The world was in turmoil, drifting in chaos.

And yet, atop this vast and seemingly endless red continent, all was calm and still.

The Red Line stretched across the sea, dividing the Grand Line into its front and back halves. Towering over a thousand meters above sea level, it held immense strategic value. Its cliff edges, worn smooth by the sea's erosion and the constant battering of damp ocean winds, were slick and treacherous—nearly impossible to climb.

This made the Red Line itself a natural stronghold, an impregnable fortress.

What's more, Marine Headquarters in Marineford wasn't far from here. Reinforcements could be dispatched at a moment's notice to safeguard the continent, turning the Holy Land Mary Geoise—perched atop the Red Line—into a truly prosperous, peaceful, and secure kingdom in the sky.

Coupled with the Celestial Dragons' extreme fear of death and blustering cowardice, the defenses within Mary Geoise were exceedingly tight. The Holy Land Guard alone boasted over 100,000 registered soldiers.

As a result, even Marine warships had to pass rigorous inspections by both the CP department and the Holy Land Guard before they were granted passage into the Red Line's inland sea.

Natural and man-made defenses combined to create an impenetrable barrier. For the past 800 years since the founding of the World Government, no one had ever succeeded in invading this sacred, blood-stained land.

But now...

A tall figure in a wide-hooded cloak stood silently at the edge of the Red Line's cliff, gazing into the distance at the grand and sacred "City of Gods." He stood there for a long time, silent.

Seawater dripped from his black-gray hood, soaking into the red soil at his feet, forming spreading dark spots.

His webbed, bloodstained hands trembled violently, thick and rough.

"So that's the Celestial Dragons' Holy Land... Mary Geoise."

His scarred hand trembled as he pulled back his hood, revealing a coarse face with thick lips.

His skin was crimson like blood. His shoulders and back were broad, with fins extending from his spine. His arms and legs bulged with gnarled, knotted muscle.

This was Fisher Tiger, known as the "Blood Dragon," one of the newly appointed Shichibukai.

"Can I really make it inside, Daren-san?"

His thick lips parted slightly as he muttered the question, eyes shadowed by doubt and fear.

Far away, the towering city loomed solemn and forbidding. The massive walls, seemingly unshakable, stood like a monolith on the blood-red earth.

The weight of those walls, the flickering silhouettes of guards atop them, the name of Mary Geoise itself—each pressed down on Fisher Tiger's chest like a stone, stirring something he couldn't put into words.

Even though he had rehearsed this moment countless times in his dreams, even though he had envisioned it a thousand ways in his mind, it wasn't until he saw the Holy Land of the Celestial Dragons with his own eyes that the crushing despair truly hit.

His body was scarred from scaling the cliff face, while the Holy Land Guard remained numerous and heavily armed.

He felt so small beneath those towering, majestic walls.

The disparity was staggering.

Slowly, the world grew quiet.

Night had fallen. The last of the crimson clouds faded from the horizon, and the sun sank below the sea.

The temperature dropped. Cold sea winds swept across the Red Line, stinging Fisher Tiger's skin.

All was still.

Lights flickered to life along the walls of the Holy City. Laughter and rowdy voices echoed faintly in the distance, mixed with off-key humming of vulgar tunes.

Thanks to his sharp eyesight, Fisher Tiger could make out soldiers setting up stoves on the wall, casually enjoying hot pot and grilled meat.

Some of the guards on duty were even slacking off in the shadows, smoking lazily, the red glow of their cigarettes flashing dimly in the dark.

"It's... real."

His trembling hands began to steady.

He could hardly believe it.

Daren-san had been right.

Despite their fearsome appearance, the Holy Land Guard was shockingly lax and undisciplined.

If that was true...

Fisher Tiger suddenly crouched down and, using the last rays of dusk, began sketching quickly across the weathered ground.

In just a few seconds, a simple but clear map emerged before him.

He racked his memory, recalling the information Daren had shared during their brief call, and swiftly marked several key locations on the crude map of Mary Geoise.

The Land of the Gods—the Celestial Dragons' residential quarter.

Armories No. 1 through 4.

And several major slave auction houses...

"Maybe I really can do this."

He stared at the markings on the map, eyes once again filled with resolve.

The icy wind swept past, erasing the traces he'd left on the ground.

As night finally fell and darkness swallowed the world, the blood-colored sea bream fishman rose to his feet and let out a long breath.

In the next instant, he fully unleashed his Observation Haki.

A flood of chaotic sounds poured into his ears—soldiers laughing, nobles sneering, officials clinking glasses—but all of it was soon drowned out by something far stronger, almost maddening.

A massive wail.

He heard countless cries of anguish—the same soul-crushing cries he once held in his heart. They came from slaves just like him, bodies marked with the bloody brand of the "Hoof of the Soaring Dragon."

"Wait for me."

Faces contorted in blood-stained grins flashed through his mind, only to blur and fade in an instant.

"This time, I'll be the one to lead you out—alive."

Fisher Tiger's eyes suddenly turned red.

He clenched his fists, then...

He ran!

Fast—yet utterly silent.

With blood-red sand swirling around him and the darkness as his cover, the sea bream fishman seemed to melt into the shadows.

Faster and faster.

Until ten minutes later—

Boom!!

A deafening explosion erupted from the northeast corner of Mary Geoise. The blast tore through the silence, flames surging skyward like a violent storm of rage, engulfing everything in blazing crimson.

It shattered the illusion of peace, and tore apart the so-called holiness of the city...

...and its eternal quiet.

On the walls, in barracks, across all the garrisons—countless Holy Land guards who were dozing off, drinking, feasting, or raising a ruckus were jolted awake. Panic seized them as they turned toward the blast.

There—where the explosion had erupted—

The ground was ablaze, the city swallowed in fire.

And atop a blue-tiled, white-walled building stood a crimson figure, holding a Celestial Dragon by the neck. With a sudden clench of his rough hand, he crushed the noble's skull like fruit.

"In the name of Rogers Daren, I liberate all the slaves of the Holy Land!!"

Blood rained down as the crimson figure roared to the sky.

The tattoo on his back looked as if it were bleeding, glowing red-hot with fury.

Behind him, the flames roared. The night sky hung heavy and grim.

All around him were slaves in tattered rags, the sharp clatter of falling shackles ringing out one after another.

In the depth of night, the slaves raised the weapons they'd seized and shouted with all their might, unleashing wild cheers toward the lone figure.

And in that moment,

Fisher Tiger, bathed in blood and surrounded by flame, seemed to shine with a light all his own—

Like the blazing sun.

...

(100 Chapters Ahead)

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