Although Imu spoke in a calm tone, there was an undeniable authority in his voice, one that allowed no resistance.
Claudius frowned slightly, thought for a moment, then said, "Do as he says."
Sengoku's expression changed slightly, and he hesitated. "Your Highness—"
"It's fine. No matter how strong he is, he won't be able to completely suppress me, right? Just wait for my signal outside," Claudius waved his hand dismissively.
Seeing how firm Claudius was, Sengoku remained silent for a moment before nodding. "If anything happens, I'll come for you immediately."
With that, he turned and left the hall with the others.
As soon as they exited, the grand doors of the throne room, which had been left open began to close on their own, though it was unclear by what mechanism.
Now, in the vast Void Throne chamber, only two figures remained—Claudius and Imu.
"The King Faces the King."
There is an old saying: "The king does not meet the king." It means that when two dominant forces in the same field cross paths, a clash is inevitable—one where only one can walk away.
At this moment, Claudius and Imu had reached the final stage. Between them, the battle for survival had already begun, whether through words or swords.
Yet, Claudius didn't move.
He remained still at first, then took two casual steps forward, his eyes scanning the Void Throne Hall from left to right.
He had heard much about this place but had never set foot in it before.
It was the highest symbol of power in the World Government. It also represented justice and equality.
The irony, however, was that for 800 years, no one was supposed to sit on the Empty Throne—and yet, here and now, a lone figure occupied that supposedly vacant seat.
Imu watched as Claudius actually dismissed his entourage. He remained calm, his gaze sweeping the room before finally landing on Claudius. There was a flicker of admiration in his eyes.
"Bold," he remarked.
Claudius smirked, turned his gaze to Imu, and said, "If I didn't have courage, how would I have come this far?"
Imu was silent for a moment before responding, "You're right."
From where he stood, Claudius couldn't see Imu's face clearly. Curiosity gnawed at him. But at this point, they were already enemies, there was no need for excessive politeness.
So, he strode forward fearlessly.
Without hesitation, he ascended the steps leading to the Void Throne. As he approached, Imu's appearance gradually became clearer.
He wasn't the ancient, imposing elder that Claudius had imagined.
But he wasn't young either.
Instead, Imu looked like a middle-aged man in his forties or fifties.
His face was ordinary—perhaps even handsome in a subtle way. The majestic presence from his voice alone had made him seem larger than life, but up close, he lacked the overwhelming aura Claudius had anticipated.
Only his eyes held a distinct pressure—like a falcon, sharp yet restrained. Unlike Mihawk, whose gaze was piercing, Imu's seemed to hold everything back, keeping his true presence hidden.
He leaned back against the throne, his posture relaxed and casual. His clothing wasn't extravagant—simple, even.
But beside the Void Throne, a sword rested against the seat. Though it hadn't been drawn, it was clear at a glance, this was no ordinary blade.
It had to be a rare, legendary sword, likely one of the Supreme Grade Blades—one of the Twelve Supreme Grade Swords.
Claudius loved using swords, but he wasn't particularly knowledgeable about famous blades.
If not for Sengoku mentioning that Whitebeard's naginata, Murakumogiri, was one of the Supreme Grade weapons, he might have mistaken it for just a normal weapon.
As Claudius studied Imu, the latter remained silent, watching him with the same neutral gaze.
Even Imu had to admit, Claudius was undeniably impressive. He possessed both handsome features and an imposing presence, embodying the image of a true ruler.
This left Imu slightly puzzled. Instead of keeping his thoughts to himself, he chose to speak directly.
"Though we've never met before, Claudius, I've heard of you. If I recall correctly, you should be forty-two this year?" Imu asked.
His tone was calm, lacking the overwhelming authority from before.
Claudius nodded and smiled. "Yeah, that's correct."
Without waiting for Imu to continue, Claudius curiously asked, "How old are you?"
There wasn't a trace of respect in his tone, but Imu didn't seem to mind. He even answered casually.
"I don't remember exactly. Around 815 years old, I think?" Imu said after a moment of thought.
Claudius nodded.
He had finally confirmed it—Imu really was an ancient monster.
"Did you gain immortality from the Ope-Ope Fruit? Or did you drink from some kind of Fountain of Youth?" He asked.
Imu looked at him curiously.
Claudius waved a hand dismissively, then casually leaned against the railing. "No, I haven't done anything special."
"I know what you're wondering—'Why does my face look so young? I look like I'm in my twenties, right?' Honestly, I have no idea. Just chalk it up to a gift from time or something."
Imu wasn't particularly surprised. He was a bit curious but didn't press further. He simply nodded. "I see."
Then, Claudius suddenly asked, "By the way, I heard you're the ancestor of my Donquixote family?"
Imu didn't hide it. He seemed patient and interested in Claudius. He nodded and replied, "Yes. I officially became 'Imu' about five hundred years ago."
Claudius raised an eyebrow. "Then what was your name before that?"
Maybe he could even look him up in the family records later.
Imu was silent for a moment, then murmured as if recalling something.
"Before? My name was... Donquixote Nimugal."
"Nimu... Imu?" Claudius repeated in his mind.
He had actually seen that name before in the family's genealogy records.
As Claudius was lost in thought, Imu spoke again.
"So, have you taken down the Five Elders?" Imu asked.
Since Imu was being so straightforward, Claudius didn't bother lying.
"Yeah. Not just them—Mariejois itself is in my hands now."
"Not surprising," Imu responded calmly.
This time, Claudius frowned slightly. "You saw this coming?"
For the first time, Imu's neutral expression shifted slightly. The corners of his lips curled into a small smile.
"Yes. From the moment you first entered my sights."
Claudius was taken aback.
"Wait—surely you don't mean from the moment I was born? That would be a bit too much, wouldn't it?"
Imu chuckled. "I don't remember the exact time. But around a year before the Reverie, the Five Elders first told me about you. From then on, I've been watching you. It's been, what... over ten years now?"
Claudius's expression grew serious. "More than ten years? I was careful, I never slipped up, not even once."
Imu nodded. "You did cover your tracks perfectly. Even the Five Elders never suspected a thing."
"Then how did you know?" Claudius asked curiously.
Imu was silent for a moment before answering.
"Me?"
"Intuition."
Claudius blinked. "That's it?"
"Yes, that's it," Imu said with a smile. "And in the end, I was right, wasn't I?"
Then, in a voice tinged with nostalgia, he whispered.
"In you, I see myself."
(To be continued.)
***
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