The Red Line.

This ring-shaped continent intersects with the Grand Line and is named for its crimson soil. Towering thousands of meters above sea level, it rises like a sheer, cloud-piercing cliff, inspiring awe with its immense, unreachable presence.

At its summit lies a city both mysterious and magnificent—the most revered place in the world. This land is home to gods who dwell above the clouds and look down upon the masses like ants: the Celestial Dragons.

Inviolable, sacred, supreme… this is the "Holy Land" of Mary Geoise.

Outside the outer walls of Mary Geoise, beyond its towering fortifications...

Whoosh!

A powerful figure suddenly plummeted from the clouds above, crashing into the ground with immense force and shaking the earth with a deep rumble.

Dust exploded outward as long cracks spread from the impact site, reaching even the city walls of the Holy Land, causing faint fissures to appear.

The deafening commotion immediately put the Holy Land Guard on high alert.

"Who's there?!"

"Something just fell!"

"Full alert!"

"Stand ready!"

"..."

The guards, who had been slouching lazily moments ago, snapped to attention. They raised their poorly maintained rifles and drew spotless, unused swords, their eyes wide with suspicion as they stared toward the source of the disturbance.

Dust swirled. Gunpowder smoke was carried by the howling wind.

A tall, shadowy figure slowly stepped forward, lifting one gleaming black military boot from the cracked ground.

As the sharp wind howled, that imposing and frigid presence began to emerge from the smoke and dust.

Black hair whipped wildly in the wind, and beneath those tousled strands, eyes gleamed like a star-filled sky.

Gone was the familiar crisp Marine uniform and cape. The black-haired young man stood bare-chested, revealing a physique chiseled with explosive muscle.

His broad, icy frame was crisscrossed with scars like writhing centipedes—some old, others still fresh and unhealed.

Dark military trousers clung to legs still stained with drying blood.

He stood calmly before Mary Geoise's grand walls, reeking of blood, hands in his pockets, a lit cigar clenched between his teeth.

The raw, murderous aura radiating from him—unintentional yet suffocating—froze the hundred-plus Holy Land guards in place. Their pores bristled. Hands trembled.

"H-He..."

"Is that..."

"Rogers Daren!"

"That Vice Admiral everyone talks about!!"

"The one who took down Shiki!!"

"..."

The guards gulped nervously.

Though they had heard bits and pieces about this man's fearsome reputation, their understanding of Rogers Daren was limited to newspapers and idle gossip.

Some of them had even joked during patrols that the so-called "King of the North Blue" was just the World Government's best-trained dog.

After all, as members of the Holy Land Guard—men who had spent their lives in this exalted place above the clouds—they naturally looked down on all others with disdain.

What could the Marines do? Kill a few pirates? Clean up after them?

How could such lowly tasks compare to guarding the Holy Land and protecting the noble Celestial Dragons?

But now...

As they stared at the smoking, expressionless Marine, every one of them felt a bone-deep chill crawl down their spine, as if they'd been plunged into ice water. Their teeth began to chatter.

He hadn't even released his full presence, yet the oppressive ferocity rolling off him made it nearly impossible to breathe.

It felt like the man before them wasn't human at all—but a beast that had clawed its way out of a mountain of corpses!

"Wait, didn't he just finish intercepting the Whitebeard Pirates...?"

"Could those terrifying wounds be from fighting Whitebeard?"

"He's a real monster..."

...

More and more Holy Land guards poured in from all directions, swarming the city walls like a white tide.

While they watched Daren with nervous caution, he casually scanned the crowd in return.

Bloated figures, sloppy formations, poorly maintained and unlubricated firearms, brand-new swords and spears with not a scratch on them, and eyes brimming with fear and unease...

A faint, mocking smirk curled at the corner of his lips.

"Daren!"

Suddenly, a powerful voice rang out from the rear of the gathered guards.

The crowd froze, then instinctively parted to form a clear path.

Kong stepped forward, draped in a heavy cloak. The golden epaulettes on his shoulders, symbolizing his rank as Fleet Admiral, swayed gently with his stride, carrying an aura of calm authority, firm and immovable as a mountain.

"Fleet Admiral Kong."

Daren withdrew his gaze from the trembling guards and looked over at the approaching Kong, raising his hand in a salute.

"You're out of control, kid. Can't you hold back just a little?"

Kong stared helplessly at the massive crater before him and the cracks that spread all the way to the city walls.

Daren gave a small laugh and shrugged.

"Just had a fight with Whitebeard. Still recovering. Lost control for a second."

Kong's face darkened.

There was no good way to respond to that.

He already knew the battle report from Miracle Island—Roger, Kaidou, and Big Mom had all escaped. It was understandable that Daren held a grudge.

He turned and waved his hand, signaling the guards to retreat, then lowered his voice.

"It's not something we can discuss over the Den Den Mushi. I'll take you into the city—we can talk as we go..."

"So what conditions did the Five Elders set for my promotion to Admiral?"

Daren cut him off.

Kong froze in place.

"How did you—"

Daren shook his head, a cold smile tugging at his lips.

"I'm just a Vice Admiral. What right would I have to meet the Five Elders in person?"

"If they want to see me, it's obviously because they plan to promote me to Admiral."

"But an Admiral holds the highest authority in Marine Headquarters, second only to the Fleet Admiral, with access to many of the World Government's secrets... so of course there are strings attached, right, Fleet Admiral Kong?"

Meeting that mocking, unwavering gaze, Kong sighed inwardly.

He fell silent for a while. The weathered lines on his face tightened, his expression caught between hesitation and burden.

"Forget it. I'll ask them myself."

Daren shook his head and strode past Kong.

"I'll handle it. Don't worry, Fleet Admiral."

His calm voice lingered in the air as the Vice Admiral's tall figure walked toward the majestic holy city.

A cold gust swept through. Kong felt the chill down to his bones.

He turned slowly, his aged eyes fixed on Daren's retreating back, his expression shifting, jaw clenched tight.

Dusk was falling. A blood-red sunset pierced the sky like a blade, casting its glow across the land.

It made the scarred figure of the Vice Admiral appear even more solitary and solemn... as if bathed in blood.

There was no fluttering white cape, no "Justice" emblazoned behind him.

Only a back riddled with wounds.

Upright and unyielding—like a spear.

The snow-white holy city, the thriving capital, the grand gate and towering walls...

At this moment, they seemed like the jaws of a monstrous beast, slowly swallowing that proud, blood-stained silhouette.

...

(100 Chapters Ahead)

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