God's Blade, Harald

The next day, in Mary Geoise.

The flames and smoke had cleared from the nobles' district, which had burned red the night before.

Charred remnants of walls were covered with large white sheets, rubble was hauled away by the cartload, and blood-soaked flagstones were hosed down and scrubbed over and over.

The cell doors smashed open by brute force and the broken chains had vanished without a trace.

A group of servants wielded stiff brushes, scrubbing away the words slaves had written in blood on the walls.

As Ron passed, he could just make out three remaining words: "Save me."

One sweep of a brush, and the wall was deathly pale again.

It was as though last night's heart-rending screams had been wiped away along with the stains.

Ron stepped across the still-damp floor tiles and murmured, "They're not much good at other things."

"But they're pretty quick at cleaning up their mess."

The World Government official leading him slipped, then forced himself to regain his footing and pretended he hadn't heard a thing.

Half an hour later, applause filled the Holy Land's administrative hall.

"Marine Headquarters Rear Admiral Ron rushed to the scene as soon as he received the call for help, rescued a large number of government personnel, defeated the ringleader of the riot, Fisher Tiger, in direct combat, and forced him off the Red Line, successfully bringing the large-scale open conflict in the Holy Land to an end!"

"He rendered outstanding service in maintaining order in the Holy Land!"

Ron stood on the stage, listening to the commendation with an expressionless face.

The Fish-Man was probably dragging his badly wounded body through the sea beneath the Red Line, swimming toward Fish-Man Island.

Maintaining order?

The thing he'd done most last night was open one space door after another to send slaves away.

The report even made a point of saying that he had "successfully blocked several slave escape routes."

Ron considered this to himself. It wasn't exactly a lie.

He had indeed blocked them, but the ones he'd stopped were the pursuers.

Overnight, he had become the hero who quelled the riot in the Holy Land.

The Holy Land's ability to paper over trouble was truly masterful.

"Rear Admiral Ron."

The official presiding over the commendation ceremony beamed. "Thank you for defending the dignity of the Celestial Dragons."

The corner of Ron's mouth twitched. "...Don't mention it."

"The government will put a special commendation on your record, and the official documents will be sent directly to Marine Headquarters."

"Is there a bonus?"

"Huh?"

"I asked, is there a bonus?"

The official paused. "Yes, of course."

"That's fine, then."

Ron took the bonus confirmation form a staff member handed him, glanced at the amount, and readily signed his name.

He'd be a fool to turn down credit handed to him for free. Applying for a new warship, getting funds approved, transferring personnel—which of those didn't take money?

Besides, they were the ones who had insisted on giving him the credit.

Several officials nearby exchanged glances.

"So he likes money."

One muttered under his breath, and another official smiled.

"That makes things easy."

As the commendation ceremony came to an end, an official stepped forward and offered a few quiet words of reassurance.

"There's no need to blame yourself, Rear Admiral Ron. Fisher Tiger is a Fish-Man, after all. Once he fell into the sea, it really would have been difficult to continue pursuing him."

"Mm, that makes sense." Ron nodded along.

After leaving the administrative hall, Ron had just turned into a corridor when he stopped short.

A massive wall stood before him.

No, it was a giant.

Ron was already close to three meters tall, and ordinary marines had to look up at him.

But facing the man before him, he had to crane his neck just to make out that gleaming bald head.

The man had a mountain of a body, a tuft of beard with sharply upturned ends, unruly eyebrows, and a curved double-line tattoo on his left temple.

He wore a formally tailored suit with an unfamiliar badge on his chest.

Harald.

What put Ron most on guard was the man's weighty, steady aura.

He was no ordinary giant. His strength was unfathomable.

"This is His Majesty Harald, the king of Elbaf."

The official leading Ron hurriedly introduced him. "He is also God's Blade, directly under the Holy Knights."

Ron looked up at him for a moment. "Talking to you is rough on the neck."

Harald was taken aback, then burst into thunderous laughter that made the chandeliers in the corridor sway gently.

"Interesting! You're that seventeen-year-old monster rear admiral?"

"Forget the monster part. I have a name."

"Ron, of course I've heard your name!"

Harald patted his chest. "Everyone in the Holy Land was talking about you on my way here. I heard you took on Fisher Tiger alone and defeated him head-on!"

"Word travels fast with them."

Ron looked at the badge on his chest. "God's Blade? Are you with that redhead from yesterday?"

"You mean Shanks?"

"We met once. His swordsmanship was decent, but he didn't watch what he was cutting. Three swings, and he brought down two routes his own pursuers were using."

Harald stared for a moment, then burst out laughing again.

"Hahaha! I understand the way young people do things less and less."

God's Blade was a special position under the Holy Knights, not a formal member of God's Knights.

Harald had accepted the title partly to assist the World Government in carrying out missions, and partly to seek a new path for the giants of Elbaf, proving that giants were more than a race that knew only war.

"Outsiders have called the giants barbarians for too long."

Harald's laughter gradually died down.

"A warrior race, devils... I've heard those words all my life."

"When a lot of people hear we're from Elbaf, they won't even let us through the door."

"So you chose to work for the World Government?"

"I help the marines clear out pirates, and I help the Holy Land deal with all kinds of special incidents."

Harald gazed at the distant white walls beyond the window. "I hope that one day Elbaf can join the World Government. Then, when our children go to sea, they won't be treated like monsters the moment they show their faces."

Harald pointed to the badge on his chest.

"Before, when I said I was the king of Elbaf, some people wouldn't even talk to me."

"Now that I have this position, at least some people are willing to sit down and hear me out."

Ron looked at the badge.

"What's the price?"

"Someone has to take the first step."

Ron fell silent for a moment.

He hadn't seen the Holy Land treat the people locked in those cells last night as civilized people.

Cooperation, acceptance—coming from the Holy Land, those words sounded hypocritical no matter how he heard them.

Ron looked up at him for a long while, then suddenly rubbed the back of his neck.

"No, this isn't working. Talking to you is too much trouble."

"Hm?"

Click.

An Air Door suddenly opened in front of Ron.

Almost at the same time, another door appeared beside Harald's shoulder.

Ron stepped through and, in an instant, was sitting on the giant's broad shoulder.

Harald stared for a moment.

"Hey, kid! Why did you climb up there?"

"Couldn't help it."

Ron patted him on the shoulder.

"If I keep looking up to talk to you, my neck's going to break."

"Hahaha! You brat!"

"Let me ask you something."

"Go ahead!"

"To get Elbaf into the World Government, would you do anything?"

Harald was silent for a while.

"As long as it doesn't hurt my people."

"What if they ask you to hurt someone else?"

Harald frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Ron jerked his chin toward the distant prison district.

Harald didn't reply.

"I just think that if you want the giants to be respected, you don't necessarily have to risk your life working for that bunch."

Harald turned to look at him.

A moment later, he said quietly, "It's not as simple as you think."

"I know."

Harald chuckled softly.

A moment later, he lowered his voice. "Did Fisher Tiger really escape from you?"

Ron replied calmly, "He jumped off the Red Line."

"You didn't chase him?"

"I have the Door-Door Fruit, not the Fish-Fish Fruit."

Harald stared for a moment, then burst into hearty laughter.

Harald stopped smiling and spoke softly. "I heard he took several thousand slaves with him, too."

"At least those people can see the sun now."

"You don't think they're fugitives?"

"Not everyone locked in a cell is necessarily guilty."

Harald spoke more slowly. "Since coming to the Holy Land, I've seen many things they don't want people to see."

Ron finally turned to look at the giant seriously.

"Harald..."

Ron was about to say more when an unfamiliar, cold, hard voice suddenly came from the end of the corridor.

Both men turned at once.

A man stood behind them, his hair styled in a distinctive crescent and his body clad in the finery of a Holy Land noble. He looked at them coldly.

Saint Figarland Garling.

"Those five are still waiting for your report."

His gaze shifted to Ron, lingering briefly on his epaulettes.

"You're the Marine Rear Admiral who distinguished himself last night?"

Ron pulled at the corner of his mouth. "The one whose bonus hasn't come through yet."

Saint Garling didn't smile. He studied Ron as if evaluating a weapon.

Ron felt deeply uncomfortable.

That was the same scrutinizing look the Holy Land Guards had given the slaves last night.

"Not bad."

With that, he turned and left, unwilling to say another word.

Harald sighed softly and raised a hand to put Ron back on the ground.

"Looks like we can't continue our conversation today."

He bent down and held his enormous fist out in front of Ron.

Ron glanced at the fist, which was bigger than his own head, and raised his hand too.

Thump!

The two fists, vastly different in size, bumped lightly.

"Young man, I have a feeling you and I would get along very well."

"Come to Elbaf when you have time!" Harald called out in invitation. "I'll buy you a drink!"

"Would I even be able to lift one of your drinking cups?"

"Don't worry! We have little saucers specially prepared for humans to drink from!"

Ron: "..."

"So you're feeding me like a kitten?"

Harald's laughter shook the air.

But as his laughter died down, his steps suddenly faltered for a moment.

As if a thought had just surfaced, only to be forcibly pushed back down.

He frowned, then his smile returned in an instant, and he strode after Saint Garling.

Ron stood where he was, watching the giant's retreating figure disappear into the distance.

"God's Blade..."

He let out a soft breath.

"That's not a good title to have, Harald."