The sea breeze carrying them toward the Red Line was noticeably heavier, thick with the humidity and tension of the Grand Line's halfway point.
Rear Admiral Light Yagami stood on the bow of his heavily reinforced Marine warship, his pristine white coat snapping sharply in the wind. The golden epaulettes of his new rank gleamed under the afternoon sun. He was looking at the horizon, but his mind was completely immersed in the cascading data of his internal System.
[ KARMA SYSTEM ]
[ KP: 4,120,500 ]
[ LIFE FORCE Lv.5 — Next: 300,000 KP ]
[ WEAPON ARTS Lv.5 (MAX) ]
[ OBSERVATION Lv.2 — Next: 1,500,000 KP ] [ ARMAMENT Lv.2 — Next: 1,500,000 KP ] [ CONQUEROR'S Lv.0 — Next: 1,000,000 KP ]
Over four million points. It was a staggering treasury of harvested sin, but Light knew it was not enough. To shatter the world order, to truly stand above the Admirals and the Emperors, he needed to unlock the advanced tiers of Haki. He needed to step into the realm of the absolute. And to do that, he needed the dense, concentrated filth of the Sabaody Archipelago.
"Rear Admiral, sir!"
Light casually closed his mental interface and turned. First Lieutenant Haas was saluting crisply, though his eyes darted nervously toward the open ocean. Over the past few weeks, Haas and the core South Blue crew had grown exceptionally quiet. They were watching Light with a reverence that bordered on religious terror. They had seen what he did to the pirate fleets. They were beginning to understand that their commanding officer was not playing by the rules of the World Government.
"Report, Lieutenant," Light said pleasantly.
"We are approximately two hours from the Sabaody Archipelago, sir," Haas reported, lowering his hand. "However, the navigators have spotted a structure directly in our current sea route. It's the Flying Fish Riders' base. They are a notorious kidnapping syndicate led by a man named Duval. They prey on crews attempting to reach the archipelago. Protocol dictates we either engage or chart a course around their territory."
Light looked out over the water. Through the light sea mist, he could make out the sprawling, iron-wrought platforms built directly into the ocean. It was a makeshift fortress, bristling with spiked defenses and launching ramps.
"A kidnapping syndicate," Light murmured, a perfectly polite smile curving his lips. "How convenient. It seems the harvest begins slightly early today. Maintain our course, Lieutenant. Bring us straight to their docks."
"Yes, sir!" Haas saluted, spinning on his heel to bark orders at the helmsman.
A few feet away, Bonney was sitting on a barrel, aggressively chewing on a massive turkey leg she had bullied the cook in the Marine galley into roasting for her. She kicked her boots against the wood. "More pirates? You're going to get blood on your fancy new coat before we even get to the bubble island."
"I rarely get blood on my coat, Bonney," Light corrected mildly.
He closed his eyes, expanding his Intermediate Observation Haki outward. He intended to sweep the iron fortress, map the locations of the kidnappers, read their Red Karma, and calculate the most efficient path to slaughter them all in under five minutes.
His Haki washed over the ocean and touched the iron base.
Light's eyes snapped open.
His breath hitched, just for a fraction of a second. The pleasant smile vanished from his face, replaced by a cold, razor-sharp intensity.
"Major—excuse me, Rear Admiral?" Captain T-Bone asked, stepping out from the navigation room, instantly noticing the shift in Light's posture. "Is something wrong?"
"Halt the ship," Light ordered, his voice suddenly devoid of any warmth. "Drop the anchors fifty yards from the base. Do not bring us flush with their docks."
T-Bone blinked, his skeletal face filling with confusion. "Sir? Are we not engaging?"
"The base has already been engaged," Light said, his dark eyes locked on the approaching iron structure.
As the warship slowed and the mist began to clear, the Marines lining the railings gasped.
The Flying Fish Riders' base was not a fortress; it was a graveyard. The massive iron platforms had been completely caved in, as if struck by a barrage of invisible meteorites. The wooden buildings were splintered into toothpicks. Massive, winged flying fish were scattered across the water, unconscious and groaning. Bodies of armored kidnappers littered the twisted metal, all of them severely battered, their weapons snapped in half.
It was a scene of absolute, overwhelming devastation. But that wasn't what had caused Light's Haki to recoil.
It was the lack of auras. There were no multiple, chaotic presences of a rival pirate crew. There was no army that had done this.
There was only one presence.
Sitting in the absolute center of the ruined iron plaza, perched casually on a stack of crushed steel crates, was a man the size of a mountain.
He wore a dark, specialized suit adorned with a white cross crosshair. A massive, spotted hat with bear ears rested on his head. He was holding a thick, purple Bible in one hand, calmly reading the pages, completely ignoring the groaning, bleeding men scattered around his boots.
T-Bone grabbed the railing, his skeletal hands shaking. "By the heavens... that's... that's Bartholomew Kuma! The Tyrant!"
Panic erupted across the deck. The Marines scrambled, drawing rifles and unsheathing cutlasses, their training kicking in even as their knees knocked together. A Warlord of the Sea. One of the most feared, ruthless men on the planet, sitting right in their path.
"Stand down," Light commanded, his voice slicing through the panic like a blade. "Lower your weapons. Now."
The Marines hesitated, but the absolute authority in Light's tone forced them to comply. Rifles were lowered.
Light stared at the towering Warlord. He opened his mental interface, focusing entirely on the mountain of a man reading the Bible.
[ Bartholomew Kuma — Warlord of the Sea ]
[ Green: 850,000 / Red: 312,000 ]