The morning sun rose over the Yarukiman Mangroves, illuminating a Marine base in a state of absolute, paralyzed panic.
Alarms wailed across Grove 66, shattering the usual tranquility of the naval sector. Hundreds of Marines ran through the cobblestone courtyard in a frenzy. Commodore Vane and his top four officers had been found slaughtered in their beds, their quarters completely ransacked, the heavy iron safes emptied of Beli.
In the absolute center of the chaos, Rear Admiral Light Yagami stood perfectly calm. His pristine white coat was draped immaculately over his shoulders, and a solemn, grieving expression was flawlessly painted across his face.
"It is a tragedy of the highest order," Light said smoothly, addressing the terrified battalion of remaining local guards. "A coordinated, highly lethal strike by a pirate syndicate from the lawless zones. They grew bold, believing the Marines of Sabaody had grown soft."
Light stepped forward, his invisible Haki radiating a comforting, commanding aura that washed over the panicked soldiers.
"As the highest-ranking surviving officer on this archipelago, I am assuming immediate, absolute command of the Sabaody Garrison," Light declared, his voice ringing with absolute certainty. "Lock down Groves 60 through 69. No one leaves. No one enters."
"Yes, Rear Admiral!" the battalion shouted in unison, desperate for leadership, saluting the very man who had orchestrated the massacre.
As the local Marines scrambled to secure the perimeter, Light turned and walked back toward his own docked warship. Captain Haas fell into step behind him. Haas had changed his uniform, but his hands still felt stained.
"It is done, sir," Haas murmured softly, his eyes darting to ensure no one was within earshot. "The local command structure is completely decapitated. You hold the reins of the entire island."
"Excellent work, Haas," Light smiled, his dark eyes entirely sterile. "But our work on this ship is not finished. Gather the remaining thirty men of our original crew. The ones who were not with you last night. Bring them to the lower cargo hold."
Ten minutes later, Light stood in the dim, damp cargo hold of his warship.
Standing before him were the thirty remaining Marines from the South Blue. They were good men—navigators, cooks, artillerymen—but they were traditionalists. They believed implicitly in the World Government. Light had mathematically deduced long ago that their "Good Karma" was tied entirely to the rigid, legal structure of Marine law, not to absolute moral justice.
Haas and his five assassins stood by the heavy iron door, blocking the exit.
"You called for us, Rear Admiral?" a stern-faced Lieutenant Commander named Vance asked, stepping forward. He had always been a stickler for protocol. "If this is about the pirate attack on Commodore Vane—"
"There was no pirate attack, Vance," Light interrupted smoothly, his hands clasped behind his back.
The cargo hold went completely silent.
"Sir?" Vance frowned, thoroughly confused.
"Commodore Vane was a corrupt, rotting piece of filth who took bribes from human traffickers to feed slaves to the insects in Mariejois," Light stated, dropping the pleasant facade. His voice echoed with cold, terrifying authority. "I ordered Lieutenant Haas to execute him last night. The Sabaody Garrison is now mine."
The thirty Marines froze, the blood draining from their faces. Several of them instinctively took a step back.
"Assassination?" Vance gasped, his eyes darting to Haas, who stared back with dead, unwavering loyalty. "You... you murdered the Base Commander? Rear Admiral, this is treason! This is a betrayal of absolute justice!"
"The World Government's justice is a lie, Vance," Light said, taking a slow step forward. "They protect the Celestial Dragons. They protect the monsters who buy and sell human lives in Grove 1. I am going to tear this system down. I am going to cleanse this world of its filth, and I will not be tethered by the laws of a rotting empire."
Light stopped, spreading his arms slightly.
"I am offering you a choice," Light said, looking down at them as if they were dust on his boots. "Abandon the World Government. Swear loyalty to me, and help me build a new, perfect world. Or... walk away."
Vance was trembling with rage and sheer terror. "...You're insane..." Vance whispered. He reached into his coat for a portable Den Den Mushi. "I am going to contact Fleet Admiral Sengoku. I will report this mutiny to Marineford immediately!"
Haas and the five assassins instantly drew their swords, the steel ringing out in the enclosed cargo hold. They prepared to slaughter the dissenters.
Light raised a single hand. Haas stopped, lowering his blade.
"Let them go." Light commanded softly.
Light offered Vance a chilling, perfectly polite smile. He gestured toward the heavy iron door. "The door is unlocked, Vance. You and your men are free to leave. Take a supply boat. Sail to the nearest Marine outpost. Call Marineford. Tell Sengoku exactly what I have done."
Vance stared at Light, completely bewildered. He expected to be cut down.
"You... you're just going to let us leave?" Vance stammered.
"I have no desire to kill men who have not sinned," Light replied simply, his Haki verifying that Vance's Bad Karma was virtually non-existent. "Go."
Vance didn't need to be told a third time. He bolted for the door, followed immediately by the twenty-nine other traditionalist Marines, tripping over each other in their desperation to escape the Smiling Reaper.
Within two minutes, the cargo hold was empty, save for Light and his six loyal assassins.
Haas sheathed his sword, looking completely perplexed. "Sir... with respect... why? By tomorrow afternoon, Sengoku will know everything. They will send a Vice-Admiral or... or even an Admiral to apprehend you!"
"Because, Haas, fear... is a virus." Light whispered, walking past Haas toward the stairs. "If I killed them here, I am just a rogue Marine who went crazy. But if they run back to Marineford, shaking in terror, spreading the word that I let them live just to deliver the message... Sengoku will realize his authority means absolutely nothing to me."
Light ascended the stairs, leaving Haas in the dark.
Back in the total privacy of his office, Light locked the door. He walked over to his desk, poured himself a glass of water, and stared at the ripples in the clear liquid.
He had set the trap. Marineford would scramble. An Admiral would be dispatched. The time for waiting for the perfect moment was over; he had successfully forced the timeline into his own hands.
But Bartholomew Kuma's words still echoed in his mind. You will inevitably collide with the storms of the New Era. He knew what it meant.
*sighs* Still not enough.
Light raised his right hand, looking at his palm.
Force Authority. Since arriving in this world, he had used it like a blunt instrument. A sledgehammer of gravity. He pulled ships, he pushed away bombs, he increased the weight of objects. It was devastating, but it possessed a terrifying flaw: to output maximum kinetic force, it drained his Life Force stamina at an apocalyptic rate. It physically tore his muscles apart. If he fought an Admiral using only blunt repulsion, his own power would kill him before the magma did.
Light placed a solid steel paperweight on his desk.
He held out his hand. Attraction.
The steel paperweight slid across the wood and flew into his palm.
Light frowned. He placed it back on the desk. He didn't want to move it. He wanted to change its state.
If I can affect the vectors of an object... why am I limiting myself to simply pushing and pulling?
Light closed his eyes. He reached into his memory, past the Marines, past the South Blue, back to his old life. A life of screens, pop culture, and cinematic fiction.
He remembered a man in a black helmet and glowing sabers.
Light's eyes snapped open. The realization hit him like a physical shockwave.
"It isn't just gravity" Light whispered to the empty room, a slow, terrifying smile creeping across his face. "It's spatial kinetics. Telekinesis. Stasis."
It was just like "the Force".
The fictional power from the movies he had watched as a teenager on Earth... his power was very similar to it. At least, if he really thought about it, he couldn't find a difference for now.
Light raised his hand toward the heavy steel paperweight. He didn't imagine a wave of gravity pushing it. He didn't exert massive amounts of Life Force. Instead, he simply imagined his fingers wrapping around the spatial coordinates of the object itself.
He pinched his thumb and forefinger together in the empty air.
CRUNCH.
The solid steel paperweight violently imploded, folding in on itself like a crushed soda can.
Light looked at his hand. He felt absolutely zero drain on his stamina. He hadn't used "Maximum Output." He had simply used localized, microscopic precision.
He... didn't need to overpower an Admiral's magma with a larger wave of gravity. He just needed to reach across the plaza, pinch his fingers together, and crush the blood vessels in their brain. He could freeze their movements in mid-air. He could snap their spines without taking a single step!
Light chuckled to himself . A fantasy, he understood. It might work against normal people but this world had its own monsters. It was not going to be easy. Still, the potential was huge.
Light picked up his Armament-coated saber and strapped it to his hip.
The board was set. The power was unlocked.
It was time to hunt a Dragon.