Black stood at the stern of the ship, gazing at the distant shoreline of Wano Country as it gradually disappeared beyond the horizon, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
As the saying goes Rome wasn't built in a day, but it can be burned in one.
Building something was difficult. But tearing it apart? That was easy.
Black was very satisfied with the chaos he had sown this time.
Momonosuke was dead Wano would have no rightful heir twenty years in the future.
The Nine Red Scabbards had turned against one another, their trust shattered beyond repair.
And with the rubbing of the Road Poneglyph now in his possession, he had taken another step toward uncovering the truth of Laugh Tale… and perhaps even Imu's weakness.
Aside from not gaining any immediate tangible profit, this trip could be considered a complete success.
Still, there was little he could do about that.
Among Wano's Devil Fruits, aside from Yamato's Mythical Zoan which remained unaccounted for the rest had already been consumed long ago.
As for Wano's famed blades…
Black had little interest in collecting them. The swordsmiths of Mary Geoise had already begun forging his own blade one he intended to temper into a Black Blade with his own strength.
Compared to that, any so-called "Meito" held little appeal.
Besides, among the swords still remaining in Wano, apart from Oden's Ame no Habakiri and Enma, only the Nidai Kitetsu and Kawamatsu's beloved blade Sotomuso were noteworthy.
None of them were worth the trouble.
However…
Black glanced behind him at Lady Toki and Kozuki Hiyori.
"At least this trip wasn't entirely without gain," he said lightly. "I obtained two slaves."
Between the two, Hiyori was still young her values could be reshaped.
But Lady Toki…
Black's gaze toward her carried a completely different meaning than when he looked at Stella and the others.
She came from over eight hundred years ago the very era of the war between Joy Boy and the Twenty Kingdoms. And Wano had clearly stood on Joy Boy's side.
That alone made her an enemy of the World Government by default.
Worse still, Wano's people were notoriously stubborn some might even call them irrational.
And Lady Toki, having lived through so much, had already formed unshakable beliefs.
On top of that
Black had personally killed Momonosuke in front of her.
There was no room for reconciliation.
To him, she was nothing more than a beautiful tool.
That night, within the dimly lit cabin
The flickering candlelight cast faint halos across a folding screen painted with irises.
Lady Toki's wrists were bound with golden cords, freshly replaced by the maids.
Her previous kimono, stained with her son's blood, had long since been burned.
A sword rested unsheathed on a nearby rack, its polished guard reflecting her restrained figure against the low table.
The maids quietly withdrew, carrying trays of plum wine that swayed gently with the rhythm of the sea.
"You should learn how to use these hands," Black's voice sounded from behind her.
He suddenly grasped her wrist and forced a brush into her hand.
"Write something."
On the paper was the Kozuki clan crest already smeared into an indistinct blur.
Lady Toki struggled violently, knocking over the inkstone.
Ink spilled across the wooden floor like a shattered formation on a battlefield…
…After departing Wano, Black had no intention of immediately returning to Mary Geoise.
News from the Holy Land indicated that Saint Rosward had been unusually active lately hosting gatherings and inviting fellow Celestial Dragons.
If Black returned now, he would undoubtedly be dragged into those insufferable events.
The last encounter alone had been enough to leave a lasting impression one he would rather not repeat.
Too much exposure, and even his Haoshoku Haki might suffer.
For now, the Road Poneglyph on Fish-Man Island had yet to be relocated, and the locations of all four stones were already known.
His next destination was clear.
Fish-Man Island.
As for Zou and Whole Cake Island…
Those could wait.
Zunesha was far too massive engaging it directly would be troublesome at his current level of strength.
And Charlotte Linlin?
Unpredictable. Violent. Reckless.
Attempting to take a rubbing from her territory would almost certainly lead to open conflict.
Unlike Kaido, she wasn't one to hold her tongue she might very well expose his existence to the world.
Better to wait.
Opportunities would come.
For now, caution was the wiser path.
Black ordered Stella to change course.
…Ten thousand meters beneath the sea lay Fish-Man Island.
Dangerous but manageable.
For someone like Black, who avoided unnecessary risks, this already counted as a bold move.
Fortunately, after centuries of exploration, the route had become relatively stable.
Aside from occasional Sea Kings, there was little to fear.
And those?
They could be dealt with using Haoshoku Haki alone.
Moreover, Black had yet to consume a Devil Fruit his survivability remained high.
…Deep within the lowest deck of the ship
There was no distinction between day and night.
Chains clattered endlessly.
Kyros's legs moved mechanically, pedaling without pause.
His gladiator armor was gone, replaced by rough hemp cloth that scraped against his skin, leaving bloody abrasions.
At first, he had resisted.
But Sea Prism Stone shackles bound his body, suppressing his strength.
After days of relentless punishment, his spirit dulled.
"Group 14! Slow down and I'll feed you to the Sea Kings!"
The overseer's voice rang out.
Kyros didn't respond he simply pedaled faster.
"Hey… arena fighter…"
A hoarse voice came from his right.
"You're going too fast…"
No answer.
A shoulder slammed into him from the left.
"Slow down, bastard! You trying to kill us?"
Kyros remained silent but eased his pace slightly.
His eyes stared forward, unfocused, as though fixed on something invisible.
"I heard… a princess from Dressrosa is on the upper deck… incredibly beautiful…"
A voice whispered from behind.
"You weren't captured together, were"
Crack!
A whip cut through the air.
Silence followed.
Kyros's breathing faltered for just a moment… then steadied.
He did not allow himself to imagine.
Could not allow it.
"Group 14 rest!"
The command came.
Five minutes. No more.
Kyros slumped against the damp wall, listening to ragged breathing… quiet sobs…
And the occasional crack of the whip silencing them.
He closed his eyes.
Only one image remained
A canary in a gilded cage.
Its feathers slowly losing their shine.
The whistle blew.
Kyros opened his eyes and stepped forward again.
The chains resumed their rhythm.
His legs moved.
Not his will just habit.
Endless. Meaningless.
Unstoppable.