Reckless pirates attacked the Celestial Dragons

Through years of hands-on effort, Stussy's heart, which had originally belonged to Vegapunk, had long since drifted off course without her noticing.

"The ship is ready. We can depart at any time, Lord Saint Dio."

Stussy knelt on one knee.

Saint Dio nodded slightly and casually straightened his collar. Though he had called it "packing," he really had nothing to bring.

In this world, the only possession he truly trusted and needed was that sword.

He had tucked it casually behind his waist, without a scabbard, leaving its naked blade exposed to the air.

The blade was a deep, dark silver, as though it swallowed the light around it, occasionally flashing with a cold gleam as its angle changed.

"Let's go."

Saint Dio spoke mildly and led the way out of his bedchamber.

The two walked side by side along Mary Geoise's broad streets, paved with white jade.

Sunlight poured down, illuminating the splendor and sanctity of this "land of the gods."

When other Celestial Dragons traveled, they either rode in gold-inlaid palanquins carried by slaves or mounted enormous exotic beasts, with rows of attendants and guards trailing behind, their extravagance making it seem as though they feared others might not know they were "gods."

Saint Dio alone walked on his own two feet, with only Stussy at his side.

More telling still, whenever the other Celestial Dragons along the way spotted that dazzling white hair and distinctive, unsheathed sword from afar, the arrogance on their faces instantly turned to terror.

As though they had seen a plague god, they tugged at their attendants and slaves and hurried to either side of the road. Some even went out of their way to duck into alleys, just to avoid meeting the white-haired youth head-on.

For a time, Saint Dio and Stussy were the only two left on the broad avenue, their way entirely clear.

Saint Dio looked straight ahead, not sparing so much as a glance for his "kinsmen" scrambling to avoid him.

He had long since grown accustomed to this treatment-or rather, it was precisely the effect he wanted.

A pack of parasites steeped in privilege and corruption did not deserve any of his emotions.

Yet amid all this splendor, Saint Dio's figure seemed particularly out of place.

Only after they left Mary Geoise's central district and reached the harbor, where he confirmed there were no other Celestial Dragons nearby, did a trace of undisguised disgust finally appear on Saint Dio's perpetually icy, impassive face.

"What a pack of swine."

He uttered the words under his breath, his tone cold as frost and laced with contempt that seeped from his very bones.

The moment he finished speaking, a slender hand in a white glove lightly touched the corner of his mouth.

"Lord Saint Dio," Stussy rose slightly onto her toes, bringing her exquisitely doll-like face closer, "your expression... you're about to lose control of it."

Saint Dio paused briefly, then reined in his expression, restoring that unruffled mask of indifference.

He took a deep breath, drawing Mary Geoise's air, with its mingled briny and sacred scent, into his lungs. Gazing at the rolling sea of clouds at the distant edge of the Red Line, Saint Dio grew thoughtful.

"It seems I still can't control these things freely."

The disgust and killing intent accumulated over the years always slipped out in unguarded moments.

"One day..."

He did not continue.

But Stussy knew.

She knew better than anyone what kind of plan, one capable of overturning the world, lay hidden in the heart of this seemingly aloof youth.

Kill every last Celestial Dragon.

This was no tragic drama of "the Celestial Dragons' self-revolution."

Quite the contrary: as someone who had transmigrated into this world, Saint Dio had already come to identify with his own status.

That was precisely why he could not tolerate it.

He would protect the class to which he belonged, but that did not mean he would protect his pig-brained kinsmen.

In his eyes, there were too many Celestial Dragons.

One god was enough.

This mad idea was like a seed buried deep in his heart. As the years passed and his strength accumulated, it steadily took root and sprouted, growing into a towering tree.

Apart from Stussy, the woman he had thoroughly conquered inside and out, no one knew of this ambition deep within his heart.

But Saint Dio also knew full well that he was not yet strong enough.

With his current strength, opposing the entire World Government, let alone the true ruler behind it, would be like an ant trying to shake a tree.

To truly overthrow that lofty class, he needed to build his strength, lay his plans patiently, and wait for his chance.

To that end, he made full use of his greatest advantage as a transmigrator: his foreknowledge of the original story.

Before anyone else noticed, he had already begun acting in secret.

Through various means, he gathered Devil Fruits that would shine brilliantly in the future ahead of time; he turned Stussy from Vegapunk's pawn into his own trusted confidante and built his own intelligence network.

This time, his purpose in heading to the Sabaody Archipelago was likewise to get there first.

To claim the future "Pirate Empress," Boa Hancock, and her two younger sisters before anyone else did.

Saint Dio had always adhered to a principle of cautious intervention when it came to the course of the original story.

He knew very well that his greatest advantage was his insight into the future.

If his rash interference at some critical juncture caused the story to veer uncontrollably off course, he would lose this most valuable trump card of intelligence.

Thus, acting with the utmost care without affecting major plot points had always been Saint Dio's guiding principle.

Chapter 3: Reckless pirates attacked the Celestial Dragons

The treasure ship reserved for the Celestial Dragons cleaved through the azure sea, the white spray thrown up at its bow glittering like scattered silver in the sunlight.

The sea breeze filled the sails, flags snapped atop the masts, and a few seagulls chased the ship's wake, giving long, drawn-out cries.

On deck, several sailors had gathered by the rail during a break between shifts, but their gazes all drifted toward the figure at the bow who never stopped moving.

Ever since they had put out to sea, the white-haired youth had not stopped swinging his sword.

There was no opponent, no target, not even a fixed sequence of techniques.

He simply stood at the very front of the bow, facing the oncoming sea breeze and flying spray, repeating his slashes over and over.

Sometimes he delivered a downward vertical cut, sometimes a horizontal slash, and sometimes an upward diagonal cut at a tricky angle.

"Tsk, what a weirdo..." A bearded sailor lowered his voice and nudged his companion with an elbow. "I've worked in Mary Geoise for years. I've seen eighty Celestial Dragons, if not a hundred. Which of them doesn't lie in a palanquin and have people carry them around? But this one not only walks for himself, he even plays around swinging a sword."

"Tell me about it," another tall, thin sailor agreed. "And look at that sword of his. It doesn't even have a scabbard. He just tucks it behind his waist, not even worried about hurting himself... what Celestial Dragon acts like that?"

"Shh-keep it down! Do you want to die?" A slightly older sailor beside them looked around nervously. Though he too thought this Celestial Dragon was truly different, discussing a Celestial Dragon was itself a capital offense.

Their whispers, however, had already reached ears they never should have.

"You gentlemen seem to be enjoying your chat."

A cool female voice sounded behind them without warning, its last notes carrying a hint of sweetness that nevertheless sent chills down their spines.

The sailors instantly froze. They slowly turned their heads like machines, only to see Stussy standing a short distance behind them in a pure white CP0 uniform, her arms folded. Her eyes watched them coldly, and a faint, ambiguous smile curved her lips.

Thud!

The sailors' legs gave out, and they dropped to their knees on the deck together, cold sweat instantly soaking the backs of their shirts.

"M-my lady! We... we didn't say anything! We..."

"Discussing Celestial Dragons in private," Stussy began slowly, her voice quiet, yet every word pierced their eardrums like an icicle, "gives me the legal authority to execute you on the spot."

At these words, the sailors' faces went deathly pale. They trembled like leaves, unable even to beg for mercy coherently.

Stussy watched them looking as though they were about to wet themselves with fright. After a moment of silence, she gave a cold snort and continued, "However, you should count yourselves fortunate... fortunate that it was Lord Saint Dio you encountered."

She tilted her head slightly, her gaze passing over them to settle on the white-haired figure at the bow, still swinging his sword tirelessly.

"Had it been another Celestial Dragon, you would already be corpses. But Lord Saint Dio won't care about your idle chatter."

It was not out of mercy, but because, in Saint Dio's eyes, he and these people were no longer members of the same species.

Would you care what a head of livestock thought of you?

The sailors froze at her words, then felt as though they had been granted a pardon and repeatedly knocked their heads against the deck. "Thank you for sparing our lives, my lady! Thank you! We'll never do it again!"

"Get back to your posts. Don't let me hear it a second time."

"Yes! Yes!"

The sailors scrambled to their feet, their legs still as limp as noodles, and fled the deck while supporting one another.

Stussy paid those insignificant, antlike figures no further attention. She slowly walked to the side of the ship, leaned against the railing, and quietly watched the white-haired youth swinging his sword into the sea breeze.

Saint Dio continued swinging his sword at the bow. Sweat slowly trickled down the defined grooves of his back, which gleamed bronze beneath the midday sun.

Long-term, high-intensity training had already given this body, not yet fully grown, an astonishingly defined musculature: broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and lats that spread like wings.

The sword in his hand looked utterly unremarkable, even somewhat shabby without a scabbard.

But this sword was no ordinary steel.

It was a "living" sword, a sword that had eaten a Devil Fruit.

Snake-Snake Fruit, Mythical Zoan, Model: World Serpent.

Saint Dio had named it Jörmungandr.

The gigantic sea serpent of Norse mythology that encircled Midgard and bit its own tail, a colossal creature beyond mortal imagining.

Since it was a Mythical Zoan, the appearance of a legendary creature on this scale was hardly strange.

After Saint Dio's lengthy development and coordination with it, Jörmungandr's power manifested primarily in two abilities: "weight" and "poison."

By altering the connection between himself and the sword, Saint Dio could control Jörmungandr's weight at will, making a single stroke powerful enough to cleave waves and split the sea.

At present, he was practicing his swings while keeping the sword's weight at an extremely high threshold, tempering his muscles, bones, and endurance.

Sweat slipped down his sun-browned neck, flowed across his sharply defined chest and abdominal muscles, and finally disappeared beneath his waistband.

Standing nearby, Stussy narrowed her beautiful eyes slightly, her gaze following the trail of sweat all the way down.

She unconsciously licked her lips, revealing two small, pointed, vampire-like canines, and a faint swallowing sound came from her throat.

Stussy stepped forward, silently approaching Saint Dio from behind. Her white-gloved fingertips gently rested on his sweat-dampened back and slowly stroked down along his spine, her movements intimate and teasing.

She rose slightly onto her toes and parted her small, cherry-like lips, revealing those two sharp canines. Aiming at the slightly raised muscle where the back of Saint Dio's neck met his shoulder, she was just about to bite down gently-

"Enemy attack!!"

A clamor of shouts suddenly erupted on deck, accompanied by chaotic footsteps and the clang of weapons being drawn.

Stussy paused, frowned in displeasure, then straightened and looked toward the noise.

A pirate ship flying a ferocious skull flag was charging in at an angle, bearing straight down on the Celestial Dragon's vessel.

Its bow was packed with vicious-looking pirates wielding blades and guns, looking ready to pull off a big score.

The corner of Stussy's mouth twitched, and she could not help muttering, "...There are actually pirates who dare attack a Celestial Dragon's ship? Are these fools tired of living, or has seawater rotted their brains?"

In fact, these waters were already close to the Sabaody Archipelago. Occasionally, some reckless novice pirates who had just made their way through the first half of the Grand Line would appear, either failing to recognize the Celestial Dragons' flag at all or simply being arrogant enough to think they could "take down the World Government."

Clearly, this group belonged to the former category.

Just then, a guard commander in heavy armor hurried up behind Saint Dio and knelt on one knee, his tone urgent but still respectful. "Lord Saint Dio! I have sent an emergency report to Marine Headquarters, and reinforcements are on their way! Please withdraw to the cabin for now. We will defend you with our lives!"

At these words, Saint Dio finally stopped his seemingly endless sword swings.

He slowly straightened, pointed Jörmungandr's tip downward, and casually thrust it into the deck.

With a soft thunk, the tip pierced the hard oak deck as easily as tofu, leaving the sword standing firmly beside him.

"No need."

The youth's voice was calm as still water.

"They've come at just the right time. It's been a long time since I last stretched my legs."

With that, he raised his hand, gripped Jörmungandr's hilt, and pulled it from the deck.

Stussy had already stepped forward in tacit understanding and draped a loose white outer robe over his sweat-dampened upper body, concealing that muscular physique capable of making any woman blush and her heart race.

Saint Dio casually pulled the robe closed without even tying it.