Meanwhile, in the deepest reaches of Pangaea Castle in the Holy Land of Mary Geoise, behind the Empty Throne.
Within the Flower Room, a place that defied all reason, where exotic flowers bloomed eternally, after months of silence and recuperation,
the surface wounds on Imu's body, once injured by Gern's Spark, finally seemed to have been completely suppressed by some powerful force.
Imu no longer curled up in agony as before, but once again sat upright on a couch naturally woven from vines, its bearing restored to its former emptiness and indifference.
But only it knew that the terrifying pain of Spark burning the very essence of its existence
had merely been forcibly sealed away, suppressed in the deepest recesses of its body, not truly eradicated.
It had no desire to experience that burning sensation a second time-the sensation that ignored every defense and acted directly on the level of "concepts."
Whenever it recalled that golden-red blade slash on the Deserted Island, which had torn through Saint Nusjuro's body
and simultaneously wounded it through their link of wills,
the faintest tremor would flicker deep within Imu's inhuman, dark-red eyes.
Especially now, when it had only just caught its breath after that prolonged agony
and had yet to carefully examine the state of a world that had grown even more chaotic during its silence,
another matter that instinctively filled it with aversion and irritation reached it through some mysterious perception.
A small, special screen of light floated before it, displaying a still photograph:
a boy wearing a straw hat, his entire body wreathed in white steam and a joyous rhythm, his hair and eyebrows turned snow-white, his smile free and unrestrained.
Nika form-Gear Fifth, Monkey D. Luffy.
Imu's hollow eyes narrowed slightly as it stared at the figure in the photograph,