At the edge stood Monkey D. Dragon, dark cloak billowing around his tattooed face, flanked by his top commanders. Beside him, Sabo stood in his tailored blue coat, his top hat pulled low over wavy blonde hair. His gloved hands rested casually on his iron pipe, his expression a picture of calm composure.

Then, they arrived.

Approaching from the stone stairwell came the vanguard of The Syndicate, moving in silent, terrifying unison under heavy dark cloaks. Every one of them wore a seamless mask of dark, unbreakable ironwood—intricately carved into snarling predatory beasts.

At the front walked the Syndicate's towering Leader, his bear mask casting a looming shadow. Directly at his right hip walked you—the Second-in-Command. Your wooden predator mask entirely obscured your face. You carried yourself with suffocating, lethal grace, your eyes gleaming like cold steel through narrow eye-slits. The weight of your Haki pulsed quietly around your boots, making lesser Revolutionary guards break into a cold sweat.

You didn't say a word. Your mere presence communicated the truth: you were a storm that consumed everything in its path.

Magnificent. So sharp... so cold... she could tear a man to pieces without blinking.

A subtle, masked glance from you flicked toward him for a fraction of a second before you looked away. Sabo's smile widened, his heart swelling with ecstatic devotion.

I don't just want to learn from her. I want her to break me—to strip away my titles, flames, and polite mask until nothing is left but a man at her feet.