In the first half of the Grand Line, a massive three-masted ship bearing the flag of the World Government was sailing steadily forward, escorted by several guard vessels.
Judging from its course, its destination seemed to be the Holy Land—Mary Geoise.
Onboard the giant flagship, CP agents in black suits could be seen everywhere, security so tight that there was practically a guard every three steps and a sentry every five.
As for the surrounding escort ships, they were filled with sharp, battle-hardened Marine soldiers. On the two vessels closest to the flagship, Marine Vice Admirals stood on the decks, gazing into the distance, maintaining a high level of vigilance.
Without a doubt, there was someone important aboard this flagship—someone the World Government deemed worthy of heavy protection.
And indeed, inside one of the ship's luxurious cabins, a young man sat on an expensive-looking sofa made of fine leather.
Judging by the attendant brewing tea nearby, the man's physique was exceptionally large—nearly three meters tall.
His medium-length silver-white hair was smooth and lustrous, combed neatly back to cover the nape of his neck, meticulously groomed without a single stray strand. Paired with his resolute, handsome features, he gave off a strikingly heroic appearance.
He wore a fitted black noble knight's attire, tailored perfectly to his frame. Coiled around his entire left arm was a chain of refined steel, gleaming faintly with a metallic sheen. It spiraled down from his shoulder, looping again and again until it reached his wrist, where it hung loosely. The chain draped over the edge of the sofa, nearly touching the floor, before being drawn taut again—its end connected seamlessly to the hilt of a single-handed axe at his waist, its design faintly menacing.
The overall impression he gave was peculiar—
A blend of aristocratic elegance and hardened lethality.
The table before him was piled high with books of all kinds. They weren't for show—judging by their scattered state, they had clearly been read often and thoroughly.
At that moment, the man held a notebook in his hand, reading intently.
Then—
A soft knock sounded at the cabin door.
"Come in," he replied without looking up.
The door opened, and a CP agent in a black suit stepped inside, bowing respectfully.
"Saint Valthior, Professor Clover has arrived."
"Let him in," Valthior said calmly.
The agent stepped aside. Behind him, a middle-aged man with a beard and hairstyle resembling a clover walked into the room. The door was quietly shut behind him.
Only then did Valthior lift his gaze from the notebook. A faint smile appeared on his face as he looked at the newcomer.
"Professor, please—have a seat. It's time for today's lesson."
"How strange," Professor Clover said as he walked in, his tone casual, clearly familiar with the young Celestial Dragon. "No matter how many records I consult, I've never come across eyes like yours. Could this be a bloodline ability unique to the Celestial Dragons?"
His curiosity was understandable.
Those crimson eyes—
No matter how many times he saw them, they were mesmerizing. Especially when Valthior grew serious, the tomoe-like markings within his pupils would begin to slowly rotate.
That alone would have been remarkable enough.
But whenever those eyes turned crimson, Valthior's learning speed would increase at a visibly shocking rate—enough to make even a scholar like Clover envious to the point of drooling.
"Details like that aren't worth fussing over," Valthior replied with a light smile, personally pouring a cup of tea for Clover. "Besides, prying into someone else's secrets isn't exactly good manners."
Saint Jaygarcia Valthior.
A transmigrator who awakened memories of his previous life at the age of three.
Born into the family of the Five Elders in Mary Geoise, his background was as formidable as it could possibly be.
Rumor had it throughout the Holy Land that one of the Five Elders—the Warrior God of Science and Defense, Saint Jaygarcia Saturn—held great expectations for this young man, viewing him with particular favor.
Because of that, even among the Celestial Dragons, most would think twice before showing him anything less than respect.
It was almost laughable, in a way.
His previous life had ended without warning—no drama, no explanation. One moment it was over, and the next, he found himself in this world. Back then, he didn't even know where he had arrived. Yet somewhere deep inside, a strange awareness surfaced, telling him—
He possessed a pair of unawakened Sharingan.
A cheat. A lifeline.
At the time, his first thought had been—
So I've become one of the villagers… probably an Uchiha, too.
That assumption lasted all of a few seconds.
Because when he finally came to his senses, he realized—
He wasn't some Konoha villager.
He was a Celestial Dragon.
"…Wait, what?"
Something about this felt seriously off.
I've been dropped into the world of One Piece… and you give me an unawakened Sharingan?
What kind of misplaced isekai is this? Did I take a wrong turn somewhere?
The Sharingan, as far as he remembered, required intense stimulation of Yin-type chakra to awaken.
But here?
This was the world of pirates.
There was no such thing as chakra.
What the hell was he supposed to use?
Didn't that mean his golden finger was basically useless?
—
Valthior had tried everything he could think of.
Every method, every possibility—
Nothing worked.
The Sharingan refused to awaken.
After exhausting all options, he reluctantly accepted the truth: his "cheat" was dead on arrival. That realization left him in a slump for quite a long time.
Only later—after thoroughly indulging in the absurd luxuries of life in Mary Geoise as a Celestial Dragon—did he gradually crawl out of that funk.
Even so, he didn't let himself rot.
Though his cheat had failed, his status hadn't.
Leveraging his identity as a Celestial Dragon, he gained access to vast resources. In Mary Geoise, he trained diligently, standing in stark contrast to the majority of so-called "gods" who wasted their lives in idle decadence.
Because of that, he stood out.
And because he stood out, he earned favor.
The ancestor of the Jaygarcia family—Saint Jaygarcia Saturn—took a particular liking to him. Among all descendants, Valthior became the only one permitted to address Saturn directly as "Grandfather."
After spending several years building a solid foundation and mastering a certain level of combat ability, he began training in Haki at the age of fourteen.
At fifteen, he grasped the basics of Haki. That same year, his long-dormant "cheat"—the Sharingan—was stimulated by the power of Haki and finally awakened, manifesting a single tomoe.
In that moment, Valthior felt as though a new world had opened before him. He finally understood what kind of power could enhance his Sharingan in the One Piece world.
However, this didn't bring about any qualitative leap in his strength. After all, a basic one-tomoe Sharingan wasn't particularly powerful.
But thanks to certain traits of the Sharingan, his memory and learning ability improved significantly. This was precisely why Professor Clover envied him so much.
After all, it had taken Clover over a decade—if not longer—to master that forbidden knowledge, while this Celestial Dragon had nearly caught up in just three years. How could that not feel unfair?
Though Clover was envious, Valthior didn't think it was that exaggerated. In his memory, Nico Robin was the real prodigy—becoming a scholar at just eight years old, no less efficient than someone with the Sharingan. That was the truly absurd part.
—
"Tell me not to pry into your secrets, yet in these past three years, this is the third time you've captured me, isn't it? Can't you also stop prying into mine?" Professor Clover complained.
"That's different." Valthior took a sip of tea, smiling faintly. "Researching ancient texts, forbidden history, even the Poneglyphs… those are serious crimes."
"You are, after all, breaking the law."
Clover.
Or more precisely—
Clou D. Clover.
The "D." in his name was a secret known to almost no one. Even the World Government remained completely unaware of it.
Valthior, however, knew.
Not because he had discovered it—
But because he was a transmigrator.
And clearly, he had no intention of exposing it.
Some secrets were better left buried.
Back then, Clover had first stepped onto this path because of his older brother.
All because his brother's name carried the initial "D."
For that alone, the man had been executed—shot without mercy.
That incident made Clover realize something:
The World Government was hiding a darkness far greater than anyone could imagine.
And so, he devoted himself to uncovering it.
At the beginning, no one paid him much attention. He was just another obscure scholar chasing shadows.
But as his actions grew more radical… as he dug deeper and deeper into forbidden territory…
The World Government finally took notice.
About six years ago, they began arresting him repeatedly, interrogating him each time.
Then three years ago—when Valthior turned fifteen—Saint Jaygarcia Saturn handed him the task of capturing Professor Clover.
A form of "training," as they called it. A descent into the lower world.
Once a year.
To this day, Valthior had already captured the man three times.
And yet—
Something about it was strange.
Clover could have been erased at any moment. Eliminated without a trace.
But every single time, not long after the interrogation ended, orders would come down from above—
Release him. Let him return to the sea.
It was obvious what this was.
Bait.
Not even subtle bait, either. The kind that didn't bother pretending.
And the most ridiculous part?
Clover himself didn't seem to care in the slightest.
No matter how many times he was captured, he continued his relentless pursuit of those untouchable, forbidden truths.
"Then what about you?" Clover shot back, unable to hold himself back any longer. "The knowledge you've learned from me over the past three years—that's forbidden too. Isn't that also a crime?"
Valthior looked at him, his gaze faintly amused.
"According to one of the highest laws of the World Government…" he said calmly,
"Celestial Dragons are exempt from all laws."
He took another sip of tea, completely unbothered.
Let's be real—what's your status, and what's mine?
I only realized killing was illegal after leaving Mary Geoise, you know?
With his identity?
If he rammed a ship and sent someone flying five hundred meters, the official report would probably read:
"Full liability on the victim for reckless interference."
"Oh? The person got crushed?"
Then it would simply become—
"Suicide out of fear of punishment."
And after that?
He could even go after the victim's family for a hefty compensation fee—
You know.
To soothe his fragile little heart.