"You are worthy..."
"Of speaking with me."
"About what?" Gern asked in a low voice, his tone taut as he forcibly suppressed his thoughts.
He held Eight Desolations across his body, maintaining a defensive stance, but neither attacked recklessly again nor retreated.
Against a completely unknown being that seemingly possessed the ability to control another's will, acting like a reckless fool was not a good choice.
So he needed information now. He needed to understand this "enemy," even if all he could get was a few words.
Imu did not immediately answer Gern's question.
Its gaze-it was the more fitting pronoun-seemed to shift slightly downward, settling on Eight Desolations, which Gern gripped tightly.
"Tsk..."
A faint click of its tongue.
"A failure's relic?"
Its tone was flat, yet it pierced the veil of time, pointing straight at the blade's former owner-Rocks D. Zebek!
In Imu's mouth, the legend who had once sought to rule the world and stirred up towering waves was merely... a "failure."
And it seemed neither particularly surprised nor interested to see Rocks's sword in Gern's hands. It had only mentioned it in passing.
Gern pressed his lips together without answering, his gaze merely growing graver.
Imu paid no heed whatsoever to Gern's silence or wariness, continuing in that inhuman voice as though speaking to itself:
"To be honest, Gern Reginald Sigma..."
For the first time, it spoke Gern's full name.
"You have surprised me somewhat."
But immediately afterward, that hollow voice added without the slightest inflection, "...Yet you have stirred no ripples within me."
Over the years, Gern had shaken the seas, reformed the Navy, challenged the Four Emperors, and even defeated Saint Nusjuro today. All those feats,
within Imu's vast experience and long perspective, amounted to nothing more than a slightly unusual wave that would