For a heartbeat, Cobra's heart seemed to stop. The blood drained from his face, and his hands began to shake as he stared at Darren, unable to process what he'd just heard.
Someone… sat on the Empty Throne?
How was that even possible?
The Gorosei were the World Government's highest authority—five ancient figures who had ruled for ages, absolute and untouchable. Could there truly be something above even them?
Then what had all of it meant?
The Empty Throne was supposed to be a symbol—eternally vacant, a vow against tyranny. Peace, equality, restraint.
"Are you certain?" Cobra finally rasped after a long half-minute, his voice raw as if scorched.
Darren only smiled—calm, unreadable.
Cobra's expression twisted into something bitter and helpless.
Darren had no reason to lie to him. Not about something this insane. Not without proof.
Which meant he'd felt it. During his previous incursion into the Holy Land. Or he'd learned it through Momonga's failed attempt to breach Pangaea Castle.
Either way, the conclusion was the same.
If someone truly occupied the Empty Throne, then the founding oath was a farce.
The real question was: who knew?
The Gorosei certainly did. They lived in Pangaea Castle, handling the Government's affairs day after day. There was no way they could be unaware—and no way they would tolerate it unless they recognized that figure as the rightful master.
Worse… it suggested the five elders did not rule the world at all.
They ruled it for him.
Cobra forced his breathing to steady, mind racing as cold sweat slipped down his temple.
If even he—a king of a core member state—knew nothing of it, then the other member states certainly didn't. That made sense. The revelation would ignite a political catastrophe that could split the world down the middle.
And the Marines?
No. If the truth were that sensitive, the Gorosei would never allow the Marines to learn it either.
Which meant—
If he walked into Pangaea Castle today and asked about Queen Lily, or pressed the meaning of "D," he would be reaching for the thread that tied back to the Empty Throne.
And no one who touched that thread would leave alive.
The realization hit like ice water.
Cobra went slick with sweat from head to toe. Dizziness washed over him; he grabbed the window frame for balance, fingers tightening until his knuckles turned white.
Damn it.
I almost sent myself to my death.
"Do you know who it is?" Cobra asked at last, taking several deep breaths before he turned back to Darren. "The one sitting on the Empty Throne."
Darren shook his head. "I've never had direct contact. I only sensed him—faintly. And I haven't had the right chance to confront him yet."
He spoke as if discussing weather, not the secret spine of the world.
"But based on what Momonga reported, his power is monstrous. Far beyond the level of a Marine Admiral."
Darren exhaled a thin stream of smoke.
"And I suspect the Gorosei's unnatural longevity comes from him as well."
He gave a quiet, almost amused chuckle.
"Speculation, of course."
Then, as if remembering something, he added, "That man is hidden. The Gorosei shield him completely. Getting close is nearly impossible."
"The only thing I can say for certain is his name."
Cobra jolted, eyes snapping wide. "His name?"
Darren enunciated each word slowly, deliberately.
"The five old undying geezers call him… 'Creator' Lord Imu."
"Imu…?" Cobra went rigid. His pupils quivered. "That name… I've heard it before."
Darren's brows rose at once. "You recognize it?"
This was why he'd brought the truth to Cobra in the first place—because the Nefertari archives held stains of history the World Government wanted erased.
Cobra swallowed, throat working. "In an ancient text preserved by the Nefertari Family… I saw that name mentioned."
He drew in a shaky breath, fear tightening his features.
"Among the original twenty kings who founded the World Government eight hundred years ago… one of them was named Imu."
His voice dropped to a whisper, as if the carriage itself might overhear.
"If that name is real, then the one on the Empty Throne is almost certainly that king… Nerona Imu Saint."
Darren paused, then let a faint, crooked smile pull at his mouth.
"So that's how it is."
He leaned back, eyes half-lidded, speaking with a cold, clinical calm.
"Twenty kings founded the World Government and swore an oath to keep the highest throne empty—a symbol of peace, equality, a world without tyranny."
"They appointed five regents to manage the Government."
He tapped ash from his cigar, unhurried.
"And somewhere along the way, one of the twenty found a path to immortality."
"He lied. He hid. He let the others believe in their noble oath… then climbed the Empty Throne in the shadows and began to look down on the world as its 'Creator.'"
Darren's chuckle was soft, almost amused—like someone savoring a familiar ugliness.
"If those twenty kings built the World Government for 'power'—or for what they called 'revolution'—then Imu didn't just inherit their victory."
"He stole it."
To be continued...