At the mention of the name Klein, the pirates reacted as if they'd seen a ghost—their faces went pale, bodies trembling, shivering uncontrollably.
Sweat poured down their foreheads and temples. Many pirates shrank into corners, mumbling feverishly:
"A demon… a beast… That guy isn't human!"
"A Marine who sold us off as slaves… He's worse than pirates! He's a devil!"
"Yeah, worse than a devil. He didn't even do anything, and my body—my body just stopped moving."
Hearing their deranged muttering, as if they'd lost their souls, Powell once again recalled the fear of being dominated—crushed—by Klein.
His eyes went vacant.
A man in a black suit appeared, striking the steel bars of the cage with an iron rod. Behind him followed several soldiers in silver armor.
"Hey, listen up. If you don't want to be tortured, then you better obey the Celestial Dragons."
"If you behave, there's a chance…"
"To win back your freedom!"
He looked down from above at the filthy, worthless pirate slaves, but the reaction was far from what he expected.
His dangling carrot didn't seem to motivate these shattered pirates at all.
Frowning, he barked to the soldiers behind him, "Drag them all out."
The pirates moved like the walking dead, herded toward the arena like ducks, shambling from four different tunnels.
Silver-armored soldiers removed their shackles, leg irons, and the explosive collars around the necks of particularly dangerous ones.
Seeing the pirates so devoid of spirit, slouched and lifeless, Saint Figaland Green's face darkened. He scowled, a flash of displeasure in his eyes.
"Hey, Saint Somarz, didn't these pirates just become slaves?"
"Why are they already so broken?"
"Weird," Somarz muttered, glaring at the group. "Most pirates are unruly scum, but look at these guys… You can't see even a hint of their old bloodlust or viciousness."
"Even Powell—the guy with a 65 million bounty, born with monstrous strength—he looks like he's given up on life…"
"What the hell happened to them?"
Green's chiseled face twisted with frustration. He had been looking forward to sharpening his sword skills against these pirates.
But looking at them now…
His enthusiasm evaporated.
"Hey! If any of you manage to land a hit on me, I'll give you your freedom!" he shouted.
"Aren't pirates supposed to love killing for fun?"
"So what's with all this cowardice!?"
A few pirates finally showed a flicker of life in their eyes—only for it to fade again.
They stood like statues, not a single one daring to attack.
A soldier lashed a pirate with a whip, sending him stumbling with a pained cry.
"Hey! You trash! Didn't you hear what Lord Green just said!?"
"Pick up your weapons! Give the lords a good show!!"
But the pirates didn't respond. He raised the whip again in fury and struck harder.
The whipping failed to ignite any spark. Frustrated, the soldier fumed, feeling like a clown in front of the nobles.
"Damn it! These guys are worse than long-term slaves. They're dead inside! Like rotting corpses!"
"What the hell is this!?"
"Don't tell me these bastards were born to be slaves. Are they all just masochistic freaks?"
Logically, freshly enslaved pirates should still harbor hope. Especially after being told—by a Celestial Dragon no less—that freedom was possible.
Shouldn't that light a fire in them?
Shouldn't it inspire them?
What the hell happened to them?
Where was their cruelty? Their viciousness?
Why did they all look like limp fish!?
Green's face grew darker by the second. His urge to fight and hone his blade had been utterly extinguished.
Step by step, he approached Powell—the naturally gifted powerhouse.
The man stood tall and muscular, built like a bear. Yet his head hung low, eyes dull and lifeless.
"Hey. I heard you've got a 65 million bounty and you're a Super Rookie. Don't you want to get back out to sea and live free?"
"No…" Powell shook his head. His eyes were hollow. "The New World… it's full of monsters."
"You… You're monsters too, aren't you? We… we never had a chance. We're just toys for your amusement…"
His will had shattered. He no longer had the courage to fight and grow stronger.
The despair was too deep.
The gap—unbridgeable.
Green's pupils contracted. This pirate actually understood that he was facing monsters… That there was no hope of winning freedom.
"What… happened to you before you became a slave?"
"A devil! A demon!" Powell trembled in fear, his voice hoarse and cracking as he screamed:
"He's a devil in human skin!"
The other pirates were immediately plunged into trauma, as if reliving the moment they'd been crushed by Klein's Conqueror's Haki.
Their bodies quaked uncontrollably.
"Who!?" Green roared, his voice exploding in Powell's ears.
"K-Klein!! Klein!!" Powell reflexively shouted.
"Klein?" Green frowned, confused. He'd never heard of the name.
But now his curiosity was piqued.
What kind of man could scare pirates ?
He turned to Saint Somarz. "Hey. You heard of this guy?"
"No," Somarz shook his head.
Green looked at the broken pirates before him.
"Throw them back in the cells. And investigate this 'Klein' guy."
"This is such a damn disappointment."
"What a waste of my time, you useless trash."
He turned to leave, his mood foul. On the way out, he casually vented his anger by slicing off the heads of a few pirates with his sword.
Blood sprayed like fountains.
In a luxuriously decorated room, a long dining table was filled with all manner of exquisite delicacies.
"This Braised Intestines in Brown Sauce is done quite well. Keeps the original flavor of the intestine."
"Mmm—this spicy crab is so sweet. And the spice is spot-on."
Saint Somarz devoured dish after dish, utterly delighted.
"Somarz, can you eat more quietly!?" Saint Chiringom snapped.
"Feasting is one of life's great pleasures," Somarz replied without a care, grinning. "You wouldn't understand my joy!"
Saint Green sat with his arms crossed, leaning back in his chair. The table was covered in top-class cuisine… but he had no appetite.
The door opened, and a man in a black uniform approached Green. Thıs content belongs to 𝗻𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹·𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑒·𝗇𝗲𝘁
"Lord Green, we've got intel on Klein."
Several of the Knights of God trainees turned their attention over. Somarz dabbed his mouth with a silk napkin.
"Speak," Green ordered.
The CP agent immediately recited the gathered intelligence, word for word, without skipping a single detail—right in front of everyone.
The room fell silent.
So silent, sweat began to bead on the agent's temples.