The moonlight filtered through the canopies of Adam's trees.
On the seas of Elbaf, a giant cross was reflected.
If one looked closely, amidst the dark shadows of the canopies, a vast, ancient palace could be seen.
The view shifted, moving upward from the sea.
Through layers of clouds, within the green canopies, a deep voice echoed.
"Are you certain?"
Inside the ancient palace, a giant clad in golden armor, wearing a crown and holding a scepter, sat upon the throne deep within the palace.
Here, he was the supreme king, and the god of the giant tribe in this generation.
The king lowered his head, his brown pupils fixed on another giant kneeling in the center of the great hall below, clad in armor.
"I am certain," the giant in the hall said, raising his head to face his king, his expression solemn. "That earlier slash was not from an intruder; it was Silver-Haired Kaido."
"Silver-Haired Kaido... the Silver-Haired Pirates."
The king gripped his scepter, leaning forward, his chin resting on the back of his hand. He spoke with gravity, "What are they doing here?"
Despite residing in this celestial abode, the heart of this mysterious kingdom's power was far from the slow-paced information flow of Elbaf below.
Every royal, from birth, bore a mission. Therefore, they paid more attention to the state of the seas than those below. Thus, the king had seen Kaido, or rather, had seen and followed news about Kaido.
"I don't know."
The giant kneeling in the center of the hall shook his head and continued, "Afterwards, they followed Saul to the village where Saul resided."
"Saul?"
The king fell silent for a moment, a glint in his eyes. He looked up, directly at the giant kneeling in the hall, and said in a deep voice, "Whatever they are doing, it doesn't seem to be with hostile intent, so do not provoke them."
Hearing the king's command, the giant below visibly paused, then bowed his head and replied loudly, "Your command is my honor, my King."
"Oh, right."
As if remembering something, the giant below looked up at the king on his throne. "My King, Prince Loki has been in the divine temple for some time. Should we..."
He hesitated, then asked, "Should we open the divine temple to see what has become of His Highness the Prince?"
"You need not concern yourselves with this. I am aware of Loki's situation."
The king looked up at the giant below, a barely perceptible displeasure flickering in his eyes.
The royal lineage was not impenetrable, and he would not always occupy this throne.
He was acutely aware of how many in the royal city coveted his position.
He also knew how many eagerly awaited Loki's misfortune in the divine temple.
Though he understood that the giant below, as his confidant, spoke out of concern, at this sensitive juncture,
Such a question inevitably sowed a seed of doubt in his mind.
"Alright, you may leave!" The king waved his hand and reiterated, "Remember, do not provoke the Silver-Haired Pirates. Those who can slay monsters like Kaido and Charlotte Linlin, while Elbaf might not fear them, it's better to have fewer troubles if possible."
"Yes!" The giant below bowed his head to the king on the throne, then stood and slowly walked away.
Once the giant's figure had completely disappeared.
The king's regal bearing seemed to deflate like a pricked balloon.
He released his scepter, leaned back on the throne, and looked up through a crack in the ceiling at the cold moon, which seemed close enough to pluck from the sky. A hint of weariness flickered in his eyes.
The giants were indeed the world's premier race, and the Kingdom of Giants was truly the world's foremost kingdom.
Yet, even this current "world's best," along with the countless other special races that had historically depended on the giants, were like ants facing a true deity before that individual—so fragile, so despairing.
If they had not retreated from their homeland, from the Red Line, perhaps the giants, like other special races, would have been utterly annihilated, or at least their royal lineage, inheritors of ancient blood, would have been.
In truth, all the giants of Elbaf should belong to the royal lineage.
However, over tens of thousands of years of evolution, the royal lineage had also diversified into various races.
Their branch was the one that had led the giants in their battles against humans, the race to which Joy Boy belonged.
The history of conflict between giants and humans was incredibly long, extending far beyond the final confrontation eight hundred years ago.
These histories were recorded in the divine temples, accessible only to the kings of the giants.
Therefore, ordinary giants were largely unaware.
Even the war that spanned eight hundred years, with eight centuries of evolution, saw generations of giants pass. While some elders might have heard tales from their ancestors, most giants were completely oblivious to that war which nearly led to their extinction.
As the king of the giants in this era, his burden was not to restore the glory of their ancestors, but to ensure the survival of the giant race in this world, now dominated by humans.
This was also why, despite the giants retaining some power, they could only huddle in Elbaf.
Did they not yearn for the vast, magnificent seas outside?
Certainly not.
But for the sake of their race's continuation, confinement became a necessary directive.
This was also why the royal family rarely interfered with the giants on the islands below. Those giants knew nothing; why should they be confined here if they could explore the world?
Unlike the royal family high above, the giants on the islands below were not bound by the pact made between their royal lineage and that terrifying entity when they retreated from the Red Line.
After so many years, there were always those within the tribe who, having healed from their wounds, forgot the pain and the harshness of war. They harbored fantasies of restoring the giants' glory, of overthrowing him—a king perceived as "weak" by other royal branches who had also retreated from the Red Line—and taking the helm of the giant race's colossal ship to reignite war with humanity.
However, they were unaware of the immense weight that this position carried.
That sense of suffocation, known only to him and untold to anyone else; if not for the sake of the entire race, he would have abandoned it long ago.
But alas, for the prosperity of a race, someone had to bear the responsibility. From the moment he ascended to this position, he had no room to retreat.
The entire race behind him also forbade him from stepping back.
"Loki, fight on."
Gazing at the moon, a flicker of worry crossed the king's eyes.
In truth, his heart was far from the surface calm. He was old, having occupied this position for nearly three hundred years.
Three centuries of immense change. Among the kingdom's inhabitants, aside from a few elders, he was the eldest.
And Loki was his only son. If Loki met misfortune in the divine temple, and the war-mongering faction seized his position, it would be a catastrophe for the entire giant race.