One Piece: Start as a mythical beast, practice to become stronger

The night in Mary Geoise was silent and oppressive, as if even the starlight dared not shine on this ancient land.

An invisible pressure filled the air, making it difficult to breathe.

At this moment, a procession moved silently through the deep streets.

Each member of the procession moved with slow, mechanical steps, their footsteps sounding particularly abrupt in the silent night, as if soulless bodies were simply moving forward unconsciously.

Their eyes were empty and dull, and the expressions on their faces were unwavering, as if controlled by some invisible force, their very thoughts had ceased, and only their bodies were automatically executing commands.

These people were not confined by some physical restraint, but dominated by a deeper control.

Every action, every step forward, was executed according to some unseen instruction.

They were like puppets, unable to escape the dark force from the abyss.

No one dared to make a sound behind this group; they simply moved silently, their eyes lost, as if they had lost their vitality and will.

And at the very front of this procession was a shadow that blotted out the sky, like a black curtain, enveloping the entire group.

This shadow seemed like a monster crawling out of the depths of hell, greedily devouring everything.

It was so thick and deep, seemingly without end, as if even time had solidified under its shroud.

And hidden in the center of this shadow was a mysterious existence—the figure of Imu.

In the shadow, the only thing visible was a cold, black outline, like a being condensed from nothingness, elusive and inexplicable.

From the depths of that darkness came a faint, low heartbeat, like a long-dormant beast beginning to stir and awaken.

Each heartbeat was like a drumbeat shaking the earth, carrying a suffocating sense of oppression, making everything around it unable to escape its constraints.

Each member of the procession seemed to be stepping towards that unfathomable shadow, yet they themselves seemed unaware.

Ahead of this procession, the darkness grew thicker and thicker, as if some invisible gravity was drawing them in.

With each step, their pace became heavier, as if each step landed on a silent vortex, dragging them step by step towards the abyss.

Those empty eyes occasionally flashed a faint light, as if alert to something, or as if they had seen nothing at all.

Their bodies seemed to be moving forward involuntarily, their minds blank, with only that invisible summons ruthlessly pulling them forward.

Their steps grew faster and faster, more and more determined, as if they had unconsciously entered some irresistible state.

In the shadow ahead, Imu's presence became clearer and clearer, and the sense of oppression was like being locked in a black iron cage, unable to break free or escape.

'Imu' was like the center of this shadow, the mastermind controlling everything.

Her power had deeply penetrated this world, and even these once-strong members of the Marines could not escape her control.

However, 'Imu', deep in this shadow, was quietly observing everything.

Her gaze pierced through the heavy darkness, cold and empty, like that boundless abyss, untouchable and incomprehensible.

Her existence was itself an unspeakable taboo in this world.

Under her gaze, those controlled members of the procession continued to move forward steadily,

Each one seemed to be stepping into an endless night,

And they still did not realize that they had been forever trapped under Imu's control.

As the procession continued to advance, the shadow grew darker, and the sound of the heartbeat grew louder, as if even heaven and earth were trembling for this approaching moment.

Members of the World Government stood in the dark corners, their gazes cold and heavy.

Everyone was dressed in formal black uniforms, with no expression on their faces, only a deep-seated tension and anticipation flowing quietly between them.

Standing at the very front was Figarland Garling, his figure appearing particularly tall in the dim light, his aura imposing.

His eyes were sharp, his gaze cutting across the procession members like a knife.

There was no emotional fluctuation, as if everyone in front of him was just a pawn on a chessboard.

They felt no pity for these controlled people, not even a trace of sympathy.

They knew that these people were just a part of an experiment, bearing some significant meaning.

Everyone's eyes revealed a calm calculation, and they had only one question in their minds: Could these people awaken Lord Imu and completely revive her power?

"Will they succeed?"

One of the high-ranking members of the World Government asked in a low voice, with a hint of anxiety in his tone.

"No matter the outcome, the operation has already begun."

Another member responded calmly, his voice low, as if suppressing some strong emotion.

Figarland's gaze did not leave the procession; his eyelids moved slightly, and the corners of his mouth curled into a faint smile, but there was no warmth in this smile, only an unsettling coldness.

"They are the tools we expect; if these people cannot awaken her, then perhaps everything will be in vain."

His words were calm and unwavering, but they carried a bone-deep sense of oppression.

The World Government members standing behind him all lowered their heads; without a doubt, they were also pondering this question.

Lord Imu's power was a secret they had never been able to touch, and now they were trying to find the path to revival through these ignorant people.

Each echo of the heartbeat, each step closer to the shadow, seemed to be drawing them step by step towards that unknowable destiny.

"We have no other choice; we must take a gamble."

Figarland murmured, as if talking to himself, or as if speaking for others to hear.

The gloom in his words could not be concealed, as if there was no turning back.

His gaze remained fixed on those unconsciously walking figures, and a complex emotion flashed through his heart—a deep reverence for Lord Imu, and also an anticipation for the coming fate.

Lord Imu, that once unimaginably powerful being, after the storms of time, now sleeps in this untouchable shadow.

Figarland couldn't help but ask himself, if she really revived, what would become of this world?

Were they ready to welcome her return, to welcome her power?

Everyone who followed in Imu's footsteps knew what her power meant.

Past history had long made the World Government deeply aware that Imu was not only their hope, but also a fear they could not control.

Once her power was restored, perhaps no one could stop her.

The figure in the shadow continued to move forward like an unconscious puppet; Figarland narrowed his eyes, and the intertwining of heartbeats and footsteps became the clearest background music in the air.

His face showed no anger, no fear, only an unspeakable calm and focus.

However, in his heart, an unusual tension quietly rose.

That tension did not come from the unknown of the revival process, but from a deep apprehension about what would happen after the revival.

Could the revived Imu really bring about the reshaping of the world?

Would her wishes be in line with the World Government's plans?

Just then, a strange fluctuation came from the shadow, and a sharp light flashed in Figarland's eyes.

He noticed that some of the people in the procession had begun to show slight changes—the look in their eyes seemed to have some fluctuation, and that empty feeling seemed to be shaken.

Although minimal, this change made every nerve in his body tense up.

"Lord Imu's revival… is it really coming?"

He murmured in his heart, but a smile that was not a smile flickered across the corner of his mouth.

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