Imu's Dilemma
Whoever strikes first will be the first to lose.
After a long while, an indifferent voice slowly descended from the top of the throne, light and without the slightest ripple, as cold and aloof as ever.
It's not the physical exhaustion from overwork, but a deep weariness from prolonged confrontation, being constantly restrained, and being pushed to the limit by an unknown opponent.
This is not a sign of weakness, nor is it a concession.
Imu gently raised his wrist and slowly put the Rubik's Cube, which held the power to destroy the world, back into his sleeve.
His movements were extremely light and slow, carrying a hint of quiet restraint. The next instant, the shadow on the throne shifted gently, and his figure completely melted into the darkness, leaving no trace.
The Five Elders, still kneeling with their knives, their foreheads pressed against the cold bluestone, felt an overwhelming sense of enlightenment and clarity welling up within them.
He only asked one question throughout the entire conversation.
At this moment, the Five Elders saw through the truth completely.
It is not Four Emperors who rule the Four Blues, nor Revolutionary Army with undercurrents, nor Marine Headquarters that is growing stronger by the day.
The unknown power hidden deep within the young man's palm was so strong that even Imu dared not easily overturn the table to test it.
The candlelight flickered gently among the Flower Room, casting a dim, yellowish glow that projected the solitary figure on the Void Throne onto the cold stone wall. The shadow was stretched long, clinging forlornly to the wall, conveying an unchanging, timeless loneliness.
Deep within the corridor, the footsteps of the Five Elders gradually faded into the distance, eventually disappearing completely. The entire magnificent hall fell into deathly silence once more, as if even the air currents had stopped.
Imu remained seated on his throne, his posture as upright as ever. His fingertips unconsciously traced the edges of the black Rubik's Cube hidden in his sleeve, the delicate patterns running repeatedly across his fingertips, carrying the unique cold texture of an ancient weapon.
He looked up, his gaze piercing through the stained-glass dome above, past the layers of white jade palace walls of Mary Geoise, parting the lingering sea of clouds, and landing far away at the distant West Blue.
That sea area, now firmly occupied by the Uchiha Clan, stands out starkly and glaringly in the eight hundred years he has spent overlooking the world, like a sharp thorn that has taken root and is firmly embedded in the very center of the world map he has meticulously planned.
Eight hundred years is enough time to weather mountains and rivers and witness the rise and fall of countless dynasties.
He lived too long, so long that the lifespan of most living beings in the world was but a fleeting moment to him.
The order of this sea is an ironclad rule that he Teuchi, rebuilt, and established.
What are legendary figures like Rocks and Roger who reached the top of the ocean compared to them?
They are merely two tiny ripples that occasionally surge up in the long river of time, and will soon be destroyed and disappear.
Roger and his crew endured countless hardships before finally reaching Laugh Tale and glimpsing the ultimate secret of the world.
The news spread Four Blues, shaking the world, but he, sitting on his throne, didn't even lift an eyelid.
A group of ants crawling on the earth, having luckily stumbled upon the entrance to their anthill, that's all.
Even if we glimpse the truth and learn the secrets, what then?
For eight hundred years, countless people have attempted to overthrow the rule of the World Government, and countless powerful figures have risen against the tide with ambition, but in the end, they have all turned into a handful of dust that is sealed in history.
Those who failed to Awakening the Sun God Fruit throughout history, those who claimed to inherit Joy Boy's will and bear the Will of D, in their own minds were brave warriors who overthrew tyranny and pioneers who broke free from fate.
But in Imu's eyes, they were just pitiful people repeating the same script over and over again, repeatedly toyed with by fate, struggling in vain, never escaping the game he had laid out.
The Will of D, which has lasted for eight hundred years, has been magnificent and passed down from generation to generation, yet it has never truly shaken the foundation of its rule.
Uchiha Natsu was the only complete exception.
When the name first came into his view, he didn't pay it any mind.
He was just another powerful pirate born in a chaotic world. No matter how high his talent or how strong his combat power, he was at best a second Rocks, who would eventually be crushed by the times and wiped out by him with a wave of his hand.
It wasn't until the Summit War that he personally stepped into the fray and confronted the boy head-on.
That battle seemed evenly matched, with both sides suffering heavy losses, and ended just as perfectly. But only Imu himself knew that his decision to withdraw back then was by no means because he was unable to kill his opponent.
Admittedly, completely eliminating Natsu would be extremely difficult, almost defying the heavens.
But what truly stopped him was the unfamiliar sense of crisis that suddenly surged into his heart during the chase.
It wasn't Haki, domineering pressure, nor was it the restraint of Devil Fruits; it didn't belong to any known power system in this ocean.
That power was extremely quiet, silently lurking within the boy's body, like an ancient ferocious beast that had slumbered for countless ages, concealing all its sharpness and remaining impassive.
But Imu clearly sensed it. If he took another step forward, the ferocious beast would suddenly open its eyes and tear everything apart.
Eight hundred years.
Having taken charge of the world's order and looked down upon the rise and fall of all living beings, he encountered the whisper of "death" for the first time.
That silent warning bluntly and coldly told him: Take one more step, and you will die too.
So he withdrew.
It had nothing to do with mercy or scheming. It was simply that for the first time in eight hundred years, in this world he ruled, he encountered an unknown that was completely beyond his control and unpredictable.
In the dimly lit hall, Imu's crimson pupils contracted slightly, a deep sense of solemnity flashing across his eyes.
He was certain that Natsu was also waiting.
Given that young man's temperament and strength, if he wanted to stir up trouble and overturn the established order, he could easily unleash a massive wave.
But he chose to remain hidden on Origin Island, staying indoors and quietly guarding his corner.
He was waiting for Imu to make the first move. He wanted to wait for this ruler of the throne to reveal his trump card and activate the Uranus first, then seize the opportunity to strike decisively.
The two men faced off across the sea, engaging in a silent battle of wits; both were top-tier hunters who deeply understood the art of patience and waiting.
Whoever reveals their hand first will be the first to fall into a dead end.
Imu raised his hand and gently tucked the Rubik's Cube with its flowing dark red patterns back into his sleeve, his movements slow and deliberate, completely concealing the sharpness of this world-destroying weapon.
He slowly closed his eyes.
For the first time in eight hundred years, he felt such profound weariness.
It wasn't the physical exhaustion from running around, but the mental strain of being on edge for so long, having looked down on the world from afar, that finally brought upon us the weight and desolation of a worthy adversary.
Past adversaries—pirates, Revolutionary Army, and all sorts of incredibly powerful individuals—are ultimately just pawns in a game of chess, ants that can be crushed at will.
But now his opponent is another player who plays the game.
They are equally adept at lying low, equally skilled at scheming, and equally wield the ultimate power to overturn the world.
Uchiha Natsu.
This name was destined to be etched in his memory for a lifetime.
This was the first time in eight hundred years that someone had made him, the only god in the world, clearly realize that he was not a supreme being who alone held the mandate of heaven and was invincible.