Meanwhile, in the Holy Land of Mary Geoise—deep within Pangaea Castle, beyond the Empty Throne—
Inside that place divorced from all common sense, where exotic flowers bloomed eternally in impossible abundance—the "Chamber of Flowers"—the long months of silence and recuperation had finally borne visible results.
The body that had once been seared by Gern Reginald Sigmar's "Starfire" now appeared, at least on the surface, to have its wounds completely suppressed by some overwhelming, unknown force.
No longer curled in agony, Im sat once more upon the couch woven naturally from living vines, posture restored to its usual stillness and emptiness—detached, indifferent, untouchable.
And yet—
Only Im itself understood the truth.
That unbearable pain—the kind that burned not flesh, but the very essence of existence—had not been erased.
It had merely been sealed. Forced down into the deepest layers of its being.
That sensation… the kind that ignored all defenses, that scorched at the level of "concept" itself—
Im had no desire to experience it a second time.
Every time its thoughts drifted back to that desolate island…
To that golden-red blade that had torn through Saint Nasujuro's body—And, through the unseen connection of will, struck Im itself—
A faint tremor would flicker deep within those inhuman, dark crimson eyes.
Especially now—
Just as it had finally clawed its way back from that prolonged torment…
Before it had even had time to fully assess the increasingly chaotic state of the world in its absence—
Another matter, one that instinctively filled it with irritation and rejection, reached it through some indescribable perception.
Before Im floated a small, shimmering panel of light.
On it, a single image was frozen—
A young man wearing a straw hat.
White steam coiled around his body in rhythmic pulses, his hair and eyebrows turned pure white, his smile wild, free, unrestrained.
The form of Nika.
Gear Fifth.
Monkey D. Luffy.
Im's hollow gaze narrowed slightly, staring at that figure overflowing with the aura of "liberation."
"…Joy Boy."
The name echoed with the weight of fate itself.
And just like that, the fragile calm Im had regained began to ripple again—cold, restless.
Another one…
Another nuisance daring to challenge eternity. To bring "dawn."
At that moment, a soft female voice sounded at Im's side.
"My lord."
It was Gunko.
Still clad in attire resembling that of an ancient court attendant, her face veiled beneath a thin layer of white silk. She knelt several steps away from the couch, posture perfectly respectful.
"Blackbeard has made contact," she reported evenly. "Just as you instructed."
After finishing, her gaze instinctively flickered toward the small, antique table before Im's couch.
In the past, that table had always held several photographs or portraits—targets of Im's silent attention.
The smiling boy in the straw hat.
Marshall D. Teach.
Princess Nefertari Vivi of Alabasta.
The Mermaid Princess Shirahoshi…
These were individuals Im had "marked," guided by some ancient intuition or prophecy across the long span of centuries.
But now—
The table was empty.
Not entirely.
Only two remained.
One was the photo of Gear Fifth Luffy, casually placed to the side.
The other—
Was positioned deliberately at the very center.
A portrait of the Marine Fleet Admiral—
Gern Reginald Sigmar.
But the state of that photograph…
Was horrifying.
Gern's face—his entire figure—had been viciously slashed over and over again by something sharp.
Perhaps fingernails. Perhaps something else.
The cuts were chaotic, overlapping, relentless—almost completely destroying the image beneath.
Only torn fragments and jagged scars remained.
A testament to the overwhelming, uncontrollable negative emotion of the one who had done it.
Gunko glanced at it for only a moment before lowering her head immediately, not daring to look any longer.
She understood exactly what it meant.
Im, however, seemed oblivious to her gaze.
Its eyes remained fixed on Luffy's image.
Only after a long silence did it finally respond, its voice neither male nor female—utterly devoid of emotion.
"…Proceed as planned."
"Yes," Gunko replied.
She hesitated for a brief moment.
But ultimately, she chose to relay the message entrusted to her by the Five Elders—despite the unease rising in her chest.
"My lord… the Five Elders have asked me to inform you…"
Her voice lowered further.
"The Marine Fleet Admiral, Gern Reginald Sigmar… has convened a so-called 'World Conference' in New Marineford—acting in place of the World Government."
She paused.
Then forced herself to continue.
"And furthermore… the Five Elders—"
"And furthermore WHAT?!"
A sudden, shrill roar—sharp, almost reflexive—exploded from the couch, cutting her off mid-sentence.
Im turned its head violently.
Those dark crimson, ripple-patterned eyes surged with emotion—no longer empty, but burning with fury, agitation—
And something else.
Something instinctive.
Something deeply averse.
Even its arm lashed out unconsciously, sending the surrounding flower-vines trembling wildly.
"What use are those five useless fools?!!"
"Didn't I already tell them?! The Marines are irrelevant! As long as—"
It stopped abruptly.
Then its voice grew rapid, obsessive, insistent—
"As long as… I succeed! Everything—everything will return to normal!!"
"That man… Gern Reginald Sigmar…"
"He is nothing but an error!"
"An existence that should never have appeared!"
"An error produced by this sea after eight hundred years of operation!!"
Im's emotions had clearly spiraled out of control.
It repeated the words "error"… "should not exist"… over and over again—
As though trying to deny Gern's very existence. To erase his threat through sheer insistence.
Just the mention of his name—
Was like triggering a buried wound.
Dragging Im back into that helpless terror… that agony… of being burned by "Starfire."
Before this sudden, near-hysterical outburst—
Gunko's entire body trembled.
She lowered her head even further, nearly pressing it against the cold floor.
She did not dare look up.
Did not dare speak.
Because in all her time serving at Im's side—
She had never witnessed such raw, uncontrollable emotion.
This wasn't just anger.
Her heart pounded violently.
And then—
A realization, one that made even her feel a chill run through her soul, surfaced with terrifying clarity.
This was fear.
Im-sama…
Was afraid.
Afraid of the man named Gern Reginald Sigmar.
A fear so deep, so ingrained—
That merely hearing his name…
Was enough to shake the supreme ruler of the world—The being who had reigned for eight hundred years—To this extent.