The New World. Gran Tesoro.
Not just a ten-kilometer super-massive ship. The World Government recognizes it as an absolute neutral nation. In this city of gold and excess, money buys you the treatment of an emperor.
The man who owned it all, Gild Tesoro, stood in the top-floor office, the one with no door.
Thirty-seven years old. Signature pink suit. Slicked-back hair, not a strand out of place. Nine fingers covered in thick gold rings. He cradled a glass of red wine as he stared through the massive floor-to-ceiling window, down at the city that never slept.
Tesoro's life was a blood-soaked tragedy twisted inside out by money.
He started as a penniless thug. In a human trafficking market, he met the girl he would love for the rest of his life: Stella. He worked himself to the bone for three years, day and night, to buy her freedom.
On the day he finally had enough money, the Celestial Dragons showed up.
That high and mighty noble took a liking to her. Pure whim. Absolute power and bottomless money. He bought Stella like a piece of merchandise.
Nineteen-year-old Tesoro fought back.
For that, he got a savage beating and a fresh brand seared onto his back. The Hoof of the Celestial Dragon. The mark of a slave.
Two years later, word reached him. Stella had been tortured to death.
That was the day the boy with a singer's dream died. What crawled out of the ashes was a monster. He blamed poverty for every evil and clung to money with a sickness beyond obsession.
At twenty-six, Fisher Tiger rampaged through Mary Geoise. Tesoro escaped the hellhole in the chaos. He covered the slave brand on his back with a colossal star tattoo.
At twenty-nine, he stole the Paramecia-class Gol Gol no Mi right from under Donquixote Doflamingo's nose.
At thirty-two, his awakened powers forced Doflamingo to abandon the hunt and offer him a partnership instead.
At thirty-five, this gold colossus, a ship built on unimaginable wealth, was complete.
In a handful of years, he controlled nearly twenty percent of the world's money.
Now he was a titan of the underworld. The Gold Emperor. Even the Marines and the Celestial Dragons had to show him face.
In this city he built, paved in gold, he was nearly untouchable. His Devil Fruit power was amplified in his home territory to its absolute limit. Without the strength of a Four Emperor or a Marine Admiral, even dreaming of beating him here was a joke.
Tesoro swirled the wine in his glass.
He knew exactly who had walked onto his turf today. Portgas D. Ace. The man who had turned Sabaody Archipelago into a warzone. Bounty: 1.57 billion. A lunatic who dared to kill Celestial Dragons with his bare hands and walk away from a fight with a Marine Admiral.
But Tesoro was not rattled.
He was sure of one thing: in this nation of gold, he was an invincible god.
He stood there, lost in that intoxicating thought, watching the glittering nightscape below.
BOOM.
A thunderous explosion tore through the office wall.
Tesoro's head snapped around.
The gold outer wall melted like a slab of butter thrown into a furnace. A blinding crimson-gold flame burned straight through it.
The wild New World wind howled through the hole, whipping Tesoro's pink suit jacket.
And through the molten gold, Ace stepped in.
Dark red coat billowing. Moonwalk carrying him through the air as if clearing a doorstep.
"Your place doesn't have a door. I got tired of looking, so I made my own."
Ace snuffed out the divine flame on his fingertips and crossed to the center of the office. He dropped onto a solid gold sofa, legs spread, taking the seat like a man who owned it.
Tesoro watched the ruined wall. A muscle twitched under his eye.
He did not lash out. Not yet. Absolute confidence aside, this was a newcomer who had wounded an Admiral. A businessman's caution made him swallow the killing intent until he could read the threat.
"Rude guest."
Tesoro gave a cold snort and downed the rest of his wine. "What, you make some noise out on the seas and now you parade onto my land to show off? You had better give me a good explanation. Damaging Gran Tesoro is not cheap."
"Damages?"
Ace leaned back on the sofa, one leg crossed over the other, watching him.
"I didn't come here to give you money. I came to ask for it."
"Ask for money?"
Tesoro blinked. Then, as if he had just heard the world's greatest joke, a grating peal of laughter ripped out of him. "Hahahaha! A 1.5-billion bounty pirate, crawling to me to beg? How much do you need? A hundred million? A billion?"
"Ten billion," Ace said flatly.
The laughter choked dead. Tesoro stared at him.
"Are you robbing me?"
"You could call it that. But I'm not taking it for nothing." Ace folded his hands over his knees. "I've got something coming up, and I need a lot of cash. You put up the ten billion. In return, I can kill a few extra Celestial Dragons for you down the line."
The words kill Celestial Dragons hit the air.
Tesoro's face went dark. A flash of something raw and agonized cut through his eyes, rage and grief too complicated to hide. He smothered it in arrogance before it could surface.
"Have you lost your mind, Ace?"
Tesoro planted his hands on his solid gold desk and leaned forward, looking down at the man on his sofa.
"I am the richest man on the planet! I hold the world's economy by the throat! Even those lofty Celestial Dragons, when it comes to money, they have to give me face!"
"Why would I kill them? Right now, they are my pets."
He sneered. "You think killing a few makes you untouchable? Naive! With money, I can keep stepping on their necks forever. Keep your boring justice and your petty hatred to yourself. Why the hell would I throw money at a lunatic like you?"
Ace did not get angry.
He stood up, slow and easy, and walked step by step toward the desk.
"Pets? Stepping on them with money?"
He looked at the untouchable Gold Emperor with a smile that was equal parts pity and pure mockery.
"Tesoro, have you been lying to yourself so long you actually believe it?"
Ace's voice was quiet, but every word drove home like a knife.
"Do you really think earning all this money can wash away the Hoof of the Celestial Dragon branded into your back?"
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