Kin'emon's body trembled subtly yet perfectly, as if frightened by his own claims.
Then his pupils contracted violently, as if recalling some terrifying scene.
A flicker of fear and despair passed through his eyes, and his voice grew low and hoarse.
"Moreover... they've mastered... the technology to mass-produce Kaido devil fruit..."
"What?!" Yamato staggered back as if struck by lightning, her feet scraping audibly against the ground.
Her heart jolted in shock, and her face instantly turned deathly pale, devoid of all color.
Mechanically, she lifted her head to gaze at the distant sky, where the figures of Dragons soaring through the air now appeared utterly menacing.
Their scales glinted with a cold, harsh light under the sun.
"So... those are all..." Her voice was terribly dry, as if cotton were stuffed in her throat.
Her clenched fists turned white at the knuckles, her nails digging deep into her palms, leaving shallow marks.
Her arms trembled slightly from the strain, revealing the extreme shock and unease raging within her.
Her mind flashed with the image of Kaido's invincible form—his towering, powerful build, his overwhelming strength, every strike seeming capable of tearing heaven and earth apart.
And now, the Eternal Divine Kingdom could mass-produce such monsters as if manufacturing weapons?
Yamato's legs suddenly gave way, her kanabo clattering to the ground with a sound that echoed sharply in the tense silence.
"How is this possible..." She knelt on one knee, her hanging hair concealing her deathly pale face.
Even the most reckless version of herself now fully understood—resisting the Eternal Divine Kingdom was like a mantis trying to stop a chariot.
It was a profound sense of powerlessness; no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't make the slightest dent.
"I can't even defeat a single Kaido..."
Her former confidence and courage were shattered in that moment, leaving only overwhelming frustration and despair.
The strength she took pride in seemed more insignificant than an ant when faced with such an absolute gap in power.
Kin'emon also closed his eyes in anguish, his brow furrowed tightly, facial muscles contorted with pain.
His heart filled with helplessness and sorrow, knowing this was a difficult path yet having no choice but to walk it.
"Now you understand? This isn't about courage... it's a choice for survival..."
Izo stepped forward slowly, his footsteps steady and measured.
His fingers lightly tapped against the flintlock gun at his waist, producing dull clicking sounds.
He gazed at Yamato with eyes that carried the weariness of experience.
"Yamato, do you know how many forces in the New World want to curry favor with the Eternal Divine Kingdom?" He raised three fingers, his expression serious and grave. "Just in these past few days, three kingdoms have sought to join!"
Yamato's fists clenched and unclenched, her spiked club flickering with intermittent light, the shimmering glow seemingly mirroring her inner turmoil.
Izo continued: "That you've obtained this opportunity is already tremendous fortune."
He cast a meaningful glance at Momonosuke, his eyes holding both expectation and concern.
"After all... not everyone gets such a chance."
Yamato's gaze swept across the group.
Momonosuke hung his head low, face full of guilt and helplessness.
Kin'emon's expression remained tense, veins faintly pulsing on his forehead.
Tama's eyes welled with tears, the glistening droplets swirling in her eyes, ready to fall at any moment.
She took a deep breath.
"Fine. If... if the Eternal Divine Kingdom can truly destroy the Beasts Pirates..." She suddenly looked up, a final stubborn spark flashing in her eyes.
"Then I'll agree to this decision. But if anything unexpected happens, all bets are off!"
Izo suddenly smiled, a grin like a datura flower blooming silently in the dark night, carrying indescribable irony and amusement.
He leisurely spun the flintlock gun in his hand, each rotation seeming to toy with the wheel of fate.
The gun barrel gleamed with an eerie cold light, like a poised venomous snake ready to strike at any moment.
"Unexpected?" His voice dripped with disdain, as if hearing the world's funniest joke. "What 'unexpected' could possibly happen to the Beasts Pirates? That's just an excuse weaklings use to mask their fear."
As he spoke, he abruptly raised his hand, pointing toward the distant Onigashima engulfed in flames, where majestic dragons soared and tumbled through the sky.
As his words faded, deafening explosions suddenly echoed through the air.
Everyone looked up to see Onigashima's direction engulfed in a sea of fire, with explosions occurring one after another.
Izo whispered softly. "See? This is reality. In this cruel world, there's no such thing as fairness or justice—only the strong rule while the weak serve."
"Now, do you still think this is 'empty talk'? Those beautiful ideals are merely castles built on sand, collapsing at the slightest touch."
Yamato's lips trembled as she tried to retort, but found her throat blocked as if by something, unable to utter a single word.
She finally understood how childish and laughable the lofty ambitions of the old days were in this new era.
Those once-held beliefs that they could change the world now seemed like illusions in a mirror or flowers reflected in water—distant and unattainable.
The spiked club slipped from her hand and crashed heavily to the ground, the sound echoing like the shattering of the last shred of hope in her heart.
"I... understand," she murmured, her voice filled with resignation and bitterness.
Just then, hurried footsteps suddenly sounded from outside the heavy wooden door, breaking the silence within the room.
Yamato's guard knelt on one knee, his voice tinged with hesitation and unease. "Lord Yamato, Komurasaki-sama, the oiran of Flower Capital, and Denjiro-sama of the Oniwabanshu are requesting an audience outside."
"Komurasaki? Denjiro?" Yamato's brow instantly furrowed, a flicker of vigilance and confusion passing through her eyes.
These two names were all too familiar to her—one was the famously beautiful oiran most favored by that bastard Kurozumi Orochi, while the other was the ruthless, feared leader of Orochi's Oniwabanshu.
Their sudden visit at this moment was far too coincidental. Was there some other scheme at play?
Yamato's gaze involuntarily shifted toward Momonosuke, who remained kneeling on the floor.
His pale face also showed confusion, clearly equally surprised and puzzled by this unexpected visit.
"Let them in," Yamato's voice was cold as ice, devoid of any emotion. "I want to see what these people are plotting."