Grove 1 was the pulsing, blackened heart of the Sabaody Archipelago.
Unlike the commercial districts where Light had spent the last two weeks smiling for the press, Grove 1 made no attempt to hide its true nature. The massive roots of the Yarukiman Mangroves here were dominated by towering, opulent architecture built on the backs of human suffering. At the center of it all stood the Human Auction House, a grotesque monument to the World Government's unspoken economy.
"Keep your heads down and your hands off your weapons," Captain Haas ordered quietly to the five South Blue veterans marching behind him.
The squad moved in a tight diamond formation through the crowded plaza, escorting Rear Admiral Light Yagami.
Light walked with a measured, casual stride, his pristine white Marine coat draped immaculately over his shoulders. Beside him walked Jewelry Bonney, aggressively licking a massive, three-tiered ice cream cone she had coerced Light into buying her in Grove 30.
The criminals populating the plaza—slave merchants, bounty hunters, and heavily armed underworld brokers—parted like the Red Sea as the Marine squad approached. They had read the newspapers. They knew the Smiling Reaper had essentially taken absolute control of the island following the "tragic" assassination of the Base Commander.
"It reeks here," Bonney complained loudly, wrinkling her nose. "It smells like fear and cheap perfume."
"An astute observation," Light murmured softly, his pleasant smile fixed perfectly in place.
Beneath that smile, his Observation Haki was sweeping the plaza. The concentration of Bad Karma in Grove 1 was so dense it felt like wading through a swamp of physical tar. Every single person in this plaza was a monster. Every merchant dealing in collars and chains registered in the thousands.
Yet, despite having over four million Karma Points in his reserve, Light had intentionally kept his Observation and Armament Haki at Level 2. It was a calculated deception. If he purchased Advanced Haki and radiated the spiritual pressure of an Emperor, the World Government would deploy all three Admirals and the Fleet Admiral to crush him immediately. By bottlenecking his Haki, he registered to Marineford's intelligence as a high-tier Vice Admiral—a prodigy, undeniably dangerous, but functionally manageable.
It was a fatal miscalculation on their part. They didn't know his true power didn't come from Haki.
The geopolitical board is perfectly aligned, Light calculated internally, his dark eyes scanning the perimeter. Admiral Kizaru was dispatched to the New World three days ago to monitor an incident between the Emperors. Admiral Aokiji is currently cycling the waters near Enies Lobby. If the ultimate taboo is committed here, today, Marineford will have exactly one piece left to play.
Admiral Akainu. Light's fingers twitched slightly near his pockets. The realization that he commanded the absolute kinetic superiority of spatial manipulation—the Force—had settled deeply into his bones over the last forty-eight hours. He didn't just want to fight an Admiral. He wanted the Red Dog. He wanted to see the absolute pinnacle of the World Government's lethal fanaticism shatter against the invisible weight of space itself.
Suddenly, the ambient noise of the bustling plaza vanished.
It didn't die down gradually; it was as if someone had cut the cord on the world's audio. The shouts of the merchants, the clinking of Beli, the laughter of the bounty hunters—all of it ceased in a single heartbeat.
"They're here," someone whispered in sheer, unadulterated panic.
"Down! Get down!"
Like a wave of falling dominoes, the hundreds of criminals, civilians, and merchants in the plaza immediately dropped to their hands and knees. They pressed their foreheads against the dirty cobblestone, averting their eyes, their bodies trembling in absolute submission.
"Captain," Light said softly.
Haas and his veterans immediately dropped to one knee, bowing their heads. Even as rogue Marines loyal only to Light, the ingrained, biological terror of what was approaching forced them to comply so as not to blow their cover prematurely.
Light did not kneel. He stood perfectly straight, his hands casually resting in his pockets.
Bonney, utterly confused by the sudden drop, stopped licking her ice cream. "What the hell is everyone doing?"
"A World Noble is approaching," Light said, his voice a perfectly calm, sterile void. "Stay close to me."
From the main thoroughfare leading into Grove 1, a procession appeared.
It was flanked by heavily armed personal retainers—elite government guards in immaculate black suits and thick chest plating. They weren't CP0; the absolute elite shield of the Nobles rarely bothered with mundane shopping trips. But they were lethal, highly trained killers nonetheless. Behind them marched a detachment of high-ranking Marines, acting as glorified luggage carriers.
But the center of the procession was what made Light's stomach turn.
A man in a bulky, white environmental suit—designed specifically so he wouldn't have to breathe the same air as the "commoners"—was riding on the back of a massive, weeping man. The human mount was crawling on his hands and knees, a spiked iron collar fitted tightly around his bleeding neck.
It was Saint Valerius of the Celestial Dragons.
The World Noble held a customized, gold-plated flintlock in one hand and a barbed riding crop in the other. He was looking around the kneeling plaza with absolute, vacant boredom, casually striking his slave's back to keep him moving.
Light focused his Haki exclusively on the Celestial Dragon. The interface in his mind flared with a blinding, blood-red light.
[ Saint Valerius — World Noble ][ Good: 0 / Bad: 2,450,000 ]
Two million, four hundred and fifty thousand.
Light's breath hitched, just for a microsecond. This wasn't inherited sin. The Karma System didn't operate on ancestral guilt; it operated on a purely personal ledger.
Light ran the terrifying mathematics in his head. Killing a man out of greed or anger netted a pirate a few hundred Bad Karma points. Murder was a blunt, simple sin. To amass nearly two and a half million personal points... the sheer volume of meticulous, systemic depravity required was staggering. This was a man who didn't just kill. This was a man who bought families, mutilated women and children for sport, tortured slaves for months just to hear them scream, and engaged in daily, grotesque psychological destruction for sheer pleasure.
It was the most concentrated manifestation of absolute filth Light had ever perceived in a single human soul.
To think that men dedicate their entire lives to ensuring this rotting piece of meat is treated as a deity, Light thought, his disdain reaching an absolute, freezing zenith. The insects truly run the asylum.
Saint Valerius tugged harshly on the heavy chain attached to his slave's collar, tearing the skin. "Stop. Stop right here. I'm bored of this street. Where are the giant mermaids they promised me?"
The procession halted instantly.
Valerius looked around the plaza. His vacant, cruel eyes drifted over the kneeling masses until they landed on the only two people still standing.
A handsome Marine Rear Admiral in a white coat, and a pink-haired girl eating ice cream.
"Hey," Valerius whined, his voice grating and petulant. He pointed his golden pistol directly at Bonney. "Why isn't that one bowing? And why does she get ice cream?"
The black-suited guards instantly tensed, their hands dropping to their rifles and swords. Captain Haas, still kneeling on the cobblestone, felt his heart stop.
Bonney froze. The ice cream cone slipped from her fingers, splattering onto the stone. She recognized the bubble-helmet. The horrific stories of what the Celestial Dragons did to young women who caught their eye flooded her mind.
"You there! The Marine!" Valerius shouted, waving his riding crop at Light. "That girl. She looks feisty. I want to see how long it takes to break her. Put a collar on her and bring her to my ship!"
Two elite guards immediately stepped out of formation, producing heavy, explosive iron collars from their coats, walking briskly toward Bonney.
Bonney took a terrified step backward, hiding behind Light's white coat, her hands gripping the fabric so tightly her knuckles turned white.
"Light..." Bonney whispered, genuine, unmasked panic in her voice.
Light didn't move. He looked at the approaching guards, and then he looked past them, directly into the vacant, arrogant eyes of Saint Valerius.
He had spent two weeks meticulously planning this. He had purged the local command structure. He had mapped the board. He had isolated his loyalists. He had tracked the movements of the Admirals.
Everything was perfect. All according to plan. But... he wasn't liking it anymore.
Light let out a soft, amused sigh, allowing the pleasant, golden-boy smile to completely melt away, leaving behind the cold, sociopathic visage of the God of the New World.
'This world.... '
'...is ill.'