Heaven Has No Limit Chapter 12 - Ragebait

The thing was, ragebait had to be believable.

Noah awoke with tiddies in his face. Tiddies of different shapes and different sizes, buried in a mound of flesh and body parts, he moved aside nipple covering his eyes. His neck snapped towards the window. From there, his Haki Sight stretched farther and farther, beyond the reach of the Germa kingdom, towards the sea. There, he could feel the strongest lifeforce he had felt ever since getting a proper grasp of the Color of Observation Haki.  

An ear-splitting grin that contorted his cheeks blew fully on his face. They took the fucking bait.

They. Took. The. Motherfucking. Bait!

Baiting online was an art form. The first and most important step was to be well-versed in Occam’s Law: the fastest way to get the correct answer on the internet wasn’t to ask a question, but to post the wrong answer. 

Posting bullshit as if it were gospel truth, and doubling down on it, was the sweet spot where ragebait met human psychology. He’d get clicks, hits, massive engagement and metrics filled with a bunch of “Um, Akshually…” bums lining up to tell him why he was wrong, arguing and arguing because fuck ‘em if they had nothing better to do than prove they were right.

He could ask, “What the hell is an Alpha Male?” And he’d get crickets. But if he posted, “Keanu Reeves is a Beta Male”, he could put his phone on vibrate and shove it down a girl’s panties and edge her till Kingdom Came.

They always knew that shit was bait. They didn’t doubt it was bait. But they’d still click, and they’d still argue, because primitive monkey brain hardware said talk-bad-about-thing-I-like equalled you-bad and you-me-enemy.

On social media, it was survival of the most scandalous. Everyone drank audacity as if it were Hannah Owo bathwater, and gargled cojones as if it were Listerine. Translating that into reality was a bit more difficult because, in the eternal words of Mike Tyson, “Social media made y'all way too comfortable with disrespecting people and not getting punched in the face.”

But in Shonen Pirate Fantasy Land?

They had zero resistance to bait. Donut-Boy died because of kindergarten-level bait. Akainu said: Your papa ain’t shit boy, and it was game over. All of the Nepo Hats could be baited by saying: Your Captain is a fraud.

They’d be foaming at the mouth and drawing knives and rushing him like bulls at fucking Pamplona.

Noah moved himself out of the entanglement of limbs before he reached for his white Den-Den Mushi.

“Purupurupuru. Purupurupurupuru. Click!”

“Guernika.”

“Saint Noah. I’ve been expecting your—”

“Where are you?”

“We’ve docked on a nearby Island, not far from the Germa Kingdom, Saint.”

Noah grinned.

“Didn’t I tell you to head for East Blue?”

“You did, Saint. However… Drum Island and the Sakura Kingdom are not located in East Blue, but on the Grand Line. I... doubted the Saint would make such a mistake... but to be sure... I decided to err on the side of caution and wait nearby for further instructions. It was only as I departed the Germa Kingdom that…”

“You finally sensed the rat sniffing about, didn’t you?” Noah snorted. “Took you fucking long enough.”

“I sincerely apologize, Saint. That they may have been eavesdropping on our conversation, and I’d not been aware, is a failure on my part.”

“Your Observation Haki is weaksauce, Guernika. Weaksauce. You have to work on it to avoid catching L’s like this,” Noah clicked his tongue. “But, not falling for bait already gives you a leg up over the idiot who was spying on us, so I’ll let it slide this time.”

“I’m unworthy of your praise, Saint.”

“Whatever. Contact Tsuru. Let her know a group of pests she’s been chasing constantly is near. There’s going to be a show.”

“Understood, Saint.”

“Also, you’ve got access to a Black Den-Den Mushi, right? The one that lets Marines and Cipher Pol send false SOS signals, intercept calls, and shit?”

“I do, Saint.”

“Yeah, patch my white one through it.”

“Saint, are you… intending on disseminating more misinformation?”

“Who says it was misinformation? There really is an old hag named Kureha that you’ll need to fetch after this.”

“There… is?”

“That’s the thing you gotta learn. See, this thing called bait, Guernika…”

Noah grinned.

“It has to be believable.”

=====)+(=====

“Huh? What was that noi—Gurk!”

In a guard tower, a man swam out of the ground, slicing the throat of the guard who was keeping watch. Blood pooled and gurgled; he clutched his throat, but from start to finish, he did not see the face of his assassin.

The assassin dove back into the ground, diving and swimming, making butterfly strokes in the liquid stone and cement as though it were water, as though it were water, before he emerged at a different point, another watchtower, with two guards on duty. The first unsuspecting guard met his end as a blade slipped between his jugular and sliced flesh clean. The other heard the noise, turning swiftly, his rifle drawn. His eyes widened, and at once, he made to scream.

“In— Intru—GAK!”

His throat was slit, again, faster than the cry could come. The swimming assassin dove headfirst again into the ground, vanishing from the spot without a sound, and without a single trace.

On and on, the scene repeated itself, and on and on, the sequence continued. Guards within the Germa Kingdom and its central castle were silently, quietly, taken out one after the other, falling like flies to a fly swatter.

The Young Master has never tasked me to perform something like this before, but…

Señor Pink did not understand why the sudden call had come to his Den Den Mushi. According to the snail, the call had been retraced from its last call, which meant it was undeniably the Young Master calling; however, the request had been… odd.

“Eliminate as many as you can as quietly as possible. Once you do that, aim for Vinsmoke Judge’s children. I’m told he has a set of brats. Capture half of them. I’ll be using them as insurance. Judge won’t dare attack me when his children are dancing on my strings.”

“Capture…? Young Master, you want me to kidnap his—”

“Are you questioning me, Pink?”

“N-no! No, Young Master! It’ll be done immediately!”

“Don’t contact me until it's done.”

“Yes, Young Master!”

Señor Pink had never doubted or questioned the tasks that the Head of the Doflamingo Family, the Captain of the Doflamingo Pirates, ordered; however, for the first time, he almost had his doubts.

Would the Young Master really use Judge’s children as hostages…?

Yet, no matter how he thought of it, the answer was yes. The Young Master could and would do anything for the sake of his goals. Even if it meant using defenceless infants as hostages, the Young Master would do it. In the Young Master’s eyes, there was no good, and there was no evil. Righteousness and villainy depended on whoever wielded the most power, and anyone who got in his way was his enemy.

This was the man Senor Pink had sworn to follow, to obey, and to serve.

Thus, he began acting diligently, obeying the task set before him. This, in comparison to the many, many tasks he had done before, was not difficult. His Young Master had sent him on many assassination missions, many infiltration missions, and all of them, he completed without a hitch. As a Swimming Human, he was the greatest spy in his Family, and the greatest assassin in his Family, whose skills and abilities could almost be said to be indispensable.

This was a task only he could do, and so, he would do it to the fullest of his abilities, regardless of any reservations he possessed.

There was not a single person he could not assassinate with his Devil Fruit, not a single person he would not abduct with the aid of his Devil Fruit, especially in a place like the Germa Kingdom.

In North Blue, Devil Fruits were rare. 

Encountering individuals who had eaten a Devil Fruit was even rarer, and individuals who had the means and capabilities to combat Devil Fruit users were the rarest of all. Nations on this sea waged war with typical weaponry, and the Germa Kingdom had nearly conquered all of North Blue, relying only on their advanced technology, rather than relying on the power of Devil Fruits.

Thus, not a single guard, not one, possessed the ability to detect him. Not a single guard could sense his approach, and not a single one could stop him from killing them before he did. There had been a few close calls, but none that he could not handle. No one, after all, expected a man to swim from underneath the ground or through a wall, to suddenly and abruptly end their life.

The Young Master said to eliminate a huge percentage of the security…

But…

This feels almost too easy.

Did this Kingdom truly use to have an Empire that spanned this entire sea…?

Señor Pink almost had his doubts. Not just to the task, but the fact that there was no opposition. There was no surprise. The guards of the Germa Kingdom all fell without suspense. The task was almost dull, which was not an adjective Senor Pink would ever think could be associated with a series of repeated assassinations.

Did the Young Master know they weren’t much of a concern? So he tasked me to eliminate the weaklings before his arrival?

Señor Pink suspected he alone could topple this entire Kingdom overnight. The Elite Officers would no doubt be capable of doing the same thing, as they had before. Trebol often enthused about the tale of how he and the Elite Officers devastated an entire kingdom in tribute to the Young Master, merely because the pavement was bad. He had said the King of that Kingdom had wept and pleaded to spare his children, asking how they had offended them, only to be told, directly, it was because one of the Kingdom’s roads was poorly built, and the Young Master had stumbled while passing through it.

For that reason, a King, a Queen, a Prince, hundreds of lives, all were extinguished without hesitation.

The Elite Officers… they’re all on a different level…

All of the Elite Officers, with the exception of Corazon, possessed a Devil Fruit. The strength of their group wasn’t something that could be comprehended by the standards of North Blue, or even the standards of the Grand Line.

The possession of Devil Fruits was uncommon even in nations on the Grand Line, or at least, on the part called Paradise. Their Young Master had done extensive research on the varying Kingdoms that had once been a part of the First Twenty, as part of a grand plan to eventually overthrow and topple one. He learned, through varying spies and their growing underground information network, that even a Kingdom like Alabasta, existing for over five hundred years, did not have amongst its elite guards more than one or two individuals bestowed with the power of a Devil Fruit.

If it were not the Young Master who revealed that fact, Señor Pink would never have believed it was possible. Pica had once suggested they plot to invade the Kingdom of Alabasta as their target, seeing how weak it was, but the Young Master shut down the idea, for reasons none of them could understand. They could only grasp that there was some sort of secret about Alabasta known only to the World Nobles.

In North Blue, the closest to the majesty of a kingdom like Alabasta would be the Germa Kingdom, but it had long declined, which meant the possibility of it possessing elite guards with Devil Fruit capabilities was even lower.

Yet, even then, Señor Pink could not shake off the feeling that something was wrong.

No need to overthink this. I only need to do what the Young Master tasked me to do.

There was no one strong enough to stop his relentless assault and his rapid-fire assassinations, which made him round up that task quickly enough, and proceed to the more troubling one: the kidnapping of Vinsmoke Judge’s children. 

He has four sons and one daughter… the daughter is always with her father, so she’ll be harder to reach.

The nursery room. They should be there… the younger ones.

But the nursery is… unprotected?

He was slowly lulled into a sense of complacency, one he did not even sense. Perhaps if there was an individual in this Nation who possessed the capabilities of a Devil Fruit, that sense of complacency would never have come. He would have been less restrained and far more inhibited, instead of swimming and diving everywhere with reckless abandon.

If that CP0 Agent was still around… I wouldn’t be able to move about like this…

Just spying on the World Noble brat with him there was already dangerous…

But since he’s been sent off to East Blue…

East Blue was separated from the North Blue by the Red Line. Any vessel heading to East Blue and back would take days, even at the fastest, or weeks at their slowest.

To think that a Celestial Dragon would send away his main guard like that… 

It felt almost too good to be true.

Señor Pink swam upwards, inhaling a deep breath, as he emerged in an elegant nursery room, with four cribs, containing four sleeping infants. The cribs were numbered one through four, which made it far easier for them to be identified.

Vinsmoke Judge’s children… I don’t think the Young Master will hurt them, but having them as insurance should be enough just in case—

“Hey, Phelps Wannabe.”

Señor Pink did not move. He did not breathe. He did not so much as swallow. The voice had come from behind him, but his head was disinclined to turn. His knees were putty. His arms were lead.

Courage, from whence he did not know, was spawned into his soul and his body, and alleviated the stiffness of his neck like grease on a squeaky wheel. With a slow, painful turn, each second stretching into hours, he saw it.

A boy was sitting on a chair in the corner of the room. 

Clad in a flawless, pristine white suit, with blond hair that was a shade just slightly darker than the Young Master’s, and a body that, at first glance, even a passing fool could identify as significantly well-built and significantly well-trained. His left leg was crossed over his right leg, his hands were steepled above them with the tips of each finger touching lightly.

The air was soup. Breathing was a chore. Inhaling was a command that brought his lungs to the brink of mutiny. There was movement in his bowels, and an abrupt pause in his heartbeat. The boy had said nothing, beyond the initial greeting; he had done nothing but sit in the corner of the room. 

Every cell in Señor Pink’s body was screaming one word.

Danger.

One could not be a pirate on these seas without being able to roughly estimate the strength and danger of the enemies they faced at first glance. Yet, there was an incongruity in his information. He had, prior, been spying on this same brat, spying and observing, and there had been no sense of threat. None. Not even the tiniest iota of that sense of impending doom which pervaded him now from head to toe.

Was he the same person? It could not be the same person. There had to be a trick somewhere. A body-double. A doppelganger. No, perhaps this was a Devil Fruit Ability, one which was being used to fool and deceive his senses—

With trembling hands, he lifted his sunglasses, cleaned them and put them back on.

The scene did not change.

“Bitch, I’m not John Cena. You can see me.”

He was still there.

Why?

Why was the Saint, the target, here? What was he doing in the nursery room of Vinsmoke Judge’s children? Why had he known he would be here? Señor Pink’s mind scrambled and raced to find an answer, but not a single coherent explanation could be provided. 

“About time you fucking got done merking the he fodders and NPCs,” the Saint yawned. “I’ve been waiting since forever.”

A feeling of ice-cold water dumping on his head rattled Senor Pink. The words he struggled to understand, but grasping their meaning, he did not. His perfect assassinations, his silent, flawless killing, all of it, had been seen. Detected. Known.

“Huh. You’re really not a Hakiman,” he said, furrowing his brows. “Even up close, I still can’t sense a lick of it on you. Where’s your fucking ambition? So weird. No Haki means no bitches, no bitches means no aura. No aura means I can’t even flex on you. Can’t be at an aura deficit flexing on a bum-ahh loser.”

Haki…?

Señor Pink’s throat was dry.

A Celestial Dragon, a World Noble with Haki…?

Then, doesn’t that mean…

He… he’s like…

He was like the Young Master.

No, c-c-could it be—?

The Young Master had mentioned once that there were a few Celestial Dragons different from the lot. It was a thing all Celestial Dragons were aware of, that these individuals were said to be specially chosen for their skills, and whose strength and power could not be underestimated. These individuals reportedly served directly under the Five Elders, the Highest Authority in the World, and it would be best to avoid them for now.

These individuals, the Young Master had termed, were the Knights of God.

Señor Pink’s back was slick with sweat. 

I… I need to inform the Young Master!

“Don’t even think about using the Den-Den Mushi in your pocket to call Doflamingo.”

Señor Pink’s heart stopped.

“I don’t know what brain-dead idiot thought using telepathic snails to communicate was a good idea. Relying on living creatures for your fucking comms when every single one of these snails can memorize and transmit faces, tones, voices, and expressions is fuckin’ stupid. You get two snails to talk to each other, and there’s a special snail that can sense it, because these bitches are literally telepathic. Shit is so ass, man.”

The Saint placed down a snail. A White Den-Den Mushi. The White Den-Den Mushi’s expression changed. A voice emerged.

“You’re such a fucking bum, Pink. Such a bum. Why are you such a bum, Pink?”

The Young Master’s Voice.

“H-how?”

Black Den-Den Mushi were said to be used to intercept calls, but only High-Ranking Marines should have access to a Black Den-Den Mushi. They were said to be incredibly rare to find and even rarer to keep. In turn, they could only be countered by an even rarer, more exclusive White Den-Den Mushi. The White Den-Den Mushi were the only models which prevented calls from being traced and tracked, from being recorded, replayed, and even… altered.

But how did he have—

In asking that question, the Saint stared at him as if he were completely stupid.

The answer could not be clearer.

He was a Saint.

A Celestial Dragon.

A World Noble.

There was no technology that the Marines possessed that he did not have access to as he wished. Rarity and cost were not factors. For all he knew, the Saint may have been using a White Den-Den Mushi as his personal one all along, not even caring about how expensive and rare they were. 

There was no means the Marines and the World Government could use that he could not. Resources, wealth, influence, all of it danced at his fingertips.

He had—

The power of a God.

Señor Pink fled. He cursed the unfortunate weakness of his Devil Fruit: it required swimming. He needed to physically swim, meaning the act of diving was something people could see and react to. However, that was not his current concern. His concern was fleeing as quickly as possible and finding a way to deliver this crucial information to his Family. They needed to be made aware of the kind of monster that awaited them. 

They had bitten on poisoned bait.

As his arms moved to dive, the Saint disappeared.

“Noah Style—”

The voice came after he had vanished.

“Bite the Curb.”

A foot connected with his skull. Coated with a sheen of black, the air sizzled from the speed of the stomp. Despite being hit from the back, his nose, in the front, shattered under the force of the impact. His sunglasses disintegrated. His skull compressed under the impression until it began to give way. The object colliding with it was moving too fast, while it was not moving away fast enough, nor was it strong enough to counteract the velocity.

A sound like a watermelon bursting filled the room.

Blood and flecks of brain matter splattered across the walls of the nursery. 

In the center of the room, a body half-submerged in ground that was almost liquefied, flapped about, for a second, two, before it went still. The sound of a toddler crying pierced the air.

The boy in the pristine white suit lifted his foot, his hands in his pockets, before he blinked.

“What the…?”

He glanced at the wall, covered with blood, grey matter, and flecks of meat.

“Motherfucker couldn’t you tank punches from a Cyborg?” he paused. “Wait, right, shit, that’s supposed to be like, nineteen… twenty years from now? You can’t tell me you peaked in your forties?”

The liquid ground around him began to solidify. The effects of the Devil Fruit faded. A mushy eyeball slid down the wall before rolling across the floor and coming to a stop.

“I knew you were a bum, but even amongst bums…”

He crouched low, staring into the warm jutting spine of the headless corpse.

“I thought you’d be stronger.”

=====)+(=====

Aboard the Numancia Flamingo, a Family was in high spirits. The flagship of the Doflamingo Pirates sailed with the wind at its back, and the dark red masts had pirates swinging around it, hollering in anticipation. 

The vessel was iconic and unmistakably identifiable on the seas of the North Blue, owing to its figurehead sporting a flamingo wearing a set of signature sunglasses. The sides of the ship bore a set of flamingo wings, and the ship itself bore two masts, one bearing the Jolly Roger of a smiley face with a diagonal line cut through it, and the other, bearing the name ‘Donquixote’ emblazoned boldly for all to see.

In the crow’s nest, a cry came out. “The Germa Kingdom is in sight!”

They could see it, already, on the horizon. The docks and shores of North Blue’s once most prolific empire. Cannons were loaded rapidly with cannonballs, the rank and file rushed to grab their weapons, boots stomped on the deck, like drumbeats, gongs readying an anthem that cried: it’s time for war.

“Uhahaha! Our bounties will be sky high after today!”

“We’ll have the largest bounties ever awarded in North Blue!”

Barrels of alcohol, rum and liquor were emptied, cheers were made, celebrations were being toasted, as though the matter were already a done deal. Of course, in the eyes of many, it was a done deal. A Celestial Dragon without a guard was basically a treasure chest without a lock. It was open pickings, open season, and it was almost as if fate itself had begun to shine its light upon the Donquixote Pirates.

It was what they thought—

Until a scream tore through the vessel.

“No! No! It can’t be!”

A woman’s shrill, panicked voice cut across the ship. Giolla’s cry drew the alarm of every member and cut sharply through the merriment.

“What is it?”

“What’s wrong, Giolla?”

“It’s…” the blubbering woman, Giolla, held out a piece of paper. “It’s Señor Pink’s Vivre Card! It— It—”

What little remnants of a prior white card smoldered away, turning, right in front of the eyes of everyone present, into dust. It happened in a matter of seconds. Sea winds and breeze blew from the East, and the remnants of the burnt parchment drifted along with them, towards the sea, before vanishing completely.

Aboard the Numancia Flamingo, every single member of a Family went sober. As though the alcohol in their systems was flushed away, the members of the Donquixote Pirates stood, transfixed, stunned, and completely stupefied.

“M-maybe there’s some reason… it could be faulty.”

“I’ve never heard of there being a faulty Vivre Card.”

“What kind of Vivre Card could burn away so quickly? It must be… all of you, check the ones you have! The pieces you have.”

The air filled with the sound of ruffling clothes and rushing footsteps.

“It’s…”

“They’re all…”

“It’s… gone.”

“No, then… then what other explanation is there? You can’t expect us to believe Pink is—”

Somebody kicked over a barrel. Another smashed a table. There was a roar like an animal being butchered. There was a wail like an animal being flayed.

“He was supposed to stay low until our arrival! What did he do? Why didn’t he? No, this doesn’t make any sense! It can’t make any sense!”

“Damn it! Damn it! Pink! You can’t be…! You… can’t…! DAMN IT!”

“All of you, gather your wits! Think this through! No one in the Germa Kingdom should have been able to find him, let alone stop him! Unless he fought with Vinsmoke Judge—”

“Why would he do something that reckless?! He knows he’s supposed to wait for us!”

“W-w-what do we do? Someone… someone needs to inform the Young Master—!”

A boom shook the air. A sound that was almost akin to the clap of thunder. Yet, it was hundreds of times louder than anything they had ever heard.

“W-what was—”

A shockwave washed over them. It was almost as though a cannon had gone off far in the distance. Waves and waves of harsh winds collided with the ship, forcing the crew to furl the sails, forcing the Helmsmen to grab the helm and steer through the unexpected gust.

“What’s happening?! Where did that gust come from?!”

“No… look… the sky… it—”

Every last cloud in the sky—

Had been blown away. 

=====)+(=====

Sirens blared on full blast through speakers positioned in critical and core areas of the Germa Kingdom. Alarms rang continuously, and men, the Germa Army, rushed one after the other in formation, wielding firearms. Vinsmoke Judge was at the forefront, his daughter rushing beside him, his heart pounding in his chest as they swiftly made their way to the nursery.

The intruder, whoever they were, had left behind a scene of carnage, killing by the dozens. There was no sign of whether their massacre would stop, and if it were not for the blast that had occurred now, Judge doubted there was anyone who would have detected the vile assassin before it was too late.

Even now, he hoped it was not too late. He stood before the nursery room, his breath freezing in his throat as the scent of blood reeked in the air. 

Pushing open the door with a trembling hand, he let out a breath as he encountered the Saint, standing over the cribs of the third of his children, casually dangling a rattle in front of him. There was a hole blown straight through the wall of the nursery, suspiciously rounded and shaped like a fist, exposing the sunlight and the outside air. In all directions from that hole, there was not a single cloud in sight. Everything and anything in the path of that hole, be it towers, be it buildings, be it structures, was gone. 

As though it had been gouged out with a spoon, it was a clean, neat hole that began in the nursery and carried off onto the sea.

In the center of the room, there was a body, half-submerged in the ground, with no sign of its head. The walls were splattered with blood and viscera, and Vinsmoke Judge trembled as he turned to the Saint.

“S-Saint… you—”

“Your brats are fine,” he said, waving the rattle in his hand. “Fortunately for you, Observation Haki is such bullshit. I sniffed out the intruder long ago.”

Vinsmoke Judge’s stomach heaved. Before, what he owed the Saint was a debt of admiration for his knowledge, his intellect, and his endless source of inspiration for technological development. Certainly, the Saint had his… oddities and his quirks, but now, what Vinsmoke Judge’s chest heaved with was more than mere admiration.

“I—I— cannot thank you enough, Saint Noah!” 

He dropped to his knees and bowed his head.

“This… this debt is something I cannot repay! I — I have already shamed you by failing to notice an intruder, yet… yet— you acted to protect my bloodline… my… my legacy…!”

Vinsmoke Judge lifted his head. Tears poured from his eyes. True, genuine, unfiltered tears poured and ran down his face.

“My children… they— if anything happened to them—”

“I know, I know, don’t fuckin’ get all weepy on me,” the Saint scooted away. “Jesus, you’re supposed to be a King. Don’t do that fucking crying shit…. It's giving mommy issues.”

The Saint always acted as he did, yet Vinsmoke Judge could not help but be moved. Truly, moved. He already decided to fully throw his chips in with the Saint, but this had confirmed more than anything that he did not make the wrong decision. He turned his head to his daughter, Reiju, who followed him and bowed.

“I thank you, Saint, for saving the lives of my brothers.”

For his sake, for the sake of his children, the Saint moved to personally take action and stop the intruder from harming his legacy.

Vinsmoke Judge continued to weep.

“I— no, we, the entire Germa Kingdom will always be at your disposal, Saint! I, my children, their children’s children! The Vinsmoke Family will vow to follow, serve and obey you, Saint!”

Vinsmoke Judge’s devotion could not be purer. 

“Saint, if there is absolutely anything I can do to—”

The world went still.

Birds dropped from the air.

A pressure swept through them. An unspeakable, unutterable force rippled throughout the Germa Kingdom. A force that came from a distance. The guards around him collapsed immediately, foaming at the mouth. Reiju swayed on the spot, and Judge rushed to catch her. Yet, the pressure almost brought him to his knees and made it difficult to stand.

His heart turned to ice in his chest. Someone was coming. An enemy. An enemy who had the Color of the Supreme King.

I’m finished. I’m finished! The Germa Kingdom… It's finished. The Saint…  his guard isn’t here… what can I… if he gets abducted while in my Kingdom… It’s all over!

“S-Saint Noah! Quickly! You need to esc—”

The Saint was still standing.

He wasn’t on his knees, like he was.

Under the unspeakable pressure that had knocked out his guards and rendered his daughter semi-conscious, the pressure that brought him to his knees, the Saint was standing, and he was grinning.

“You think you can flex in front of me…?”

An ineffable force burst out of the Saint, countering and clashing with the pressure that came from the distance. Black lightning sparked in the air, slamming into buildings, into objects, arcing and tracing and pulverizing with almost total reckless abandon. Judge rushed to cover his children’s bodies with his own, preventing rubble and debris from colliding with them.

The walls of the nursery blew away, and the bodies of his guards were sent haphazardly flying back as if they were paper in the wind. Black lightning arced upwards, shattering the roof, the ceiling, going skywards without stopping.

The two pressures met, competed, struggled—

And they cancelled the other out.

The world went quiet. The debris and dust began to settle.

On the ground below, there was not a single person, not one, in the Germa Kingdom, who was still conscious. Vinsmoke Judge, protecting his children, rose out of the rubble. His lips were dry. A choked, strangled noise came from his throat.

That was… a…

Supreme King Clash.

Saint Noah, the Saint that Judge had decided to throw his all behind—

“S-Saint… You… Y-you possess…”

Saint Noah’s arms spread to the side.

He possessed—

“YOU WANT SOME?!”

The Qualifications of a King.

“COME GET SOME!”