After wrapping things up, Lucian Thorn's presence vanished without drawing a single glance.
He clapped off nonexistent dust from his hands, that ever-carefree smirk curling back onto his face.
"Interlude's over. Now... it's time for the real thrill."
Before his voice had even faded—
Swish!
Without the slightest spatial ripple, his figure vanished on the spot.
In the next instant, he reappeared atop the mountain peak that had been sliced in half by some unknown powerhouse's Haki.
From here, the view over God Valley was unrivaled.
Ferocious winds howled past, making his coat flap wildly—but they couldn't shake the ease in his eyes.
He stood with his hands behind his back.
This was a VIP seat like no other, overlooking the vast, blood-soaked battlefield below.
At this moment, the entire God Valley island was one giant open-air coliseum.
The peak of an era had gathered here.
And Lucian? He was the director, ready to rewrite the script at any time.
"Let's see... how are the actors doing?"
His gaze swept over the battlefield, calm yet penetrating—and immediately locked onto several of the most intense clashes.
The camera slowly zoomed in.
The first battlefield was filled with boisterous laughter and burning bloodlust.
"WAHAHAHAHAHA! You bastards! You're not even a warm-up for me!"
Thunderous, bold laughter boomed across the sky.
A hulking Navy man with bronzed muscles and a Justice cloak on his back was tearing after three battered figures.
Those fists—the nightmare of every pirate in the world—each punch came with enough force to shatter mountains and rupture the ground.
Wherever his fists struck, the earth collapsed and boulders exploded.
The entire island trembled under his might!
The Navy Hero, Monkey D. Garp.
And ahead of him, fleeing for their lives, were three monstrous figures in their own right.
"Gurararara... Garp! You damn Navy dog! Don't get cocky!"
The young Edward Newgate, future Whitebeard, swung his massive Naginata, Murakumo Giri, each strike wrapped in quaking force, just barely deflecting Garp's fist winds.
"Urorororo... Damn it! Is this guy made of iron?!"
That shout came from a reckless youth wielding a spiked club and sporting two horns—Kaido, the future Beast.
Beside him, a woman far more nimble and wild-eyed than in later years—Charlotte Linlin—grinned madly as she hurled lightning and fire from her cloud Zeus and sun Prometheus, desperately trying to slow Garp's charge.
These three, destined to become great pirate emperors of the New World, were now being relentlessly chased down by Garp's storm-like pursuit. Though none of them intended to fight seriously, their current state was undeniably disheveled.
Lucian's gaze lingered briefly, his lips curling into an amused smirk.
"Tch, now that's nostalgic... but too bad—it's not the main course."
"No wonder they call Garp the System's power tester. His strength? Rock solid."
He clicked his tongue and quickly lost interest.
His view shifted again.
Another battlefield. Just as thrilling.
"Oi, you lot! Treasure! The Celestial Dragon's treasure is just ahead! Get your asses moving!"
A man with a straw hat and a flamboyant grin stood at the front, brandishing a long sword.
Back to back with him stood a blond man with a cigar in his mouth.
They held off Marines and CP agents who outnumbered them many times over.
Gol D. Roger and Shiki.
Their Conqueror's Haki clashed without restraint, intertwined in a roaring collision that tore a hole in the encirclement.
At the very moment they drew most of the enemy's attention—
A flash of silver lightning cut across the chaos!
Silvers Rayleigh.
His movements were ghostlike. In a single blur of sword light, he broke through both CP agents and Marine forces.
His target: a black-haired woman shackled at the wrists and ankles.
"Shakky! Over here!"
Rayleigh grabbed her wrist in one swift motion and yanked her out of the fray.
Effortless. Overbearing. Not a hint of hesitation.
The woman he rescued was none other than Shakky.
Smoke and blood still clung to her face, but the elegance and charm she exuded were undeniable.
"Ho? A classic rescue—the future Pirate King's right-hand man saving the future intel queen."
Lucian rubbed his chin, eyes glinting with the light of mischief.
He let out a whistle.
"Shakky had quite the figure in her youth, huh? No wonder old Rayleigh was so damn eager… In an era of sexual repression, she must've been every man's fantasy."
He chuckled lecherously and turned his gaze elsewhere.
But none of that—none of that—was what Lucian came here to see.
The main course was elsewhere.
His gaze pierced through the chaos of the battlefield, settling near the coastline.
There, Rocks D. Xebec, once the tyrant of the seas, was running at full speed.
In his arms, he tightly carried a woman.
And that woman, staggering in her own panic, clutched a child drained of all color.
A family of three, fleeing for their lives.
Behind them—a death squad gave chase.
Men in spotless white suits and cold masks. Silent in their movements, precise in their rhythm.
A pack of soul-hunting demons straight out of hell.
The God Knights.
And at the head of the squad—pure leisure.
He didn't even bother to walk.
Instead, he rode atop a majestic white steed, following leisurely behind Rocks with elegance and calm.
His blond hair was meticulously styled. His face was handsome and proud.
The cruel smirk on his lips was one of a cat toying with a mouse.
Like a noble on a stroll through his estate, watching the hounds play their bloody game.
Figarland Garling—Commander of the God Knights.
The smile vanished from Lucian's face the instant he saw Garling's.
The lightness and amusement in his eyes were replaced with an icy hatred.
Until now, he'd been just a spectator.
A director.
Watching this grand historical drama unfold with detached amusement.
But now—he didn't want to just watch anymore.
"When you see a beast… sometimes, you just have to take it out yourself."
His voice was calm. Like stating a fact.
But within it was a resolve that could freeze the soul.
He was stepping in.
With a single thought—
A formless energy, drawn from the essence of Apollo, began to gather around his face.
That energy slowly took form.
Moments later—
A blank, expressionless, patternless white mask materialized on his face.
It hid his features perfectly.
With the mask, he became something else—steeped in secrecy.
A mystery man about to deliver a thunderclap surprise to this historical stage.
Lucian's gaze locked firmly onto the fleeing Rocks and the leisurely Garling.
He was calculating.
Calculating the perfect moment—the most jaw-dropping, soul-crushing time to strike.
Found it.
It was now.
His body tilted forward slightly, taking on a predator's poised stance.
And in the next instant—
He vanished from the peak of the ten-thousand-foot mountain.
Soundless.
The director... had taken the stage.