Chapter 105

As soon as Carl saw the **change** in Garling's expression, he knew—

He was **interested.**

Carl leaned forward, his voice urgent.

"Uncle Garling, do you have a favorite **Devil Fruit**? Tell me! I'll go get it!"

Garling raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smile.

Carl frowned.

"Why are you looking at me like that? Don't you believe in my ability?"

Garling crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly.

"I believe in your ability, of course. But the fruit I want… already has an owner."

Carl's excitement **only grew.**

He loved the thrill of **taking what belonged to others.**

Patting his chest, he grinned.

"It's fine, Uncle! Just tell me who has it—**I'll kill him!**"

Garling nodded.

"Good! I want the **Tremor-Tremor Fruit.** Go get it for me."

"..."

Carl fell **dead silent.**

Garling chuckled, shaking his head.

"What's this? Why is our **Admiral** suddenly speechless? Is Whitebeard too much for you?"

Carl turned his gaze away.

There was **no way** he could defeat Whitebeard.

Not yet.

At his current strength, he was merely an **Admiral-level** fighter—while Whitebeard, in his prime, was a true **Emperor-class** monster.

Carl could **fight** him…

But after a hundred exchanges, he'd have no choice but to **flee using Kamui.**

Still, the words had already been said.

With Garling watching him, waiting for an answer, Carl **gritted his teeth** and forced a smirk.

"It's not… **impossible.**"

"?"

Garling blinked in surprise.

Then he quickly waved a hand.

"No, I was just joking. You are **nowhere near** Whitebeard's level right now. Don't be reckless!"

Carl waved him off.

"Uncle, I know that. But what I lack most right now is **time.**

Give me a little more time, and I'll bring you **Whitebeard's fruit myself.**"

Garling nodded thoughtfully.

"With your talent, I believe you can."

Carl leaned back, arms crossed.

"But, if Uncle Garling is in a hurry…" He smirked. "**Come with me. The two of us together can definitely kill Whitebeard!**"

Garling chuckled, reaching out to **tap Carl's forehead.**

"That's **impossible.**"

"As the leader of the **Knights of God**, I am the **last line of defense** protecting Mary Geoise.

Unless a **major threat** arises against the Celestial Dragons, I will never leave the Holy Land."

The **Knights of God** were like a **Royal Guard**—

No matter how dire things became **outside**, they were forbidden from leaving the palace.

It sounded **rigid**, but from the **perspective of an emperor**, it made sense.

If Garling led the **Knights of God** to the battlefield, even Whitebeard and his allies wouldn't stand a chance.

The battle would be **one-sided.**

Carl understood. He sighed.

"For now, there's no other way. You'll just have to wait a bit longer, Uncle."

Garling shrugged.

"I'm not in a hurry. I don't need the fruit that badly. Just focus on surviving and **getting stronger.**"

Something about Garling's words **warmed Carl's heart.**

Garling, on the other hand, seemed **a little embarrassed.**

The room fell into a brief **silence.**

Then, at the same time, they both spoke—

"Actually, I—"

"Uncle Garling—"

They paused, staring at each other.

Garling motioned for Carl to go first.

Carl nodded.

"I saw that guy you told me about on **Roger's ship.**"

Garling's entire body **tensed.**

He **leaned forward** urgently, his voice slightly unsteady.

"Does he have **red hair**?"

Carl nodded.

"Yeah. His name is **Shanks.** He's still a kid—barely **waist-high** to me. Looks like a trainee crew member on Roger's ship."

Garling's fingers **tightened** around the armrest.

"And? How is he? Was he hurt?"

Carl shook his head.

"No injuries, but he still lacks **combat experience.**

He actually got into a **petty argument** with some red-nosed kid on the battlefield.

Almost got himself **killed** because of it."

CRACK!

The **chair armrest** **shattered** under Garling's grip.

Carl continued, unfazed.

"I saved him. But because of that, I got **exposed** and had to use my ability to escape before I could talk to him."

Garling exhaled, his shoulders **relaxing slightly.**

"I'm glad you're alright… You're always causing trouble."

Carl smirked but didn't press further.

Instead, he asked,

"Uncle Garling, what were you about to say before?"

Garling sat up straight, his gaze **serious.**

Then, from inside his coat, he pulled out a **stack of documents.**

"Take a look at this."

Carl's brow furrowed.

He reached out, flipping through the **papers.**

Then—

His **face changed drastically.**

A wave of **darkness** flickered across his body—

His fingers twitched, and the **pages nearly turned to dust.**

**Garling reacted instantly.**

He grabbed the documents away before they could be destroyed.

Carl remained frozen in place, but—

Dark **flames** flickered wildly around his body.

Garling's expression hardened.

He released his **Haki**, his voice sharp.

"Carl! **Snap out of it!**"

Slowly, Carl lifted his head.

His **eyes had changed.**

They were now two **pitch-black voids**—

And yet, from within them, Garling could feel a **burning hatred.**

A long sigh escaped Garling's lips.

Softening his tone, he spoke again.

"Carl… I understand the pain of your past.

But what's in that document… It's **important.**

It will help you **understand your body better.**"

Carl took a **deep breath.**

The **dark energy** flickering around him slowly **subsided.**

Reaching out, he took the documents again—this time, with **calm hands.**

It was a **scientific report.**

And the subject of the experiment was—

**Himself.**

###

Carl flipped through the pages **expressionlessly.**

Each line detailed his **physical reactions** during the experiments—

Cold, clinical descriptions of the **torture** he had endured.

Reading them forced him to **relive** every moment.

Every cut. Every injection. Every hour of **agony.**

Garling's voice broke the silence.

"This is a report I had **Vegapunk** reconstruct for you.

If you want to **kill him**, I can call him right now."

Carl shook his head.

"No need, Uncle.

Back then, **Darian** was the one forcing him.

If not for Vegapunk, I would have **died on the table.**

Darian didn't even allow the use of **anesthetics**—he was afraid it would **interfere with the results.**"

Carl's grip on the report tightened.

"Besides… Vegapunk is still **useful** to the World Government.

It would be a waste to **kill him.**"

Then—

Carl **froze.**

His eyes widened.

A single **paragraph** caught his attention.

His lips parted slightly as he **whispered** the words to himself.

**"Devil Factor and Green Blood."**