The World Nobles’ exclusive treasure ship cut through the azure sea, the white spray kicked up by its bow glistening like crushed silver in the sunlight.
The sea breeze filled the sails, making the flags atop the masts snap and flutter.
A few seagulls trailed the ship’s wake, letting out long, drawn-out cries.
On deck, several sailors had gathered by the gunwale during a shift break, their gazes all drawn to the figure at the bow who had not stopped moving for a single moment.
Ever since the ship had set sail, the white-haired youth had never ceased his sword practice.
He had no opponent, no target, not even a fixed set of forms.
He simply stood at the very front of the bow, facing the rushing sea breeze and flying spray, repeating the same slashing motions over and over again.
Sometimes it was a vertical strike from above, sometimes a horizontal slash, and sometimes a cunningly angled diagonal cut.
“Tsk, tsk, what a weirdo…” a bearded sailor muttered, nudging his companion with his elbow.
“I’ve worked in Mary Geoise for so many years, and I’ve seen a hundred World Nobles—well, maybe eighty—but which one of them doesn’t get carried around in a palanquin?
This one’s different.
Not only does he walk on his own, but he’s out here swinging a sword for fun.” “You can say that again,” another tall, thin sailor chimed in.
“And look at that sword of his.
It doesn’t even have a scabbard; he just tucks it behind his waist.
Isn’t he afraid of cutting himself?
What kind of World Noble acts like this?” “Shh—Quiet!
Do you have a death wish?” a slightly older sailor hissed, glancing around nervously.
Though he also found this World Noble utterly strange, even discussing them was a crime punishable by death.
Yet, their hushed whispers had already reached ears they were never meant to.
“You all seem to be having a lovely chat.” A clear, cool female voice spoke from behind them without warning.
Its sweet, honeyed tone carried a lingering chill that made their spines tingle.
The sailors froze.
They turned their heads slowly and mechanically, finding Stussy standing not far away in her pristine white CP0 uniform.
Her arms were crossed, her eyes fixed coldly on them, and her lips were curled into a half-smile.
Thud!
The sailors’ legs gave way, and they collapsed to their knees on the deck in unison.
Cold sweat instantly soaked through the backs of their shirts.
“Y-Your Excellency!
We…
we didn’t say anything!
We…” “Gossiping about a World Noble,” Stussy said slowly.
Her voice was quiet, but each word pierced their eardrums like an icicle.
“By law, I have the right to execute you on the spot.” At her words, the sailors’ faces turned deathly pale.
They shook like sieves, unable to even stammer out a plea for mercy.
Stussy watched their terrified expressions, nearly pissing themselves, before letting out a cold snort.
“However,” she continued, “you should be grateful…
grateful that the World Noble you encountered is Saint Dio.” She turned her head slightly, her gaze sweeping past the sailors to the white-haired figure at the bow, still swinging his sword tirelessly.
“If this were any other World Noble, you would already be corpses.
But Saint Dio does not care about your idle gossip.” It wasn’t out of mercy.
To Saint Dio, he and these people were simply different species.
Would you care what livestock thought of you?
The sailors froze for a moment, then, as if granted a divine pardon, they began kowtowing repeatedly.
“Thank you for sparing our lives, Your Excellency!
Thank you!
We won’t dare again!” “Get back to your posts.
Don’t let me hear another word.” “Yes!
Yes!” The sailors scrambled to their feet, their legs still as limp as noodles, and supported each other as they fled the deck.
Stussy paid no further mind to the ant-like figures.
She walked slowly to the ship’s railing, leaning against it as she quietly watched the white-haired youth swinging his sword against the sea breeze.
Saint Dio continued swinging his sword at the bow.
Sweat trickled down the deep grooves of his defined back, glistening with a bronzed sheen under the midday sun.
Years of rigorous training had already sculpted his adolescent body into a masterpiece of muscle: broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and lats that spread like wings.
The sword in his hand looked ordinary, even a bit shabby without its scabbard.
But this was no ordinary blade.
It was a “living” sword—a sword that had eaten a Devil Fruit.
Snake-Snake Fruit, Mythical Zoan: Model World Serpent.
Saint Dio had named it Jormungandr.
The colossal sea serpent of Norse mythology that encircled Midgard and bit its own tail—a creature of such immense scale it defied mortal imagination.
As a Mythical Zoan, the appearance of such a legendary creature was not surprising.
Through Saint Dio’s extensive training and mastery, Jormungandr’s power manifested in two primary abilities: “Weight” and “Poison.” By altering his connection to the sword, Saint Dio could manipulate Jormungandr’s weight at will.
A single strike was enough to cleave through waves.
And right now, he was practicing his swings while maintaining the sword’s weight at an extremely high threshold, tempering his bones, muscles, and endurance.
Sweat trickled down his sun-kissed, wheat-toned neck, flowing over the defined ridges of his chest and abdominal muscles before disappearing beneath the waistband of his trousers.
Standing nearby, Stussy’s beautiful eyes narrowed slightly as her gaze traced the path of a single droplet of sweat.
She unconsciously licked her lips, revealing two sharp, vampire-like canines, and let out a faint, barely audible swallow.
Stussy stepped forward, silently gliding behind Saint Dio.
Her white-gloved fingertips lightly touched his sweat-dampened back, tracing the line of his spine downward in a slow, ambiguous, and provocative caress.
She rose onto her tiptoes, parting her cherry-red lips to expose those sharp fangs.
Aiming for the slightly bulged muscle where his neck met his shoulder, she was just about to bite down gently— “Enemy attack—!!” The deck erupted in a sudden roar of shouts, accompanied by the chaotic thud of footsteps and the sharp clang of weapons being drawn.
Stussy froze, her brow furrowing in annoyance.
She straightened up and looked toward the source of the commotion.
A pirate ship, flying a menacing skull-and-crossbones flag, was cutting through the waves with aggressive intent, charging straight toward the World Noble’s vessel.
The prow of the enemy ship was lined with pirates brandishing swords and spears, their fierce expressions signaling their intent to launch a massive assault.
Stussy’s lip twitched.
She couldn’t help but mutter a low complaint: “…Pirates actually dare to attack a World Noble’s ship?
Are these fools tired of living, or has the seawater rotted their brains?” In truth, this region of the sea was already quite close to the Sabaody Archipelago.
It wasn’t uncommon for a few rookie pirates, who had just broken through the first half of the Grand Line, to stumble upon them.
Such newcomers either failed to recognize the World Noble’s banner or were simply arrogant enough to believe they could “take down the World Government.” Clearly, this crew fell into the former category.
Just then, a guard commander clad in heavy armor rushed to Saint Dio’s side and dropped to one knee.
His voice was urgent yet still laced with deep respect.
“Lord Saint Dio!
We have already alerted Marine Headquarters!
Reinforcements are on their way!
Please retire to your cabin for the time being, and we will defend your safety to the death!” Hearing this, Saint Dio finally ceased his seemingly endless sword practice.
He slowly straightened his posture, then thrust the tip of Jormungandr downward, sinking it into the deck.
With a soft thwip, the sword’s point pierced the solid oak planks as if they were tofu, embedding itself firmly beside him.
“There is no need.” The young man’s voice was as calm as still water.
“They have arrived at the perfect time.
I haven’t had a good workout in quite a while.” With that, he raised his hand, gripped Jormungandr’s hilt, and drew it from the deck.
Stussy, having already anticipated the move, stepped forward and draped a loose white robe over his sweat-slicked upper body, concealing a physique robust enough to make any woman’s heart race.
Saint Dio casually pulled the robe’s front together, not even bothering to fasten the tie.
He turned, facing the pirate ship that drew steadily closer.
The next instant, he slammed his foot down on the prow.
Like a white arrow loosed from its string, he vaulted into the air, soaring straight toward the enemy vessel.
“—!” The guard commander’s eyes bulged and his jaw dropped, his entire body turning to stone where he stood.
Before he could even snap out of his shock, another white figure followed suit, leaping into the sky.
From beneath Stussy’s pristine white CP0 cloak, a pair of massive bat-like wings covered in a dark grey membrane abruptly unfurled.
A single, powerful beat of the wings sent a wave of air surging outward.
She shot forward like a bolt of white lightning, her golden curls trailing in the wind as she closed in on Saint Dio.
The guard commander remained frozen, staring blankly at the two figures tearing through the sky, one after the other.
His lips moved for a long time before he managed to squeeze out a single word: “…This?!” Was this really the same World Noble he knew?