Chapter Text
Late into the dead of night, guards patrolled the stone halls and perimeter grounds of the World Government Marine base. Heavy boots clattered against stone, interspersed with the occasional murmur of lazy chatter and quiet laughter as the night shift made its rounds.
Unnoticed far above them, a shadowed figure bounded across the slate rooftops. A deep hood completely concealed his face, his movements as silent as a ghost.
At last, he dropped lightly beside a reinforced skylight and peered down through the dark glass. Far below, a grand hallway ended at a pair of massive, heavily fortified vault doors.
He reached down to the sheath at his waist, his fingers closing around the hilt of his sword. As he drew the blade, ancient runes near the hilt flared with a faint, ethereal glow. A small brass ring swung softly from the pommel.
Reversing his grip, he drove the tip of the blade straight into the roof's stone framework and dragged it downward in a fluid, deliberate arc.
The air tore open like wet paper. A swirling, rift-like portal expanded in the empty space.
Sheathing his sword, the stranger stepped forward and let himself fall through. The portal snapped shut behind him, leaving no trace behind.
He landed soundlessly on the polished stone floor inside the base's restricted archives—safely positioned on the inner side of the fortified doors.
Without hesitation, he began moving through the shadowy aisles, pulling heavy leather-bound ledgers from the shelves and flipping through their pages with practiced efficiency. Minutes bled into an hour. Finally, with a quiet, disappointed sigh, he slid a massive tome back into its resting place.
Still nothing.
As he pondered where to search next, the heavy inner door suddenly burst open behind him.
The metallic clack-clack of dozens of rifle hammers locking into place shattered the quiet. The intruder turned slowly to face a squad of Marines blocking the doorway, their muskets and rifles trained directly on his chest.
“Put your hands up! Don't move!” the lead officer barked, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings.
The hooded troll stared back, entirely unbothered. His left hand rested casually on the pommel of his sword.
He watched the Marines through the shadow of his hood, noting the sweat dripping down their brows and the nervous twitching of their fingers on the triggers.
With a flick of his thumb, he popped the blade a few inches from its sheath.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The officers opened fire. Smoke and lead ripped through the air.
In a fraction of a second, the intruder fully drew his sword. The blade blurred through the dark, cleanly deflecting the flying bullets in a shower of brilliant sparks. Before the smoke could clear, he sliced a diagonal rift through the air and leapt straight into it.
The Marines scrambled forward, frantically aiming their weapons into the empty air.
"Where'd he go?!"
A portal split the air directly behind one of the soldiers. The troll surged out, striking the officer hard across the jaw with the hilt of his sword before diving into another tear in reality before the others could even swivel their guns.
He materialized behind a second guard, sweeping his legs out and knocking him unconscious. A bullet whizzed past his ear; he ducked beneath it effortlessly, lunging toward the next rifleman.
One by one, in a mesmerizing dance of steel, portals, and precise strikes, the officers were taken down until none were left standing.
The troll surveyed the unconscious squad, then turned toward the hall. Heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor, accompanied by the wailing blare of base-wide klaxons.
"Intruder! Sector Four!"
Carving another portal into the air, he stepped through, reappearing instantly on the cold roof above.
A massive searchlight beam swept across the roof, pinning him in its blinding white glow. Down in the courtyard below, dozens of Marines lined the battlements, raising their rifles.
“FIRE!” a commander bellowed.
A hail of gunfire chewed through the roof tiles as the troll sprinted across the ledge, lead streaking past his cowl. High on an adjacent watchtower, a Marine sniper adjusted his scope, leading the target's movement and slowly squeezing his trigger.
Just as the sniper fired, the troll dropped into a freshly carved portal. The bullet punched harmlessly through empty air.
“Dang it!” the sniper muttered, slamming his fist against the railing. He yanked up his radio. “Commander, I lost him! He vanished!”
The base commander clenched his jaw, his face contorting in fury as he turned to his subordinates. "Search every square inch of this island! We cannot let him escape!"
"Sir!" The squad saluted and scattered in all directions.
~
About a mile off the coast of the Marine base, a small, dark-hulled ship floated silently on the calm water, its sails completely furled. The night was still, the gentle ocean waves reflecting the distant, chaotic lights of the frantic military base.
A portal torn out of thin air opened six feet above the main deck.
The hooded troll dropped through, landing hard against the wooden planks. He steadied himself, cast a fleeting glance back toward the glowing shore, and hurried to the rigging.
Working with swift, practiced efficiency, he untied the heavy ropes and hauled on the lines. The main canvas dropped and unfurled, catching the night breeze with a soft snap. Once the lines were secured, he mounted the quarterdeck and gripped the heavy wooden helm.
He turned the wheel sharp to starboard. The vessel glided smoothly through the black water, putting distance between itself and the island. Behind him, the panicked wail of the base alarms gradually faded into the quiet hum of the sea.
~
Back at the base, chaos reigned. Marines rushed through the corridors, tearing open storerooms and sweeping every courtyard.
“Sir,” an officer panted, running up to the commander and delivering a crisp salute. “We’ve searched the entire compound. There’s no sign of the intruder.”
The commander growled in frustration, waving the soldier off.
“Sir!” another officer called out, hurrying over with a crumpled piece of paper in his hand. “You need to see this. It came in on the morning dispatch.”
The commander snatched the paper and smoothed it out. It was a World Government wanted poster. His eyes widened as he recognized the hooded portrait.
Beneath the image, the staggering bounty was printed in bold black ink: 1,500,000 COINS.
“It can’t be...” the commander whispered, reading the name beneath the hood.
The Treasurer.
~
Out on the open water, the troll glanced back over his shoulder. The Marine base was little more than a spearing pinprick of light on the dark horizon.
Letting out a tired sigh, he stepped away from the helm. Reaching inside his dark coat, he pulled out a weathered parchment map and spread it across an upturned wooden crate.
Several key locations across the Grand Blue were marked with red ink. The vast majority of them had already been aggressively struck through.
He studied the few remaining marks, then pulled a thick marker from his belt and drew a heavy line straight through the Marine base he had just escaped.
For a long moment, he simply stared at the final, uncrossed location on the map. Beneath the deep shadow of his hood, his expression was impossible to read.
“All right, then,” he murmured softly.
He folded the map, tucked it safely back into his coat, and returned to the wheel. Setting his course, he guided the ship toward his final destination, the sails billowing as the vessel cut through the midnight waves.
~
A few days later, at a quiet, rural Marine base bordering a peaceful coastal village, daily life moved at a much slower pace.
Branch was hauling heavy wooden supply crates across the courtyard when another Marine called out to him from the doorway.
“Branch! Captain Sky wants to see you in his office right away!”
“On my way!” Branch called back. He carefully set the crate down, wiped the sweat from his brow, and headed inside.
Reaching the captain’s office, he adjusted his uniform and knocked firmly on the dark wood door.
“Come in,” a voice called from within.
Branch opened the door and stepped inside. Behind a large wooden desk sat a polished, golden-glitter troll, looking up from a thick stack of service records.
“You wanted to see me, sir?” Branch asked, coming to attention with his hands clasped behind his back.
“Good evening, Lieutenant Branch,” Captain Sky said, pulling a specific folder from the pile. “I called you in to discuss your service record with the Marines.”
“Is there a problem, sir?”
Sky leafed through the pages. “According to your file, you’ve served for three full years and carried out every duty diligently. You also graduated at the absolute top of your class at the academy.”
“Yes, sir. But if you don’t mind me asking... what is this regarding?”
Sky set the file down and folded his hands over the desk. “Listen to me, Branch. The higher-ups have been keeping an eye on you for a long time.”
Branch’s eyebrows raised slightly in uncertainty.
“Your grandmother was one of the most revered officers in this force,” Sky continued, his voice softening with respect. “Vice Admiral Rosiepuff was a legendary figure and one of the absolute strongest officers of her generation.”
Branch took a quiet, measured breath at the mention of his grandmother's name, his chest tightening slightly.
“We see that same extraordinary potential in you,” Sky said, leaning forward. “We believe you have what it takes to become someone truly great.”
Branch stared at him, still thoroughly perplexed.
Sky leaned back in his chair, a warm smile spreading across his face. “I spoke with Admiral Peppy directly regarding your station. After reviewing your exemplary performance, we have officially decided to promote you to the rank of Commander.”
Branch froze, staring at his captain in absolute shock. “R-really, sir?”
Sky nodded proudly.
“Thank you, sir! I won’t let you down—I swear it!” Branch said, bowing his head deeply.
“I know you won’t, kid,” Sky smiled. “Keep up this level of dedication, and you’ll reach the rank of Captain before you know it.”
Sky stood up and extended his hand across the desk.
Branch’s eyes widened. Captain. Reaching the rank of Captain meant an officer was officially granted a Relic—a powerful artifact awarded only to elite officers in recognition of exceptional service.
“Thank you, sir. I’ll make you proud,” Branch said earnestly, shaking Sky’s hand with a firm grip.
Sky chuckled, dismissed him with a nod, and returned to his paperwork. Branch rendered a sharp salute, turned on his heel, and exited the office.
The moment the door clicked shut behind him, Branch stood frozen in the hallway, trying to digest what had just transpired. A wave of giddy excitement surged through him, and he had to fight to suppress a massive grin. Taking a few deep breaths to compose himself, he adjusted his uniform and strode down the hall, his heart light.
~
Branch was heading back toward the courtyard when a familiar voice echoed down the hall.
“BRANNNCH!”
Before he could react, a bright pink blur slammed into him, wrapping her arms around his middle and squeezing the wind right out of his lungs.
“P-Poppy... can’t... breathe...” Branch wheezed.
They had been inseparable since their days at the academy. At first, Branch had found her relentless chatter and bubbly demeanor utterly exhausting, assuming she had only been admitted because her father was an Admiral. But after one particularly heated argument, Branch had learned the truth: Admiral Peppy hadn't wanted his daughter anywhere near the Marines. Poppy had fought tooth and nail to earn her spot purely through skill and sheer stubborn willpower.
Over time, her endless optimism had chipped away at his stoic exterior. Eventually, they had pulled every string available to ensure they were stationed at the exact same base.
Poppy finally released her vice-like grip, stepping back and leaning in close, her big eyes practically sparkling. “Is it true?! I was walking by the administrative wing and overheard some officers talking, and I just had to know—”
“Poppy, breathe,” Branch chuckled.
She clamped her mouth shut, taking a deep, dramatic gulp of air. “Right! Sorry! I got excited! Is it true?!”
Branch couldn't suppress his grin any longer. “Yeah. I was just promoted to Commander.”
Poppy squealed in delight and threw her arms around him again, hugging him tightly. “I am so proud of you, Branch! That’s incredible!”
Releasing him, she suddenly gasped. “We have to tell everyone right now! Come on!”
She grabbed his wrist and began dragging him down the corridor.
“Is that any way to treat your commanding officer?” Branch teased, his cheeks flushing slightly as he looked down at her hand wrapped around his.
“Oh, please! Superior officer or not, you’ll always be my best friend,” she shot back, tugging him right into the base cafeteria.
The mess hall was packed with off-duty Marines eating lunch. Poppy scanned the crowded tables, spotted a familiar group, and waved frantically. “Guys! Over here!”
Branch followed her over to the table. Surrounding it were their closest friends from their academy days: Smidge, Biggie, Guy Diamond, Satin, Chenille, and DJ Suki.
“Hey, what took you two so long?” Guy asked as Branch and Poppy slid into the booth.
“Blame him! You know how hard it is to track him down when he’s working,” Poppy teased, nudging Branch’s shoulder.
Branch rolled his eyes affectionately.
“So, Poppy was dropping hints that you got big news,” Smidge said, crossing her arms and looking up at Branch. “Did you actually get promoted to Commander?”
“Yeah,” Branch nodded modestly. “It’s official.”
The entire table erupted into cheers, drawing glances from nearby officers.
“That’s amazing, Branch!” Biggie beamed. “You always were the most talented out of all of us.”
“Totally,” DJ chimed in, tossing an apple in the air. “You were easily top of the class—especially compared to those two.” She pointed her thumb playfully at Satin and Chenille.
Both sisters gasped in unison, placing hands over their chests in mock offense.
“Excuse you! Do you have any idea how much work goes into keeping hair this fabulous during combat drills?” Satin scoffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder.
“Literally hours!” Chenille added, proudly fluffing her hair alongside her sister.
The table burst into laughter.
“My, my. What an impressive little achievement.”
The laughter died down instantly. Branch’s smile vanished, replaced by a low groan as Creek sauntered over to their table, a smirking smile plastered across his face.
“Though... it’s not quite the rank of Captain, now is it?” Creek observed smoothly, stopping at the head of the table and looking down his nose at Branch.
Creek was, without a doubt, Branch’s absolute least favorite troll in the entire World Government.
He had been in their class at the Marine Academy, but he had graduated months before the rest of them. The early graduation track had originally been offered to Branch due to a shortage of front-line officers, but Branch had turned it down, preferring to finish his full curriculum and master every protocol.
The spot had then fallen to Creek, who had been ranked second in the class.
Ever since, Creek had used his early commission to act superior. It had only grown unbearable when Creek was fast-tracked to Captain early last year.
“Still, nice to see you’ve finally made Commander, Branch,” Creek said, his tone dripping with condescension. “You’ve still got a long way to go if you ever hope to catch up to me, though.”
Branch glared at him, his fists clenching under the table. Creek had spent years trying to eclipse every single one of Branch's achievements, constantly finding ways to diminish his hard work.
“Hey, reaching Commander in three years is a huge deal, Creek,” Biggie spoke up defensively.
“Of course,” Creek smirked, adjusting his coat. “Though I managed the exact same feat in half the time.”
“Only because you got bumped up early,” Smidge snapped, glaring daggers at him. “The Marines offered that early slot to Branch first. He turned it down so he could actually finish his training. You just took his leftovers.”
A collective “Ooooooh!” echoed from the table.
Creek’s smug smirk instantly faltered, his jaw tightening as his pride took a direct hit.
“Alright, everyone, let’s take a breath,” Poppy said quickly, jumping up to intervene before a fight broke out. “We’re all on the same side here.”
Creek swallowed his annoyance, forcing his calm demeanor back into place. “Poppy is right, as usual,” he said smoothly, stepping close and casually resting a heavy arm around her shoulders. “We’re all comrades here. No need to dredge up the past.”
Poppy stiffened, looking thoroughly uncomfortable under his arm as she offered a tight, forced smile.
Branch’s jaw set hard, a low growl threatening to escape his throat as he glared at Creek’s hand.
Creek noticed the look and smirked back, deliberately taking his sweet time before pulling his arm away. “Anyway, I have official Captain business to attend to. Enjoy your lunch, Commander.”
He offered a lazy wave and strolled toward the cafeteria doors.
Branch stared daggers at his back until the doors swung shut. A soft hand laid gently on his shoulder, pulling him out of his anger.
“Hey,” Poppy said softly, sitting back down beside him. “Don’t let him get to you. He only does it because he knows he can get under your skin.”
“Yeah, screw that guy,” Guy Diamond added, slamming his fist on the table. “He knows deep down that if you had taken that early offer, he’d still be sitting at Lieutenant.”
Branch looked around at his friends' supportive faces, his tension slowly melting away. He let out a long breath and offered them a grateful smile. “Thanks, guys.”
“Forget about Creek,” Satin said. “Let’s talk about something actually interesting.”
“Oh! Speaking of interesting...” DJ leaned over the table, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Did any of you hear about the break-in at the Grand Blue base a couple of nights ago?”
“Wait, another one?” Biggie asked, leaning in.
“Yep,” DJ nodded earnestly. “And get this—it wasn't just that base. Word from the dispatch relay is that three different high-security bases have been hit this month alone.”
“Seriously?” Chenille gasped. “How is someone breaking into Government facilities without getting caught?”
“No idea,” DJ said. “He steals in, searches the archives, and vanishes into thin air before the guard units can even surround him. People are saying he’s a rogue pirate with some kind of crazy Relic.”
DJ pulled a folded paper from her vest and spread it across the center of the wooden table.
Everyone leaned in close to read the black lettering stamped across the top:
PIRATE — THE TREASURER
BOUNTY: 1,500,000 COINS
WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE
“Whoa... one point five million?” Smidge whistled softly. “That’s a massive bounty for a solo operator.”
“Yeah,” DJ agreed. “The Marines have had a strike team hunting him for two years, but he’s like a ghost.”
Branch remained silent.
He stared intently down at the wanted poster, his eyes locked on the heavily hooded figure depicted in the charcoal sketch.
An eerie, inexplicable sensation settled in the pit of his stomach.
He looks... familiar.
Branch narrowed his eyes, searching every detail of the sketch. He couldn't see a face beneath the hood, but the stance, the frame, the quiet intensity...
Where have I seen him before?
“Branch?”
Branch blinked, turning to see Poppy watching him with concern. “Is something wrong?”
“No... it’s just...” Branch hesitated, staring down at the parchment one last time before shaking his head. “Nothing. I just thought he looked... never mind. It’s nothing.”
Poppy studied his face for a second, clearly sensing his unease, but she respected his privacy and didn't press him. She turned back to the others as the conversation shifted to evening patrol duties.
Branch joined in, but the dark, hooded face on the poster remained burned into the back of his mind.
~
Later That Night
Branch sat alone on the edge of his bed, staring out his window at the moonlit sky.
The coastal base was still and quiet, save for the faint, rhythmic crashing of waves against the cliffs outside.
But Branch couldn't sleep.
Every time he closed his eyes, the image of 'The Treasurer' flickered across his mind. The feeling of recognition was overwhelming, a phantom memory clawing at the edges of his consciousness.
Who is he? Why do I feel like I know him?
Sighing softly, Branch reached into his uniform pocket and pulled out a worn, slightly faded photograph.
It showed a ten-year-old Branch standing beside Vice Admiral Rosiepuff. She looked imposing yet radiant in her white Marine cape, her arm wrapped lovingly around the young boy, who was grinning brightly at the camera.
Branch traced the edges of the picture, memories of his grandmother filling his chest with a bitter sweetness.
Then, as it always did, his mind drifted further back.
To his brothers.
He lowered the photograph slightly, his eyes clouding over with a familiar ache.
Where were they now? Were they even alive out there in the vast world? Did they ever think about him... or had they moved on, leaving him behind in the past?
His thoughts carried him back to a quiet evening years ago, long before he had joined the academy...
~
A young Branch sat beside his grandmother on the wooden porch of their secluded seaside cabin.
The porch faced the open ocean, painting the sky in deep hues of gold, violet, and crimson as the sun dipped toward the horizon. They swayed gently on a wooden swing, Rosiepuff slowly running her fingers through her grandson's hair.
Branch leaned heavy against her side, watching the colors fade.
“Grandma?” the young boy asked softly.
“Hmm?” Rosiepuff hummed gently, not stopping her rhythmic stroking.
“Do you... do you know what happened to my brothers?”
Rosiepuff’s hand froze.
She slowly turned her gaze down toward him. Branch was staring intently at his small hands, fidgeting with his fingers to avoid her eyes.
“Why do you ask, little one?” she asked softly.
“I don't know. It’s just...” Branch swallowed hard, his voice trembling slightly. “It’s been so long. They haven’t come back. I just... I keep wondering where they went.”
He looked up at her, tears shimmering in his big eyes.
Rosiepuff’s heart ached. “I don't know, my little Peachfuzz,” she admitted gently, wiping a stray tear from his cheek. “I wish I had answers for you. But the world is vast, and they are out there somewhere.”
Branch looked back toward the dark water. “Do you think... do you think they forgot about me?”
“No, sweetheart. Never.” Rosiepuff gently took his chin, lifting his face so he had to look her in the eyes. “They could never forget you.”
“Then why haven't they come back?!” his voice broke, tears finally spilling over.
Rosiepuff bit the inside of her cheek, her own eyes heavy with unspoken sorrow. “Because... navigating the Grand Blue is dangerous, Branch. It’s a terrifying, vast ocean. It takes time to find your way back home.”
She pulled him into a warm, protective hug, resting her chin on his head.
“Listen to me, Peachfuzz. Your brothers love you more than anything in this world. Never, ever doubt that. Okay?”
Branch buried his face in her shoulder, sniffling softly before nodding. “Okay...”
They sat together in silence as the last rays of sunlight vanished beneath the black waves, giving way to a canopy of brilliant, sparkling stars.
~
Branch let out a long, quiet sigh, carefully folding the photograph and sliding it back into his pocket.
He stood up and walked over to the window, gazing out across the quiet Marine compound.
Searchlights lazily swept the perimeter. Everything seemed peaceful.
Then, a sudden flicker of motion caught his eye.
Branch narrowed his eyes, stepping closer to the glass.
High atop the administrative roof, a shadowed figure was moving with unnatural speed. The figure stopped beside a heavily reinforced skylight, reaching into his cloak to pull out a strange, slender blade.
Branch’s breath hitched.
The figure drove the tip of the blade directly into the roof tiles. A shimmering, tear-like crack erupted in the empty air surrounding the steel. The stranger dragged the blade downward, slicing through space itself.
A dark, swirling portal ripped open in midair.
Branch stared in utter disbelief. What in the world...?
The intruder calmly sheathed his weapon and stepped right through the tear. The portal snapped shut, leaving the roof completely untouched.
Branch’s hand instinctively dropped to the walkie-talkie on his belt. His fingers hovered over the emergency broadcast button.
Report it. Call the guard squad right now!
But as his thumb pressed against the plastic button, he froze. A deep, instinctual gut feeling stopped him dead in his tracks.
Branch stared at the device, locked in an agonizing internal battle. Every ounce of his Marine training shouted at him to raise the alarm. But a far stronger, unexplainable force begged him not to.
Groaning silently, he released the radio, leaving it on his desk.
Decided, Branch slipped out of his room, quietly latching the door behind him. Keeping his footsteps light, he navigated the dark corridors, heading straight toward the building where he had seen the intruder disappear.
He rounded a corner near the lower vault, pressed his back firmly against the stone wall, and carefully peeked around the edge.
His breath caught.
Standing in the dim torchlight at the end of the hall was the hooded figure, positioned directly in front of the massive, sealed metal doors of the lower compound.
Branch studied the intruder's silhouette.
The hood. The cloak. The silent, calculated posture.
It was him.
The wanted pirate from the poster. The Treasurer.
Branch watched in stunned silence as the Treasurer pulled a small, rune-etched knife from the hilt of his sword. Raising the blade, he sliced through the ambient air, tearing open another swirling portal directly in front of the reinforced doors.
Without a second's hesitation, the pirate stepped into the rift.
Branch’s mind raced. The portal was already beginning to shrink, the edges of reality sewing themselves back together!
“Wait!” Branch mentally screamed.
Driven by an irresistible impulse he couldn't comprehend, Branch sprinted out from his hiding spot, launched himself down the corridor, and dived headfirst into the closing rift just as it collapsed into nothingness.
Branch tumbled hard onto a cold, polished floor, instantly rolling behind a massive row of tall wooden bookshelves. He pressed his back against the wood, holding his breath, his heart hammering wildly against his ribs.
On the other side of the aisle, the Treasurer paused. He slowly turned his hooded head back toward the empty corner, listening intently to the silence.
After a tense, agonizing moment, the pirate turned back around and continued his quiet stride deeper into the room.
Branch slowly peeked around the side of the shelf, gasping quietly as his eyes adjusted to the vast chamber.
Towering bookshelves lined with ancient, leather-bound ledgers, secure vaults, and top-secret Government dossiers stretched out in every direction.
He knew exactly where he was.
The High-Security Marine Base Archives. A restricted sector reserved exclusively for Captains and Admirals.
Branch stared at the hooded figure browsing through the forbidden records, his mind spinning in utter confusion.
What is a notorious pirate doing in the Navy's private archives?
And as Branch touched the hilt of his sword, a far scarier question echoed in his mind:
...And why on earth did I just follow him inside?
Branch shook off the lingering hesitation and crept down the shadowy aisle, keeping his footsteps as light as air.
He swallowed hard against the dry knot in his throat. Every protocol he had learned at the Marine Academy demanded that he call for backup—that he raise the alarm immediately. Yet, an uncanny, inexplicable force stayed his hand. He simply couldn't bring himself to report the intruder.
Instead, Branch chose to follow.
He carefully peeked around the corner of a massive oak bookcase.
There was the Treasurer.
The mysterious pirate stood beside a towering shelf, his hooded head moving back and forth as he scanned rows of dusty, leather-bound tomes. He pulled one from its resting place, flicking through its pages with practiced speed. Finding nothing, he slid it back into place and moved to the next section.
Branch tailed him from a safe distance, ducking behind heavy mahogany pillars and stacks of archived records.
Section by section, the Treasurer searched with desperate precision. Branch’s mind raced as he watched him. What could he possibly be looking for? What could be so valuable in this specific base that a rogue pirate would risk breaking into a World Government facility for it?
The Treasurer reached out and pulled another thick tome from a shelf. But before he could open it, he froze.
Something had caught his attention.
He slowly turned his head toward the dark center of the archive vault. Branch followed his gaze.
Standing beneath a soft beam of moonlight filtering through a high grate was a raised stone pedestal. Resting atop it was an enormous, ancient-looking book, bound in weathered leather and locked with an iron clasp.
The Treasurer dropped the book he was holding; it hit the floor with a soft, hollow thud.
He walked toward the pedestal as if drawn by a magnetic pull, his eyes locked entirely on the mysterious volume. Reaching out with trembling fingers, he carefully lifted the heavy book from the stone.
He brushed a layer of dust off the cover. When his eyes landed on the embossed title, they widened in utter shock.
He quickly unlatched the clasp and flipped the book open, his eyes flying across the yellowed pages. A look of overwhelming relief washed across his features.
“...Yes,” he whispered softly, his voice trembling with emotion.
Moving fast, the Treasurer unbuckled his leather satchel, slid the heavy book safely inside, and snapped the flap shut.
Branch watched from the shadows, his breath catching in his chest. That’s it. That’s what he came here for.
Suddenly—
KRRRZZZT!
The walkie-talkie strapped to Branch's chest crackled violently to life.
“Dispatch to all units! We have a reported perimeter breach in Sector Four—”
Branch’s heart leaped into his throat. He immediately slapped his hand over the receiver and switched it off, but the damage was already done.
The static had shattered the quiet of the vault.
The Treasurer whipped around. Through the shadow of his hood, his eyes locked straight onto Branch.
Branch froze.
The two trolls stood dead silent in the vast archive, staring at each other across the dim room. Neither dared to move. Neither dared to breathe.
Then—the Treasurer bolted.
“Hey! Wait!” Branch yelled, abandoning all stealth.
Branch sprinted after him. The two raced through the towering maze of the archives, weaving wildly between massive rows of shelves.
Without breaking stride, the Treasurer launched himself into the air, grabbing the edge of a ten-foot bookcase. With terrifying agility, he hauled himself up and began leaping effortlessly from the top of one shelf to the next, scaling the height of the vault in seconds.
Branch skidded to a halt below, looking up in absolute awe as the hooded troll sprinted across the top of the room.
“Wow...” Branch breathed in spite of himself.
shaking off his amazement, Branch gave chase from below, tracking the shadow leaping over the gaps above him. But as he turned a sharp corner—
The Treasurer was gone.
“What the—?”
Branch skidded around the aisle, scanning the empty floor. Nothing.
Frantically, Branch looked left and right, his heart pounding. Then, the faint scrape of boots echoed above him. Branch looked straight up, his eyes widening. The Treasurer was already halfway across the high ceiling shelves, making a straight line for the archive’s high exit balcony!
Branch sprinted after him, but deep down, he knew the truth: he was on the ground, and the pirate was too fast. He would never catch him in time.
Desperately, Branch looked around at the narrow aisles and the towering, top-heavy bookcases.
An insane idea sparked in his head.
Branch veered off course, slammed his shoulder against the side of a massive, double-wide bookshelf, and dug his boots into the floor.
“Come on...!” he growled, pushing with every ounce of muscle in his body.
The heavy wooden structure groaned, slowly tilting off its center of gravity. Branch gave one final, desperate shove.
CRASH!
The massive shelf toppled over, slamming directly into the bookcase beside it.
The second shelf crashed into a third. Then a fourth.
A catastrophic domino effect erupted through the archive. One by one, towering shelves crashed down in a thunderous roar, sending thousands of ancient books, scrolls, and papers flying into the air like a blizzard.
The chain reaction ripped through the room until it caught up to the Treasurer.
The pirate was mid-leap when the shelf he targeted swayed violently beneath him.
“Whoa!”
He landed awkwardly just as a falling shelf slammed straight into his footing.
BOOM!
The structure collapsed beneath him. The Treasurer went flying, tumbling through the air amidst a shower of heavy wood and flying pages before crashing hard onto the stone floor below.
He groaned, rolling across the floor as the avalanche of books settled. During the chaotic fall, his satchel slipped from his shoulder, spinning out of his grip and disappearing beneath the rubble.
Dazed, the Treasurer slowly pushed himself up on his elbows. He shook his head, wincing, and reached for his side.
Empty.
His eyes widened in panic. “What...?”
He frantically began digging through the mountain of fallen books, tossing heavy volumes aside. “Where is it?! Where—!”
Before he could find it, a heavy weight slammed straight into his back.
“STAY DOWN!” Branch yelled, pinning the pirate flat against the cold stone.
Branch pinned his arms, shouting standard protocol: “As an officer of the World Government Marines, I hereby arrest you for—”
Before Branch could finish the sentence, the Treasurer bucked his hips and slammed his elbow back into Branch's face.
Branch stumbled backward, wiping blood from his lip as the pirate scrambled back onto his feet to run.
“Not so fast!”
Branch lunged, grabbing the troll by the ankle and yanking with all his strength. The Treasurer crashed face-first onto the floor. Branch immediately threw his weight over him, wrestling him down as they rolled across the paper-strewn floor.
“Just give up!” Branch grunted, trying to secure his wrists.
The Treasurer planted his palm, brought his knee up, and drove his fist hard into Branch’s stomach.
“Ugh!”
The air exploded from Branch’s lungs. He recoiled, doubling over in pain.
The Treasurer seized the opening instantly. Planting his foot squarely against Branch's chest, he kicked out with ferocious power. Branch went flying backward, crashing hard onto his back.
In a flash, the Treasurer was on top of him.
A faint metallic shing rang out as he drew his small, rune-engraved knife, pressing the razor-sharp edge directly against Branch's throat.
Branch froze, his eyes wide, his chest heaving as the cold steel bit lightly into his skin.
The Treasurer glared down at him through the shadow of his hood, his grip tight on the hilt.
During the violent struggle, Branch’s Marine officer cap had been knocked off, leaving his blue hair messily scattered and his face completely exposed in the dim light.
The Treasurer pressed the blade a fraction closer. Branch winced, bracing himself for the worst.
But then... the knife stopped.
The Treasurer’s harsh posture melted away. The fierce glare behind the hood vanished, replaced by an expression of utter, breathless shock.
He stared intently down at Branch’s face, his eyes tracing every feature—the jawline, the eyes, the sharp navy hair.
The knife slowly drifted away from Branch’s neck.
“...Branch?” the pirate whispered, his voice trembling.
Branch’s eyes widened in sheer astonishment.
The voice. That voice. It hit something buried deep within his memory, a distant echo from a life he thought he had lost.
“How... how do you know my—”
WEE-OOO! WEE-OOO! WEE-OOO!
The base alarms exploded throughout the facility, deafeningly loud. Red emergency lights began flashing down the corridor, accompanied by the heavy, rhythmic thundering of dozens of Marine boots rushing toward the archive doors.
Both trolls snapped their heads toward the entrance.
The Treasurer looked back down at Branch. Branch stared back up at him, completely frozen, his mind spinning in a sea of confusion.
For a long, agonizing second, neither of them said a word.
Slowly, the Treasurer pushed himself up to his feet. Branch sat up, his eyes never leaving the hooded figure.
The Treasurer cast one final, unreadable look down at Branch. Then, without a word, he flicked his small blade through the air.
Space tore open. A swirling portal expanded in the dark room.
Branch opened his mouth to say something—anything—but the words caught in his throat. He knows my name... How does a wanted pirate know my name?!
The Treasurer stepped through the tear, and the portal snapped shut, leaving behind absolute silence.
Branch remained on the floor, staring blankly at the empty air where the pirate had been standing just seconds ago. His mind was an absolute storm of chaotic thoughts.
As he sat there in the flashing red lights, a glint of leather caught his eye beneath a pile of scattered books near the collapsed shelves.
Wincing from his bruises, Branch pushed himself up and walked over to the rubble. He reached down and pulled the object free.
It was the dark leather satchel. The Treasurer had lost it in the crash.
Branch held the bag in his hands, feeling the heavy, ancient book resting inside it. He turned back toward the spot where the portal had vanished, his heart hammering against his ribs.
Who was that troll?
And how... how did he know who I was?
Branch tightened his grip around the satchel, clutching it tightly to his chest as heavy footsteps pounded right outside the archive doors.
Whatever was inside this bag... was the only clue he had to the truth.