Chapter 638: Chapter 638
"Now... you are truly worthy of serving us, Imu." The voice descended like a benediction and a verdict all at once. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched Imu’s lips as the sigil upon King Harald’s arm completed its metamorphosis. What had once been a shallow covenant—an incomplete chain—twisted and deepened, lines sinking into flesh and soul alike until it became something absolute.
A Depth Covenant. The mark pulsed once, slow and deliberate, like the heartbeat of a god.
"We forged thirteen contracts in the dawn of this world," Imu continued, their tone serene, as though reciting a simple truth of nature. "Thirteen bindings meant to shackle the wills of gods and eternal beings—to make them serve us for all time. Few were deemed worthy. Fewer still survived."
The air in the throne room felt heavier with every word. "You, Harald, King of the giants, have been granted one of them. From this moment on, you serve me as the Elders do. You shall wield authority equal to the Gorosei—those who stand directly beneath my will."
The declaration echoed through the vast chamber. But Harald did not respond.
Still kneeling, he stared at his clenched fist, massive fingers trembling as unfamiliar power surged through him in relentless waves. The mark on his arm burned—not with pain, but with overwhelming presence, as though something vast had awakened inside his very marrow.
"This strength...!" he breathed, his voice thick with awe and disbelief. "It’s... rippling through me. So vast it’s almost frightening."
His Haki leaked unconsciously, rolling outward like a pressure wave. The marble beneath him groaned. Pillars creaked. Even the air itself seemed to bend around his form, unable to fully contain what he had become. The Five Elders rose cautiously and stepped closer. For the first time in centuries, their expressions were stripped bare of calculation.
"And now..." Elder Mars said quietly, eyes wide behind his spectacles, "he is immortal. Just like us."
The truth of it sent a chill through the room. They could feel it—time itself recoiling from Harald’s presence, his life force no longer bound by decay or age. The Depth Covenant had rewritten the laws governing his existence.
Elder Warcury swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as another wave of Conqueror’s Haki brushed against him. "This pressure... it freezes the spine," he admitted. "If he wished it... he could crush us where we stand."
No one contradicted him. Elder Nusjuro stared at the giant king, his hand unconsciously tightening around his sheathed blade. "This exceeds all projections," he said grimly. "He has not become the ancient monster we anticipated."
He paused, choosing his words carefully. "At this point... he rivals an Ancient Weapon in sheer might." The comparison hung in the air like a thunderclap. Poseidon. Pluton. Uranus. Names that shaped eras. And now—King Harald of Elbaph.
Still kneeling, Harald slowly raised his head. His eyes burned with a newfound light—not madness, not corruption, but something terrifyingly resolute. Power answered his every breath. The world felt smaller, more fragile, as though it might crack if he pushed just a little harder.
High above him, upon the throne that ruled the world from the shadows, Imu watched in silence. Satisfied. Another pillar had been set beneath the world they controlled. Another weapon had been bound.
At last, the violent torrent within him settled. The power did not vanish—it coiled, compressing itself into something dense and absolute, like a star forced into a mortal shell. King Harald rose to his full height, towering over the throne room as faint arcs of Haoshoku Haki still crackled around his body, snapping and hissing like restrained lightning. He drew in a slow breath, forcing the will of a king to leash the will of a god.
Even then, the air trembled. "Now, at long last..." Imu mused from atop the throne, their voice carrying a quiet, inexorable authority, "...you will be an undying knight in our service."
The words should have felt heavy—terrifying even. Yet to Harald, they felt right. The truths that had gnawed at him for decades—the shadows behind the World Government, the unanswered questions of history, the invisible hand shaping the world—had finally revealed themselves. The world had a ruler. And he stood before them now.
"Undying..." Harald murmured, flexing his fingers, watching power ripple beneath his skin. "It still feels... unreal."
He turned slightly and threw a casual punch to his side. The sound came a heartbeat later.
BOOM.
A sonic explosion ripped through the chamber as his fist broke the sound barrier, shockwaves screaming outward and rattling the throne room itself. The marble floor fractured in spiderweb patterns. The walls groaned, ancient stone protesting against force that surpassed reason.
Harald stared at his hand in stunned silence. No pain. No strain. Only boundless strength—contained, obedient, eternal. Slowly, he turned back toward the throne.
"So..." he said, voice steady despite the storm of power humming through his veins, "now that I have pledged my loyalty as a knight... does this mean Elbaph is finally part of the World Government?"
This time, he did not look to the Five Elders. He addressed the one who mattered. For reasons he could not fully comprehend, Harald felt no revulsion, no rebellion rising in his heart. Instead, there was a deep, instinctive reverence—like standing before a natural law made flesh. Imu regarded him in silence for a moment.
"Not yet," they replied at last. The answer cut cleanly through the chamber. "For the land of giants to join us, it must first be connected directly to the center of power, and then you must complete your duty."
Imu’s fingers tapped softly against the armrest of the throne—slow, deliberate, echoing like a countdown.
"To accomplish this, you will create an Abyss in Elbaph. A gateway. A conduit. A wound in the world that binds your homeland directly to me." The words sank into Harald’s mind, heavy and inescapable.
"Once the Abyss is formed," Imu continued calmly, "I will assign you your true duty. Complete it, and the giants shall take their place among the nations of the World Government."
Their gaze never left him. "You may leave now. The others will explain what remains." Dismissed.
Just like that. Harald opened his mouth—questions burning on his tongue. What was an Abyss? What price would Elbaph pay? Why did this path feel both righteous and terrifying?
But none of them escaped his lips. Instead, he bowed his head instinctively, the Depth Covenant upon his arm faintly glowing in response.
"Yes... Great One." The words came without hesitation. Without resistance. As Harald turned and began to walk away, his massive footsteps echoed through the throne room, each step sealing a future that could never be undone. Behind him, the Five Elders watched in silence—some in awe, some in unease. And upon the Empty Throne, Imu smiled softly.
****
Green Bit, New World
The underground cavern beneath Greenbit roared like a living beast. Stone screamed as it fractured, roots splintered and regrew in the same breath, and the air itself shook under the weight of two clashing wills. One was flesh—ancient, brutal, born of an era where giants ruled the world through raw strength alone. The other was life incarnate—a forest given form, will, and wrath.
BOOM.
The ancient giant’s haki-coated fist tore through Leo’s forest titan once more, exploding bark and vine into a storm of shattered timber. A massive chunk of the titan’s face collapsed inward, splintering like a felled tree struck by lightning.
"GRAAAAAH!" the giant bellowed, its voice reverberating through the cavern like a war drum from a forgotten age.
Leo screamed in pain—not from the blow itself, but from the strain. Maintaining a construct this massive while trapped in the body of a Tontatta was madness. His veins burned. His vision blurred. Every heartbeat felt like his body was tearing itself apart just to keep the forest standing.
Hold... I have to hold...
Roots thicker than warships burst from the cavern floor, coiling around the ancient giant’s legs like colossal serpents. Vines reinforced with hardened sap and Armament-infused wood constricted, tightening with every breath Leo forced into existence.
"STAY... DOWN!" Leo roared, his tiny voice amplified through the forest titan, echoing with a ferocity that belied his size.
The giant snarled. Muscles bulged grotesquely as black lightning crawled across its arms and torso. Its eyes sharpened—not with rage alone, but with something colder. Instinct. This was no mindless berserker anymore.
With a thunderous flex, the ancient giant forced its will outward, Armament Haki surging like molten iron through its limbs. The vines screamed as they were crushed, snapped, and pulverized into lifeless mulch.
"CRACK—CRUNCH!"
The giant tore itself free, chunks of living forest still clinging uselessly to its body. Leo coughed blood. The lab behind him— the Donquixote family’s hidden stronghold beneath Greenbit—shuddered violently. Cracks spread across reinforced walls, alarms shrieking faintly from damaged machinery buried deep within the stone.
If this thing gets through... everyone dies.
The forest titan staggered backward, its knees buckling. Leo’s breath came in ragged gasps, sweat pouring down his tiny face like rain.
"I won’t—!" he gasped. "I won’t let you pass...!"
The ancient giant tilted its head, studying the forest titan now—not as prey, but as an obstacle worthy of destruction. Then it moved. Not with wild swings. With precision. The giant stepped forward, its foot crashing down like a falling mountain. Armament Haki coated its leg so densely that the impact sent a circular shockwave ripping through the cavern floor. Roots were obliterated on contact, pulverized into dust. Leo cried out as the forest titan was forced to one knee. The giant’s fist drew back.
Just as the haki-clad fist of the ancient giant began its descent—black lightning screaming as it came down like a judgment meant to erase the forest titan from existence—the air split apart. A shrill, thunder-cracking WHIIIIIIINE tore through the cavern as something massive ripped through the space between heartbeats.
A war axe. No—a force of nature. Its blade spun end over end, wrapped in roaring blue lightning, arcs snapping violently across the cavern walls. The very air around it ionized, glowing white-hot as the weapon tore forward like a falling star dragged down by rage and purpose.
For a fraction of a second, the ancient giant’s instincts screamed. It twisted at the last possible instant.
CRACK—SPLORCH!
Instead of burying itself in the giant’s chest, the axe slammed into its shoulder, carving through flesh, bone, and ancient muscle with horrifying ease. Lightning detonated outward, flooding the cavern in blinding blue light as the axe embedded itself to the haft.
The force of the impact sent the giant staggering backward, its haki flickering as it lost its balance— and the forest titan was violently released from its grip. A roar unlike anything before erupted from the ancient giant, a sound of pain and disbelief shaking loose stalactites from the cavern ceiling.
Before it could even comprehend what had struck it—BOOM.
The world fell on top of it. A figure crashed down from above, slamming into the ancient giant with such overwhelming force that the cavern floor imploded. Stone exploded outward as the eighty-meter colossus was lifted clean off its feet and driven into the ground in a single, brutal motion.
The impact created a crater. Dust and debris blasted skyward as blue lightning erupted like a storm breaking underground. Standing atop the pinned ancient giant was Dora.
Lightning crawled across her body like living serpents, crackling along her limbs and dancing in her wild hair. Her eyes burned with electric fury, her presence alone pressing down on the cavern like the weight of a god descending from the heavens. She looked less like a warrior and more like the storm itself given form.
Behind her, Leo finally let go. The forest titan shuddered, roots unraveling, bark dissolving into motes of green light. In a heartbeat, the massive construct vanished entirely, collapsing back into the earth as Leo reverted to his tiny Tontatta form. He dropped to one knee, gasping for air.
"...Thank you, Dora... you made it just in time..." he whispered, relief washing over his exhausted body. The ancient giant barely had time to snarl— BOOM.
Dora’s lightning-clad fist slammed into its face. The cavern shuddered.
BOOM.
Another punch—this one driving the giant’s head into the crater floor, shockwaves rippling outward like rings on water.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
Each strike landed with the sound of thunder cracking open the sky, blue lightning detonating on impact as Dora unleashed a merciless barrage. Her fists moved faster than sight, leaving afterimages of light and fury.
The ancient giant thrashed beneath her, roaring, trying to bring its haki-coated arms up in defense— but Dora gave it no room. No breath. No mercy. She mounted the titan’s chest, her knees pinning it in place as her fists rained down like divine punishment. Each blow shattered stone, pulverized bone, and forced the giant deeper into the earth.
The cavern walls cracked. The ceiling groaned. The lab beneath Greenbit screamed in protest as the battle reached a new, catastrophic intensity. The ancient giant howled in rage and pain, its armament flaring wildly—but even that overwhelming power was being crushed, overwhelmed by the sheer ferocity of Dora’s assault. She leaned in close, lightning arcing violently around her clenched fist.
The ancient giant roared again. Not in pain alone—but in defiance. The cavern answered his voice with trembling stone, ancient runes etched into the walls flickering as if disturbed by something older than memory. Veins bulged along his titanic frame, muscles knotting and swelling as his armament haki surged once more, darker, denser, like iron dragged up from the deepest abyss.
With a violent heave, the giant thrust upward, the ground exploding as he forced Dora back. Stone shattered beneath his arms as he rose, blood pouring freely from the ruined shoulder where the war axe still jutted out—yet his grip closed around the haft.
"RRRAAAAAAGH!"
With a single savage motion, he ripped the axe free from his own flesh, tearing muscle and bone apart as blue lightning detonated outward. The cavern was bathed in a storm of blood, sparks, and flying debris as the giant hurled the axe aside with contempt.
Dora slid backward through the rubble, boots carving trenches through stone as she steadied herself. Lightning crawled violently across her arms, her breath heavy, eyes blazing with exhilaration.
"So you still have some fight left in you," she muttered. The ancient giant answered by charging.
Each step was an earthquake. Each footfall split the cavern floor, shockwaves rippling outward as he barreled forward like a living siege engine, armament haki coating his fists so thick they looked like blackened mountains given form.
Dora vanished. A crack of thunder echoed as she reappeared above him, lightning snapping as she descended like a falling god.
"RAIJIN BREAKER!"
Her fist slammed down—but the ancient giant crossed his arms just in time.
BOOOOOOM!
The collision sent a dome-shaped shockwave tearing through the cavern, obliterating stone, flinging debris into the air like shrapnel. Lightning and haki clashed violently, blue and black tearing at one another as both titans were forced apart.
The ancient giant skidded backward, heels carving trenches into bedrock. Dora landed in a crouch, lightning hissing around her like a living cloak. Then they both moved at once. The giant swung first—a massive backhand meant to pulp her into the cavern wall. Dora ducked beneath it, the air screaming as the fist passed inches above her head, and countered with a lightning-coated uppercut that slammed into the giant’s ribs.
CRACK!
Bone fractured. The sound echoed like a cannon blast. The ancient giant snarled and retaliated instantly, kneeing forward with terrifying speed for something of his size. Dora crossed her arms, haki flaring— BOOM!
She was launched backward, smashing through a stone pillar and skidding across the cavern floor. Dust billowed as she rose, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. She wiped it away and laughed.
"Yes," she grinned, lightning flaring brighter. "That’s more like it."
The ancient giant didn’t hesitate. He lunged, grappling Dora mid-laugh, one massive hand clamping around her torso as armament haki surged to crushing density.
"CRRRRUNCH!"
The pressure was immense—enough to pulverize steel, enough to snap mountains. Dora’s bones creaked. Her grin widened. Lightning exploded outward from her body in a blinding flash, electricity tearing into the giant’s arm like a living blade. The ancient giant howled as muscle spasmed uncontrollably, his grip loosening for a fraction of a second—and that was all Dora needed.
She twisted free, planted her foot against his chest, and kicked off, launching herself backward as she extended her arm. The war axe—still spinning in the air where it had been thrown—answered her call. Lightning wrapped around the weapon, yanking it violently back into her grasp. Dora caught it mid-spin and swung in one fluid motion.
"STORM BREAKER!"
The axe tore through the air, lightning and haki fused into its edge, carving a massive gash across the ancient giant’s chest. Black blood sprayed as the impact sent him staggering, his roar shaking the cavern ceiling. But the giant did not fall.
Instead, his haki changed. It grew heavier. Older. The air itself seemed to bend as something primal awakened within him. Runic scars along his body ignited with dull crimson light, ancient symbols carved into his flesh by rites long forgotten. His eyes burned with savage clarity as he planted his feet and exhaled slowly.
When he moved again—it was different. Faster. Sharper. He stepped inside Dora’s next swing, his fist crashing into her jaw before she could react.
BOOOOM!
Dora was sent flying, smashing into the cavern wall hard enough to crater it. Stone collapsed around her as she coughed, shaking her head as she rose. The ancient giant was already there.
He grabbed her by the head and smashed her into the ground, once—twice—three times—each impact detonating like artillery fire.
The cavern screamed. Dora roared back. Lightning erupted violently from her body, blasting the giant point-blank and forcing him back as she surged to her feet, axe spinning in her grip.
Their haki collided. The air split. Black lightning and blue thunder tore across the cavern, cracking the ceiling, ripping massive chunks of stone loose as both ancient giants unleashed their will without restraint.
For a moment—the world held its breath. Then they charged again. Fist met axe. Lightning met armament. Each clash detonated with deafening force, shockwaves ripping through the underground chamber, pulverizing ancient stone, and sending Leo scrambling to keep his footing far from the battle.
Dora fought like a storm incarnate—wild, relentless, and overwhelming. The ancient giant fought like a mountain refusing to fall. But slowly—inevitably—the balance shifted. Dora adapted. Her strikes became sharper, more deliberate. Lightning wrapped tighter around her axe, compressing into focused arcs that cut deeper, burned hotter. Her haki pressed harder, her will crashing against the giant’s like waves against a cliff.
And the cliff began to crack. The ancient giant staggered as Dora drove the axe into his thigh, electricity detonating through his nervous system. He dropped to one knee, roaring in fury as Dora didn’t relent. She leapt skyward, lightning spiraling violently around her.
"ANCESTORS OF STORM AND SKY—" Her haki surged to its peak. "BEAR WITNESS!"
She descended like divine judgment. The axe came down in a two-handed arc, lightning and conqueror’s haki fused into a single, devastating blow.
BOOOOOOOOOOM!
The impact shattered the cavern floor entirely, driving the ancient giant flat onto his back as a massive crater formed beneath him. Lightning erupted outward in a blinding explosion, the shockwave tearing through the underground lab and beyond.
When the dust settled, the ancient giant lay still. Pinned. Broken. Dora stood atop his chest, axe planted into the stone beside his head, lightning crackling softly around her as she looked down at him. His haki flickered... then faded.
With a final, defiant growl, the ancient giant went limp. Silence fell. Dora exhaled slowly, resting the axe against her shoulder as the storm around her finally calmed.
"...Stay down," she said quietly.
Behind her, the scientists stared in awe, the cavern around them reduced to ruins—a battlefield shaped by two ancient titans, one victorious. The ancient giant had been finally subdued, and the storm had claimed its prey.
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