17

Sabaody Archipelago Plaza, where the Summit War had once been broadcasted, was packed with people.

At that moment, three massive screens lit up simultaneously. No one knew what was happening, but soon, images began to appear on each screen.

Three Celestial Dragons, unmasked and beaten to the point of swelling and bruises, were kneeling before the camera.

"What the...?!"

"Those are Celestial Dragons!"

"Descendants of the gods... kneeling on the ground?!"

"No... They were forced to kneel. And look at those injuries..."

"The world's gone insane!"

"They were beaten so badly that they're kneeling like dogs!"

"Is this some kind of trick? A fake?"

"I saw those very same Celestial Dragons arrive at the Archipelago this morning! There's no way it's fake! Besides, who would dare impersonate a Celestial Dragon and defy the gods themselves?! That's suicide!"

...

People in the plaza couldn't believe their eyes. But the reality on the screens couldn't be denied. Many trembled. Some reporters had already begun taking frantic photos.

Meanwhile, the staff operating the giant screens were shaking in fear. Elior and his group had hijacked the broadcast room. Elior hadn't killed anyone—yet—but the weight of what he was doing made it feel like the world might collapse.

He was defying the gods.

The Celestial Dragons—those untouchable gods whose ancestors created the World Government—were being humiliated. That was unthinkable.

How brazen could Elior and his crew be?

At that moment, Shiryu handed Elior an ordinary sword. It looked unimpressive, even worn—but when Elior gripped it, the air shifted.

The aura of a swordsman.

Shiryu was stunned. That kind of pressure… only true sword masters had that kind of presence. At that moment, Elior didn't just look like a swordsman—he was one.

"Captain... do you practice swordsmanship too?"

Elior smiled. "Do you believe in natural talent?"

Back on the plaza's screen, the camera showed a young man standing behind the kneeling Celestial Dragons. A sword rested in his hands, gleaming under the lights.

"Is he going to execute them?!"

"Impossible! Attacking a Celestial Dragon is one thing—killing one is another!"

"If they die... the world will change!"

"They say Fire Fist Ace of the Whitebeard Pirates will be executed soon... but this? This is even crazier."

"Who is that boy?! How dare he do this?!"

"Whoever he is, his life is already over! Where are the Admirals?! Why haven't they come to stop this?!"

"If a Celestial Dragon dies and returns as a mere human... shouldn't we cheer?"

"Shhh! Don't let them hear you!"

...

The blade was now pressed against Saint Roswald's neck. The cold steel made him shake violently. He had been begging Elior for mercy until his throat went raw—but Elior remained unmoved. The damn Admirals still hadn't shown up.

Now, the devil was going to act.

Why would anyone dare lay a hand on a Celestial Dragon?

The trio of nobles couldn't understand.

"Please... let us go..."

"Please..."

They were still trying to plead their way out of death. They knew they were being broadcast across the world. They were humiliated—reduced to stray dogs in front of commoners. But they no longer cared. As long as they survived and returned to Mary Geoise, they'd still be gods.

"Tell me" Elior said coldly, "are the Celestial Dragons… pigs?"

"If you amuse me, maybe I'll let you live."

The plaza fell silent. Everyone held their breath, waiting for the coming storm.

"Celestial Dragons are pigs!"

"Celestial Dragons are pigs!"

"Celestial Dragons are pigs!"

Saint Charlos, terrified that Elior might change his mind, was the first to shout it. His mind still lingered on his dozen wives back at Mariejois. He couldn't die here—not after being tortured like this, made to suffer like a commoner. If he lived, he swore he'd make the World Government gouge out the eyes of everyone who saw him like this. He'd drag back the most beautiful women in the crowd and make them slaves.

His face, swollen and disgusting, twitched with rage and delusion.

"That's right! All Celestial Dragons are pigs!"

"Pigs!"

Even Saint Shalria, the female noble, spat out the same phrase. Her words were slurred—Elior had slapped her earlier, breaking her jaw and knocking out several teeth. Blood still dripped from her mouth.

Roswald, shocked by the betrayal of his children, hesitated for three seconds —then joined them.

"Celestial Dragons are pigs."

All of them.

The entire square felt like it couldn't breathe. If they hadn't heard the Celestial Dragons say it themselves, who would have believed it?

And now, it was clear—after today, the phrase "Celestial Dragons are pigs" would become a fixed truth in the minds of people around the world.

It would never be erased.

"Where are the Admirals?! Are they ready to strike?! This is live! He might actually execute them on camera!"

"Unbelievable..."

At that same time, Kizaru, Sentomaru, and others received an urgent notice from Marine HQ. Shocked by what they saw, they immediately turned into beams of light and sped toward the broadcast location.

Even Akainu, stationed kilometers away, was on his way.

It was happening.

That madman who once broke into Impel Down now intended to publicly execute Celestial Dragons.

Insanity. Absolute madness.