifying aura of life and death surged skyward, instantly enveloping the entire Holy Land—and even causing the viewers outside the light screen to feel a sudden palpitation!
"Aaaaahhh!!!"
Harald let out a scream of agony mixed with some strange, twisted pleasure!
He felt a chilling, bone-piercing yet strangely life-filled bizarre power—like raging molten lava—forcibly pouring into his limbs and bones, scouring, transforming, eroding his giant body and soul!
The faint blue "Shallow Sea Pact" mark on his wrist wriggled like a living thing, deformed, and ultimately transformed into a far more complex jet-black symbol, deeply branded into his flesh and even down to his bones!
The process seemed to last a very long time, yet also felt like only an instant.
When everything subsided, Harald knelt gasping on the spot. He lowered his head, staring in disbelief at his tightly clenched fist.
Beneath his skin surged a power unprecedented in scale—one so vast it frightened even himself—roiling and surging within his body!
Every cell was cheering, brimming with boundless vitality.
"This is the 'Power of Immortality.' Terrifying, isn't it."
Saint Topman V. Warcury's voice rang out from the side, carrying a trace of admiration and awe.
The other Five Elders also nodded slightly, clearly holding this power in extremely high regard.
Yet Harald felt a wave of confusion and faint unease.
The power was indeed immense, but… far too strange. It seemed to have its own will, greedily sucking at something.
From the throne, Imu once again transmitted intent directly into Harald's mind: [You have become My 'Immortal Knight.']
[Now I command you: Return to Elbaph. At the core of the royal castle, construct the 'Stellar Transmigration Array' as a connecting passage.]
...