One Piece: Starting in God Valley as a Slave

"Such a persistent nuisance. So, does it mean that people like Roger aren't worth dealing with?"

"Of course, they are," Imu replied coldly. "Anyone who opposes us must be executed, especially those bearing the Will of D."

A flash of murderous intent flickered in Imu's crimson eyes. She glanced down at Carl and spoke slowly.

"Carl, those of the D lineage are guided and protected by Joy Boy's will. Until they complete their tasks, they are remarkably hard to kill—just like Dragon, Garp's son."

Carl recalled when Dragon had slipped through his grasp and had contemplated this very issue. Imu's words echoed his own thoughts. The D lineage seemed to be protected by some unseen force.

But Carl scoffed at such notions. To him, power was everything. Absolute strength could crush any so-called "will."

Imu rested her hands on the gilded armrests of the Empty Throne, her voice low and deliberate.

"This Roger... his talent is undeniable. While you serve within the Marines, if the opportunity arises, eliminate him."

Carl nodded but thought to himself that Roger was already on death's doorstep. Even without intervention, he wouldn't last long.

Still, Carl wouldn't mind personally ending Roger's life—preferably after the man claimed the title of Pirate King upon returning from Laugh Tale.

Just look at Garp, Carl mused. The man had become a legend just by chasing Roger across the seas, gaining the reputation of forcing the "Pirate King" into a corner.

As Carl pondered, Imu's voice broke his thoughts, carrying a note of weariness.

"Enough. You may go. Remember your mission. The position of leader of the God Knights will remain within the Figarland family."

Carl gave a faint smile, bowing slightly before leaving. He didn't take Imu's promises seriously.

As the palace doors shut behind him, Carl paused to admire the sea of flowers surrounding him. His figure twisted and vanished, reappearing back at the Figarland estate.

He shared the details of his meeting with Imu with Garling. After a moment of reflection, Garling remarked,

"As expected, Imu remains wary of Joy Boy. Unless that thorn in their side is removed, they'll never sit comfortably on that throne."

Carl popped a grape into his mouth, tossing the rest of the bunch into the Dark Bible. Chewing idly, he replied,

"Understandable. If it were me, I'd feel the throne burning under me too."

Garling glanced at Carl. "So, what's your next move?"

Carl lit a small flame at his fingertip, drying the juice on his hand. He stared at the flickering flame and said calmly,

"Kill Roger."

Then, with a smirk, he added, "Don't worry, Uncle Garling. I won't harm that red-haired kid of his. Though, after Roger dies, should I bring him back here?"

For the first time, Garling hesitated, showing a trace of interest instead of outright refusal.

Seeing this, Carl pressed his advantage.

"Uncle Garling, no matter how you look at it, he's part of the Figarland family. He has the right to know his lineage."

Garling frowned, about to respond, when a messenger, Carlos, appeared at the door.

"Lord Garling, Saint Charlos requests an audience."

Garling swallowed his words and nodded. "Let him in."

Carl shrugged, amused. Fine, be stubborn. I'll make sure that red-haired brat meets you one day.

Moments later, Charlos entered, flanked by men in suits carrying boxes. Seeing Garling and Carl, Rosward swallowed nervously before forcing a flattering smile.

However, his attempt at pleasantry was clumsy, making his expression grotesque.

Garling and Carl remained silent, leaving Charlos visibly awkward. After a moment, he steeled himself and spoke.

"Saint Garling, Saint Carl, I'm here to make amends!"

He barked an order at the suited men, who set down the boxes and opened them. A radiant golden light filled the room, revealing treasures of immense value.

Even by Celestial Dragon standards, such an offering was significant—a fortune in gold and jewels.

But Garling and Carl barely spared the treasure a glance. Garling's voice was cold as he spoke.

"Charlos, are you insulting the Figarland family with these trifles?"

He placed a hand on the hilt of his sword, flicking it lightly.

Clink!

Though the blade was barely unsheathed, its chilling aura made Rosward collapse to his knees.

Carl frowned, muttering internally, If this fool wets himself, I'll castrate him.

The men Charlos had brought trembled, frozen in fear, unwilling to even breathe too loudly.

Garling, uninterested in further conversation, returned to his seat and sipped his tea. "Leave."

Charlos's face paled, but he didn't dare leave. His father, the head of their family, had warned him—failure to earn the Figarlands' forgiveness would mean exile from Mary Geoise.

Desperate, he turned to Carl.

"Saint Carl! I heard you have a passion for collecting Devil Fruits. I've brought three with me—genuine ones!"

"Oh?" Carl's interest was piqued. He stepped forward, towering over Charlos. "Show me."

Charlos motioned to the men, who brought forth three smaller boxes.

Inside were three distinct Devil Fruits: two banana-shaped ones—one green and the other yellow—and the third, a peculiar "cherry bomb" design.

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+185 chapters on p@treon/tambeerg