"He's… finally gone…"
Ignoring the thunderous crash of the Commander of the Knights of God's statue collapsing, every CP agent and Holy Land Guard on the scene let out a collective breath as the godlike, demonic figure vanished beyond the far horizon.
"He's a complete monster…"
"Absolutely terrifying."
"Completely unstoppable."
"If he'd wanted to, he could've slaughtered us all in an instant."
…
Even as stone splintered and the statue came down, some of the weaker ones simply crumpled to the ground, strength draining out of them. They gulped air like drowning men, faces bloodless.
In truth, many of them had endured the Holy Land bombing earlier that day.
But compared to the overwhelming firepower of the North Blue Fleet, Rogers Darren—arriving alone this time—had inspired a terror that cut even deeper than that "invincible" armada ever had.
The North Blue Fleet's threat lay in aerial dominance, devastating bombardment, and—most importantly—stealth and suddenness.
In reality, even faced with the Fleet's shelling, Mary Geoise still retained some capacity to retaliate, as long as the defenders were alert and ready.
The catastrophe of the last attack had come largely from complacency—centuries of peace leaving the Holy Land unprepared.
This time was different.
Rogers Darren had infiltrated Mary Geoise alone—no fleet, no vice-commander at his side—and with nothing but his own strength, he had overwhelmed the World Government's highest authority, fought the Gorosei head-on, and very nearly killed Figarland Garling, the Commander of the Knights of God, so often hailed as the "Strongest Celestial Dragon."
That suffocating dominance. That arrogant posture atop the Stairway to Heaven, looking down on the world as though it belonged to him—
It was a scene the Holy Land's defenders would carry until the day they died.
One man facing the full might of the World Government…
In eight centuries, they had never seen anything like it.
And as that thought sank in, they couldn't help stealing wary glances at the Gorosei.
Looking at the five silent figures—grim, unmoving—many found an unwelcome question stirring behind their fear:
Did the once inscrutable, godlike Gorosei still inspire the same awe?
---
Dust swirled across the ruined plaza.
Silence stretched long and heavy.
"Are you all right, Garling?" Saint Warcury finally exhaled a foul breath, forcing his face into something calm as he turned toward the Celestial Dragon behind him.
Figarland Garling—the "Strongest Celestial Dragon," famed for elegance and power—looked wretched beyond words.
His entire arm was gone, leaving nothing but a horrific, blood-soaked hollow at the shoulder. Pale bone gleamed through torn, twitching flesh.
His crescent-moon hairstyle, once immaculate, hung in a tangled mess, soaked through with blood.
Crimson smeared his face, his clothes, his body—spattered the ground around his feet. Blood dripped steadily, and shards of his shattered blade lay scattered nearby like broken teeth.
"Do I look all right?" Garling asked, bitter amusement threading his voice.
No one answered.
Garling shook his head. His gaze drifted, catching the toppled ruin of his statue in the distance, and something almost absurd rose in his chest.
Humiliation—unprecedented, absolute.
Saint Saturn rasped, "This happened too suddenly. We must contain the news at all costs, for the sake of the Government's authority. Garling… we'll find a way to restore your arm… your arm…"
"Have we Celestial Dragons not lost enough face already?" Garling cut him off.
He lifted his eyes, cold as steel, and stared straight at Saturn—the Warrior God of Technological Defense.
"What good would an arm do?" he said flatly. "Today can't be hidden. Even if we slaughter every Guard who witnessed it, it changes nothing. Don't forget—representatives from all the Member States saw that creature appear."
He took a step forward, voice sharpening.
"Old men. Stop wasting time on pointless nonsense. There's only one way to preserve the Government's authority."
"Kill Rogers Darren—at any cost."
"As for my arm…"
His left hand pressed over the mangled wound and suddenly tightened, fingers sinking into tortured flesh. Blood seeped between them in thick, dark threads.
Pain twisted his face into something grotesque—hysterical, fanatical. The smile on his lips widened, edging toward madness.
"Lost is lost," Garling said softly. "Let it stand as a reminder."
"There are monsters in this world—more terrifying, more brilliant—than Figarland Garling."
"And besides," he added, voice turning colder, "I have no desire to become one of you. Neither human nor ghost."
With a low, humorless laugh, he turned and strode away without a single glance back.
Behind him, the Gorosei frowned as one.
Just then, a golden streak tore across the sky and plunged toward the ground at breakneck speed.
Countless golden photons gathered, condensing into a tall human form. Borsalino rubbed the stubble at his chin, his face exaggerated in almost comical disbelief as he drawled, "Truly terrifying… to leave damage like this…"
"You're too late, Borsalino," Kong snapped, displeasure dripping from every word. "Didn't I send the message to G-1 the moment it happened?"
Borsalino lifted both hands in a placating gesture. "Fleet Admiral Kong… I came as quickly as I could. But you know the rules. Marine forces entering the Holy Land must receive approval from the CP departments first."
Kong's temper flared. "Damn it! At a time like this, you're still enforcing that?! The Marines are the Holy Land's most vital military force! Borsalino—"
"Enough, Kong," Saint Warcury cut in, voice cold and final. "Those were our orders. Don't use this as an excuse to vent your frustration."
Kong's jaw tightened. "Your Excellencies," he said, forcing the words out, "if the Marines could freely enter the Holy Land, we could have stopped Rogers Darren—"
Saint Saturn waved a hand as if brushing away dust. "We'll decide this matter ourselves. No further discussion."
He paused.
Then his aged, clouded eyes sharpened, and a sinister crimson light flooded his pupils as he fixed Kong with a hard stare.
"However," Saturn said slowly, "we do have a question for you…"
"Why did you let that brat escape?"
The words hung in the air like a blade.
All five of the Gorosei turned their eyes onto Kong at once.
"We… demand an explanation."
To be continued...