"You... you lowborn scum, you actually dared to come over!"
Snot streamed from Saint Charlos's nose as he pulled a gem-encrusted golden pistol from his coat with a trembling right hand and aimed it squarely between Lorne's brows.
"Stop!"
"Stop right there!"
"You beast with filthy blood in your veins, I am a descendant of the creators!"
"I am the king of this world!"
"You dared to kill my guards! I'll have an Admiral send your whole family to the bottom level of Impel Down to feed the rats!"
"I'll have the Five Elders wipe that miserable island you come from off the map!"
Lorne did not stop.
With every step he took, a ring of fine cracks spread through the Red Line stone bricks beneath his feet. A crushing pressure struck Saint Charlos's chest, wave after wave, like a tangible tide.
"A king?"
Lorne's voice was as low as rolling thunder, echoing repeatedly through the corridors of the Social Plaza.
"A fat pig who sits on a slave's back and needs someone to carry him even to get around thinks he's worthy of calling himself a king?"
"Rear Admiral Lorne!"
"Stop talking!"
Ethan had all but collapsed beside a stone pillar, shouting with every ounce of strength he had.
"That is blasphemy against a god!"
"That is a grave crime punishable by the World Government's highest-level manhunt!"
"Put your hand down! It's not too late to turn back. We can say CP0 attacked first and you were defending yourself!"
"Defending myself?"
Lorne turned his head, violent flames dancing in his golden eyes.
"Ethan, haven't you figured it out yet?"
"In these fat pigs' eyes, we Marines, civilians, and even these so-called kings are nothing but expendable supplies with two legs."
"My subordinates aren't slaves, and I'm nobody's watchdog."
"Don't