SLAM!
The sound of a fist hitting the table echoed like a gunshot through the candlelit room.
Karne stood at the center, breath ragged, veins bulging beneath his sallow skin. His yellow ceremonial cloth clung to one shoulder, damp with sweat and spit.
His sunken eyes burned as he scanned the room.
"Who… dares to cross me?"
No one answered. The air thickened. His lieutenants looked away, as if hoping the floor would swallow them whole.
"I built this empire on obedience," he growled, voice low but lethal. "Yet someone—some nobody—dares to erase The Hound Pets. My enforcers. Gone."
His gaze fell on Lucy.
"Talk."
The blonde secretary stepped forward, swallowing hard. "The shipment from The Hound Pets never arrived. We sent scouts. Only one came back."
A battered man, bruised and limping, was pushed forward. His lip trembled.
"They're all gone, sir. Someone destroyed them… completely. Their base is—was—just rubble. And now it's occupied… by strange creatures. Monstrous ones."
A pause. Karne said nothing.
Then, a flicker of movement.
CRACK.
In a blink, the man collapsed—blood pooling at Karne's feet.
"Trash."
No one dared breathe.
Karne wiped his hand on the man's shirt, as though brushing off dirt.
"They think they can steal from me? From Karne the Goodman?"
"With The Hound Pets gone, their territory is wide open. And you can bet those greedy vultures will be circling." He turned to Lucy. "Bring me the Transponder Snail. We're moving the annual meeting forward."Get me the transponder snail. We move the meeting up."
Elsewhere, in the industrial heart of Sabaody...
In a modest study surrounded by nautical charts and trade routes, a middle-aged man sat behind a desk. His black hair curled behind his shoulders, and his curled mustache twitched with mild irritation. Dressed in a frilly white shirt and yellow scarf, he sipped tea without looking up.
This was Umit, the head of Umit Shipping. Officially, he ran a shipping empire. Unofficially, he was Sabaody's largest arms dealer, supplying everything from pistols to cannons to buyers ranging from pirates to World Government agents to freedom fighters.
"What trouble is that lunatic stirring up now, calling a meeting ahead of schedule?"
Meanwhile, inside a chaotic pressroom stacked with headlines and half-finished drafts…
a man-shaped bird in a press hat fiddled with his camera Den Den Mushi.
This was Morgans, head of the Grand Line division of the World Economy Newspaper.
"I can smell a front-page story from miles away. Kekekeke."
Beneath the city, under the roar of an illegal arena crowd
four ropes marked a ring soaked in sweat and spilled liquor. Cheers, curses, and bottles flew as bets were placed.
From a private viewing booth, a bald man with a long mustache slouched in his chair, wine bottle in hand.
This was Giberson, officially a warehouse magnate. Unofficially, he ran a network of illicit entertainment—fight pits, black-market auctions, and brothels.
"Get to the damn point already—hic! Just tell me what the hell's goin' on," he grumbled, waving for more wine.
In a heavily guarded loan office lined with ledgers and ledgers of debt
In a dimly lit office far from the chaos, a large man sat hunched over a stack of papers—his cigar glowing as he flipped through reports. His build was rotund, his cornrowed hair alternating between dark and blonde. Thick lips and a scar between his brows gave him a grotesque appearance. Two bodyguards stood silently behind him.
This was Lu Feld, infamous loan shark and financier. His sharp instincts and willingness to gamble on unproven talent had made him a pillar of the criminal underworld.
"A metal-bodied wolf… strange monsters never seen before? Interesting. Perhaps it's time I made a new investment. Kukuku…"
And so, beneath Sabaody, in the hidden hall beneath the Lawless Grove…
A large black curtain parted, revealing a round table inside a dimly lit underground chamber. No one but the five shadow rulers of Sabaody's Lawless Area were permitted entry. A single chandelier of dim Sea Prism Stone provided a dull blue glow above their heads.
The final chair screeched as Karne—still fuming from earlier—slammed his fist on the table. The Council had gathered.
"The Hound Pets are gone. Wiped clean. Their territory reduced to smoking rubble," he growled, his yellow ceremonial cloth still stained with wine and spit. "And worse… occupied. By some boy and his summoned beasts."
Umit, arms folded across his shipping captain's coat, didn't even flinch.
"You dragged us here just for one mercenary with fancy pets?"
Karne shot him a venomous look. "That boy eliminated a slave-hunting faction in one night, Umit. That's one of ours."
"Mine kept paying," Umit said coolly. "Yours just got sloppy."
Lu Feld chuckled from behind his glasses. He tapped the report in his hand—the one filled with battlefield sketches, sightings of a metallic beast, near Grove 9.
"I read the reports. These aren't just animals. One of them is a machine. a wolf monsters. If he's truly capable of creating such constructs… then we may be dealing with someone worth funding."
Karne's lip curled. "You want to invest in him?! after the world government raided your science project that you call investment?"
"I still got something precious from that venture mind you. Better to ride a rising tide than be drowned by it," Lu Feld muttered, puffing on his cigar.
A snap of talons echoed across the table.
Big News Morgans leaned forward with manic glee, camera Den Den Mushi twitching beside him.
"He's unpredictable. Violent. Revolutionary. I love it." He grinned. "The public will too. 'Mysterious Summoner Liberates Grove 9 From Slave Lords!'—It sells itself. Especially if he picks a fight with someone like you, Karne."
Karne slammed the table again. "This isn't a game! He's already dismantled one part of our network. If we don't act now—"
"Act, sure," Morgans interrupted, feathers twitching. "Just make it spectacular. Let me frame him as a rebel hero, a symbol of anti-slavery sentiment. People will cheer. Then we twist the tale. Blame him for destabilizing the peace. A hero one week, a menace the next."
Giberson, still half-drunk, wiped his mouth with his sleeve and chuckled from the shadows.
"Y'know, I don't care if he's a saint or a demon. That unique beasts of his? Big seller in my arena. I want to see how far those monsters can go. Maybe get a few of 'em to fight… with or without their master's permission."
Karne sneered. "We're being invaded, and you all want entertainment?"
"No, Karne," Umit said smoothly. "We want information. You're the only one here who's lost assets. The rest of us are simply... watching."
Lu Feld raised his cigar.
"I say we approach. Quietly. If he's reasonable, we benefit. If not—"
"Then I'll bury him," Karne finished. "His monsters. His fortress. Everything."
Morgans grinned wider than ever.
"Oh, please let it come to that. My printing presses are starving."
For a brief moment, the chamber was silent.
Five factions. Five interests. And one summoned boy threatening to change the game.
The Council of Shadows had spoken.
Back at the floating castle…
Erik studied a single card in his hand—Insect Imitation. By sacrificing a monster, he could summon a higher-level Insect-Type from his deck.
"If I don't have a suitable card to summon, what would happen…?" Erik wondered aloud, calculating the risks.
"Well, only one way to find out."
He called for Ryu-Ran.
The small dragon waddled in, still encased in its iconic egg-shaped shell.
"I activate Insect Imitation. I tribute Ryu-Ran and summon an Insect-Type monster with higher level."
DING!
Special Summoning: Dreadscythe Harvester
'so the system chooses randomly if it is writen from the deck in te text'
A brilliant flash lit the chamber. From it a merciless predator from the shadows of forgotten forests emerge. With scythe-blades forged from chitin and carnage, it stalks the battlefield on four bladed limbs, moving with unnatural grace. Its emerald exoskeleton conceals a monstrous intellect, driven by instinct and precision. Silent and swift, it harvests life in a single motion—never hesitating, never missing. The storm gathers where it walks, and with each swing, the wind itself bleeds
"Can you speak?" Erik asked.
A sharp screech erupted from the creature's maw. It nodded once.
Erik smirked. "You're probably my strongest summon yet, even if you're not much of a talker."
With the ability of dreadscythe Harvester Erik make it a group with eleven other insect monsters Erik had summoned earlier. With its special ability, Dreadscythe could absorb power from each Insect-Type ally—potentially adding over 5500 ATK points.
"I name your unit... Queen's Claw. You are my blade, I am your queen."
The insect beasts knelt in unison, silent yet loyal.
Erik stepped back, arms folded.
"They're not ready yet. But I'll need Dreadscythe tomorrow. If I'm lucky, I might even summon a level 12 insect monster soon…"
To be continued