Gunko stepped into the Flower Room more softly, more cautiously, than ever before.
At the same time, her gaze instinctively went straight to the ever-present couch.
But it was empty.
The shadow that had loomed there for eight hundred years, symbolizing the world's ultimate authority and the source of its terror, was gone.
Gunko's heart clenched at the sight, but her years of service and familiarity with Imu's methods
made her instantly avert her gaze and settle it on the figure standing with his back to her before the couch.
Tall, somewhat heavyset, with a sturdy body beneath tattered clothes and a head of black curls...
It was Blackbeard, Marshall D. Teach.
But his bearing was utterly different.
Gone were Blackbeard's signature arrogance, cunning, and restless air of constant scheming.
In their place was stillness.
"My lord."
Gunko instantly suppressed every emotion roiling within her and called softly, her posture and tone as deferential as possible.
The figure slowly turned around.
It was Blackbeard's face. His features were unchanged, his gap-toothed mouth still stretched into a grin, but his expression... filled Gunko with intense discomfort.
It was nothing like any of Blackbeard's usual expressions.
Not a greedy, wild laugh, not calculating malice, not a face twisted with rage, not even feigned humility.
Instead, there was calm mingled with a sense of novelty.
Like someone who had just put on an exceptionally well-fitting, highly functional new outfit and was carefully testing its fabric and capabilities.
"You're here."
The voice was Blackbeard's, but its cadence carried an air of lofty superiority.
"Blackbeard" raised both hands before his eyes and admired them.
In his left palm, deep darkness that seemed capable of swallowing light silently emerged-the Dark-Dark Fruit.
He gently curled the fingers of his right hand, and the surrounding air immediately hummed