The next evening—
Night fell, and thick clouds swallowed the moon and stars, turning the whole sky pitch-black.
The sea below was black as well.
Yet far in the distance, a dazzling golden glow shimmered like a pearl in the darkness.
And if you listened closely, you could hear noisy shouting and bustling cries drifting across the waves.
Move a little closer, and you'd realize it wasn't a "golden pearl" at all—
It was a colossal cruise ship, so huge it made your scalp go numb—stretching ten kilometers long!
A ten-kilometer hull made entirely of gold, wrapped in dense neon lights—
But the most shocking part wasn't even that.
On its deck, there weren't layers of guest cabins—
There was an entire city.
And every building in that city was gold as well.
This was no ordinary place.
It was the world-famous "City of Gold"—
Gran Tesoro!
The world's largest entertainment city.
More accurately, it wasn't just a city at all—
It was an independent nation recognized by the World Government, an absolute sanctuary where no one could act recklessly.
Unlike a normal city, this golden empire was built entirely for indulgence.
Music, dancing, and wild celebrations erupted everywhere—day or night, it never quieted.
Here, everyone stripped away their masks, released their instincts, and drowned in neon lights and endless revelry.
Tens of thousands of slot machines and roulette wheels filled every corner.
The world's most famous hotels, restaurants, and shops gathered here.
And there were one-of-a-kind stage performances—rumor had it even the "Soul King" was a resident singer.
In short—
Touring, entertainment, shopping, and dining ran 24/7, never stopping.
Gran Tesoro was a true dream—
a real golden city that never slept, intoxicating enough to make people lose themselves.
Of course, there was only one condition:
You had to bring Beli.
Enough Beli.
Or…
you had to be a VIP of the ruler of this empire—
Gild Tesoro.
The "Little Dome" — The Soul King's Concert Hall
Near the center of the Golden City stood a building so radiant it stole the eye.
Its exterior was oval—like a giant "little dome."
This was the concert hall where the Soul King performed.
Crowds streamed at the entrance.
Unlike the "vulgar" tourists elsewhere, the people here were dressed formally and extravagantly—
Women in dignified evening gowns.
Men in tailcoats with British-style gold-rimmed glasses and "gentleman" canes, cocktails in hand.
Even the ushers at the door wore sharp suits, their polished shoes shining like mirrors.
"Good evening, sir. The concert is about to begin. Please enter promptly and take your seat."
After checking the tickets and confirming them, the doorman lifted his smile to a perfect angle, bowed slightly, and gestured inward.
"Mm. Not bad."
The man nodded in satisfaction.
Gran Tesoro's service was truly world-class.
Then, linking arms with his companion, he prepared to enter—eyes gleaming with barely restrained excitement.
This was the Soul King's concert.
Even in Gran Tesoro, it was a once-a-month grand event—
Tickets were nearly impossible to get.
Money alone wasn't enough.
Even a noble from a small country had waited half a year to finally secure these two tickets.
But as he stepped forward—
his body suddenly felt heavier.
"Huh?!"
His companion abruptly collapsed onto the ground for no apparent reason.
Her bright eyes turned into red heart-shapes.
"Darling?!"
"What's wrong, darling?!"
The man bent down urgently, shaking her—
while the two doormen remained calm. One lifted a shell-shaped communicator and called out:
"Emergency situation, emergency situation."
"A customer has fainted at the Little Dome Music Hall entrance. Medical team, respond immediately."
"Repeat."
"A customer has fainted at the Little Dome Music Hall entrance. Medical team, respond immediately!"
The other doorman spoke smoothly, reassuring the man:
"Sir, please don't worry. Our Golden City medical facilities are extremely complete. Your companion will receive treatment very soon."
He sounded confident.
As a staff member of Gran Tesoro, he had undergone strict training—
even emergencies wouldn't shake him.
But the very next second—
"Thud! Thud! Thud!"
With heavy, dull impacts, female customers and female staff began collapsing one after another, hitting the floor like falling dominoes.
"How is that possible?! Why are all the women dropping?!!"
The doorman who'd been calm a moment ago shouted in disbelief.
"What?!"
The other doorman's eyes widened, cold sweat beading on his forehead.
"Can't take it… it's too intense!!"
In the distance, a female employee in a black lace mask and bunny-girl outfit let out a near-moan—
her eyes also turning into hearts as she slowly fell.
"What the hell is going on?!"
"Darling! Darling, wake up!"
"Someone help! My darling is the princess of Country XX—if something happens, can you take responsibility?!"
"What's happening?!"
Men stared at the bizarre scene, shouting in shock and anger.
The "Beautiful Supernova" Appears
At that moment—
from the far end of the street, red roses began falling from the sky, fluttering down onto a tall, slender figure.
A cowboy hat with feathered trim.
Long blond curls draped over his shoulders.
A handsome face, sharply refined.
A white shirt on top, dark-blue cropped pants below, brown combat boots on his feet—
and a white cape on his back.
Elegant. Aristocratic. Overwhelmingly "noble."
"T-That guy is… Cavendish!!"
A bald man in the crowd shouted, eyes bulging.
"Cavendish? The pirate noble from the Kingdom of Bourgeois—'Hakuba' Cavendish?!"
"Damn! Why is he here?!"
"Shit!! Of all people, why do we run into Cavendish?! I spent two million Beli for this woman!"
As soon as the name hit—
everyone recognized the so-called "Gorgeous Supernova," the infamous show-off known as Cavendish.
"So I've been recognized again?"
"How troublesome…"
Cavendish sighed dramatically, then lifted his right hand and delicately caught a falling rose—
striking a pose so flamboyant it made people's teeth itch.
"If being charming is a crime…"
"Then I truly am unforgivable."
With that, he plucked a vivid petal and flicked it onto the chest of a woman who was still barely holding herself up.
Instantly, pink hearts burst around her body—
her legs twitched and she fainted in bliss, while every woman within a hundred meters was already down.
"Damn pineapple-head!"
"Can you stop being so disgusting?!"
A harsh, discordant voice cut through his self-admiration.
"Barto-freaking-lomeo!!"
Cavendish's face darkened instantly.
The famed sword Durandal snapped into his right hand.
A man taller than Cavendish by a head snorted, hands in his pockets, swaggering past him.
He casually kicked a rose aside—
then walked toward the Little Dome entrance while picking his nose.
"Pineapple-head."
"If that senior really is nearby… then whatever."
At the words "that senior," Cavendish immediately sobered.
His anger vanished.
He straightened, face serious.
"Seriously… why would that senior invite a tasteless street punk like you?"
He shot back, but he didn't resume posing.
He sheathed Durandal and hurried toward the hall.
Barto didn't even look at him.
Instead, the cruel-looking man's face twisted into an almost bashful grin.
"No way…"
"I, Bartolomeo, finally get to see that senior again today!!"
Twenty years ago, when he'd still been a brat in Loguetown, he'd witnessed Pirate King Gol D. Roger's execution.
Roger was his first idol.
But in Roger's final moment—
he had shouted a name:
Rōmu!
Who could make Roger speak their name at the very end?
That had to be an idol of idols.
And while Barto was still stunned by that logic—
a retired Marine named "Dragon" had led him to meet that senior:
Rōmu.
He would never forget it.
Rōmu had lifted him up with one arm—
and bestowed the Devil Fruit that changed his entire life:
the Barrier-Barrier Fruit.
"Senior!! I'm here!!"
Bartolomeo roared, ignoring the disgusted stares, throwing his arms open and charging straight for the entrance—
"No Entry Without Proper Attire."
But suddenly—
the doorman who'd been calling for medical support stepped in front of him, extending an arm to block him.
His tone was formal and rigid.
"Sir."
"Improper attire is not permitted."
Bartolomeo's expression shifted sharply.
His eyes narrowed.
"What counts as 'proper'?"
He shook his purple coat with a skull pattern, accidentally revealing a black wing-like half-ring tattoo on his chest.
"At minimum, a necktie," the doorman said.
Bartolomeo had a green rooster-comb hairstyle, an eye-mark under his right eye, a nose ring, and a face like a demon.
His teeth were even pointed—like a cannibal out of legend.
Even with strong training, the doorman couldn't help feeling fear.
"As expected. A thug is still a thug."
"Can't even get through the door."
Cavendish stepped up at that moment, lowering his voice with a polite, poisonous smile.
Then, under the weight of his "noble" persona, he offered the doorman a perfect grin.
"May this young master enter?"
The doorman answered immediately.
"Of course."
"However, sir—please show your concert ticket."
Ticket?
Cavendish froze.
A few days ago, he had received that man's message: come to Gran Tesoro—urgent matter.
He hadn't dared delay even a second.
Because he had personally witnessed that man's terror.
A single glance could crush him.
Even if Cavendish slipped into his "second personality," he'd still be helpless.
Before that man, Cavendish felt like an ant.
He had traveled for days, arriving just in time—
and was told to enter the Little Dome music hall.
But he hadn't expected he'd need a ticket.
"I'm sorry."
"If you don't have a ticket, you can't enter."
Seeing him hesitate, the doorman blocked Cavendish as well.
"Hehahahaha!!"
Bartolomeo doubled over laughing in his signature cackle.
"Damn it!"
Cavendish was about to teach this punk a lesson—
when a roar erupted from inside the hall like a tidal wave:
"SOUL KING!!"
"SOUL KING—MY UNDERWEAR IS YELLOW!!"
"SOUL KING, I LOVE YOU!!"
The sound was so massive it rattled eardrums.
Yet no one looked annoyed—crowds surged toward the entrance in a frenzy, faces ecstatic, screaming the Soul King's name.
The concert had begun.
"Crap!"
Bartolomeo and Cavendish both cursed under their breath.
That senior's timing—
was before the concert started.
They were late.
"In that case…"
Bartolomeo interlocked his index and ring fingers, a savage glint rising in his eyes.
"No choice."
Cavendish bared his teeth and drew Durandal.
He knew making trouble in this "absolute sanctuary" was courting death—
but compared to angering that senior…
even fighting Gild Tesoro himself would be worth it.
That senior—
was a godlike existence who could erase him with a look.
Lightning Splits the Night — A Man Rides It
"Crack—!"
A zigzag lightning bolt tore open the sky—
followed by thunder that shook the streets.
Even the fanatic Soul King fans paused, stunned, looking up.
And there—
in the black night—
a man was sitting on the lightning itself.
Noticing everyone's gaze, he laughed, sprang off the lightning, and landed in the crowd.
A white headscarf.
Hair tied beneath it.
Long earlobes with earrings.
On his upper body—drums mounted on his back, golden rings on his hands, and a golden bracelet.
Baggy pants on his lower body, barefoot, toe rings glinting.
"This is…"
"Enel?"
In the crowd, a gentle-looking man's smile faded.
He wore a kimono.
Over his chest was the emblem of the Shimotsuki Family of Wano—
two crossed red blades.
He murmured in surprise:
"Enel…"
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