No matter how chaotic the outside world became, things remained calm and undisturbed for Cassian.
He lay sprawled on the sofa, clearly bored, watching Koala doodle with crayons on the floor.
Nearby, Hancock sat quietly, wiping down a short blade while occasionally glancing toward the window.
Outside the door, members of the God’s Knights stood guard so tightly that not even an insect could slip through unnoticed.
Cassian let out a long yawn.
“How long are they planning to keep us locked in here?”
He shifted lazily, resting his head against the arm of the sofa.
“The excitement outside is basically over, and they still won’t even let us get some fresh air.”
Hancock didn’t bother looking at him.
“Who told you to keep causing trouble before?”
“With things this chaotic, of course they’re watching you closely.”
Cassian scoffed.
“How is any of that my fault?”
“Those Celestial Dragons were asking for it.
I just gave them a bit of education on the side.”
Hancock rolled her eyes but didn’t reply.
Deep down, she knew he wasn’t wrong.
A knock echoed through the room.
Cassian raised his voice.
“Come in.”
The door opened, and Saint Figarland Garling stepped inside, carrying a long black box in both hands.
Intricate patterns were carved across its surface, and a faint chill seemed to seep from it.
Garling placed the box carefully on the table, his tone carrying a trace of fatigue.
“Lord Cassian, the item you requested has been found.”
Cassian’s eyes lit up instantly.
He sprang off the sofa and leaned forward.
“That fast?
Let me see what you’ve got.”
He opened the box with care.
A dim, muted glow spilled out.
Inside lay a long sword, completely black from hilt to blade.
The weapon was slender and elegant, its crossguard shaped like wings in mid-flight.
The hilt was wrapped in black silk thread, and the scabbard bore the carving of a black crane with piercing eyes, its form almost seeming to devour the surrounding light.
“This is…”
Cassian reached out and gripped the hilt, immediately feeling a cold sensation seep into his palm.
Garling spoke from the side.
“This weapon has consumed a Devil Fruit, the Bird-Bird Fruit, Mythical Zoan, Inmakorokage Model.”
“According to legend, the Inmakorokage is formed from the lingering obsessions of the dead, taking the shape of a black crane.
Wherever it appears, it brings an aura of death and drains the vitality of the living.”
“While the sword itself is not widely known, it was forged by top-tier craftsmen using rare metals.
Its quality is comparable to a Great Grade Blade.”
The blade shimmered with a dark luster, yet reflected nothing at all.
Instead, it seemed to swallow the light around it.
He gave it a light swing.
The weapon felt incredibly light, almost alive, as if it were subtly vibrating in his grip.
“Can it fly?”
That was the only thing Cassian truly cared about.
The moment he finished speaking, the black sword let out a low, eerie cry.
Phantom black feathers manifested along its blade, and it slowly lifted into the air, hovering before him.
Cassian’s face broke into a grin.
“So it actually can fly.”
He laughed, guiding the sword to circle the room with ease.
“Not bad.
This is actually pretty cool.”
Garling’s expression stiffened slightly as he watched Cassian treat the weapon like a toy.
A Mythical Zoan Devil Fruit was extremely rare, even in Mary Geoise.
To house such a power, the God’s Knights had gone out of their way to retrieve a perfectly compatible blade from a Celestial Dragon’s treasury.
A Great Grade Blade was something countless swordsmen dreamed of obtaining.
Yet Cassian only cared about whether it could fly.
Garling clasped his hands politely.
“As long as Lord Cassian is satisfied.”
“If there is nothing else, I will take my leave.”
Cassian waved him off without even looking.
“Yeah, yeah, go ahead.”
Garling sighed inwardly before turning and leaving the room.
Hancock frowned as she observed the hovering blade.
“That sword feels wrong.”
“There’s something ominous about it.”
Cassian caught the sword as it descended and weighed it in his hand.
“That’s exactly what makes it interesting.”
He smirked slightly.
“Just imagine it.
When I head out in the future, I’ll be flying around on this thing.
That’s style.”
He then coated the blade with Armament Haki.
The sword immediately reacted, releasing a sharp cry as the phantom feathers thickened and became more vivid.
Cassian chuckled.
“Looks like it likes me.”
He tilted his head slightly.
“Alright, from now on, your name is Ink Feather.”
The sword vibrated faintly, as if acknowledging the name.
After playing around for a while, Cassian’s attention shifted back to the situation outside.
Hancock looked at him, clearly displeased.
“You still have time to play with that thing?”
“The World Government isn’t going to let those slaves off easily.”
“Aren’t you going to do anything?”
Cassian rolled his eyes.
“What exactly do you expect me to do?”
“There are God’s Knights stationed right outside.
I can’t even step out, let alone interfere.”
He let out a short laugh.
“And even if I could get out, do you really think I can take on the entire world by myself?”
People in this world were reckless by nature.
For freedom or belief, they would throw away their lives without hesitation.
Cassian wasn’t like that.
He understood his limits clearly.
Even with mastery over all three types of Haki and the addition of Ink Feather, there was still a massive gap between him and true top-tier fighters.
At best, he estimated himself to be around the level of a Rear Admiral.
The God’s Knights wouldn’t harm him, but restraining him was another matter entirely.
If he pushed too far, Imu could easily order him bound and immobilized.
At that point, both of them would end up trapped, unable to act, reduced to nothing more than breathing corpses.
Cassian had no intention of going that far.
He waved his hand dismissively.
“Forget what’s happening outside.”
“Since we’re stuck here, we might as well make use of the time.”
He glanced at Hancock.
“Hey, come spar with me.
I want to test this new sword.”
Hancock stood up immediately, her gaze sharpening.
“Fine.”
“Let’s see how capable that sword really is.”
Cassian let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Changing the topic had worked.
Hancock often accused him of acting recklessly, but she didn’t truly understand what he was doing.
Every move he made was deliberate.
He was constantly testing Imu’s limits.
What was allowed, and what was forbidden, Cassian understood very clearly.
Imu could tolerate him beating Celestial Dragons, but not killing them.
Imu could tolerate small acts of mercy toward slaves, but never their complete liberation.
Because in Mary Geoise, slaves were essential.