Afternoon, the Holy Land of Mary Geoise.
The Draco couple stood in the corridor of their manor. Thorn frowned, gazing helplessly at the grass in the center of the courtyard.
"Rackhaha!"
On the lawn, a boy of about six years old, dressed in fine clothing, rode on the back of a human female slave, barking commands.
The slave beneath him was thin and frail, her skin bruised and battered, stained with dried blood.
"Stupid! Move faster!"
Seeing that the slave was slowing down, Wachel grew angry and slapped her on the head.
Under the blow, the already dying woman could no longer support herself. She collapsed sideways to the ground.
At the same time, Wachel lost his balance and fell too, smearing dirt across his face.
"Ugh! You trash!"
As he got up, he didn't cry. Instead, he glared at the motionless slave, unsure whether she was dead or alive. A murderous gleam appeared in his eyes.
With fury, he grabbed a chunk of gravel from the garden. His small legs moved quickly as he rushed toward the slave.
"Stop! What are you doing?!"
Seeing his son raise the stone high above his head, Thorn rushed forward and grabbed him just in time.
Thorn snatched the rock away and threw it aside. He was about to scold Wachel when his wife caught his arm.
"Why hit the child? The pet is dead. We'll just buy another one."
Riprest frowned, glaring at her husband in disapproval.
Wachel heard her words, broke free from Thorn's grip, picked up the gravel again, and smashed it down onto the slave.
With a sickening thud, the slave girl's head caved in, brain matter and blood splattering across the lawn—and Wachel's face.
"Oh baby, your face is dirty."
Seeing the filth, Riprest quickly pulled out a silk handkerchief and delicately wiped her son's face.
"Mom, I want a Fishman pet next!"
As she cleaned him, Wachel pouted and began asking for a new toy.
"Good boy, don't worry. Mommy will take care of it."
She waved to a guard and ordered him to summon CP4.
The guard ran off with a cigarette still dangling from his lips. A while later, he came rushing back, panting heavily.
Avoiding the garden, he approached Thorn directly and whispered something into his ear.
"What did you say?!"
Thorn's expression changed instantly. He went quiet, thinking deeply.
CP4 was a secret organization loyal only to the Celestial Dragons, hidden in unknown corners of the world, equipped with top-tier training and gear.
Except for the incident six years ago, they had never suffered a single casualty. And yet—Haude and all his men vanished overnight?
Looking at his six-year-old son, Thorn suddenly had a realization.
"Was it Iggy…?"
Hearing Thorn whisper the name, Wachel shoved Riprest aside and walked up to his father.
"Father, are you talking about Iggy?"
Wachel's gaze shifted from that of an innocent child to something far more sinister—burning with hatred and anger.
From the age of two or three, the patriarch of their Draco Family had filled his grandson's head with tales of betrayal and impurity.
The central figures in those stories were his weak-willed father, a lowborn woman, and an older brother who should never have been born.
By the time the stories were finished, the brother—whom he had never met—had become nothing but filth in Wachel's eyes.
"That bastard is still alive!?"
He looked up at his father with seething anger. His tone no longer sounded like that of a child.
"What bastard? That's your brother!"
As Wachel grew older, Thorn realized more and more that the boy resembled the patriarch—someone who scorned life and had no concept of familial bonds.
Though he knew the patriarch had brainwashed the boy, Thorn still tried to guide him back.
"It seems the stories are true after all. Father, you're unworthy of being a Draco!"
Wachel's words cut deep. With his final insult, he turned and left the garden without looking back.
"Baby! Baby!"
Riprest quickly followed after her son, shooting Thorn a murderous glare as she vanished from view.
Only Thorn remained, standing silently among the bloodstained grass.
---
At the same time…
Iggy was doing something that, to the average person, would seem impossible.
Scaling the sheer cliffs of the Red Line, cloaked in fog, Iggy climbed higher and higher—fueled by the fire of revenge.
After burying CP4 in the ocean, he had swum across five kilometers of open sea without stopping.
Now, directly beneath the Holy Land, at the edge of the Red Line, he began to climb.
His goal: to put those who caused his and his mother's suffering, into the abyss from which he once fell.
Six years ago, to escape CP4, Iggy had jumped from the top of Mary Geoise, plummeting from a height of 10,000 meters into the sea.
But sheer will kept him alive. Carried by the current, he washed ashore on a desert island, barely clinging to life.
Now, once again starting from that same island, he climbed the Red Line with his bare hands—seeking vengeance against the Celestial Dragons.
It felt as if fate had come full circle, pulling him back to the place where it all began.
Iggy thought of his time on Mt. Colubo, and the years spent wandering the East Blue. They were gifts—though they never felt like it.
The painful reality that had nearly broken him time and again had only made him stronger.
Garp's brutal training, the fights against deadly enemies—they all forged his strength.
The countless lives he had taken nourished his growth, turning him into a relentless force.
Everything had been preparing him for this moment. Even with bloodstained hands and air too thin to breathe—
—Iggy kept climbing. Toward the Holy Land, 10,000 meters high. Like a mortal reaching for the heavens.
Getting closer with every breath, he could almost hear her voice.
"Mother... your son is back."
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Once this, Fanfic reaches 20 reviews, I'd drop 2 bonus Chapters.