Evening descended as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with a hauntingly beautiful display of fiery red clouds.
The air in the castle was a thick, suffocating cocktail of slls: the acrid tang of gunpowder, the tallic iron of fresh blood, and the sickly sweet aroma of charred flesh.
Corpses lay in tangled heaps across the grand avenues and narrow alleys. Everywhere one looked, the wreckage of war was strewn about with shattered blades, breastplates pierced through, broken firearms, and cannons twisted into useless iron. Valanfort, which had only recently begun repairing the scars of a previous conflict, had seen its ruins expanded once more.
Main Hall, Cathedral of the Church of the Night.
Aeridar paced through the spacious hall, his gaze drifting over the intricate bas-reliefs of the Goddess of the Night and the collection of priceless oil paintings adorning the walls. The cathedral was undeniably opulent, its interior luxury hidden behind a deceptive exterior.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
The rhythmic click of black leather boots against the polished marble echoed through the silence.
Oliver entered, his two long blades slung at his waist. With his left hand, he dragged a blood-soaked figure across the floor, leaving a long, crimson sar in his wake. Were it not for the slight rise and fall of the man’s chest and his ragged, shallow breathing, he would have been mistaken for a corpse.
"This one is a Regional Bishop of the Valanfort district. He might know sothing useful," Oliver said flatly, dropping the man like a sack of grain.
Valanfort served as the headquarters for the Church of the Night within the Bivins Kingdom. As a Regional Bishop, this man’s authority was second only to the Obsidian Archbishop, Bane.
"You went a bit too heavy-handed," Aeridar remarked, frowning as he looked down at the mangled clergyman.
"Wasn’t ," Oliver shrugged. "I had to pull him out of Enrod’s clutches."
Aeridar stepped closer to the dying man. "Tell , where would Bane and Bank flee to—"
He stopped mid-sentence, his brow furrowing into a deep scowl. He cut the interrogation short and sighed, "Never mind. He’s already gone."
"That fast? What a buzzkill," Oliver remarked. He didn’t doubt Aeridar’s judgnt.
Sure enough, within twenty seconds, the Bishop’s chest stilled. The shallow rasping stopped.
"He’s dead," Oliver confird, bending down to check the pulse and breath.
"Forget it. Have the n move in and sweep the place. There’s bound to be a hidden passage or a secret chamber sowhere," Aeridar ordered. "Mina suspects there’s an underground armory here."
"That’s easy. One swing of my sword and we’ll find out," Oliver offered with a feral grin.
"Don’t be ridiculous," Aeridar rolled his eyes. "There are likely other treasures hidden here. Have the n clear the place out."
Soon, hundreds of pirates sward the cathedral. They began a systematic pillage, hauling chests of gold, silver, and jewelry into the main hall.
"Faster! Keep moving!"
"Easy with that! It’s porcelain, don’t break it!"
"Careful with the paintings! Don’t tear the canvas!"
Box after box of treasure piled up. Ornate paintings and fine ceramics were stripped from the walls and gathered in the center of the hall.
Guarding this mountain of wealth were over a dozen stone and tal knights, standing as still as statues. Outside the entrance, stone beasts patrolled the periter alongside two five-ter-tall silver golems. In the darkening sky, dozens of Gargoyles and giant birds of prey circled overhead.
The cathedral was not the only target. All of Valanfort was being stripped bare. Nobles, rchants, peddlers, and commoners, the pirates took everything. Not a single Berry was left behind. Anyone who dared resist was cut down without rcy.
As night fell, the raging fires turned Valanfort into a city that did not sleep.
Torches and candles illuminated the Inner Keep and the Cathedral. Under the flickering light, the mountains of gold and jewels emitted a luster that could trigger the deepest greeds of the human heart. These two locations had beco the temporary vaults for the castle’s wealth, guarded by the Chris Pirates’ executives, the humanoid bio-weapons, and a legion of Animate constructs.
Without such a terrifying guard detail, even the mbers of the Chris Pirates would have turned on one another for a share of such a fortune.
Fortunately, the presence of Aeridar and his executives kept the rank-and-file in check. While many pirates "liberated" a few trinkets for themselves—they were pirates, after all, not the disciplined Marines—it remained within tolerable limits. Aeridar planned to distribute half of the loot to the crew anyway. His primary goal wasn’t the wealth of this kingdom; it was a demonstration of absolute power, a flex of his "muscles" to the world.
High above in the night sky, a 150-ter-long vessel with a wolf-head prow floated silently, hidden within the thick cloud cover.
Onboard the Chris, Aeridar, Mina, Enel, and Lucien gathered in the captain’s quarters. The room was stocked with various fruits. In the center lay Razalo, bound tightly with Seastone chains, his skin still charred from his encounter with lightning.
"To think a big shot like you would show up personally... I’m flattered," Razalo croaked. Despite his condition, a grin spread across his blackened face as he laughed.
"Since you know who I am, why not tell your plan?" Aeridar raised an eyebrow. "I might even let you live."
"Don’t lie to ," Razalo chuckled. "I knew the mont I fell into your hands that I wasn’t getting out alive."
"Just kill him and be done with it. The Church of the Night is on our hit list anyway," Enel said impatiently, waving a hand.
Nearby, Lucien sat in silence, cradling his sniper rifle while feeding his pet/partner Uken.
Mina studied Razalo for a mont before speaking. "This man is the Vice Commander of the Dark Tribunal and an Ace Dark Arbiter. Simply put, he’s a professional assassin. He’s been through rigorous ntal conditioning; we won’t get anything out of him."
Indeed, n like Razalo were trained to withstand the most brutal interrogations. With no specialized torture equipnt on hand, extracting information was a lost cause.
"Go ahead! Kill !" Razalo cried out with fanatical fervor. "The Goddess of the Night will welco into her kingdom!"
"Fine. Let’s just recover the Soft-Soft Fruit then," Aeridar sighed, waving his hand in dismissal.
"Recover the Fruit?" Razalo blinked, stunned. How could a Devil Fruit be "recovered" from a living user?
"Let do it! Thunder tallury!"
At Aeridar’s word, Enel stepped forward. Blinding light erupted from his palm as intense heat surged into his golden staff.
Zzzzzzt—!
Within seconds, the gold softened and reshaped under the extre temperature, forming a wicked golden trident.
"Die!"
Before Razalo could even process what was happening, the trident lunged downward.
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