"Iggy!?"
In the corridor of Draco Manor, Thorn blurted out in disbelief, his voice laced with shock and confusion.
That name had long become a curse in Thorn's heart—a wound that never healed, a nightmare haunting three generations of the Draco family.
"You're the cursed child!"
Hearing the name "Iggy," Wachel instinctively pointed at the brother he'd never met, his face twisted in disgust.
Shaped by years of indoctrination by his grandfather—the Draco patriarch—Wachel had grown into a perfect noble. In his mind, Iggy had always been an irredeemable disgrace.
"Cursed child? Do you think I'm just a lowly bastard?"
Wachel's insult didn't hurt Iggy. If anything, it added one more reason to put the little mutt down.
If killing Wachel would bring even a sliver of pain to Thorn, it was a price Iggy was more than willing to pay.
"Shut your mouth, Wachel."
Thorn quickly silenced his son, realizing he couldn't afford to provoke the boy who had already sunk into the darkness.
"Iggy, you've already killed too many people. Don't take more lives needlessly."
The grand hall, once decorated for a festive birthday banquet, was now a slaughterhouse, with corpses littering the floor.
Putting aside his pride and heritage, Thorn made one last plea, hoping to reach some shred of humanity in Iggy.
"Pathetic fool... don't you know CP4 has already been wiped out? And the Draco frigate lies at the bottom of the sea?"
From the midnight ambush at the Holy Land to this very moment, Iggy had bathed in blood and walked on corpses.
Did Thorn really think Iggy still valued these lives?
The cruel truth silenced Thorn. He stood frozen, yet clung desperately to one final hope.
"Listen to me—what happened to Yuni was my fault. Her and her child were innocent."
Thorn looked into Iggy's fever-bright eyes and saw nothing but hate. His son was completely consumed.
Yet he held onto the past, to the bond they once shared, hoping Iggy would spare Riprest and her child.
He didn't realize that by wavering now, he'd already rung the death knell.
"No one in this world is innocent."
The suffering of his mother, Thorn's cold indifference, the death of comrades, and the agony of being cast aside had long forged Iggy into something unbreakable.
Thorn's pleas were a joke to him—just another echo drowned in a sea of blood.
Rather than talk sentiment, Thorn could beg for forgiveness... in hell.
"So, who dies first?"
Iggy ended the pointless conversation, ready to turn the Draco family and their loyal dogs into corpses.
His eyes scanned the room, landing on Wachel—cowering behind Thorn and Riprest.
He stepped forward slowly, his limbs sheathed in black Armament Haki.
"What are you waiting for!? Kill him now!"
Riprest's panic spiked. The exchange between father and son told her all she needed—there would be no mercy.
Iggy's gaze cut through her like a blade, making her bark orders with trembling fury.
The guards surrounded him, weapons drawn, shouting as they rushed forward.
"Fools."
Iggy could've unleashed his Conqueror's Haki to instantly knock them out, clearing a path with ease.
But that would rob Thorn of the pain he needed to feel—the agony of watching everything he cared for die.
Revenge wasn't about quick deaths. It was about despair.
"Let's get rid of the trash first."
With that thought, Iggy activated Observation Haki, weaving effortlessly between a hail of bullets.
The front-line guards didn't stand a chance. Swords swung wildly, only for Iggy to vanish with a blur—leaving the blades to slice nothing but air.
He reappeared at their flank, stomping into the ground with a heavy thud and twisting his waist sharply.
His arm arced high, palm turned into a blade, and he drove a hand chop straight through a guard's arm—bone and all.
"AHH! MY HAND!"
The strike was swift and clean. Blood didn't even spray until a second later.
Amidst the screaming, four or five severed arms still clutching weapons spun through the air.
"Thanks for the swords."
Iggy reached up and caught two long blades midair, tossing the bloody limbs aside with a flick.
He gripped the hilts tight, channeling his Armament Haki through the steel until both blades turned jet black.
A fresh wave of guards charged, weapons raised high. Spears, halberds, swords—they came from all directions.
"No weak spots... Iron Body!"
As they closed in, Iggy squatted down, tucking in both blades.
His body swelled, muscles bulging with steel tension, transforming into a flawless iron form.
The clashing of weapons echoed loud—clang after clang—as every blade shattered against his body, raining metal shards across the floor.
In one clean motion, Iggy reverted to normal and launched himself backward, flipping midair and landing at the heart of the enemy ranks.
He crossed his swords into an X, leaned low, and twisted his feet with coiled force.
"Tempest—Black Blade!"
His twin swords spun furiously, generating a black cyclone. Dozens of dark air blades burst out in every direction.
From the center of the corridor, a ripping sound spread outward as the slicing wind tore through everything.
Guards dropped like flies. Blood and limbs flew. The Thorn family, watching from behind, could only stare in horror.
To them, Iggy was no longer a man—he was a human meat grinder.
Even the proud nobles trembled uncontrollably. Paralyzed by the massacre, they forgot to even run.
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