Author: Don't forget to approve or disapprove the story. Because I want your opinion. Remember, this is a draft version.
———————————————————
Blood… That was all that could be seen on this island. The entire island was bathed in blood, still fresh and liquid, meaning not much time had passed since whatever event had caused such carnage. As those trembling marines ventured deeper, they saw several pirate corpses, each mutilated, with severed limbs strewn across the ground. Blood was the most abundant thing in this place.
As they went further into the forest—which more closely resembled a pure slaughterhouse—the marines recalled a rumor about a fellow marine supposedly not weaker than the Admirals. Some even claimed he surpassed all three Admirals combined. Of course, this group found such tales hard to believe.
With each step, the murderous intent grew more intense, sweeping across the island like Conqueror's Haki, only much more aggressive, violent, and hellish. Several marines dropped to their knees, vomiting onto the blood-soaked ground beneath them. Fear was evident in their eyes, and many abandoned any thought of taking another step toward the island's center.
Only one continued forward, advancing solely through sheer willpower as his legs had already lost their strength. This was a Vice Admiral, visibly disgusted by the slaughter caused by the rumored marine. This Vice Admiral was a man with a mohawk and mustache, wearing the standard Marine uniform consisting of a purple and white suit with a striped coat over his shoulders. Underneath, he wore a dark blue shirt and a light blue tie. He was of average height, well-built, and wielded his chosen weapon—a katana—either strapped to his right hip or across his shoulder, with a tsuba designed as an eight-petaled flower. This was Momonga.
By now, his entire "crew" had been reduced to just him. The closer he got to the epicenter, the stronger the murderous intent became, to the point that even trees appeared crushed as though a 200-meter giant had stomped on them.
When he finally reached the center, he saw a pile of corpses and numerous pirates, with blood flowing like a stream. All were weakened, and when he looked up at the top of the pile, he saw a man, short by the standards of this world, exuding a malevolent aura. It was hard to believe he was an agent of justice. Instinctively, Momonga raised his guard.
Standing there was a figure in armor that was entirely metallic, with dark tones and a silver sheen. Its sharp lines and pointed contours, especially at the shoulders and helm, were unmistakable. The helmet featured a narrow slit for the eyes, with a red detail, like a mane or plume, extending down the back. In his left hand, he held a long, sharp sword, resembling a cursed or demonic blade, thick and menacing. He also wore a worn cloak draped down his back, dark with streaks of red. This was the man Momonga had been seeking.
His stance was aggressive, and his aura made it clear he was always ready for battle. His oppressive, murderous presence sent chills down Momonga's spine, and he could only manage to speak, "The headquarters is summoning you, Magsarion."
At those words, Magsarion, known as "The Black Knight," finally turned to look at Momonga, who immediately felt scrutinized, sensing that if he made even the slightest wrong move, his head would roll.