Sige’s heart hammered as he faced an impossible dilemma.

Thud. Thud. THUD.

The Emperor Engine’s wrathful cadence shook the mountainside. Every bandit froze, breath trapped in their lungs. Even Dragon’s seasoned crew stiffened under the primal pressure.

“Speak of today,” Sige intoned, voice colder than North Blue’s frost, “and you die.”

The threat hung unadorned—no snarl, no flourish. Yet its simplicity magnified the terror. Bandits swayed on their feet, visions of evisceration flashing behind clenched eyelids.

He’ll know. The thought echoed through the crowd. One stray thought, one twitch… and he’ll rip us apart.

Gilman’s knees buckled. This… this is the aura that broke me.

As the pressure lifted, Sige turned without another word, his retreating back radiating disdain.

——

Revolutionary Huddle

“Darling~!” Ivankov hissed, false lashes quivering. “Since when does Conqueror’s Haki come with a soundtrack?!”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Dragon’s gaze tracked Sige’s exit. “Precision control. He suppressed them without unconsciousness—a warning.”

“For us,” Kuma rumbled, first words since arrival.

——

Inside the Shack

The two titans faced each other—Sige’s KING-enhanced glare clashing against Dragon’s revolutionary resolve.

Why him? Why now? Sige’s mind raced. Shanks was manageable, but Dragon…

Memories of the Red-Hair Pirates’ laid-back camaraderie mocked him. Should’ve faked appendicitis when I had the chance.

Dragon broke the silence. “Your methods fascinate me. Mobilizing society’s castoffs against the World Nobles—bold. But unsustainable alone.”

Sige’s jaw tightened. Method? I napped! They did this themselves!

“Join us,” Dragon pressed. “Share your vision. Together, we’ll—”

“No.”

The refusal crackled with finality.

Ivankov’s lipstick smeared as his jaw dropped. Kuma’s fingers twitched toward his Bible.

“Why?” Dragon leaned forward, tattoos writhing like caged serpents.

Sige’s Emperor Engine growled to life. THUD-THUD-THUD

“You,” he snarled, jabbing a finger at Dragon, “play rebellion.”

The shack’s walls trembled.

“I,” he slammed his palm on the table, “wage war.”

Silence.

Then—

SLAM!

Dragon’s fist met wood, eyes blazing. “Then let’s burn Mary Geoise to ash!”

——

Outside

Bandits eavesdropping at the walls recoiled.

“Did he say… burn?”

“Mary Geoise?! The Holy Land?!”

Gilman’s cleaver gleamed in the sunlight. “Told you! The Boss doesn’t plan—he erases!”