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Chapter Text

Introduction

It seems like only yesterday that a crew of dangerous scoundrels were sailing down the Grand Line in search of the greatest secret left to us by Pounce D. Leon , the greatest explorer the known world had ever seen.

It seems like only yesterday that the Marines and the World Government was hunting us down. We, judged as the scourge that haunted these seas by those who abused their power and status, by those for whom human life was worth less than zero, by those willing to go to any means to keep their asses warm on the thrones of Mary Geoise

Yeah...I know what you are thinking-quite a paradox, you will say. But for people like us, this was the simplest and purest normality. Yet, we didn't give up, if only in defiance those who had doubted our ability and courage.

It seems like only yesterday that my crew was sowing panic in the New World, earning a nickname that would plow the oceans for eternity, moving from sail to sail, traveling from here to the most boorish dive bar in Catagua, resonating even within the walls of Pangea.

I miss those thugs...Although at first I didn't like them that much, in time they became what I called family, although I already had a family somewhere...With them, I had the greatest adventure of my life, showing those clueless people what we were made of.

With them, I ended up challenging the whole world...

At the time, I never imagined that a single and insignificant gesture, albeit of great magnitude, would end up totally changing the fate of humanity, and to this day, I'm still unable to understand it.

Maybe nothing happens by accident, or maybe I am totally digressing...

Probably all this has given you a big headache; I apologize, but I think it is essential to better understand what is in front of you.

Yes, because the eyes are what can separate the fake from the legend, for those who are able to do so, of course.

However, we must go back to the beginning, to the moment when the event horizon began to weave the subtle webs of fate. But I am still digressing...

So, you may be wondering who I am and what I am talking about. Don't worry; you will soon find out. What I can assure you is that from now on, nothing will ever be the same.

But for now, take your seats and get ready to set sail, for you will experience an adventure like none you have ever seen.

Chapter Text

Prologue

'I didn't even tell half of what I saw, because I knew no one would believe me.'

(Pounce D. Leon)

The New World, twenty-five years earlier...

« Come on men, show Captain Thew here why we will be the ones to land on the island! Unsheathe your sabers and fire your guns. Today we will sell our Skins dearly! »

A shout of incitement rising from the deck of one of the most famous ships that had sailed the Grand Line, the Santiago, overpowered the hustle and bustle of the pirates doing battle and the explosions of cannon fire from the enemy vessel that punctually damaged its stern.

Standing on it, a rather tall man dressed in lavishly cut clothing pulled a peculiarly shaped blade from his belt, preparing to face the last obstacle that stood between him and his lifelong goal.

The sun shone high in the sky, and the wind began to blow more and more wildly, bringing the fury of battle to the distant shores. The man advanced slowly. The curly blond hair he wore tied back with a leather lace, the thick mustache and the striking blue eyes gave him a proud and resolute air. A broad hat topped with a black feather from a West Blue bird covered his head. The man was none other than Pounce D. Leon, one of the greatest leaders and explorers of the era.  He who was nicknamed by his own enemies as  "The Storm."

He had come so far after traversing impassable obstacles along the route that would lead him to one of the most sensational discoveries of his career, and he was firmly convinced that the secret to obtaining it was hidden on one of the last islands of the New World, Diatidur.

However, it seemed that his rival, the infamous pirate captain Richard Thew, had come to the same conclusion as him, the reason for his presence in that godforsaken place, and now, both were vying for access to a treasure that existed only in myths,or at least this was what everyone believed.

«Are you ready, Richard?...» the man asked, getting from the other, an individual equal in size to his own, with long blackish hair and wrapped in a purple coat, a simple nod in response.

The clang of steel and the smell of gunpowder replaced the palpable tension between the two warriors, exploding into a blinding glare that prevented their crews from observing what captains were up to.

«...Because I'm coming. Eternal Slash! » burst out the same in the midst of the dense mist, bursting out of it with impressive speed, as his sword, imbued with a reddish aura, collided with his opponent's katana, also followed by a darker wake, producing a shockwave of extraordinary power and intensity that spread across the entire stretch of sea.

It was as if the sky was about to split in two...

A few hours later, the battle now seemed to be over, and judging by those who were making their way through the dense vegetation of Diatidur, it was now clear that at last the great Pounce D. Leon had finally put an end to the long rivalry that had pitted him against Thew.

A hellish heat permeated the surroundings, and an unreal silence enveloped it in a tight grip, giving the impression that it was uninhabited.No sound could be heard, almost as if the whole world was holding its breath.

«My goodness, Captain, we are finally here! » exclaimed Nogitsu, one of Leon's crew members and a renowned cook.

A humanoid, bipedal creature with the features of a red fox and of rather considerable stature, especially compared to that of most of the group. A mighty crimson tail seemed to spill out of elegant, opulent purple pants, and on its head, thick fur of the same hue took on a hair-like form, which it wore gathered and tied by a thick golden pigtail. Sharp teeth gleamed irradiated by the sunlight, as did ravenous, reddish eyes capable of putting even the most reckless rogue in awe. It belonged to a warrior race feared and respected throughout the Grand Line, the "Mink.

« So it would seem» replied the man, suddenly assuming a serious expression. « Nevertheless, we shouldn't sing victory too soon. I have a feeling that from here on the situation may only get worse»

« What should we be afraid of? » The helmsman intervened. A fishman of the basking shark type known as 'BlueJones' gaped wide and toothy jaws as if awakening from a long sleep. It, too, wore sumptuous clothes like the crew to which it belonged, with the only exception of peculiar rips present in several places in its clothing, probably due to the skirmishes in which it itself had participated  « We have defeated the 'Purpure Demon' and his dastardly crew of freebooters. If anyone dares to question our strength, let him come forward »

«Then we'd better get a move on. Start by going first, you fatty»

Speaking this time was Leon's first officer, an imposing man, far more than the Mink or anyone else who had ever sailed with the intrepid explorer, rather muscular and with a thick crimson beard, named Gwyar Zelgius. He, during his years of service aboard the Santiago, had earned the nickname 'The Bloody One,' something that matched perfectly with his fierce and warlike disposition, although among those who had tasted his proverbial impetuosity he was known simply as "Redbeard."

The aquatic creature squared its companion defiantly, slowly approaching and parrying itself in front of the energetic man who towered over it by at least thirteen good spans, snarling as if it had succumbed for a moment to its wild, animalistic side. Of course, there hadn't exactly been good blood between those two since time immemorial, that much was now known to all.

There were even those who alluded to old rust that had never died down, like embers still smoldering and ready to ignite at the slightest spark. Or those who believed that the big guy was an intolerable racist toward those who didn't in any way belong to the race of human beings.

As always, the truth could also have been in the middle. What was practically certain was how blindly Leon trusted him, so much so that he left him in charge of the group in the unfortunate event that he himself found death. No small burden for a guy like him.

« So what are your orders, captain? »  The group navigator asked, nipping in the bud the mini-litigation that was soon to ensue between the two. A girl with short, wavy peach-colored hair continued to check the Log Pose placed on her arm.

Her name was Ana Jacques, but to most, she was simply known as 'Lily of the Sea'. Like her own companions, she sported elegant and refined clothes. A white shirt embellished with gold gems wrapped her slender physique, two-tone pants in shades of black and white tucked into rather worn charcoal-colored boots, and a thin, elaborate jacket with gold inlays completed the look.

«My unerring instinct says to continue along the path, we will soon have information on how to reach our destination»  the man said, hinting at a faint smile, as if he had the slightest idea of what awaited him ahead. Although at times he did not always have the answer to everything, Pounce was endowed with an exceptional charisma, so portentous that his men would follow him to the ends of the earth.

« I have the distinct feeling that you are omitting something, captain »asserted Gwyar, holstering his own saber and crossing his arms over his chest, accompanying the words with vigorous head movements.  «And as if you already know what we will find once we reach our destination.»

« Patience, man of little faith » Leon replied placidly,  « I can assure you that once we get there. We will enter history, for better or worse »

The crew clustered around and it turned quizzical expressions to him, strangled by such statements and such confidence. Gwayr in primis remained rather confused by the words addressed to him. What could his captain possibly have meant? Although Leon was an enigmatic and eclectic man, he had to admit how cryptic and secretive the explorer had become lately. Could he be hiding something from him?

« You heard men? On the march! » The navigator ordered them, putting herself at the head of the group and leading them as they passed through a section of putrid, foul-smelling jungle. It seemed to Ana that they were breathing instead of air, a gaseous, thick substance.

In the dazzling green glow that surrounded them, huge and unfamiliar plants appeared. From the branches of the trees hung lianas resembling long tentacles, which intertwined and gave the impression of moving as they passed. The group turned their heads to the right and left, just to spot any dangers and be ready for any eventuality, feeling themselves brushed by the intricate swirls, as if they wanted to hold and imprison them among their tangles.

Suddenly they heard a mighty roar echoing throughout the jungle, rumbling through the multitude of branches and leaves, which brought the company to a sudden halt.

«What the hell was that?»  asked the intimidated sniper William Kahn. A tall, slender man with thick silver hair was topped with a black tricorn and wrapped in clothing of the same color. On his neck, he wore a black bandana, which he liked to lift up to his mouth in an attempt to cover it.

No one knew why he made this singular choice, although the rest of the crew didn't really care all that much. He had unparalleled skill with whatever came into his hands, whether he had to throw it or point it at the target, which was why he was known by the nickname 'Lynx Eyes.' However, although he was a bold and valiant warrior, he was certainly not the type to throw himself blindly or not carefully assess the situation he was in.

And such caution was proof that that sound didn't portend anything good or harmless. They wouldn't even have a chance to face it, given their being rather battle-tested from the previous battle.

«You would say a very large creature»  pointed out Santiago's musician, the exuberant Jared Del Rey  «Come on, let's get away»

He wore a long charcoal-colored coat with sleeves rolled up to the elbow, a red turtleneck shirt, and black pants tucked into leather breeches. A black bowler hat with a crimson sash lay on his head, and suede-colored gloves covered his hands.

Although he was smaller in stature than the rest of the men in the crew, he possessed unparalleled wisdom and punctually he himself represented one of the few who could reason with the captain when he intestardivated about something, although most of the time it proved impossible.

By virtue of what the comrade had told them, the band turned eastward, continuing on their way, although some were beginning to show the first signs of distress. The humid air glued their clothes to their skin and made it difficult to breathe; it felt as thick as vapor. They proceeded straight and silent amid the strong smell emanating from the ground and rotting leaves.

In the sky, the sun shimmered more intensely than it had done so far, throwing its warm rays mercilessly through the foliage, making the environment stifling and the weather hot.

After what seemed like interminable hours,the end of their journey led them to a breathtaking clearing, where a waterfall sprung from a fissure in the rocks, creating a serene lake adorned with plants of various shapes and colors.

Ana gasped at the sight of something truly unusual: statues that seemed to be thousands of years old and adorned with sapphire-colored stone and cubic stelae carved in a particular type of stone placed on either side of them, something they themselves had had occasion to observe other times during their countless travels, although this seemed totally unlike anything else.

«The devil take me» mumbled the captain. A sentence that came out of his mouth like a thin puff of smoke.

What subsequently transpired before their eyes was such that it left them all open-mouthed, and with an expression of horror and fear etched on their faces...

A few hours later...

«Captain, we must leave now!» shouted 'Ziggy,' pointing to the Marines ships in the distance. It was the crew's carpenter, the one responsible for always providing proper care and repairs for the one who had the delicate task of weathering the seas and escorting Leon and his crew to their destination, namely the Santiago.

Ziggy was a fish man of the Pterois Volitans type, commonly known as the Lionfish. A spike-covered creature that outnumbered the fellow sniper by at least two feet and wore only a pair of exquisitely crafted olive pants.

The ships came closer and closer to the coast. They had probably been sent to flush out the man who had earned the title 'King of the Explorers,' although they secretly hoped to capture him for the purpose of making him reveal what he had actually discovered.

On the other hand, Leon was well aware that the World Government branded those capable of shedding light on the world's mysteries as dangerous criminals and tried in every way to make them disappear from the face of the planet, a warning to dissuade anyone who would attempt to follow in their footsteps and who thus had the audacity to challenge the authority they represented.

The captain didn't move an inch, unsheathing his sabre and passing his gaze over the faces of his comrades, who were disturbed by such a gesture.

«Go, I will take care of stopping them»  announced the man proudly, and this time the expressions of the crew turned to pure disgust as they realized what their leader really meant.

« But have you completely lost your mind? »  blurted out Ana incredulously,  « How do you think we could ever agree to such a request? Besides, why would you want to sacrifice yourselves when we should simply cut and run? »

« Because once they disembark, they will focus their attention on me, and that will give you time to make the rounds and get to safety »  replied the captain, exchanging a fleeting glance with the ship's doctor, a tall, slender Puma-type mink named Abbas.

« I still don't understand such a choice »  cried Nogitsu with tears in his eyes. He would never abandon his own captain, even if he were on the verge of succumbing.

« And you don't need to do that »  he retorted brusquely  « Stop questioning; orders and run along »

« At least reveal to us the reason behind this decision »  insisted the navigator. The idea of letting the Navy take her captain seemed not to sit well with her at all.

The man looked at his own crew again, huffing stymiedly as if they should have already known what he was going to tell them  « You should know by now that I am not the type to walk away from a fight and run like a rabbit, not when the safety of my crew is at stake, not when I can gain valuable time »

They squared him questioningly, it really seemed that he had not convinced them in the least. Abbas looked distressed at the gravelly ground below him, as if he knew what was going on in his friend's head.

« Come on, don't make those faces, you know how I am, I would rather die in  a thousand times in a glorious battle than live another thousand days as a coward »  Leon continued, and a sincere smile appeared on his face  « Now all I ask is that you leave this island immediately and never return. In fact »  he seemed to stop suddenly, as if he were thinking about something.  « Hide all traces of our journey and how we got here. No one must find it, not even the damned Marine. At least until the propitious moment arrives. Promise me »

A murmur of assent rose high in the azalea-colored sky, ready for the greatest battle the world had seen

« Captain »  the first officer addressed him incredulously,  « What are you referring to? »

« Well...my dear Gwyar, one day not very far away, will come someone truly worthy of inheriting my will, someone who will take charge of the history that lies buried in the centuries, someone who will know how to use sparingly the frightening power they will derive from it. And on that day, the whole world will be completely shaken—something not even the World Government will be able to prevent. A frightening war that will involve all kingdoms and restore the Earth to its former glory. Too bad we can't witness it...»

«Captain, I will not abandon you for anything in the world. I intend to fight by your side to the end» Ziggy declared as it flanked him and began twirling the war fork it wielded menacingly.

« Captain! »  called him to the one known as 'Harmonica' but who, to his comrades, was simply Jared, causing him to turn away  « Of all the wackiest and most suicidal ideas you could ever have over the course of your career, this one beats them all. It's the most disturbing thing, and the thing that scares me the most is how convinced you seem to be about this. You are drunk, aren't you? »

« Knock it off, you two » retorted the man again, « Don't start that again! I think I've already explained it to you, and I'm not going to justify my actions in front of you. Understood? What I will repeat to you once again is how much I have faith in fate—just that »

«This is all very moving and poetic. But exactly, why would this mysterious guy get involved in things bigger than himself, and what would it have to do with us or the rest?»  asked impassively a woman of medium height and long, silky, honey-colored hair, enhanced even more by two emerald-green eyes set in a beautiful yet so cold face.

She wore a seemingly simple but striking dress: aquamarine-colored, uncovered at the front, sharply highlighting her delicate, voluminous form, long balloon sleeves embellished with crimson-colored feathers, and ending long downward at the height of her leather boots. A kind of wide, silver belt protected her pelvis, thus acting as a comfortable armor.

The identity of the woman endowed with such rare charm corresponded to Thalia Lindsey, the crew's archaeologist and a key resource in uncovering the arcane secrets of the ancient world.

«This is not something that can be figured out so offhand, even for an extremely smart one like you»  reiterated the blonde again, « However, I feel that this is not the right question you should be asking; what you should be asking is how he, whoever he is, could arrive on this island when not even log poses or maps seem to indicate his presence. True, Thew succeeded in the feat only after he stole and succeeded in deciphering the final clue, and the Marine may have followed us after our departure from Misty Cay, taking advantage of the archipelago's peculiar weather conditions to hide undisturbed. »

« Those rotters! »  exclaimed Blue Jones, clenching his fist tightly  « They would like to shut our mouths to prevent their shady purposes from ending at any moment. We, who could free the minds of the weak and helpless »

«It has never been our job to do that, Jonesy,»  Leon replied stingily. «That is a job for others to do. Now, I will do everything in my power to prevent those ruffians from going any further. Nevertheless, Thalia, I am aware that my answer failed to satisfy you adequately, but you must have faith in me and in the future. By now, we know that there is only one way to get here, and that is to follow the particular clues that the precursors have left us scattered around the globe, and that requires a certain amount of skill and quite a few other skills, something that only two percent of the population possesses. That should be enough to test who, will be worthy of following in my footsteps, don't you think?»

The archaeologist was dumbfounded for a moment. Indeed, they had come to that place only after countless vicissitudes, and had it not been for her special skill or the captain's guidance, they would hardly have ever wandered that idyllic golden sand beach framed by rocky cliffs and the turquoise waters of the bay.

«Yes...but captain...»  continued the fox mink, who had now become a walking fountain  «I refuse to abandon you»

«My friends»  added the man, approaching and hugging one by one those who for a very long time had been his only family  «We have lived through moments I will never forget, and I myself thank you for following me on my adventures, although several times, I have involved you in missions where your very lives were at stake, and for that I apologize immensely»

« Don't even joke about it, captain »  William replied seriously, almost as if resenting his words  « It has been a real honor to fight alongside you, even if I don't agree with all this, but the choice is yours and you are still the captain »

« I thank you for your understanding, William »  he told him and continued,  « Now, we are in the final acts, and our paths must sadly part, for something greater than ourselves is now on the horizon. However tortuous and full of pitfalls our path has been, the time will come when the weight of fate will once again rest on your shoulders. So while waiting for that day to come, treasure what I have told you, and taught you and live your lives intensely. I will always be with you. And now hurry, flee! »  shouted the leader.

Around him was created like a vortex of air, and its blade sprouted crimson thunderbolts. The fury of the storm was now near, and nothing would be able to stop it, not even the Marines.

After saying goodbye to their leader, the group quickly turned away from what would become a total massacre, running for the Santiago and safety.

When they were far enough away, the man raised his blade, and a thirty-two-toothed smile appeared on his face.

« "Know that I will not die in vain...I will not die, comrades!" »

Chapter Text

Chapter I

Today, Shelldows Islands, New World...

The Grand Line, an immense expanse of crystal-clear water that stretched for miles and miles, coloring itself in a thousand different shades ranging from blue to green, so boundless that it was difficult to tell where it ended and the sky then began. Another indecipherable mystery in this vast and unexplored world.

A large, armored Marine vessel was plying the waves of the second half of the New World in an easterly direction, skirting the islands of Shelldows. It was swaying and gasping as never before, at the mercy of the peculiar and bizarre weather in this part of the world. Clouds hung low in the skies, only a few dozen meters from the sea, and a furious wind mixed with snow swept the deck far and wide, foreshadowing how it was ready to pour out its irrepressible fury on the unsuspecting unfortunate.

Overlooking the ship's rail, a man with short, brown hair combed to the side and dark eyes that revealed nothing watched the frightening typhoon looming on the horizon. He was slender and tall, with a long white coat fitted with gold ornaments slung over his shoulders, a smart shirt of the same color, and a pair of reddish pants.

«Looks like someone didn't sleep a wink tonight, am I right?» asked a deep voice behind him, and the young man didn't need to turn around to see who it belonged to.

«I don't know Doc, you tell me» he replied with obvious sarcasm, and in response, the other advanced a few steps in his direction. It was a man of medium height and with an extravagant gray mustache, wrapped in a smart pearl-colored suit.

His identity matched that of Edward White, a renowned physician and scientist in the World Government. An individual of rare intelligence and always ready to lend a helping hand should the need arise.

The brown-haired guy lowered his face, beginning to fiddle nervously with a golden pendant that hung from the chain around his neck.

«It all seems clearer to me now» continued the old man flanking him. «I guess the source of all your worries is that strange trinket you keep fiddling with, am I wrong, perhaps?» He asked, pointing to the object swinging left and right.

«With all due respect, Doc» replied the guy coldly, turning his gaze outward, where the hurricane continued to rage and lightning and thunderbolts ripped through the sky, «But this is none of your business»

«I apologize for my thoughtlessness, Vice Admiral» he said, with his usual courteous voice «It wasn't my intention to pry into your affairs» concluded the elderly man, making a small bow.

«There is nothing for you to worry about» The young man tried to reassure him «Everything is all right»

« I don't doubt that. However, if I may permit myself, I would like to expound on a small consideration of mine »

«I'm listening» replied the guy, who was curious to find out where the old scientist was going with this.

« Soon we will face serious changes that will threaten the delicate balance we have built with sufficient patience and effort. Soon, an unprecedented crisis will upset the entire planet. Demons are now at our doorstep, and only a genuine miracle could foil the ominous fate that awaits us. And on that dark day, all of us will be placed before a terrible choice. You, first and foremost, will have to face your past, and nothing could save you from carrying such a burden»

«Come on, don't you think you're being too apocalyptic, Doc?» The young man asked with a smirk, continuing to stare at the lightning-lit cliffs that took on shapes that were frightening, to say the least. It was as if that delicate corner of Paradise had been imbued with a strange and evil aura and had come to life, becoming something very much like a hideous creature. «What makes you think this is a plausible scenario?»

«We have already had the opportunity to observe clear premonitory signs that would irrefutably confirm what I have just told you» resumed the scholar undaunted. «Besides...you may be as skeptical as you like, but in your heart, you know how correct I am»

«You're a scientist, for heaven's sake!» blurted out the young man, turning to face him, losing for a single moment the classic calm and flamboyance that distinguished him, «You're supposed to be an educated man who doesn't pay attention to such cheap nonsense like a common oaf would. These aren't subjects for you. It is the task of the Admirals and the Fleet Admiral. You should try to stick to what you do best and use your knowledge for the greater good, no more and no less. It is because of this and because of your amazing abilities that you are under the command of the World Government and not with a noose around your neck. Have I made myself sufficiently clear, Mr. White?»

The man nodded despondently as if at that moment he wanted to mingle with the froth of the waves rather than continue to bear the Vice Admiral's wrath. In the meantime, the violent storm swallowed one of the nearby islands in one go, raising great waves that slammed into the armored vessel with extraordinary power. Even larger thunderbolts than the previous ones ripped through the sky, followed almost immediately by terrible roars of thunder, with no echoes as the world was largely choked with rain.

«Now if you don't mind, I would appreciate being alone» he added, remaining leaning back to observe what that frightening spectacle still had to offer.

«As you wish, Vice Admiral» said the old man before turning on his heel and disappearing into the cabin, babbling things that appeared to the young man's ear as incomprehensible, but he decided not to inquire further, thoughtful as he was about the words addressed to him by the distinguished scientist

«Live by what you believe, little pest» whispered the young man, returning to clutch the locket tightly, «There are circumstances in which it is fate that determines what you will be able to do. Ask the world, the day when we meet again will come soon» he concluded, turning one last glance at the violent storm, the same storm that raged within his soul.

Meanwhile, somewhere in the New World...

«Looks like a storm is coming »

On a seemingly nameless island in the New World, a large handful of men were camped around a large campfire, about five hundred yards south of the mammoth and lavish wrought-iron gate that separated the wilderness from the entrance to the kingdom of Arashi, a place the subject of a thousand stories and reveries about the presence of a legendary relic belonging to none other than the infamous Pounce D. Leon, hidden from the prying eyes of the whole world.

However, it was ruled by a terrible despot who came to power after a bloody civil war in an attempt to claim that fearsome secret exclusively for himself.

«So how do we move, boss?» asked one of them, casting a glance at another to his left, the one who looked every bit like the commander.

On his head, folded jauntily, was a wide-brimmed leather hat with a tuft of feathers, and a fur cloak fashioned from who knows what wrapped and protected him from the bitter cold that was beginning to seep right into his bones—an unmistakable sign that winter was now upon us. At a rough guess, he could have been no more than forty years old, although he looked considerably younger.

The man remained silent for a while longer, perhaps carefully assessing the situation and what they would face before throwing another small piece of wood into the fire to keep it alive. A handful of sparks rose in the air for a moment before dispersing, and at the same juncture, small flakes of icy snow settled on the heavy clothes worn by those individuals and on the weapons they were carrying.

They were probably on a mission for a foreign nation or simply mercenaries hired to overthrow the royalist regime. They were quite common in those areas.

The man put a hand on the boy's shoulder and stood up, turning to his other comrades «First of all folks, stop calling me a boss. Although I am one of your commanders, the cause for which we have sworn to fight and to give our very lives should it be necessary makes us all brothers as well as companions. And so, here, no one is superior to anyone, understood?» Everyone nodded in the presence of that enigmatic character, «Second, how should we act? I've thought and rethought, but the city is hermetically sealed and the only way in seems to be that damn gate ahead of us, so...» he paused a little, «...Check your equipment and be ready, for at my signal...We will unleash hell!»

Meanwhile,within the kingdom walls-completely unaware of what was about to unfold-the situation seemed rather calm. Night had fallen quickly, as had silence on the streets of the capital. The only audible sounds were the howling of the wind and the heavy footsteps of the soldiers who discreetly patrolled the entire area, keeping to the sidelines but carefully checking every suspicious alley or hiding place, just so as not to run into any unpleasant surprises.

Arashi was a well-fortified and impregnable city, protected by the equally firm steel gateway that was the only entrance to the kingdom and that, once crossed led to the main square, the same square that was now manned by a group of at least a hundred guards. Probably the reason for all this security was attributable to the treasure that they so jealously guarded, and that was tempting to a lot of thieves and pirates. Even a few adventurers who prided themselves on wanting to follow in the footsteps of the "King of Explorers" had come to that place in search of it, however, colliding in the sad fate that awaited those who aspired to the same dream.

Soon their attention was caught by something coming from beyond the seastone-clad enclosure : A bluish bolt of lightning fell very close, illuminating the surrounding area like a beacon, followed soon after by a deafening and sinister burst of thunder. The second crossed the sky like a serpent's tongue before pouring over the walls and destroying the central tower, eliminating the myriad of lookouts on it.

«What the hell was that?» screamed one of the sentries in fright.

«I don't know...» replied the second sentries, unable to understand what her eyes had just seen.

«It seems that the gods are angry» whispered another, watching as a third thunderbolt hurled itself vigorously across the ground just outside the gate, producing a violent shockwave that knocked those in its vicinity a few feet off their feet and caused serious damage to adjacent structures.

«Fall in line, soldiers!» ordered an individual of tall stature and wielding a large, sharp spear «Stop this nonsense and head for the gate. My sixth sense warns me to prepare for the worst. Are you ready to face the storm?»

«YES!» shouted many, drawing their swords and raising them to the sky shaken by lightning.

«Then, move!» The leader once again intimated to them, «Bunch of useless superstitious people!»

The men rushed toward the large grille clutching their swords tightly, confident that they would be able to find whoever or whatever was trying to make an attempt on the kingdom, but they were not even in time to notice that once they reached the entrance, a furious gust of emerald-colored wind destroyed it easily, as if it were paper, running over the group of soldiers full force and dragging them into a whirlwind.

In the cloud of dust that had risen and engulfed the atrium, a group armed to the teeth emerged, pouring out into the city streets and attacking the remaining surviving troops.

«Come on, people, it's time for the wind of revolution to unleash its fury and free the country from tyranny!» Those warriors exclaimed in unison, defeating one after another whoever stood in their way.

«Soldiers!» exclaimed the commander in reply, «Don't be intimidated by such rabble. Are we or are we not men of the king?»

«Yes!» replied the soldiers fiercely.

« Then drive out the invader! Slaughter them all! »

«We must raise the alarm at once, general» said one of the soldiers as he ran northward inside the citadel, the last stronghold defending the royal palace. «The Revolutionary Army has penetrated the kingdom and is slaughtering our men. At their head is the man everyone calls "Rogue"»

«Is Byron Drace here?» asked the general paling before such news. «What is one of the leaders of the Revolutionary Army doing here? Could it be that the revolutionaries have decided out of the blue to get their hands on Leon's treasure? We must warn the king immediately and see to it that the artifact is brought to safety. There isn't a minute to lose»

«It will be done, sir» the young man nodded, heading in great haste toward the royal palace. Something, however, brought his advance to a sudden halt, something that bolted the horse on which he was sitting, which reared up, unhitching its rider, to flee into the dusty cloud that was getting closer and closer.

The soldier lifted his gaze, nailing it to the figure that stood before him. It was a figure with a slender, trained physique, the same one seen earlier around the fire. He was the one everyone was talking about—the man who made people tremble at the mere sound of his name, "Rogue."

«You're not going anywhere» Byron stated with some confidence, taking on a amused expression.

Taking advantage of the chaos that was brewing along the streets of Arashi, a man with thick black hair tied back in a pigtail, somewhat in the manner of Wano's samurai, with a single, thick tuft sprouting from the front and falling over his face, was about to climb the palace walls undisturbed, probably in search of the much-vaunted artifact.

A long black coat with gold buttons wrapped a slender and rather muscular physique, accompanied by cobalt blue silk pants tucked into tall boots of the same hue. Tied at the waist was a red sash from which hung some golden ornaments, in which was stowed a curved-shaped blade, rather peculiar and unusual in those parts, one of those swords that many call "Kopesh." However, the most striking feature of that individual was undoubtedly the long scar that ran across his left eye.

Who followed him was someone equally bizarre, something that many would have described as a freak of nature and that to others represented a hideous abomination: a strange filamentous creature that was tall and slender, equipped with purple suckers, and whose body glowed so blue that it was as if made of sapphire. On the top of its head sprouted a huge dome that extended all the way down below its face.

It was undoubtedly a strange hybrid of a jellyfish and a human being, one of the exponents of an ancient and fair race of sea-dwellers, now considered outcast and unnatural, namely the Fish-Men.

«I have to admit that the diversion worked great, didn't it Yoi?» asked the young man as he continued undaunted to climb the steep wall. «Just a little more, and we'll finally be in the throne room. You just keep following me and try not to do anything incredibly stupid, as usual» Despite the fact that he felt rather weakened by the presence of the particular cover that protected the entire kingdom and emanated the same energy as the sea, that individual possessed a tenacity that many would call uncommon in facing such situations.

In response, the semi-gelatinous being nodded when an explosion from above caught their attention: one of the windows directly above them deflagrated in a fireball, raining a myriad of shards of glass and debris downward, forcing them to raise their arms to shelter from the hell that had just engulfed them.

However, what mattered most to that guy wasn't the flaming waterfall they had narrowly avoided, but more to the point that the fish-man, in attempting to lift its upper limbs, had just let go and was now irreparably plummeting.

«Yoi!» cried the stunned guy, although he knew that such an eventuality was to be reckoned with,since the fish-man also possessed powers, so much so that it seemed that the sea stone had even more effect on it.

He had only one alternative to prevent his companion from smashing to the ground like melted butter—only one solution—and that was to throw himself down and attempt to reach him before they both ended up in the afterlife.

« Hang in there! I'm coming for you now. Geppo! »

In no time at all, he accomplished a feat that the less informed would have described as exceptional, if not more so: that strange boy, floating and moving at great speed suspended in the void, moving in the direction of the fish man as if he were one of those supersonic projectiles given to the Marines just two years ago. He didn't even produce who knows what noise or great displacement of air, which was perfect for not alerting the guards not engaged in the riot that was ravaging the streets of the capital and manning through the loopholes or those probably still in the royal hall.

He had just used one of the secret techniques that World Government intelligence had mastered since time immemorial and of which only very few pirates were aware, which should have said a lot about his skills or the fame he carried wherever he went.

Once he reached his companion, he grabbed it vigorously, leaping swiftly to the first handhold he could locate. Just in time, someone could have exulted, or on the king's table that night, there would also have been coelenterate sushi. For a few seconds, the young man had forgotten the feeling of fatigue due to the seastone, but now it was returning even more disruptively than before, and that would prevent him from once again escaping some other mortal danger that came his way, provided that his partner didn't make any more trouble.

Behind them, a thunderbolt struck the tower to the south, accompanied by a tremendous roar that rattled the palace's crystalline stained-glass windows, finely decorated with images that accurately told the story of the ruler's seizure of power. Small sparks resembling fireworks rose high in the blackish sky; the revolutionaries had probably struck and destroyed the ammunition stores, and now the fire was devouring much of the structure. The cloud of dust that was already swelling and engulfing half the city made it all the more eerie.

Under their feet, the situation was getting more and more out of control.

«"It seems that Shay and the others are giving free rein to their immeasurable ferocity,"» thought the guy as he observed what was consuming beneath their feet. Those who were lending support to the revolutionary army were part of a crew so dangerous that even the devil himself would not want to sail with them, despite the fact that they paid homage to this figure in many ways «"We'd better hurry. I dread to think what Yorek or Callaghan might do if they get too involved in the battle. When they want to, they can be ruthless."»

«Is our chance, Yoi» asserted the young man with some contentment as he entered through the opening in the wall, where until a few minutes before there was one of those famous frescoes of the ruler, landing in what all seemed to be the kitchen. Ladles, pans, and whatnot had been thrown about in bulk; probably the servants had been given the alarm to leave the building immediately once the revolutionaries had attacked it. A spicy, good smell invaded his nostrils, and both their stomachs roared as if it were a ravenous beast in a cage.

«We aren't here to eat, Yoi. Remember the mission» The guy admonished it, and a despondent expression appeared on the fish man's face. It seemed they hadn't touched food for days, probably spent meticulously studying the plan to infiltrate the kingdom.

Having also passed the dining room, the two found themselves in a wide hallway, the floor of which was lined with soft and green cloth. Large paintings hung on the walls, each depicting various figures in solemn poses. Lighting was provided by a series of candles set on an imposing silver candelabra. The hallway seemed deserted, and the many wooden and white gold doors facing it were closed.

The guy tried to pry open the one to his right, stepping into it with the fish-man«"We will finally be able to get to the bottom of the mystery surrounding Leon and his crew."»

Chapter Text

Chapter II

"You can never cross the ocean if you don't have the courage to lose sight of the shore"

(Pounce D. Leon)

Fifteen years earlier.. .

For about six hours, the West Blue sun had been resting its warm gaze on the mild island of Hilyra, highlighting with its golden rays the froth atop the waves that broke interminably against the reef and shimmering on the sand grains that rose and danced in the presence of a light emerald breeze, a rather unusual phenomenon in those parts.

Today, for every citizen who was dutiful to law and order or professed to be a lover of such virtues, was a special day. For on the same day not so long ago, something happened that remained etched in everyone's memory and hearts, even who fought strenuously for a single shred of freedom in a rigid and stifling system, someone like the pirates, or for those who fought to safeguard this planet and its inhabitants, someone like the revolutionaries.

And who more than anyone could rejoice at such an event than the Marines and the World Government, the ultimate exponents of justice in the Five Blues?

Well, it all happened thirteen years ago, when the legendary explorer and outlaw Pounce arrived at the last island of the Grand Line after overcoming numerous dangers and pitfalls along the way, accomplishing a feat that few would have had the courage to attempt and many would have found even impossible, unearthing a treasure of immeasurable value that should never have been found. It was because of this that people began to attach to him the lofty title of "King of Explorers" or even "King Conqueror," something he also began to take pride in.

However, such a brazen act had undermined the Marine's power and credibility, just as it had indirectly done so for the World Government as well. That is why no one could sit idly by, or the trust they had so patiently and diligently built up over some eight hundred years since their founding would be shattered in an instant.

In addition, rumors began to circulate among the populace that the great leader known as "The Storm" had discovered some arcane secret that had long been buried over the centuries. Still others claimed that he had found the legendary "Fountain of Eternal Youth," capable of rejuvenating or healing even the most deadly of wounds, and others believed that he was on the trail of a mythical devil fruit that granted unimaginable powers to anyone who ingested it.

Who could know what the actual truth was? Only the members of Leon's crew should have been aware of that fearsome secret, even though no trace of them could be found anymore.

A year later, what was known as the "Battle of Cataclysms," a massive and bloody clash between Marine forces led by young Vice Admiral Hitsuyo and the legendary explorer. It is said to have lasted about ten days and rocked sky and earth; at the end of the last day, the World Government put an end to the clash, taking the life of the one who provoked it.

As a result of it, supporters of Leon and piracy dropped dramatically, and the two main institutions greatly increased their prestige, instilling fear and respect in even the most hardened scoundrels, thus preventing similar deeds from happening again. It was thanks to this confrontation that Hitsuyo earned the nickname that would accompany him throughout his long militancy in the marine, namely "Stormbreaker."

To this day, no one knows what happened to the members of Pounce's legendary crew; probably because they were still being hunted by the World Government, they had gone into hiding, scattering to all corners of the globe. Many became superstitious, even believing that they had disappeared under suspicious circumstances or that a terrible curse hovered over the crew of the "King of Explorers," cast by the gods themselves, angered by the discovery of treasure that then began to be considered nefarious and malignant.

A whirlpool of infamy and fear swallowed up the true history of the world forever, transforming it into legend. Legend soon became myth, until every form of knowledge about Leon's last journey was secured to a deep oblivion.

Yet, there were those out there who still believed in their return, or in the appearance of phenomenal characters who would undertake the same journey that Leon undertook, arriving on Diatidur and beginning a new and sensational era, free from fear and torment.

But that is another story. Now, among the streets of Hilyra, voices echoed from all directions—children playing in the middle of the roadway or adults talking while standing still on the doorstep.

«Hurry up, Rey!» shouted a short brown-haired boy addressing his friend, a bulky fellow who, due to his enormous size, had fallen behind and was struggling to extricate himself from the narrow alleys of the city, in contrast to the other, more petite and slender boy who slipped through them as if it were the easiest thing in this world. «Or we will be late for the show. I don't want to miss for any reason in the world the appearance of my great myth, Admiral Higuma or I might regret it for the rest of my life. So hurry up, lazybone!» he continued, assuming a rather sullen expression.

«Give me a break, Francis» replied the second exasperated. «The ceremony is supposed to start in a few minutes, and the square is right in front of us. I really don't understand where all this commotion comes from, moreover for an event called by the Marine. When I then think that today is also the day the great Leon gave his life for a dream he believed in, the anniversary of his defeat should take a back seat, don't you think?»

«Shhh...have you lost your mind?» The boy scolded him, turning and shifting his gaze left and right, even checking up, lest someone had heard them. «There is a huge Marine contingent on the island, what if someone had just heard what you said? Do you maybe want to pop over to Impel Down or whatever godforsaken hole they send traitors to? Or maybe you want to be executed?»

The boy didn't uttered a word, perhaps terrified of ending up in the places mentioned by his companion. The thick mop of unruly purple curls that fell over a pair of sea-blue eyes began to rise upward, driven by a breeze that became more and more bursting by the hour.

«Answer Barrett!» Francis urged him. But before he could add anything, numerous murmurs rose from the north, where the two were headed, interrupting what was sure to be a heated discussion. «We'll pick this up later, but know that I will try my best to make you see the truth. Leon was a bloodthirsty, pillaging demon responsible for slaughtering and murdering numerous marines and civilians. Should we forgive such a monster and forget everything just because he died trying to pursue a dream, as any man worthy of this title should?»

Barrett lowered his head, as if ashamed of what he had stated just now, shaking his head in denial, «Well, I'm glad we agree on that. Know that I want to become a hero like Higuma or Kosaiusagi; that has always been my dream. Someday, I will join the Marine, and you will go with me, whether you like it or not» concluded the boy as he raised a fist toward the sky, still preventing his companion from replying equally.

The voice grew louder and louder, a sign that the party was going to start at any minute «Now we'd better get a move on, or risk your great myth not noticing you. What will become of your great dream then, if a ten-foot-tall Marine Admiral can't spot a five-foot-two leprechaun in the crowd? Poor us» retorted Barrett ironically.

«You're just hopeless... »

Beginning to run, the two of them sped past a couple more narrow alleys, not without running into a few unpleasant bumps in the road, bursting into the town's main square and disappearing into the crowds that had begun to besiege the streets, anxiously waiting for the three giant screens placed in the center and on either side of it, connected to visual den den mushi, would light up and broadcast the link from Abhedya: an island in the sky seemingly inaccessible to anyone who did not know where to look and a place where the World Government commemorated its victories or made known the latest directives it had taken. Reaching it would have been quite impossible; one might as well go directly to Marineford and have a noose attached around one's neck.

The square had begun to fill up until, around noon, no one came in anymore. The bells spread their solemn chimes to the surroundings, announcing the start of the celebration.

The giant screens lit up, showing a close-up of the military stronghold placed on that archipelago above the celestial vault and carpeted with thick sugar-white clouds. Suddenly the image vibrated, disappearing with a swaying shudder and being replaced by the one coming from the hall of the Justice Palace, giving a clear and complete image but whose details were impossible to discern.

The frame shifted to the many Vice-Admirals, Rear Admirals, Commodores, and so on who sat in the large room, then lingering on the faces of the three Admirals, the true legends of the Marines. A bellow of satisfaction rose high from the square at the sight of those three, welcomed by the crowd as true rock stars.

Untangling himself with difficulty, Francis managed to get past the huge human wall that prevented him from getting a good glimpse of what was going on, unlike Barrett, who, despite himself, was about to be crushed in the violent grip of the throng that was writhing left and right, waiting for the real stars of the day to be revealed, by sitting right in the center of it. A seat that offered an excellent view from above and that no one could dispute, since a single wren could hardly prevent someone else from viewing. The boy turned his head to the side, watching in amusement as a group of girls screamed hysterically at the sight of the Admirals on the screen.

«That's Admiral Aoshika, known as 'Ice Heart'!» shouted a man to his left, pointing on the third screen to a tall, slender individual, apparently of young age, with long, flowing silvery hair, dressed in a smart, gray-striped vest underneath a night-blue turtleneck, black-striped pants, and gray shoes of fine workmanship. Over his shoulders lay the white coat given to members of high rank, and a rather cheeky smirk meandered across his face.

«How handsome he is!» the exalted ones exclaimed again. Francis agreed with their judgment, although on balance, the man gave him more of the impression of some member of the underworld than of a guardian of the law.

«That, on the other hand, is Admiral Kosaiusagi or better known 'Stormbreaker'!» shouted another.

Francis looked up, observing a man sitting next to the first one who was rather tall and imposingly muscular, at least compared to Aoshika, he looked motionless and rather confident, as if those formalities were boring him and he wanted to be somewhere else.

He wore no clothing on his torso, letting people see his toned and defined chest furrowed by some conspicuous scars, probably from particularly fierce fights in which he had participated, the last of which had contributed to his legendary figure. At his waist he wore a purple sash tied, and below that a hakama of the same color. On each wrist he wore thick golden bracelets that extended to mid-forearm. The classic admiral's jacket was slung over his shoulders.

The boy couldn't explain exactly what about the man intimidated him, whether it was his size or the expression he had turned to the cameras, capable of putting even the most hostile individual in awe.

«And the last one, on the other hand, is Higuma, also known as "The Dark Knight."» At those words, Francis' eyes suddenly lit up. At last the man who was a role model for him to follow and be inspired by had appeared. He was a tall, good-looking, well-proportioned young man with straight, pitch-black hair, which he wore pulled back, with a single tuft falling over his forehead. He wore a chestnut-colored double-breasted suit, underneath a beige shirt and a black tie. Pants of the same shade as the jacket wrapped his slender legs, and on his feet were shoes of a darker gradation. Like the other two, he wore his uniform slung over his shoulders.

It was probably also because of his serious expression, but the man exuded power and recklessness from every pore. No one with any salt in their noggin would ever have the courage to challenge him, at least according to Francis.

«"Someday I, too, will be like you"» the boy told himself as he continued to stare at his hero.

«Those three are a force of nature!» exclaimed an individual behind him. And he was quite right. Those three portents expressed at their best what the Marine had to offer, "the crème de la crème". Nothing to take away from the other officers, at least in Francis's opinion, but the Fleet Admiral and the three Admirals were an unrivaled force in the entire Blues, and unlike the latter, the former was very rarely seen, as he was engaged in high-risk missions that required the utmost discretion.

«Ah...Ah! »

Everyone's attention turned to the second screen, where a slender, shapely woman dressed in an official Marines uniform had appeared. She was probably an unimportant or little-known member, as none of those present were able to tell who she was, not even the boy. She tapped two or three taps on the microphone in front of her that echoed in the square. A hush fell over the crowd.

«Hello everyone, how are you? This is your Mary speaking, one of the Marine Captains and the official presenter of this event. You know what is being celebrated today, don't you? »

The entire square emitted such a clamor that it could be felt from distant islands; shouts of assent and cheers went up; even Francis jumped to his feet and shouted with as much breath as a skinny little body like his had.

«Today we are gathered here to celebrate the fifteenth anniversary of the end of what is remembered as "The Battle of Cataclysm" and to hail the one who most succeeded in ending the threat of Leon and bringing peace to the entire Blues. Let's give a big round of applause to the man who managed to face and overcome the storm, Admiral Kosaiusagi! »

The man gave her a slight nod without flinching further, probably not liking all the attention or praise to which he was constantly subjected. Francis continued to stare at the other two, noting how they were totally at ease with every other member of the Marine presenting them with honors and tributes.

«Before we begin the ceremony, the Marine has an important announcement to make» the woman continued, bringing attention back to her. The greenish wind that seemed to have ceased began to pluck the trees and hiss through the cracks in the doors and windows of the buildings around them.

On one of them itself, a man of tall stature and thick blackish beard, over which two long, a thick handlebar mustaches stood out, watched the screens with great attention and interest. He was completely bald and dressed in a smart black leather blazer, under which peeped a white shirt and a charcoal-colored silk tie. A long, thick cloak covered his shoulders, the neck of which resembled a layer of fur or feathers. He stood still and upright, resting both hands on a silvery stick with a finely crafted handle, so much so that it had taken the shape of a nocturnal bird, with rubies set in its eye sockets.

His golden gaze, reminiscent of that of a bird of prey, was focused on the young woman, who had resumed speaking after a few moments of hesitation. «As you might imagine, the disappearance of Leon and his other distinguished colleagues has not made the seas any less dangerous or free of outlaws. The four emperors still rule in the New World, a particularly difficult and impassable stretch of ocean for an ordinary sailor, and piracy has not yet been permanently eradicated. Moreover, the threat of the revolutionaries, a subversive group dedicated to total anarchy, and their Supreme Commander still hangs over us. Our task is to protect the inhabitants of the Blue Sea from the evils that plague it and to avert attacks that could involve defenseless and unarmed civilians. It is for this reason that the World Government has issued numerous calls for entries at every base scattered throughout the Blue Sea to enlist individuals who hunger for justice and are dedicated to duty and the protection of the innocent. If you also believe in these ideals and are eligible to join this great family, congratulations; the Marines are your new destination!»

Another shout of acclamation and excitement rose from the audience. Now anyone would have a chance to prove their worth by joining the ranks of those who cared about the preservation of the entire planet. Francis clenched his fists; at last, the chance to realize his dream seemed to be upon him.

«Tsk» the mysterious man turned, beginning to move slowly in the opposite direction. «A combination of hypocrisy and false ideologies is but a mirror of the evils that are slowly devouring this world. It is foolish and fruitless to believe that things would have turned out differently» He moved as quietly as a cat, stroking his thick goatee thoughtfully. The cool breeze accompanied his movements like a gentle lullaby, increasing its impetuosity more and more «However, the winds of fate have already begun to blow with the same intensity as a hurricane. And just as the sun will continue to shine high in the sky, so too will the dreams and desires of men continue to do so, fighting day by day against the shadows that grip their hearts. One day, someone will be able to ride out the raging storm, driving out the darkness and corruption for good. So in anticipation of that fateful moment, I will do what is in my power to prepare myself as best I can»

Giant black clouds thickened over the island of Hilyra, and the wind gusts that until then seemed almost harmless quickly mutated into a frightening cyclone that engulfed the entire island. As if that were not enough, raindrops the size of grapes began to fall from the sky, followed by yellowish lightning bolts that pierced it like swords. A furious deluge swept over what would have been a grandiose feast, and in the general stampede caused by the herd trying to take cover, that enigmatic figure had as if vanished into thin air.

Chapter Text

Chapter III

"I'm tormented by an irrepressible desire for what is far away. I like to sail on forbidden seas and go down to primitive shores, there where no one would ever set foot"

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 (Pounce D. Leon)

                                                                                                                      One year later, Canton Cay, West Blue...

«Runway! Make way!»

A scanty group of kids ran at high speed through the streets of the town, there where as every same day of the week was the market, where merchants from the West Sea went there to exchange all sorts of goods and memorabilia from the Blues.

To the eye they appeared to be no more than eight to nine years old, adorned in dirty and shabby rags. They were probably orphans who had grown up on the streets and were reduced to petty mischief for fun or even just to steal a simple piece of bread. And indeed, at their heels was old Jian, the town's baker, a tall, burly man always dressed in vintage-looking tank tops marked by the blackish ash from the chimney and flour.

«Stop those little thugs!» screeched the man, raising his arm and pointing to those brats who were jumping from stall to stall to avoid obstacles. In his hand he clutched tightly a rolling pin, and there would be no doubt that if he caught them, he would slam it down on each of their tiny heads.

Someone tried in vain to halt their advance, but the young boys had proved far too cunning to fall into such a trap.

In the course of their escape, one of them had even bumped into a woman carrying a couple of envelopes, almost causing her to fall to the ground. The poor woman stood there motionless, addressing them with unkind epithets as she watched them squeeze into a narrow, cramped alley convinced that they had lost Jian and anyone who had tried to give him help.

The youngest of them, Gavin, turned his head to the right, noticing a little boy not much taller than them and probably a few years older leaning against the wall. His slender, longish body was wrapped in a suit even more threadbare and grimy than his own. Thick cobalt hair alternating with teal locks was tied back in a pigtail that let some medium-length wisps flow down to below his neck, while others unraveled in other directions, contouring his almost angelic face.

His head was down and his eyes were closed, as if he were in the throes of a long meditation or perhaps he had simply dozed off, although in a standing position it was still rather strange.

Nevertheless, the boy lifted his head up sharply, and Gavin could swear that in meeting his feline gaze, he had felt something dark and inexplicable. It was as if in his irises the color of sunset, he had seen the flames of hell or something vaguely similar. He was not the type to believe in such silly superstitions, this he had learned well from childhood.

«They went that way, quick!»

The scream of Chen, the baker's assistant, abruptly brought him back to reality. Other voices accompanied it, coming closer and closer and overpowering any other sound that had been audible up to that moment.

They stepped back until they came upon a wall more than seven meters high and interrupting the view of whatever was on the other side. No footholds on which they could climb and thus escape their pursuers. There were no other avenues they could use to vanish.

Meanwhile, other voices seemed to join Jian's chorus; it would be a matter of a few moments and they would end up in some dingy slammer, or worse, each of them would have both hands chopped off, a fate that befell those who committed theft.

They tried to open the doors that faced down the alley, although the gesture proved somewhat futile, since they were barred or locked from the inside. The buildings around them gradually became more and more stifling. They were trapped like rats, with no way out and panic beginning to knock at their doors.

However, surrendering didn't seem a plausible option. Since childhood they had fought for survival, and if falling was their only option, they would do so with their heads held high.

Gavin planted his gaze there where he had observed that strange individual a few moments ago, stunned when he noticed that there was no trace of him. He shook his head, distraught and wondering if it was all just a trick of his imagination, brought on by terror and fatigue.

«There they are, those little buggers are trapped and they won't be able to escape us!» exclaimed a man who was thin and shorter than the others, pointing to the group gathered in a circle, with one another huddled close together, facing the impending danger with proud and resolute looks. It would have been impossible for Jian and his partner to sneak into the alley given their size. But that figure with the thick beard as black as darkness and the bleak gaze was instead just the right size.

He confidently clutched the spear he held, vibrating it against the silver armor that covered every layer of his body. It was probably a palace guard, alerted by the baker or by the screams pouring through the streets of Canton Cay. Faced with that inauspicious fate and the end that awaited them, the young men took each other's hands, closing their eyes and smiling, as if an old friend was on his way to meet them. It was now only a matter of a few seconds, then it would all be over.

«FLAME WALL!»

The air became scorching hot and a burning smell spread quickly.Declan, the leader of that clique and the oldest, opened his eyes; in front of him sparked crimson flames that blazed upward, forming for all intents and purposes a veritable barrier that prevented the guards from being able to pass over.

But the most unusual thing was that in front of him was a young boy with bluish hair, which shone with a vivid radiance and revealed more lighter locks. He smiled back at him, but that was not all; it was as if there was a crimson aura around him, protecting him from the flames. Something totally out of the ordinary. Could it be that he was already delirious? Probably if he had closed his eyes again, he would have awakened elsewhere, realizing that it was just a bad dream.

«Hey, this is no time to take a nap!» the boy's voice awakened him, forcing him to open his eyes again and realize how this was the stark, naked reality «This won't hold them back much longer» he continued, pointing to the flaming wall that seemed almost on the verge of going out and the guards that would be swooping down on them «Get the others and be ready, I'm about to open an escape route for you!» concluded the boy as he turned and stretched both arms toward one of the doors the eight had failed to open.

Declan shook the others, who without a word or an explanation, waited for the young man to grant them a loophole «Stand by on the count of three!» The little ones got into position, not understanding, however, what this mysterious fellow wanted to do.

«One... Two... Three... Now! Flaming Lion!»

As if by magic, an intense golden flame sprang from his hands and took the shape of a ferocious beast, going crashing into the steel door, melting it in no time like melted butter. What kind of trick had he used? Was he human or perhaps just a figment of a childish imagination due to hunger? Too many questions crowded the little ones' minds, but now was not the time for that. What they needed to do was get the hell out of there right away.

«Hurry up! Don't waste time or you will regret being born!» shouted the boy. The others didn't let him repeat it twice, taking advantage of the gap created to get over the obstacle and exit there where the road had previously stopped their run.

«I really don't know how to thank you» Declan said, probably staying behind to make sure their mysterious benefactor was in a position to save himself as well.

«You don't need to do that» cut the boy short and curtly, «What matters is that you and those little brats reach your hiding place soon»

«And what will you do?» asked Declan worriedly. Meanwhile, the boy launched another of his flames toward the entrance, brightening the feeble barrier just a little.

«I will join you as soon as I have dealt with these four idiots and made sure they cannot harm you in any way»

«How do you know where our secret base is?»

«Long story. Now, get lost!» retorted the young man again, taking on an even more serious tone

«At least tell me your name» He huffed impatiently «Silas. And now enough with the questions, scram» The young man nodded, hurrying to join his companions. As he watched her walk away, he smiled, then turned his gaze toward the fire that was now totally extinguished «Now let's think about you» the boy continued, lifting an arm upward «Heat Haze!»

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 Two hours later...

«How can you do those things?»

«Are you a human being or a cyborg or something?»

«Can you create only flames or also something else?»

«Show us more tricks, please!»

«You were really strong against those bad guys»

«I've never seen you around Silas, where are you from?»

«Did you take care of old Jian and the guards? Did anyone follow you?»

In a more secluded and at times almost spooky area of Canton Cay, in the shadow of the old and dilapidated buildings that were once an active part of the town's life, now reduced to a bad area and mostly avoided by most of the inhabitants, Declan and his small group had encircled Silas, peppering him with all sorts of questions relating to what had happened no less than two hours earlier.

«Easy people, one question at a time» Declan wryly intervened. Probably if he hadn't, those kids would have been able to suffocate him or make him uncomfortable. When they got into it they knew how to be real handfuls «At least let him breathe» then turned his face poured out of him «Because you breathe like us, right?» he asked curiously. He too was dying to find out more about this mysterious boy.

Silas nodded in response, «Of course I breathe like you, I am a human being. What did you think I was, a fish-man?»

Everyone burst into thunderous laughter except Declan, who continued to look at him quizzically «It's just that...We've seen you create glowing flames out of nothing and make them take the shape of a beast. We've never seen you around here, much less know anything about you except your name. It's obvious that I have doubts, don't you think?» he concluded, waiting for the other to reply. The others were squatting on the damp ground, turning to Silas with looks full of admiration and amazement.

«You are right» Silas sighed defeatedly «So...where do I start?» he said as he looked around and began tapping his fingers on his lips «Right!» he exclaimed closing his fist and tapping his hand «My name is Silas and I am from the Li'Wan district»

A few comments and questioning murmurs were heard from the group. Although the Tinho neighborhood was one of the most luxurious on the island, Declan had to admit that Silas' neighborhood was not so bad either. Of course, on balance, any place was always better than the dump they found themselves in and were forced to live in. However, there was something about that boy that forced him to be suspicious, especially with those clothes even smellier than theirs. If he was from Li'Wan, why was he dressed like that?

«I don't know my real place of birth or whether I was born on this island instead. I don't know anything about my parents or what I was doing before I found myself on my ass in the middle of a street. In fact, I remember almost nothing; what I do know is that until now I have always lived on the streets of Li'Wan, picking up whatever I could find and trying to survive, just like you do. Then, I don't know how, I found myself on the opposite side of the island, not knowing where I was or how I got there» Those words hit the short brown-haired boy motionless before him like a flood.

That was exactly how he felt every day, but unlike Silas, he knew full well who those who had brought him into the world were: a drunkard babbling about dreams and treasure, drowned in alcohol even before he set sail and a woman who regularly beat the streets of Shamian, another of the island's districts, and who, once she met a rich man eager to marry her, had not thought twice before abandoning him and his father and starting a new life in Tinho.

«What about your particular 'gift'?» he asked, mimicking a pair of quotation marks in the air.

«Well, as I said before, I don't remember anything about my past. However, what I do know is that I was cursed by a sorcerer and forced to eat one of the very dangerous devil fruits, which gave me the ability to control flames»

«Wow, cool!» they exclaimed in chorus.

«As for Jian and the guards» Silas continued, «I don't think we'll be seeing them again soon» As he uttered the last sentence, a smirk began to make its way onto his face.

«Your story seems to be holding up» Declan commented. The seven stared at their leader, eager to know what he would say «All right» he concluded after a few moments of hesitation, «if it's all right with you, you'll stay with us from now on»

The boy smiled and nodded his assent, and soon after the group of thieves jumped on him, scrambling him with hugs and cuddles.

A few hours later...

The group of kids ran carefree through the streets of the district. Leading the way as usual was Declan, who wielded a medium-sized wooden saber and led the boarding party to a barrow of hay placed between the stable and the forge, waiting for the stableman to come and unload the sheaves, but the latter was currently engaged in a different matter, as he was helping the farrier file the hoof of the yak he had just detached.

The cart had been left unattended, with no one standing guard over it, its shafts resting on the ground like a broken bowsprit sunk in the waves. The little ones screamed at the onslaught as they watched their leader with the sword in his teeth climb the end of the axle sticking out of the wheel hub. He grabbed onto the spokes and with a very rapid momentum, leapt into the hay.

«I'll show you who 'The Storm' is, you damn, Marine!» he exclaimed, thrusting his sword into a sheaf.

His comrades let themselves fall in turn into the barrow, as if they were plunging, hanging from ropes, onto an enemy bridge. They twirled their sticks, at the risk of poking out an eye, mimicking a fight against an unseen crew, probably imagining themselves the same law enforcement agencies charged with enforcing law and order throughout the Blues. The bundles were pierced, trampled, slaughtered.

«No mercy for the enemies of freedom» retorted Kai, making hay fly all around.

He was but another misfit, having joined their clique just a year earlier when the Marines had taken his parents to Impel Down, one of the most rigid and impregnable prisons ever erected by the World Government. He knew full well that he would never see them again, and by the time he realized that the government would take him, too, as the son of his parents, blood of their flesh and presumably regarded like a potential threat, he had long since slipped away. It was by a fortuitous chance that he had met Declan and the others, and in a short time they became the family he needed and had long missed.

The barrow had turned into a veritable battlefield, bathed in a cloud of straws that caused constant coughing and sneezing. But all of a sudden, someone hurled himself at him, pouring out a torrent of imprecations. The real and true enemy. With leather apron at his sides and hammer in hand. Holding the beast by the reins, his assistant also followed with his fist in the air, ready to strike.

«Get down from there now! Bandits! Wretches! Pirates that you are!»

In a moment, Captain Storm's crew dispersed among the chirping birds. Malik, another of those scoundrels, was the last to let go, albeit reluctantly. With an unconscionable gesture, he snatched the cutlass from the boy's hands and used it to deliver blows on the wooden bank to keep his assailants at a distance.

«Back off, fatty!» he turned to the farrier backing away slowly «Or the last thing you'll see will be a nice big hole in that flabby fucking stomach of yours»

But all it took was for the man to grasp a wheel and shake it to make the little one desist from all his future actions, breaking off the fight.

«Haven't you heard the big news yet?» asked the stable boy. They gave him a quizzical look, not knowing what he was referring to «They have finally found one of the crew members of the man who most of all sowed chaos on the seas for a long time. I'm talking about Pounce D.Leon » the man explained «Once he's brought to justice, it's going to be quite a sight to see him face the halter. I believe they are discussing it right now at the Dancing Squid, you'd better hurry if you don't want to be late»

«That's right» added the farrier, «Go and see for yourself the fate that befalls those who dare call themselves or even say the word "pirate." Not to mention those who fly the black flag believing it to be synonymous with freedom, huge bullshit that only suckers like you can believe. And now scram, you useless sacks of shit, or I won't be as forgiving as I was a moment ago»

The pavement resounded with the laughter and footsteps of the boys who gingerly made their way to the place pointed out to them by the farrier.

A smell of roasting meat fully invested the nine boys who had ventured into streets unknown to them to find out what the Marines and the World Government had done to the alleged member of Leon's crew. The sound of a violin mingled with bursts of laughter or the stench of rotten wood that haunted the walls and ceiling beams. A big man walked past him, complaining about his own troubles, as a woman dragged him away by the arm.

***

Inside the Dancing Squid, no one seemed to pay attention to a group of young boys who weren't even old enough to walk around alone at night, as they were too drunk to notice or simple truths, they didn't care at all. 

Being very careful about where they stepped, Declan and his companions glimpsed within the throng that crowded the establishment, four men seated at a table and dressed in clothes that clashed with the tavern's ambiance and clientele, one of whom had just mimicked Leon's name with his lips.

This would have been too good an opportunity to pass up. Silent and almost invisible, the nine made their way inside the club, taking care not to be caught, and slowly climbing the stairs, they positioned themselves on one of the small balconies directly above them. This way they would be able to listen in on the entire conversation without being conspicuous or caught.

«It seems that the hideout of one of the Storm's crew has been spotted on Yamanai Island» exclaimed one of them, greedily sucking in the cigarette he held between his fingers. He had thick blond hair, framed by a sparse beard of the same color, as if he had not shaved in days. The cross-shaped scar placed on his right cheek seemed to glow, probably due to a strange trick of the light.

«Are you sure?» asked the second one, swirling the ice cubes inside the half-empty glass of liquor. This was an individual with a massive physique wrapped in purportedly dark clothing, and unlike the other, his charcoal-colored hair and piercing blue eyes made him look more dangerous than he probably was «I was convinced that after the departure of their captain, the rest of that rabble had deliberately lost track of them, or worse yet, that what was being told about them, including the curse, had some semblance of truth»

«These are just senseless superstitions, there is no supernatural curse or spell. It's ignorance, the only curse of mankind» replied the third one, fiddling with a deck of cards and raising his face, on which a rather sinister smirk appeared, He was of thin build compared to the other two, dressed in a smart black tuxedo and a red tie, which highlighted his green eyes and long, tousled mahogany hair. On either side of his pale face stood out two tattoos, just below his eyes, depicting a blue tear and a purplish star.

«I have heard that Admiral 'Ice Heart' will be leading the assault» retorted the former, giving one last puff before extinguishing his cigarette in the crystal ashtray on the table, «That man is a true monster. But the thing that leads any opponent to fear him is undoubtedly his ruthless and brutal nature, not caring about any collateral casualties or the trail of destruction he might leave along the way»

«Well, if the Marine decided to send him, it means that he is a formidable and dangerous opponent, he could be 'Lynx Eyes' as well as BlueJones, Zigmund, 'The Lily of the Sea' or any other member of his crew» added the latter, pouring himself another shot of liquor that he emptied as quickly as the previous one «In fact, there isn't a single member who was weak or useless, they were all phenomenal and outstanding characters. I would have liked to face them»

«Whoever he is, against Aoshika his days are numbered» pointed out the blond man with his half-smile.

«Whoever emerges victorious from this confrontation will have the power to change the course of events, that's for sure» stated the third man, picking up one of the cards and throwing it against the wall with such violence that it lodged inside it and crumbled part of the plaster.

«Whether for better or worse is something only time will tell us» commented the fourth: A woman clad in a bluish kimono with some golden details and symbols, far younger than the others and with honey-blond hair with a few braided locks. 

«The World Government has decided to make the first move, now it's up to us to counterattack if we don't want to throw away the good hand we've been dealt. The most common mistake in the history is to underestimate the opponent and the cards they play, a mistake I don't intend to make» the third man concluded, getting up after a good handful of minutes and heading for the door, followed closely by the other three, not before retrieving the object he had thrown moments earlier.

«Those ugly mugs are creepy» murmured Gavin still hiding with the others, «I wonder who they are»

«We could follow them and find out» proposed Malik.

«I have a bad feeling about it» retorted Silas.

«Did you see what he did?» asked them Kai «He threw that card like it was a sharp dagger. He must be a pretty strong individual, even stronger than you Silas»

«I highly doubt it» replied the boy with a serious air, «What do you think Declan?»

«I say whatever is going to happen, I don't want for any reason in the world to miss it. Now, let's move» he said, starting to move slowly and signaling to his companions that he wanted to sneak out of that room, probably with the intention of wanting to follow those mysterious guys.

                                                                                                                                                                                                           Two days later, Yamanai Island...

«Captain, three large Marine ships have been spotted on the horizon, heading toward us. We must leave immediately!»

A thin, dark man quickly entered a small room with cobalt blue walls, probably carved from some sapphire-like stone or mineral. He passed a hand over his forehead drenched in sweat, probably caused by the long ride he had taken to get there, shifting his worried gaze to the center of it, where a female figure sat on a throne completely gilded except for the back, which resembled the colored feathers of a peacock: iridescent blue, turquoise and green.

Long honey-blond hair fell over her long but short red dress at the front, revealing a glimpse of soft, shapely breasts, supported by a silver belt cinched over her pelvis. She wore blue scaled breeches and around her neck she wore a golden locket bearing a letter belonging to an ancient script. Her eyes were round like moons of green jade, and her eyebrows arched like the wings of chocolate-colored seagulls. She exuded a heady scent, a mixture of musk and citrus, strong but not unpleasant. A sight worthy of watching to the last.

That very beautiful and charming woman was none other than Thalia Lindsey, the former archaeologist of Leon's crew, also known as "The Necromancer," a nickname that meandered among pirates and marines with awe and respect.

She rose to his feet and without uttering a word, pointed her index finger in the direction of the man, beginning to trace a symbol in the air in the void in front of her. Without him being able to realize it, a root as wide as his arm sprouted from the ground beneath him, coiling around his left ankle and immobilizing him. Three more roots encased both his wrists and the remaining ankle, pinning him in place.

«I don't admit cowards in my crew, Mr. Gibbs» she began, descending from the throne and approaching him

«Yes, but against us we have Admiral Aoshika and as if that were not enough, on the remaining two we have escorted Vice-Admirals Hearne and Diane» The man let a grimace of pain escape as a fifth root tightened even more around his neck. A little more pressure and it would have broken his bone «It was never in my destiny to escape this battle» the woman affirmed «Now I know what Captain Leon meant that time and that is why I am ready to sacrifice myself to accomplish it, is that clearer to you now?»

«Yes ... captain ...» replied Gibbs with extreme difficulty.

With a movement of his hands, the roots disappeared into thin air, releasing the poor man from their fearsome grip. Thalia began to walk, stepping out of the room and out into a climate far different from what the island usually offered: A violent blizzard had swept over it, impairing the view and driving the frost right into the bones of the men who had gathered around her, the members of her crew.

«Men!» she shouted, bringing them back to attention, «The confrontation you will take part in today will echo so loudly that it will resonate in every part of the Blue Sea, and its outcome will decide the fate of the New Age. So are you with me or do you want to run away like vile rabbits, as your dear comrade Mr. Gibbs was about to do just now?»

«We are with you!» they cheered as they raised aloft every kind of weapon they were wielding at that moment

«So come on, get ready! Just try not to be lenient with the enemy, for he himself will not be so lenient against you. To the Marine and the Government we are nothing but a bunch of filthy, mangy cutthroats. Well, we will show them that instead we are noble and honorable men, just as Leon was!»

«Well said, captain!» shouted one of the men in the crowd.

«If history has taught us anything, it is that what we accomplish in life echoes in eternity! So, to your posts. Let us send these scoundrels into the deepest abyss of Tartarus!»

«Yes!» those men shouted again, immediately running to their posts and preparing for a long and bloody battle.

Chapter Text

Chapter IV

Today, Arashi Kingdom...

The scarred man and his fellow fishman continued stealthily down the corridor, pausing from time to time to admire from the windows the bluish thunders and lightning that streaked across the sky. Then, an energetic roar made the floor beneath them vibrate as if during an earthquake tremor, and so did the walls. It was as if the palace was on the verge of collapsing at any moment, and if by some strange twist of fate this happened, they would have to say goodbye to Leon's treasure and the opportunity to unearth what lay on the last island, even though no one except the crew members of the latter still knew its exact location.

A scenario the young man didn't even want to think about. Without losing heart, he continued along the path until, at last, he glimpsed a huge, finely carved door. Just what he was looking for: the entrance to the throne room. He signaled for Yoi to take cover behind one of the two columns, noticing six armed men presiding over it. They wore crimson armor and gleaming matte black helmets that resembled insect heads, wielding swords and halberds sharp as dragon's teeth.

A blue eagle with its beak gaping from a spear piercing its throat, the official emblem of the Arashi kingdom, stood out on their uniforms: two were placed on either side of it, motionless as soulless automatons; two had their backs turned, watching over the two corridors that ran east and west. The last two were blocking the stairs, preventing anyone from accessing them.

They had probably been instructed to stay and defend the kingdom's treasury at the cost of their lives while the bulk of the royal army fought against the revolutionaries led by Commander Drace. With a nod, he ordered the fishman to deal with the guards.

Yoi sneaked out of hiding and shining with an almost imperceptible glint, a mini-tentacle emerged from its left flank. In a very short time, the entire figure of the fishman had as if disappeared, leaving instead its place to be occupied by six copies of itself, one smaller than the other but equally fearsome, and whose number exactly matched that of the guards there. With an almost unnatural movement, each Yoi appeared behind its target, covering each limb with a thick, shiny, black layer, as if it were something like obsidian, using them to pierce the thick armor and poison them with the paralyzing substance they secreted, knocking them out of the fight.

It was because of its power that it had been given the epithet 'Legion' since by dividing itself into smaller parts it could rapidly increase its ranks, much like a full-fledged army. It was certainly a devastating ability, especially in the hands of someone who had a reputation for being a skilled assassin.

«Good job, Yoi» congratulated the guy as he came out into the open and took a quick look at the bodies lying helpless on the ground. Meanwhile, the water creature's body returned to its original size. «It was very fortunate that those fucking Celestial Dragons forced you to ingest the Wakeru Wakeru fruit. True, you lost the ability to swim forever,and you were discriminated against and mistreated even by your own kind for losing your true identity, what made you different and superior to the human race. But all in all what was supposed to be an affront, turned out to be a useful resource instead, and now you can use it to destroy those who have caused you such an affront» he concluded as he advanced.

In response, the fishman replied with a military salute, a gesture worth a thousand words, since Yoi hadn't opened its mouth since that terrible day. The young man wasn't even sure that it possessed such a gift, but on one thing he was: that event had forever changed his worldview, awakening something that had always remained dormant within him. If he hadn't met Yoi that day, he would probably be elsewhere right now and not on the trail of some phantom legend,but that's another story.

«The second part of the plan is completed» the young man continued, rummaging through his jacket pockets and pulling out a pitch-black den den mushi. It belonged to that special category that allowed those who possessed it to communicate with others having the same specimen in total peace of mind, without outside agents picking it up or the Marines themselves or other ill-intentioned people being able to do so «We'd better check that Neal or Lysandra haven't gotten into any trouble»

*** 

Far below the throne room, in a place devoid of any form of light and where the air seemed suffocating and full with desolation, a crammed group of men in crimson uniforms was lying on the ground in a dark pool of blood. An otherworldly chill permeated the walls encrusted with who knows what kind of organic liquid.

That place that seemed straight out of some horror novel was none other than the dungeon, and those unfortunates, were actually part of the royal guard, probably the remaining contingent left to protect the castle. 

No sound or air displacement could be heard; it was as if they had been attacked by an unknown and invisible force. Amidst the corpses of soldiers clutching their spears as if they were still ready to fight, something moved: One of them was still alive.

Although he was totally moribund and blood was gushing copiously from a wound present at the level of his abdomen, this hadn't prevented him from dragging himself on all fours toward the nearest companion weapon, perhaps precisely to defend himself from the same threat that had swept over him like a fury. 

However, he didn't even have time to reach him that a blue trail headed toward him at great speed, striking him violently from behind. No one could have survived such a thing, and indeed the man fell to the ground stone dead, without uttering even a cry of pain. Next to him, pervaded by bluish discharges, landed a young man of medium height and ice-eyed, who in the darkness of the room appeared even more menacing.  

The pocket of his dark pants seemed to vibrate for a few moments, just long enough for the stranger to pull out a transponder, similar in every way to the scarred man's.  

«Neal, where the hell have you been?» Someone on the other end asked. A warm, authoritative voice, but one that could instill just the right amount of awe  

«I am in the dungeon, Captain Morgan» replied the stranger looking around without trying to hide a smile at the massacre he had accomplished.

«Were you able to locate the Poneglyph and memorize what was engraved on it?» 

«Of course, did you doubt it, perhaps?» retorted the young man sarcastically 

A smirk appeared on Captain Morgan's face «Not at all. I know I can always count on your expertise and shrewdness. I was just worried that something had gone wrong with the plan or some of you had done something very stupid»

«Um...too late» Neal looked up at the ceiling.

«Neal» the man retorted «In what sense too late? And then where is Lysandra?» From the tone, a slight note of apprehension seemed to shine through.

«Certainly not here» the guy replied sharp «She will probably still be in the east wing of the castle»

«And why would she be in such a place?» he urged him «Explain yourself quickly»

«Well..» began to explain Neal, albeit rather intimidated by the man with whom he was interacting. A man who had a reputation for being a fearsome and ruthless individual, capable of acts of unprecedented ferocity. Even the Marines acted with the utmost caution toward him.«No less than an hour ago, while attempting to escape the castle after completing both of our assignments, Lys and I ran into a handful of soldiers carrying five or six prisoners»

«Go ahead» Morgan said.

«At that point Lys, as if she had been possessed by the devil itself, took out their jailers in no time and released them, not before receiving information about the presence of two Shinowians left just in the east wing. And you know how she is, don't you? »

Morgan huffed «Unfortunately, yes. And I already know it won't end well»

«So, captain, how should we proceed now?»Neal asked immediately afterward. 

«Very good» replied the other with a sigh, as if he was pondering something «Get away from there and try to gather the others. I will join you as soon as I manage to contact 'Madame Liberty' and retrieve the artifact»   

«Roger that, captain» he said, cutting off communication and stowing the device in his right pocket.  

At that moment, spurts of sparks spread around the area, while long gray ears sprouted on the guy's head, chubby paws took the place of the upper limbs, as did the lower limbs, which became considerably longer. He somewhat resembled the Lapins of Drum Island, although unlike them, he had assumed a quadrupedal position and was sprinkled with grayish hair. It must have been a particular type of lagomorph, more agile and slender than the specimens widespread in the North Blue.

With a very quick dash, the guy known as Neal leapt from one wall to the other, heading upward, leaving behind him a trail as cerulean as the lightning that ripped through the Arashi sky. 

«"It's always the same old story"» Captain Morgan mentally told himself as he continued to tinker with that contraption 

*** 

Meanwhile, in what must have been the east wing, a large marble hallway embellished with peach-colored curtains adorning the windows, a hooded figure descended down from the ceiling, stealthy as a specter, landing on the unsuspecting guard and plunging a silver blade into his chest. Then, without even giving the second turncoat time to retrace his steps, he hurled a dagger straight at her back with extreme precision and speed, piercing her. The two of them breathed their last without uttering a word or causing the slightest noise.  

Carefully making sure that no one else was around, the mysterious murderer reached the door to his left, there where the volume of voices seemed to grow and mingle together. 

«Come on, get those ropes and help me tie her up!»

Inside the dimly lit room, a young woman stood erect. She wore sand-colored rags, a stark contrast to the long, wild flame-colored hair that fell over her shoulders. Beside her, a tall, slender soldier wrapped his arms around her torso, pinning her down. A second man, shorter and more placed than the first, had just picked up a pair of ropes from above a hook.  

«Why are you doing this to me?» whispered the woman in a broken voice, shaking immediately afterwards like a leaf, as soon as she caught a glimpse of the second soldier who with complete indifference was about to bind her hands and feet. 

«Because those could yield us a nice pile of dough» the former explained, pointing to her back, there where a pair of long, snow-white angelic wings sprouted from her «Once we rip them off you» he concluded with a grin. 

«I know someone who has contacts in the black market. I might talk to him and ask him to ask a some questions around, discreetly of course, but only once we get out to sea. So hurry up! The sooner we finish with this filthy bitch, the sooner we can relax on some beach in the South Blue, how about Mokulani, huh?» replied the latter, getting a nod of assent from the other. As he said this, he tightened the grip he had on the woman even more, causing her to gasp.

Although smuggling had been declared illegal and seemingly eradicated by the World Government,criminal underworld circles instead had fostered its resurgence, making it so thriving and profitable that it fostered the birth to a myriad of organizations dedicated to trafficking all manner of items. In some parts of the Blue Sea, it was even regulated by greedy and corrupt Marines departments. The Government itself, when none other than the World Nobles were involved, pretended to be totally unaware of it, branding as charlatans and executing those who tried to prove otherwise. In the New World, where the Four Emperors dictated the law, the situation appeared different: trade in any commodity took place on a daily basis and under the complicit and tacit gaze of the population, unable to oppose such monsters.  

The demand for wings belonging to the sky islanders was quite large, as such relics were considered collector's items of particular rarity and beauty, something that many people would be unlikely to pass up, no matter how inhumane and amoral it was.  

«Please...Don't hurt me...» pleaded the woman as soon as the man was done. Her expression was as hopeful as it was resigned, hovering between life and death. Who could tell what they would do to her once they severed what for her represented the hallmark of her race? 

«Don't worry, I can assure you that it will be quick, you won't feel anything» retorted the first soldier. A rather sinister smirk crept across his face as he pulled a serrated-blade knife from his belt, preparing to perform the delicate operation 

On catching sight of the weapon, despondency and terror began to assail her «I beg you...Spare me...No...» the young woman continued, trying to appeal to whatever shred of humanity there was in their souls.

«We can safely say that we are about to clip her wings» sneered the latter,checking whether the other was also laughing at his quip.

She continued to tremble, tears furrowed her face as soon as she felt the icy steel settle on her bare skin, a sensation that spread throughout her body. The thought that someone could take away what she held dearest in the world and what constituted a part of her identity forced her to scream at the top of her lungs, hoping that someone would hear her and take her away from that nightmare «Help! Please, someone help me!»

The screaming went on until a hand plugged her mouth and stifled her voice. So she heard the man behind her scold her «Shut up! Haven't you realized yet that it's all useless? You are wasting your breath, no one can hear you, and no one will come to save you» At those words, the woman's tears increased copious like a broken dam spreading uncontrollably' until her eyes burned. New chills ran through her skin, her face and ribs ached, and she was beginning to lose hope that she would get out of that situation alive. All this only increased her attempts to vent anger or frustration, although they were in vain anyway, as she could only produce a series of ineffective grumbles or grimaces.

«Make her stop now, Adam!» ordered the second one, briefly interrupting what he was doing «Or I'll make sure this monster's screams are the last thing you'll hear in your life» 

A final cry of despair came out of her only when the man removed his hand from her mouth to allow the other to place a piece of cloth between her teeth, which silenced her completely. Now nothing could have stopped the two of them from accomplishing what they had set out to do,or perhaps that was what they believed, since someone knocked on the door, once and vehemently. They both looked at each other in amazement. 

«Who the fuck is now?» Adam asked a little intimidated.  

«I have no idea» replied the other «It is certainly not someone we know, since our garrison and General Caius are both busy fending off Revolutionary Army commander Byron Drace and his officer, Ramiel Walker»

«'The Bone Collector'» the first added «Just hearing that name already evokes memories I don't even want to mention. What if it's Vladius instead?»

«Somewhat unlikely» the latter retorted bluntly «The lieutenant is holding Xun at bay along with the rest of his men on the Western Front. You should go check it out while I take care of this bad bird, just so you don't run into any unpleasant surprises»

«It is unbelievable that three prominent members of the Revolutionary Army have attacked the kingdom, I wonder if they want to wreak havoc or are aiming for something else at this point» said the man as he walked toward the door  «They are certainly not here to see that ugly face of yours» he blurted out sarcastically, laying his hands on the girl again

«If you want to see an ugly face, Tommy Atkins, why don't you look in the mirror?» Adam affirmed, smiling. 

«Their ultimate goal is quite clear» Tommy asserted «And the fact that they have been known to overthrow monarchies or fight againts members of the World Government only greatly increases my doubts. Nevertheless, these are not issues that concern us, right now we have to think about the spoils and what we will do once we escape from here»

«You're right,» replied the man, opening the doors but seeing no one, as that corridor seemed deserted.

«Adam, is everything okay?» asked the other, but without receiving any response.

Although several minutes had passed, Adam still hadn't returned, neither his voice nor any other noises could be heard, which made his friend not a little suspicious, so much so that he abandoned his attempt to sever the Shinowian's wings for the umpteenth time and headed for the door, there where he was sure to find him. And indeed he was right, Adam was still there, but what he saw left him puzzled and horrified: his companion's body lay lifeless on the floor, motionless, his inert hands abandoned along his body. A purplish tint painted his swollen and deformed face, with his eyes half-closed.

Tommy knelt beside him «Adam, Adam! Answer me, please!» he shouted as he tried to resuscitate his friend with slaps on his cheeks, cold and with more than a marble pallor, but no stimulus seemed to come. It was as if something and someone had strangled him, which seemed impossible, since there were only three people in the room, including the girl, and no one seemed to have entered from where his companion now stood. 

At the sight of what had long been his most trusted friend and comrade-in-arms, now reduced to nothing more than a lifeless husk, he felt how rage tried to reemerge and, immediately rising to his feet, he drew his sword and, backing away, cast glances left and right so that no one could catch him by surprise.

«How dare you do this to my friend, damn you!!!» He growled in such anger that himself was surprised.A sinister hiss echoed through the room, followed by a rustling sound.«Come forward, you coward! And face me like a man!»

The hissing became louder and more persistent, less vibrant «Come out and show yourself!» He continued, as he shifted his gaze to the side of the room and what he saw under the table made him wince in amazement: the sinuous body covered with shiny scales, black as obsidian, floated like the murky waters of the New World, and piercing eyes stared at him, as if peering into his soul. It moved its forked tongue toward him, almost as if it wanted to taste him, opening wide its dark jaws, where two razor-sharp fangs sprayed with venom hung perfect as stalactites.

«What the fuck are you?» He asked, clutching his sword and preparing to hurl slashes at the menacing reptile, but with a swift momentum, it had already wrapped itself around his leg, and although the man was trying to kick it away or wriggle out of the fearsome vice, it bit him, wrenching a suffering groan from him. 

With his heart galloping in his chest, the soldier screamed in pain and fell ruinously to the floor, letting go of the heavy sword with a metallic thud.The snake launched itself again to attack, this time biting his right arm. Tommy uttered another cry and tried to free the limb from the deadly grip exerted by its coils, but it was a futile gesture, for whatever that reptile had injected him with had already begun to take effect. The room began to swirl and a sense of weakness expanded until it covered every fiber of his body.

He tried to drag himself to the wall, leaning against the backrest and watching the creature as it stood on two legs and changed its appearance «"A Zoan user,"» reflected the man now that a female figure had appeared before him, shrouded in a robe as dark as night and with a hood pulled down over her head, from which sprouted long black and golden locks.

«I should have predicted you would come...» mumbled Tommy as he slowly lifted his head and met a pair of amber eyes that would instill awe in even the most intrepid souls  «You're that slut of a pirate who is par of one of the most feared crews and is giving the Marines and the World Government a lot of trouble. You're the one they call 'Shadow of the Seven Steps', aren't you?» he continued, coughing. 

His forehead was dripping with sweat and his breathing was becoming increasingly erratic, probably the poison was acting faster than he could have ever expected. The woman didn't respond, merely walking toward the shinowian. 

«If you are here...it means that your captain, the infamous Morgan, is also around. What, are you looking for an opportunity for redemption by allying with the revolutionaries and helping them free the poor people from the evil and greedy monarchy?...» The soldier ironized between coughs«...Or maybe you are looking for something else? I guessed it, right?...» The man asked her again, but the girl seemed not to pay attention to him, stopping in front of the gagged figure who was looking at her with wide eyes.

«Are your new friends aware of your beloved captain's peculiar past?.... Of what the 'Monster of Trinidia' has done in the past?...»

Continuing to ignore him, the pirate stared at the woman, cold and unable to discern what was taking place before her eyes. It was as if she had disconnected from reality.

«..And what about instead of you and what you did against...» But before he could finish the sentence, the respiratory crisis seemed to intensify into a rather subdued gasp. And with a vacant stare and a final spasm, he left this realm forever.

Quietly and calmly, the figure the man had apostrophized as 'Shadow of the Seven Steps' leaned toward the woman, freeing her from the cordage and taking out of her mouth what had hitherto robbed her of speech. 

«Did they hurt you?» the woman then asked suddenly. The shinowian slowly shook her head, probably still in shock at what she had seen.

«Are they both dead?» The prisoner asked in turn, focusing her attention on what a few minutes earlier had been her executioners, now instead reduced to silence and rendered completely harmless. There was an ill-concealed note of panic in the tone used.

The pirate stared at her questioningly. The aura she exuded was dark and oppressive «I have only collected their debt for their sins. I have no remorse for those who deny the freedom of others.»

«Oh, I see» replied the still upset Shinowian «Now they will no longer be able to harm me or others»

«The idea was that» She replied coldly.

«I thank you infinitely for saving me from those two. I daren't imagine what would have happened if they had torn my wings off.» The Shinowian then said,straightening herself up and dusting off her worn and dirty clothes «My name is Nephele, by the way.» She continued, sketching a small smile, although she was still shaking.«You, on the other hand, are?»

«I'm Lysandra. Lysandra Read»

***

«Damn girl!» exclaimed captain Morgan after a few vain attempts to contact one of the more unruly members of his crew. And although he knew how prone his subordinate was to getting into trouble, he absolutely could not fail to rush to her aid, but he also wouldn't want to give up the treasure now that it was literally a step away from him.«"You leave me no choice"» then he turned in the direction of the fishman, who, having realized what he had in mind, had already struck a pose, waiting for its commander to give it precise instructions «Yoi, I've got a very delicate assignment for you: Find and retrieve Lysandra, then leave this place immediately. As for me, however, I'll make sure that the mission is accomplished at any cost.»concluded the young man as he prepared to walk through the huge gateway, as opposed to his companion who was instead advancing in the opposite direction «The randez-vous is scheduled in half an hour near the Horizon,» He then added before disappearing from its sight.

The throne room was quite imposing, at least compared to the other rooms Morgan had visited. From the center of the cross vault descended a huge golden candelabra filled with winged figures holding dozens of lit candles, figures that somehow reminded the young man of the sky islanders. The floor glittered with off-white marble, while the walls and ceiling were carpeted with mosaics and arabesques woven in gold. Colorful arches and pillars surrounded the room, and the carved wood sparkled with alchemical magic, perfumes and incense hovering in the air in ten different delicious aromas. In the center was a fresco depicting a long golden cross superimposed on a circle, also the same color. It was a symbol he had seen before in the course of his adventure, but it had never been connected to anything or anyone, not even to some strange character he had encountered.

His gaze, however, shifted a little further to the dark polished stone throne at the top of a five-step staircase covered with finely wrought red velvet. A middle-aged man was sitting on it, dressed in sumptuous robes of splendid embroidered fabrics, whose shoulders were covered by a heavy cloth cloak. His brown hair fell behind him like waves, crisscrossed with a few hints of silvery white, matching his thick, well-groomed beard. His head, atop which was a golden crown, was reclined toward the palm of his hand. The other hand, however, held a golden chalice garnished with precious gems; this was indeed he, the ruler of the Arashi kingdom.

«"Shit"»

It took him little time to figure out what had just ended the man's life, however, this forced him to speed up his search even more, because if anyone else entered, could have accused him of murdering the monarch. And that was something he couldn't afford at the moment. 

«"Where could it be?"» captain Morgan wondered as he looked around «"Taranis wasn't a complete fool and was aware that anyone who set out on the trail of Leon's treasure would sooner or later find out how he himself had come into possession of one of its relics and thus it would also reach his kingdom. He even tripled the sentries and doubled the battalions at his disposal, not to mention the fortifications put up to protect the city or the seastone wall belt. These are particularly useful items to counter those who possess the powers derived from the devil fruits. He probably expected a mass attack by pirates. What he didn't anticipate, however, was that revolutionaries would also storm it. However, he was well aware that he would have to conceal it from prying eyes, even those of his own men, and I can only surmise that even this may be a smoke and mirrors with the sole purpose of luring us here and annihilating us. The package, by now, could be on its way who knows where or, again, it could all be a ruse devised by this old fool to throw off all attempts and it is still here in Arashi, in a hiding place whose exact location only he knows."» reflected the pirate referring to the ruler, too bad the latter couldn't even respond to such a statement «"However, it's worth a try"»

Normally, for a person without acute senses or with an inferior ability to observe, setting out to search for hours on end would have been the only option available. However, Morgan was of a completely different temperament, so much so that it would have taken him only a few minutes to locate what was well hidden to most people's eyes.

He proceeded a little further, where four columns were arranged to form something like a circle. Someone else wouldn't have paid that much attention, but Morgan was sure that they were unusual instead so as not to hide some clue. 

He cautiously tapped the surface of one of them, hearing something creak: It revealed something not unlike a clicking mechanism, and so did the other three. 

«"They probably all have to be activated at the same time, and I bet there is also a time limit. I was sure it was still in the castle. Quite a bold idea, dear Taranis."» observed the young man, then turning briefly toward the ruler's corpse «"Yoi's splitting power would have been of extreme use to me now. Damn Lys! Her impulsiveness messed up the schedule we had previously established."» He walked to its center, looking around circumspectly «"Nevertheless, not being aware of what her status was, including the possibility that she was also in serious danger, sending Yoi to find her was the most logical decision I could have made. But now I don't have time to dwell it over; what separates me from my goal is this stupid game. It doesn't matter, it just means I'll have to do it the old-fashioned way."»

He paused with his hands in his pockets, lowering his gaze to the mechanism «"Soru: Shinkiro!"»

With a gust of wind, the young man disappeared, only to reappear next to the lever, moving quickly and giving the illusion of being in several places at once, as if they were residual images or a real mirage. One of his most useful tricks, so much so that in the past he himself had managed to save his own skin on more than one occasion by using it.

After doing so, a small tremor echoed through the room: a small marble pedestal emerged to his left. Morgan rushed toward it, noticing how on top was a small black silk box with some cobalt blue lettering engraved on it.

« "Um, ancient language, the same as the Poneglyphs. I should have Neal take a look at it, once we set sail."» thought the young man before opening the box and seeing its contents. What he found there left him stunned; he had finally gotten his hands on another piece of Leon's treasure. Another piece had been added to that intricate puzzle. He stowed the artifact in his pocket and prepared to return to his companions.

«Oh, well well. Look who has decided to grace us with his unwieldy presence.» A warm, authoritative voice broke the stillness of the moment.

Morgan lifted his head, meeting two yellow eyes staring at him. Someone, or rather something, was lying lazily on one of the wooden beams, just above his head. It was large and slender, with mighty muscles beneath the shiny black fur. «The devil of the seas, what an honor» The creature yawned, standing up and showing its long, surprisingly white canines against the black of its coat.

The young man looked at it, emitting a rather smug smile «Flattery won't save your skin, nor will it make me let my guard down. Did you think I didn't notice your presence, Agent Devaki? Or perhaps I should call you Hound of the World Nobles? What is a good soldier boy doing away from the Holy Land? Don't tell me that that bunch of lazybones ordered you to stop me and my crew from fulfilling our destiny? Or maybe you just wanted to see me again? I bet your presence here and the fact that the king was assassinated are not mere coincidences, am I right? By the way, did you come alone or did you bring the whole Cp0 to nurse you? Are you perhaps afraid of us?»

Growling, the beast stretched out its sword-sharp claws toward him, shortly after which it took a mighty leap and landed elegantly on the floor. Gradually it began to shrink and rest on its hind paws, which began to become more and more like human legs. That ravenous beast had transformed into a handsome young man with a slender but muscular physique. A thick mass of pitch-colored hair framed a frowning face, with a few cream-colored strands on either side of the head. He wore a white sleeveless t-shirt, a white military-cut vest and pants of the same color. His bare, brawny arms bore green spiral-shaped tattoos that extended to below his shoulders accompanied by figures traceable to owls and a wreath of olive branches. 

«I don't know what you are talking about, the murder of a respected World Government affiliate is just the latest in a long line of charges against you. I am a proud representative of justice and I'm here to bring you to it.» Devaki retorted.

«Oh, I'd like you to try» Morgan smiled again and just then, the roar of thunder rumbled through the room, accompanied by a bluish lightning bolt that flooded it completely with light, casting two hideous, monstrous silhouettes on the wall.

Chapter Text

Chapter V

 "I didn't choose the path of adventure. It was fate that chose it for me." 

(Pounce D.Leon)

Impel Down, twelve years earlier....

Very few places are there where order and chaos coexist without clashing, and even fewer where succumbing to darkness is the only way to keep one's sanity mostly intact, if one hasn't lost it yet.  

One of the most inhospitable places on the world, it strikes fear into the hearts of anyone who hears its name. Mothers use it as a bogeyman for their unruly offspring, and even the most heinous criminals fear it, so much so that they prefer hell to it.  

Impel Down encapsulated all of this: a huge prison built right in the middle of the Calm Belt and surrounded by ravenous Sea Kings. A place where the rejects of society and the worst scum that infested the seas were locked up there to then suffer the worst sentences imaginable, or as Chief Warden Cortés used to say, to be 're-educated. '  

A mournful phrase hovered over this place straight out of the most anguished abysses of the human psyche, a warning that bounced from the farthest corner of the world to the next, from one thug to the next, 'If it catches you, then it's impossible to escape it'.

That was what was buzzing in one man's mind as he was escorted by guards down that dreary stone corridor. It was quite noisy down there. Hundreds of hands jutted out of the bars, shouting at the top of their lungs at the prisoner who was advancing impassively, by now ascertained how inauspicious his fate had been, and the hellish heat that enveloped every corner of that floor only added to that unrelenting agony. 

His arms and torso were covered with numerous burns that seemed to be no less than a few hours old, probably a side effect of the 'baptism of fire.' This was the name the inmates had given to the huge cauldron filled with a scorching, crimson liquid that screeched ominously once they crossed the threshold of the fourth level.

And it was here that they were thrown in, cleansing them of all external agents before being sent to the place of torture best suited to their needs. 

For that man corresponded to the top floor of the facility, commonly referred to as the sixth level or 'Eternal Hell,' a legend even among the inhabitants of the Blues themselves and where the worst individuals ever to appear on the face of the planet were rumored to be locked up, either responsible for heinous deeds or simply delinquents deemed too powerful to let them roam free undisturbed.

«A rather quiet place, don't you think?» asked someone at his side. He was a tall, thin man with thick, wavy medium-length blackish hair and a semi-open red shirt, which highlighted his toned, defined chest. Judging by the white jacket he wore like a cape, he must have been some Marines bigwig.

The prisoner didn't respond, continuing to walk while keeping his head bowed toward the floor. Probably, the torture he had undergone just now had severely debilitated him, preventing even the use of speech, or perhaps, he simply didn't want to waste precious breath, least of all in a place where screeching or kicking served absolutely no purpose except to make you come wearily to your death.

«I like you, guy,» affirmed the man, slipping both hands into the pockets of his white pants «I particularly appreciate men of few words, they are always good company. It is a great pity that the government immediately decided on your imprisonment once in its clutches» A sinister grin appeared on his face, almost as sinister as the scar that furrowed his right eye «A few more days with yours truly, and I would have even taught you how to howl at the moon, if you know what I mean.» One of the guards pulled the chain tied to the inmate's wrists, causing him to shiver. They had almost reached the end of the corridor, as they began to catch a glimpse of the huge elevator that insiders used to move between floors of the facility.

«Well, well» commented the man, pointing his own gaze ahead of them.

Next to the elevator, was a mammoth, almost demonic-looking individual, whose head was fitted with two menacing horns pointing downward «It seems that even Director Cortés himself wants to welcome you to his enchanting abode,» he concluded by placing a hand on his shoulder.

«Vice Admiral Hunterson, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?» asked the chief warden once they reached his presence. He looked even more gargantuan when viewed up close, so much so that even an extremely tall man like the Vice Admiral looked like a child in his eyes, «So what sea waste have you decided to bring me today?»

«Rotter Ganakas,» explained Hunterson, pointing with his thumb to the prisoner on his right. Cortés lowered his head, observing the young man for a few seconds: He was tall, though not as tall as Hunterson or the other guards dragging him, let alone the size of the chief warden. He had dark skin and a slender physique. But the feature that stood out most was his hair, with his head shaved at the sides and thick cerulean hair that were expanding in every direction like the stormy waters of the West Blue.

«I have heard of him, yes,» said the chief warden, continuing to keep his gaze fixed on the young man who didn't hint at retorting or taking any other action. He looked like a genuine automaton «A scoundrel who captured merchant ships in the West Blue and ravaged the island of Keravos in an attempt to escape the Marines led by Vice Admiral Lockwood, am i right?»

Vice-Admiral nodded «Exactly, and now that he has been captured, we entrust him to your loving care so that he may be given the treatment he deserves.» After Cortés had waved, the guardsmen pulled the man by the chains, pushing him along with them into the elevator.

«Once again, Mr.Hunterson, you have proven that your reputation is well earned,» Cortés affirmed as he stroked his thick brown beard. «If my memory serves me right, It is also because of the exceptional flair you possess in tracking down and hounding criminals that you have become one of the most important resources at the World Government's disposal, so much so that you have been given the epithet 'Relentless Tracker', am i right? And today is further proof of that.»

Hunterson sighed, then shook his head As much as I hate the idea of someone else snatching my prey, I have to admit that I wasn't the one who caught him this time»

«Oh, no?» The man asked in surprise, arching an eyebrow. He couldn't believe that someone else had beaten a man of his reputation «Then whose right is it to boast of such a feat?»

«Normally it isn't our policy, to divulge this kind of information,» the Vice-admiral resumed speaking with a tone of superiority,«And if for some unfortunate reason, this were to happen, the higher-ups would immediately put a lid on it by requesting the immediate elimination of whoever is the originator and those around them, just to avoid unpleasant side effects,» He made a smirk for a moment, as if he found this amusing.

«Oh, I know very well what you mean,» asserted the Chief Warden. As much as the purpose of that all too explicit allusion was to make him desist, he wasn't the type to back down, even though he knew what fate befell those who dared to ask too much «And if you think these ridiculous threats are going to frighten someone like me, you are sorely mistaken,» he replied not at all intimidated

«It was just to be clear» Hunterson smiled again shrugging «Anyway, given your extensive experience in this matter, I think it is dutiful in this case that I make an exception by not following protocol.»

«Come on, Mr Hunterson,» the man urged him, «Spit it out.»

«Very well,» The Vice-Admiral retorted,«As I mentioned to you earlier, it was neither the Marines nor the Cipher Pol who captured Ganakas. He was found three days ago near the G-8 base, dying and nailed to the top of a pole. The same fate befell those tasked with manning that same area, as they were found about a hundred meters to the south, although unlike him, they weren't so lucky» 

«How terrible,» commented the Chief Warden, «Who on earth could be so bold and reckless as to commit such an act. Pirates, perhaps?»

The man shook his head «So, revolutionaries?» asked Cortés again.

«There weren't any witnesses, and he himself doesn't remember what actually happened or doesn't want to do it, nor does he recall the identity of his tormentors. They tried hard to get something out of him, but to no avail. Of course, in my humble opinion, they went rather lightly, and if it had been up to me, I would have made him spit out his soul as well. You know, when I want to I know how to make them obey me. » replied the other smirked again at this last statement.

«I don't doubt it, but if I may ask, who was stationed on the Verudia Island?»

«As a rule, Vice-Admiral Chase has command of the base,» Hunterson explained, «But he left more than a week ago for the West Blue for the purpose of capturing a dangerous wanted man. So, in his absence, deputizing for him was Rear Admiral Dekker.»

«Was?» Cortés raised an eyebrow, although he didn't take long to realize what the Vice-Admiral meant «Don't tell me that..»

Hunterson nodded «Those bastards tortured and slaughtered him.We found various contusion marks all over his body. The phalanges of his left hand had been severed, as opposed to his right hand, which had been amputated, as had his left leg. His face was swollen and completely drenched in blood. And guess what, his tongue was gone too.»

He clenched his fists and teeth so hard he could hear them creaking, and he let out a hard, hurt look that hardly anyone had ever been able to see, so much so that Cortès almost considered it an honour.  Probably Dekker's loss had shaken him deeply, or they had shared a rather strong bond, if a contemptuous and selfish fellow like Vice-Admiral Hunterson behaved that way, or at least that was what Cortès believed.  But that didn't even last a few seconds, as his face went back to wearing that cocky, sarcastic expression, with that his sardonic grin that the Chief Warden found decidedly irritating.

«I'm very sorry,» whispered Cortés, lowering his head briefly as a sign of respect, while the other was now pacing back and forth as if he were a general planning a battle. «Still, you seemed pretty sure about it,» He added, «As if you actually found out something about what happened or who might be responsible for it»

He had probably already made various hypotheses, however, what he had said just a few minutes ago seemed to reveal how he himself knew more than he wanted to imply.

«As you said yourself earlier,» Hunterson continued, «I possess an exceptional sniff for this kind of thing; I can even spot details that no one would otherwise notice. But it isn't only thanks to my ingenuity that I have come to this»

«As usual, you are always so modest,» said the Chief Warden, while the other rummaged through his pockets, removing a small object. He tossed it toward Cortés, who caught it on the fly «Do you recognize it?» he then asked.

«It can't be,» the man whispered immediately afterward, his eyes wide with surprise.

On closer inspection, it was a kind of symbol: a long black cross superimposed on a circle, also of the same hue.

«Dekker's chest was entirely branded with a similar emblem,» added the Vice-Admiral.

Cortès brought it close to his eye «Yet it shows no residue or traces that would suggest it is the same one used on Dekker. Where did you find it, if I may ask?»

Hunterson smiled «I borrowed it from some guys a couple of days ago» He began to explain «On the Roabonne Island, ten miles south of Verudia. Those idiots didn't expect to be discovered at all, and after we had some fun, they were happy to make some interesting statements.» A sadistic smile painted itself on his face.

«Like what? Get to the point, Vice Admiral,»

This time the Vice-Admiral looked at him seriously «The sentence 'In nomine Domini, dæmonia delebimus',ring a bell?»

Cortés gave him a puzzled look, as if that sentence had awakened long-dormant memories in him. The other, however, continued «The rest is top secret, of course, but I can see from your expression that you have already worked out who it is. I have already exposed you to the risk that if someone from the government were to find out about our conversation, they would force us to follow our ancestors unceremoniously, so I won't linger any longer» He concluded with a smirk.

«You don't need to say any more. I understand perfectly,» Cortès replied, then giving back to Hunterson the object for which the latter had gone to so much trouble.

«Well, I think it's time to go. These days, the Government has a lot of headaches on its hands, and who better to solve them than the Marines. Do you agree?» Hunterson turned, starting to walk in the opposite direction.

«Anyway, you and your staff had better watch your backs from now on» He concluded, waving goodbye to Cortès with a gesture of his hand as he disappeared into the dark.

«“If the Order of the White Cross has decided to move now, it is the whole world that needs to watch its back".» Thought the Chief Warden, clenching both his fists.

***

The sixth level looked like an even longer corridor, with a dust-covered floor and the gods only knew what those peeling crimson stains were that alternated in front of every cell that faced it.

A semi-darkness reigned supreme there, coupled with a tomb-like silence that ill matched the heartrending cries of the previous floors.

The guards yanked Rotter, forcing him to walk toward his assigned cell.

"Rotter 'The Cerulean Scourge' Ganakas. It's really him..." whispered a man to his fellow inmates, who immediately stood up to watch his advance.

"They finally got you too, huh?" asked another

"A brat playing pirate. Any lower than that," commented yet another, lying on a rather shabby bunk

"Scourge, my ass," said an inmate with thick blond hair and an expression that bordered on utter madness "Look at him, he looks like a sweet and tender little lamb."

The other prisoners burst into thunderous laughter. Rotter continued to shoot straight, not giving them a glance.

He knew very well how in there were only the most deranged and frightening elements that ever existed; therefore, he might as well ignore them completely and hope that in the long run they would get tired.

"Be quiet, you useless parasites of society!"

Suddenly, a voice seemed to shake the air, immediately calming the spirits. Heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor, enough to bring to a halt the newcomer and his captors, who had now turned their heads southward.

A tall, thin man made his entrance. Despite the poor visibility, Rotter could see that this individual had short, curly hair that blended perfectly with his bronze complexion. He wore a semi-open blue shirt, which hinted at tribal tattoos that extended from his chest to occupy most of the right side of his neck, and a white-colored vest with gold buttons, on the right side of which appeared the stylized symbol of a bird that resembled in every way the Marine emblem.

As he passed, the inmates immediately recoiled, intimidated. "It's Vice Warden Francisco," declared one of them.

"Well, well," exclaimed the man with a half-smile as he stopped before the young man, "How does your new palace look so far, Mr. Ganakas?"

But the one really seemed to be unwilling to answer him; rather, he simply shifted his gaze to his surroundings: animalistic guards armed with spiked clubs patrolled the entire floor, the steep, damp walls, whose plaster had certainly seen better days, imprisoning the cells below in a tight grip, and mysterious creatures lurking in every crevice.

He also managed to avoid meeting her gaze, which was probably devoid of the most basic shred of humanity, given his position.

"Oh, oh, we have another tough guy here," continued the Vice Warden, raising his voice so that everyone present could hear him, "I know what is needed in cases like this."

In a few moments, something solid impacted against the surface of his stomach, causing him to slump to the cold floor. The Vice Warden had delivered a punch of such violence that it generated a small displacement of air, but in spite of this, the fellow made no sound, not even a faint moan. Nor did he make any sign that he wanted to get up.

"That was just a taste of what's in store for you, brat," the man said, putting him back on his feet and grabbing him by the lapels as a knee hit him squarely in the chest. "I've never been fond of guys like you, who want to look badass at all costs when we know full well they're crying on the inside like a wimp would" He laughed, even though he knew the situation was anything but cheerful.

The guy continued to stand still and motionless as a stream of blood trickled from his mouth, soaking his tattered robes. Indeed, a cheeky smile painted itself on his face, which seemed to draw the wrath of the man in front of him.

"Does this amuse you?" the deputy director asked him, hitting him with a second hook in the face "I am Vice Warden Francisco, you bastard! You'd better keep that in mind if you care about your skin."

The other inmates watched helplessly as Rotter was brutally beaten. They probably didn't want to risk taking his place if they said anything about it. Others simply didn't care; Impel Down was a place that consumed you to the core, making you cynical and disillusioned about what was happening around you or outside.

A familiar buzzing sound, coming from his right jacket pocket, forced him to interrupt that game of massacre. The man pulled out a white transponder with bluish outlines, pushing the young man to the ground and answering the call.

"Francisco!" someone from the other end called him, someone the young man recognized as the prison chief warden, Cortés "Suspend whatever activities you are practicing and come to my office immediately, we have more urgent business to attend to."

"Roger that, Chief Warden," replied the young man almost annoyed, "I'm on my way."

He stowed the den den mushi in his pocket, then pulled out a half-splattered pack of cigarettes. He pulled one out and brought it to his mouth "It seems that from time to time even garbage is allowed to enjoy a little good fortune," he commented, lighting it up "But know that I don't intend to dismiss our little talk so quickly and that I will be watching you with much interest from now on."

Immediately he sent a puff of smoke into the air that quickly dissipated behind him at the same instant as the vice warden made his way to the opposite entrance "Anyway, Impel Down welcomes you, you insulting cockroach," he concluded before disappearing into the half-light, leaving those ferocious beasts, who were now malevolently eyeing him, to deal with the prisoner.

***

"Where the hell am I?" the young inmate wondered a few hours later, tossing and turning on a cold, damp floor. He sensed in the air an acrid smell of blood and putridity that caused him to retch. "Am I in Hades yet?" he asked himself again, trying to put his thoughts in order. The last thing he remembered was a woman's voice, the horrible din of his own bones being shattered by those bloodthirsty beasts, then, a violent blow to the back, and the world had disappeared, swallowed by darkness. However, he was now sure that he was still alive.

With each breath, his side threw twinges of pain. His own heartbeat was fast and labored. Death should not have been so painful.

He laboriously opened his eyes, swollen and crusted with his own blood, carefully examining the place where he was confined. It was a somewhat larger cell than those he had seen on the way, not as large as the one at the end of the corridor, in which the number of occupants was certainly greater than that allowed in any other prison.

He heard squeaks prowling in the darkness, probably belonging to hordes of rats crowding the walls and feasting festively on the rotting remains of what appeared to be corpses, probably the previous tenants.

A strange feeling of despondency and exhaustion had invaded every fiber of his body, preventing him from lifting himself up on his lower limbs or performing any other function.

And that nefarious rattling of the chains secured to his wrists and ankles had made him discover the reason for it.

"Bad idea, man," someone told him as with great effort he tried to shake them, however, proving to be a futile attempt.

Gradually his eyes became accustomed to the dim light coming from a small slit, and turning his head in the direction of the voice he had just heard, he was able to catch a glimpse of someone on the other side of the cell: She was crouched in a corner, shackled with handcuffs that seemed thicker than his own. Her appearance completely clashed with that of any other inmate. Her skin was rosy and not at all pale, her long blond hair fell softly over her shoulders, her physique lean and not at all emaciated.

This was a woman of extraordinary and rare beauty, who was now aiming her ice-blue eyes at Ganakas' figure, as if she wanted to peer into his soul.

"This is Sea-Stone," explained the woman as she lifted her right hand and pointed with the other to the handcuff that encircled her wrist, "An exceptionally durable and compact stone, as well as almost impossible to scratch or destroy, which exudes the same energy as the sea. But it isn't only because of these characteristics that the Marine or Pirates around the world use it among their arsenals."

Rotter swallowed; he knew perfectly well what this woman was about to reveal to him. The aura she herself exuded was enough for him to look away and nail his gaze to the top of the rough stone wall, observing the eerie lines that ran longilinear toward the edge, almost as if they had been carved over it by someone being forcibly dragged away.

"In capable hands it is a weapon capable of inhibiting the powers of those who have fed on the devil's fruits. And since you, as well as yours truly, have also been assigned a pair," the woman continued, referring again to the scrap metal that adorned their hands and feet, "I should infer that you have also fed on them."

Rotter decided not to counter or reply. The woman seemed almost like intimidating him, so much so that he remained silent and listened to what had all the air of being a profound monologue, or perhaps it was just the ramblings of someone who had now lost his sanity.

"Well, these are but another method that the enemies of freedom use to crush and subdue those who still believe in dreams, those who follow their desires with ardent passion, who fight and die for an ideal, for the realization of a purpose or cause far greater than themselves."

"I know who you are..." the young man found himself saying with difficulty and with an edge to his voice "...You are Thalia Lindsey, one of the worst elements of the 'Storm Pirates,' known...also known as the 'Necromancer' ..." So he coughed, and with each blow his chest ached as if someone was pressing his foot on his sternum.

"You are shrewder than I thought, Mr. Ganakas," stated the woman with an almost wry smile, more like a sneer. The other gave her an astonished look.

"I take it from your expression that you didn't expect me to be aware of your identity either," said the pirateess, hinting at another of those smirks, "Yet it couldn't be otherwise. In a world like ours, where despots and the corrupt have sufficient means to influence the masses and manipulate events in their favor, information constitutes the purest form of power. With it one can even decide the fate of many, for better or worse. Besides, having heard of your feats, I wished to meet you in person, just to understand what kind of man you were."

"What the hell are you babbling about, witch...?" growled the young man, as another coughing fit ripped through him.

"Oh, oh, a temperament worthy of a lord," retorted the woman wryly, "Now you are a respectable buccaneer, sir."

"Presumptuous bitch," mumbled Rotter, spitting at his feet a lump of blood and saliva, which mingled with the piles of gray, sandy dust piled on the floor "Anyway," he added again, "I didn't think I'd find you here rotting away like some criminal. I was convinced that 'Ice Heart' had prevailed in what is remembered as 'The Battle of the Poles,' sending you into the murky depths of the North Blue."

"And here the concept of information makes a comeback," she replied as if resenting that statement, "The fact that it was then totally wrong should give you sufficient indication of what people are willing or unwilling to believe. However, I have a strong sense that my presence in this godforsaken place is only momentary."

"What do you mean?" asked Rotter, increasingly confused.

"I suppose that right now the top leadership of the World Government is shouting orders and unanimously deciding on the date and place of my public execution," retorted the former archaeologist as if this were something of little consequence

"Why are you so convinced?" asked Rotter again, raising an eyebrow "I mean...Wouldn't it be easier for them to kill you quietly and away from prying eyes, letting your memory be permanently erased from memory and history. A good and substantial portion of the population of the Blue Sea, including me, was sure that you had lost your life in the bloody conflict against Aoshika."

"Yet here I am," she declared wryly, "Recluded in the cell of one of the filthiest and lowest sewers that can exist in this world and tortured by ungodly and repulsive murderers, while my comrades are out there who knows where, forced to flee and hide as if they were vulgar unclean beasts, for the World Government hunts them relentlessly."

"I..." the young man replied hesitantly, but was again interrupted by the pirate, "You would think this is due to their innate sense of justice, patriotism, or the courage with which they face adversity and safeguard citizens. You would be led to believe that with my departure there would be one less scoundrel and that the world would become a little more quiet and peaceful place. All nonsense!"  

Rotter saw a contemptuous grin darting at the corners of her mouth: "Truly, what those honorless carrion are aiming for is nothing but to give a just demonstration of their strength and influence, consolidating the façade image which they have so skilfully managed to forge and using my death as a warning and pretext to discourage anyone who dares to stand against the Government, the Marine and the authority they represent" 

"I find it hard to believe that one of your mold can surrender so easily and give up freedom, without even trying to fight for it!"

Those words escaped him without even thinking about it, pouring into the air like a river in flood. His tone was full of disappointment, probably he found it extremely difficult to reconcile the identity of the woman whose deeds had inspired legends and stories of all sorts, with the one in front of him, almost resigned to fate. 

The woman gave him a sardonic smile, as if amused by his naivety: "Do you think I gave up? Do you think I gave up my freedom? Poor fool," she said, shaking her head slightly, "I fought with everything I had and with every fiber of my being. I fought until I no longer had the strength to go further. And in the end they got me. But that doesn't mean I've submitted or thrown away every chance." 

She spat words like poison and in them the anger was palpable. Rotter looked down, probably realizing that he had been too rash.

"I could quibble for endless hours about topics you mightn't understand in a lifetime, but they would be meaningless words, at least to you. You aren't the person Captain Leon was waiting for with trepidation, nor the one I await with the same intensity." Thalia paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Although I am trapped in this hell, my spirit is as free as the currents that cross the Grand Line. They can imprison and torture me as much as they wish, but they can never rob me of my will or my dreams, because the dreams of us pirates can never end or be restrained. And my comrades out there are still fighting to assert their dreams, to make the world a better place than it is, even if the circumstances aren't entirely favorable to them."

"What makes you so optimistic about what's to come? Aren't you afraid of what the future might hold for you? Or to die for something simply unattainable and crazy?"

She smiled wryly, peering at the young man with fierce determination, "I don't know what fate has in store for me, nor should it interest me, but I know one thing. I will face it head on, with courage and conviction. And when I go up to the scaffold and the rope will tighten around my neck" her voice seemed rather firm and not at all hesitant "my last thought will go not only to an extraordinary man, to thank him for having made me who I am today, but also to those who will be witnesses, so that my death may act as a catalyst and inspire others to fight and open wide the doors of the new era,  so that a brighter future is within their reach. And if with my sacrifice, the time of tyrants and their lackeys comes to a long-awaited sunset, then it will be worth it." 

The young man nodded, he could not even tell if he was intimidated by the noble ideals of that woman or if it was just reverence for her "If I ever manage to escape from this shit hole, I will do everything in my power to make sure that your sacrifice or that of others who face obstacles and bad weather every day isn't in vain" 

Thalia smiled. A small glimmer of pride mixed with confidence sparkled in the cerulean irises as if they were fragments of pure crystal. 

"Good guy," she finally said. 

***

Two hours later, Marineford... 

They call it 'The Impregnable Fortress' , an immense city located on an island with a singular shape and protected by a myriad of fortified bastions, double enclosure walls composed of an ultra-resistant material and manned by over one hundred specialized departments of the Marine. 

But it isn’t to this that it owes its nickname, but to the fact that since its construction until today, it has never been stormed by pirates or other troublemakers, not even by the fearsome Four Emperors or the Revolutionary Army, which represented a considerable achievement in the eyes of the population or the World Government. 

It was also the place used by the Government itself for events of global importance such as hangings, executions and to a much lesser extent, beheadings. 

Overlooking a balcony adorned with two marble eagles at the ends, a tall man with a massive physique observed with a rather serious expression the gray sky thickened with caliginous and looming clouds. The icy wind coming from the sea, which began to ripple with foamy waves, lashed his face, waving more and more intensely the Marine uniform that draped his shoulders.  

Under it he wore a purple shirt, a band of a softer purple girded his waist, accompanied by hakama pants, black as a moonless night. The grizzled and military-cut hair seemed the only thing not to be pushed by the impetuous whirlwind, remaining firm and steadfast, as was the man who wore it. That man was none other than Kosaiusagi, one of the Marine's fearsome admirals.  

Suddenly, a voice behind him interrupted his thoughts, "It looks like a terrible storm is coming, Admiral," said a man flanking him. He was a tall and slender man, although of smaller stature than the other, with long and wild dirty blond hair, almost devoid of light. He wore a black vest with a light blue button, a handkerchief of the same color around his neck and gold-colored trousers. The classic Marine jacket was resting on his shoulders, although unlike that of the Admiral it seemed more white.

Kosaiusagi turned to him, nodding in assent "So it would seem" His voice was deep, slightly hoarse but clear and powerful, controlled and not at all frightening. It was a voice that spread tranquility and at the same time instilled fear and aroused respect. "Are you already back, Vice Admiral Dupont?" he asked, scanning the horizon again. 

The man yawned loudly, bringing his hand in front of his mouth in a blatant manner and squinting, "Well, you know me, Admiral. If the task is tedious, it is almost obligatory for me that it be completed as smoothly and quickly as possible. I was about to go take a nap, but I thought before I went to greet you," he spoke slowly, as if that conversation was starting to bore him. 

The admiral nodded, "Excellent. Should I trust then that everything has been properly settled and the matter resolved?"

Dupont shrugged, "As far as it may be called such, given the circumstances. But I wouldn't worry about it, at least not now. And the time that will decide whether to do it or not" 

"You're the usual slacker," Kosaiusagi told him.  

Dupont raised an eyebrow, observing the man with a certain degree of curiosity "I guess you could say that" he replied scratching his head "You are always so serious and somber, Admiral. Do you ever find time to relax?” he asked him

“I have my moments,” the man admitted.

As if hypnotized by it, he followed with his eyes the movement of the waves that vehemently crashed against the metal walls of the bay, hearing in the distance a dull rumble, like the roll of a hundred chariots that were dragged along the boundaries of the sky

"Is anything troubling you, Admiral?" asked the man, "Today, you seem more brooding than usual." 

"A man's worth is revealed in the instant when life confronts death."

An answer that seemed somewhat cryptic, as if the Admiral was quoting someone.

"Sir?" repeated Dupont, confused by the words he had just heard. He knew well how mysterious and indecipherable the man was, but today he undoubtedly seemed more distant than he was, as if his mind were elsewhere.

"Old memories, Dupont," Kosaiusagi hastened to say, "Of a day not so long ago when a storm such as this raged. On that day these exact words were addressed to me."

A flash of curiosity flashed in his eyes "Are you perhaps referring to what we know today as the 'Battle of Cataclysms' ? To the day you faced Captain Pounce D.Leon?"

Kosaiusagi nodded gravely, "Exactly. That was the day I faced one of the toughest challenges I've ever encountered. Leon was a formidable and relentless adversary, whose courage and willpower were second only to his unspeakable cruelty. That battle tested not only my strength and resolve, but also my tenacity and sense of duty to my men and what I swore to protect and serve. I still carry the aftermath of it," he concluded, running a hand over his chest. 

Dupont seemed quite impressed: "I have heard different versions of the story and from quite disparate sources, but never at your hands Admiral, the only one who knows how things actually went. Would you like to share it with me?"

Kosaiusagi nodded, continuing to stare intently at the horizon, while his mind returned for a moment to that fateful day. 

Three Marine warships sailed the stretch of sea preceding Diatidur Island. On the deck of one of them, there was Kosaiusagi, a couple of years younger, peering undaunted ahead, waiting to land on the island where it was rumored that Leon had found a treasure capable of shaking the world. 

Soon, the ship was shaken by shocks and violent tremors that tore creaks and moans from every framework. Dark clouds gathered above their heads, covering much of the sky and with the first drops of rain, the wind suddenly rose and began to blow in gusts.

The surface of the sea rippled, then became black as darkness and becoming one with the sky, and the rain instantly turned into a hurricane of gigantic proportions. The wind howled so loudly that you couldn’t hear the cries of the sailors who were swept away by it. 

Kosaiusagi turned his gaze to own left, observing how a huge breaker swept over the other ship, swallowing it through its coils like a snake and dragging it into the dark depths. 

"Come on, men!" the Admiral tried to incite them, "Try not to be intimidated by the stormy sea, are you or not sailors?" 

"Yessss!!!" they exclaimed in chorus, raising their arms to the sky. 

"So put your backs into it! Batten down the hatches and lower the sails!"

A reddish-black lightning struck the side of the boat, and that's when he saw him:

Honey blond hair gathered in a ponytail, on top of which there was a tricorn ending with a feather, thick mustache of a lighter shade and dressed in sumptuous silk clothes to envy the richest of sovereigns.  

This was the infamous Pounce D.Leon, the one who had conquered the Grand Line in no time and who had ended up on everyone's lips, boasting a high-sounding but never more suitable title, ‘King of Explorers’".  

He stood on the shore, posing like a proud warrior. In his hands he vigorously clutched the weapon with which he had conquered the summit and which was probably partly responsible for the devastation that was taking place, the Stormlure, a saber whose silver blade was strewn with strange symbols and whose golden hilt somehow recalled the shape of a tornado.

"There you scoundrel!" thought the Admiral taking a step forward "At last the Marine's number one enemy has appeared before us, Pounce D Leon!" he exclaimed "Keep your concentration firm and remain at your posts as you await further instructions!" he continued before rushing to the edge and stretching his arm forward, generating a kind of ovoid-shaped portal that glowed with a purple, almost otherworldly light "And now to the two of us. Backdoor!" he said before reaching it like a rocket and passing through it, under the astonished and intimidated gaze of his own men.

But Leon seemed not to have been caught off guard, so much so that he imbued his own weapon with blackish electrical discharges and made an upward leap to the very spot where Kosaiusagi had immediately appeared.

"Perpetual Overture!" "Sharpdoor!" they both shouted in unison before a violent wave of light made them disappear from view.

"In the ten days that followed that incredible battle. many valiant men perished," the Admiral continued to narrate, "It was an unparalleled clash, the sky was dyed red, and the wind carried the whiff of tragedy to distant shores," he stopped abruptly, as if somehow feeling the weight of those deaths on himself as well.

"Go on, continue, Admiral," said Dupont, fascinated as never before by the tale.

Kosaiusagi nodded, his eyes still fixed on the horizon "In the midst of our bloody battle, something happened that even today I struggle to understand."

"What was that all about?" asked the other curious.

"We were so focused and enervated by the battle that we neglected what was happening around us. At first I didn't feel anything, then, it was as if it pounced on me all at once. The world exploded around me, and for an instant, I felt incorporeal, feeble, drifting in a sea of pure energy. It was...indescribable."

Dupont squared him strangely, scratching his head as if trying to come to grips with words that made little or no sense to him "Rather cryptic, explain yourself better."

Kosaiusagi smiled faintly, a rather rare thing since he was accustomed to wearing with great dexterity the mask of austerity and strictness he had managed to construct for himself over the years "It seems that the overlapping of our Haki generated a massive, uncontrolled explosion, which engulfed the entire island at once, causing destruction everywhere."

Dupont opened his eyes wide, "It must have been terrible. What happened next?"

"I was catapulted directly into the sea, and Leon and his cursed island were inevitably lost. However, until some time ago, rumors were circulating about it and that it had reappeared almost by magic, but these were only unfounded rumors and the result of tavern or drunken gossip. No one except Leon and his crew ever managed to explore the island and find the fearsome secret it held."

"And how did you survive?" asked the Vice Admiral "Having ingested a devil fruit and thus lost the ability to swim, you would have drowned instantly. So what trick did you use to have saved your life? Perhaps, it might come in handy."

Kosaiusagi was silent for a moment, "That's a whole other story, and maybe someday I'll tell it to you."

Dupont snorted boredly, but then clenched his fists as if in the throes of strong excitement "At any rate, having helped take out a freebooter of the worst kind, you have earned the nickname 'Stormbreaker.' That is quite a tale worthy of your exploits. You’re incredible, Admiral. A true legend."

"I'm just a man" he replied in a low voice "A man who has seen too much and would never back down, even knowing that storms more violent than this loom on the horizon" then turned a grave expression on the man next to him "Remember that, Vice Admiral. No matter how calm the waters may appear, for somewhere, there is always an impending storm, ready to pour its irrepressible fury upon the world."

Dupont nodded, before taking his leave with a nod and beginning to walk in the direction of the imposing carved wooden door.

Chapter Text

Chapter VI

Four days later, Canton Cay, West Blue...

The sun had begun to dart with its warm rays over picturesque Canton Cay, lying in a lush valley and surrounded by hills colored by the flowers of saffron, broom and heather, which caressed and protected it in their soft arms. In the center of it, there stood imperiously an old quadrangular bell tower of reddish stones and bricks crowned with battlements, similar in every way to those of the castles placed in the kingdoms that lined the route of the Great Blue. 

A gentle breeze swayed the foliage of the trees around, carrying the melodic tones of the bells among the streets, which in a short time had become more populated and seemed more alive than ever.

As if lulled by the sweet dirges that echoed in the air, an eagle pervaded by the glowing sunlight soared above the tower, circling and flapping its cream-colored wings, before perching atop the wooden cross. As if she were a sentinel, it scanned its surroundings, turning its snowy head southward, as if something, or rather someone, had just focused its attention. She aimed her pupils black as night at the figure skulking through the dirty, muddy alleys, as if she were spasmodically searching for something.

He was of medium height, with a rather gaunt physique covered in filthy rags. But the thing that clashed badly with everything else was the thick hair he kept tied up in a ponytail, dark blue and alternating with some sapphire-colored locks that fell down his sides. In the midst of that mop of hair, a strange wisp of hair with a characteristic swirl shape sprouted from it.

"Hey, Silas!"  

The call exploded behind him, causing him to turn sharply. A boy made signs to him, holding up two sticks.  

"Taylor and his gang are heading for our territory!"

That name evoked not-so-pleasant thoughts in him. A thorn in his side, always ready to strike when one least expected it. 

"You can tell the beating last time wasn't enough for him!" burst out laughing Silas going to join his friend "This time he's leaving us more than just his shirt."

He grabbed the stick thrown to him by his comrade on the fly, heading together with it toward that area of the Chebei district they were defending tooth and nail from the incursions of rival gangs. When they reached the alley that demarcated their area, Taylor and his clique were already there, lined up in two rows, ready to break into enemy territory.

But half of Silas's group had been alerted to their arrival, and they were already busily piling up empty crates and whatever else might be useful in setting up the barricade. 

"Ah, there's Declan and Silas!" exclaimed a voice, relieved.

The defenders cheered their leader as soon as the former emerged from an alleyway full of garbage and matted cats. He brandished his staff with a roar, twirling it menacingly. And that was enough for his comrades to regain their self-confidence and feel ready to win even the most arduous of wars.

For his part, Taylor emitted a series of howls that were meant to somehow emulate the cries of some of the tribes scattered across the Blue Sea, for the sole purpose of striking terror into his opponents. His own imitated him, and the narrow street was filled with a great clamor composed of all sorts of wild shouts and cackles.

"Let them bark like mangy dogs," Silas said, "After they confront us, they will have barely enough breath to yelp and beg for mercy. Osman, go and call for reinforcements among our streets, we will need them anyway."

A roar of laughter rose from the barricade. And Taylor, that those brats were laughing at him and jeering didn't like it at all, so much so that enraged, he ordered his pack to advance, slowly and in a calculated manner, since it was more effective than a haphazard run and in the opinion of many, it increased the perception of the strength of the attack even in the assailant himself. It also gave the opponents time to be afraid.

Those who wielded sticks beat them on the ground; those who had stones beat them against each other. In response, the gang led by Declan rattled the barrels by hammering them with pieces of tin and chairs they had collected from an inner courtyard. Cats snoozing blissfully in front of the basement windows humped and hunkered down in the shadows. A gray dog ran skimming the walls, its tail between its paws.

Taylor stopped about 20 yards from the fortification. Even the drumming ceased. They peered at each other in silence. A stillness that ill concealed a certain note of menace. Sneers surfaced to their lips. It was a way of belittling the enemy and gaining courage. 

"We will beat you to a pulp," growled one of the assailants.

"Kiss my ass," replied someone from the barricade. 

"Kiss mine first!" 

And there the first phase of the battle seemed to have finally begun. Words were the first to fly. Insults, threats. Sharp words that drove one mad with rage. Then it was the body's turn. Obscene gestures that fit perfectly into the full package of challenges and intimidation typical of savages.

Then, like a bolt from the blue, a stone was thrown forcefully, clashing against the barrels, followed closely by many others. The defenders, not well armed, fired back with rotten fruit. It was even better than rocks. Although it caused less pain, once it hit the target it smashed into his face, spreading over his eyes and mouth.

According to Claude, that is, the one who had proposed such an idea, a nice fruit smashing on the forehead was just what was needed to stop a blowhard on the spot. Moreover, it didn't make one look good either.

That was probably what Taylor thought at that moment, observing his own chest soiled with cabbage leaves purposely stuffed with dog droppings. He felt a fury flare up. At that point a wave of rage caused the ranks to rise up and vehemently throw themselves against the fort. The fruits continued to shatter like glass, yet failed to contain the onslaught.

"But where the hell are the reinforcements?" wondered Declan, worried. 

"You say I should resort to 'what you know'?" asked Silas of him. It was clear what he was referring to, but the gang leader gave him a somewhat puzzled expression 

"Are you crazy?" he asked almost in a whisper, for fear of being overheard "Do you have any idea what would happen? Anyone who has eaten a devil fruit is frowned upon in these parts, you should know better."

Meanwhile, Taylor's warriors scaled, overturned, and penetrated the barrier. Declan, after shooting another glare at the boy, ordered a strategic retreat as the barrels rolled to either side of the downhill alley.  

Gripping his staff firmly with both hands, Silas struck out left and right, smacking the leg of one and smacking the arm of another, so as to buy valuable time that his people could use to rally and for reinforcements to come to their aid. His opponents avoided a head-on collision; rather, they sought every way to go around him.

"You almost fight like a lion, Silas," Taylor admitted, "But this time neither you nor Declan can stop me from winning. We'll knock you to the ground and pluck you like a chicken. I'll even take your underpants, in case you have them under those worn-out robes like that, as a trophy! You will go home naked as a worm." 

The boy backed away through clenched teeth, his hands clasped on his cane.

"Sil don't be stupid!" exclaimed a voice from behind the barricade. This time, the speaker was Idris, another orphan who had found refuge in Declan's group no less than a year ago, when he miraculously escaped the massacre of his family by bandits. He had fit in well in that straggling company of strays, immediately forging a strong bond with the cobalt-haired boy.

"Let them dare" Silas retorted swaggeringly "They will taste the point of my weapon" A smirk peeped on his face "And not on a foot or a hand" 

He was no longer defending the street, he was protecting himself, what had now become his home, and those who constituted more than family to him. Standing up like a cobra ready to attack, he whistled. His breath became a trickle of air, a hiss between his teeth. His eyes blazing like flames leapt from one boy to another.

Who would be the first to attack? 

His ostentatious calm seemed to betray him, as small tremors had begun to take hold of him, probably at the mere thought of what was soon to happen. Suddenly there was the sound of a swarm of greenhorns running and screeching. Reinforcements, at last. They had bypassed the houses to swoop in to charge from behind.

"Well done, Osman," rang Declan's voice, "Sweep this scum away." 

His attackers turned to look, which Silas took advantage of to mow down Taylor with a masterful leg shot, then slamming his weapon into his rival's head, knocking him unconscious. His gang meanwhile had pounced on the enemy and the sticks clashed, amid shouts and groans. A shower of slaps, punches and scratches had as if poured down on them.

At that instant, the wine merchant emerged from a nearby alley with his barrel "For God's sake!" he exclaimed "How have you reduced my barrels? I'll show you what happens when you beat each other like scoundrels!" railed the poor man, his fist raised and his gaze furious 

"Scoundrels! Scoundrels! Scoundrels! Get lost before I bludgeon you!"

All of a sudden reverting to being just a whirlwind of children, the two gangs dispersed at a gallop through the streets. Neither won nor lost. Only the adult had recaptured the space in front of his store and as soon as he dismounted from his barrow, he proceeded to heckle his clerks for allowing those kids to use the barrels to play war in the streets. It took kicking their butts and punching for them to regain some sense.

Silas still reeling from the euphoria of the moment, ran like a madman, turning for the island's harbor, although he did not have time to notice that someone else was also coming from the opposite direction, which inevitably resulted in a rather dry thud that echoed against the concrete walls of the bay. 

"Watch where you're going, boy!" grunted that individual.

He was a man with a slender physique and almost sparse hair, a brown color, more towards burgundy. He was wearing a shirt with a V-neck and long slate-colored pants. 

"I'm sorry, sir," Silas replied, scratching the back of his head almost in embarrassment, "I just didn't see you."

The man quickly gave himself a quick wipe-down and holding out his hand, helped him up "Having your head in the clouds is a mistake that in a world like ours we can't afford," he said seriously "Especially if it's a wren like you who pays the price."

Silas carefully examined the strange individual, noting how a white jacket fitted with golden epaulets was slung over his shoulders. He soon realized, that the fellow in front of him belonged to the Marine, the World Government organ that was responsible for maintaining peace and order in the seas around the world, and was fiercely fighting against one of the most hostile plagues to befall the Blue Sea, piracy.

"Thank you for the advice," replied the boy, rather intimidated by the one in front of him and the aura he exuded, giving himself one more look at his tattered robes and preparing to leave in the direction of the Dancing Squid , where he hoped Declan and the others had taken refuge.

"Just a moment!" thundered the man, jolting him "May I know who I have had the honor of meeting?"  

"My...My name is Silas," he muttered.

He was convinced that the man had come there to arrest him and his little friends. It was probably old Jian who had blurted it out, since they had dared to steal fresh bread from his pantries, or Bill the stable boy, whose hay barrow they had assaulted. It could have been any of them, why not? Almost half the district's population was now exasperated by their misdeeds; therefore, the Marine would have been the quickest and easiest response to stem the growing discontent due to the youth gangs.

"Silas, huh?" he wondered as he ran a hand over his lips, there where the boy saw a deep scar starting from his chin and extending to his left nostril "Really nice name," continued the Marine "I guess it has some kind of meaning." 

"Probably" he replied, shrugging. His intent was to try to show absolute indifference, or at least not to look terrified, but the Marine's appearance and his manner, so calm and authoritative, certainly did not make it easy for him.

"By the way, Silas, what are you doing around here?" the man asked him again, "Don't you know it's dangerous for someone like you to wander around all by yourself? Where are your parents?" It was as if he was subjecting him to a kind of interrogation disguised as good manners.

"We may never know," retorted the boy, breaking into a bitter smile, but observing the man's confused expression, he tried to explain himself quickly "I've been an orphan for a couple of years now, although Jenkins, the man to whom I was entrusted, tries to cheer me up as best he can. In fact, I was just on my way to buy bread for me and the old man, before we collided, of course."

He lied, even though he knew what he was up against if he found out. However, he knew Chebei like her own pocket and the man had never seen him anywhere, so he was convinced as he was that a mere outsider, however, he still couldn't completely rule out the possibility that he had come to capture him, Declan and the others, so he had to try to play it smart.

"Very well," replied the man, observing him again questioningly, "But be 'careful how you move. A most dangerous criminal lurks in these parts, guilty of numerous crimes and atrocities. Therefore, it is advisable that once you have successfully run your errands, you head as quickly as possible to your dwelling and stay there. You must not leave for any reason in the world, at least until that scoundrel has been sentenced to capital punishment. Understood?"

Silas nodded, although numerous questions began to crowd his mind. Who was the criminal mentioned and what was he doing here, in Canton Cay? He should have quickly reported everything to Declan and the others.

"Besides," the Marine resumed speaking, "I guess you have already guessed what I am. I ascertained that from the way you looked at me just now. So, yes, I will answer your question. My name is Hyram Chase, I am a Marine officer with the rank of Vice Admiral, and I am here to protect the unsuspecting citizens of this idyllic city from the clutches of a scoundrel of the worst kind, so, you need not fear me. I am part of the good guys," he concluded, lifting his thumb as if to reassure him.

"Okay...Okay" commented he still a little shaken. 

"And now you have permission to take your leave," declared the Vice Admiral, breaking into a smile, "Scram." 

Silas did not make himself repeat it twice and after walking a few yards and turning the corner, he set off at lightning speed toward the inn.  

He had to tell his friends everything.

***

The tavern was located in the deepest part of the neighborhood, hidden among winding alleys and lanes. A small pier allowed boats to dock there. Above, attached to one of the pillars that supported the building, hung a sign with the tavern's name: The Dancing Squid . A few street lamps illuminated the porch from which a loud racket came. 

Voices, laughter and music, spilling from the windows seemed to portray a place as lively as it was populated.

Silas pushed open the door, finding himself before a spectacle that had become familiar: regulars who looked like men it would be wise never to cross paths with on a dark night, engaged in banquets, wild dances, animated discussions, and a variety of parlor games, some at cards, some at dice. Beer and other types of alcohol flowed freely, no doubt to dull the minds of those who were careless enough to cross that threshold. The aroma of fresh seafood mingled with the stench of rotten wood and rancid sweat, wholly deadening the air.

Yo-hohoho, Yo-hohoho! 

Yo-hohoho, Yo-hohoho! 

Yo-hohoho, Yo-hohoho! 

Yo-hohoho, Yo-hohoho! 

Going to deliver Binks' Sake!

Following the sea breeze! Riding on the waves!

Far across the salty depths! The merry evening sun!

The birds sing as they draw circles in the sky!

A stocky, ruddy big man, bundled up in a leather jacket and with a shaved head dominated the scene, standing next to a table right in the center of the room, raising a goblet aloft in an effort to urge everyone to toast and intone the same song. To his invitation, the diners on the other side of the hall replied in chorus: a few bronze-skinned fellows dressed in a most unlikely manner who were waiting to be served.

In one corner of the venue, two men wrapped in a long green cloak presided over a lavish banquet before which a long queue thronged, the two appearing to be collecting bets or subscriptions for who knows what cause. Meanwhile, on the opposite side, a woman with thick reddish hair and a suspicious appearance was holding court, attracting the interest of many.

At the back, on a small stage, an orchestra of musicians played wildly, while the crowd, as if in a trance, indulged in a frenetic and excited dance. Chaos reigned supreme and no one seemed to notice a little brat who made his way through the crowd with extreme nonchalance, directed towards the counter, where Samuel Brauer, the bartender, was busy cleaning a glass with a dirty rag. A cliché that could not be missing in a place like that. The cloud from the cigarette she held between her teeth obscured his half-closed eyes. However, there seemed to be no trace of Declan and the others.

The boy climbed up on a red, cracked stool, promptly placing a glass in front of the man "A nice round of milk for the troubled souls, Sam."

The bartender merely crushed the butt in the glass ashtray placed to his right, and when the one then lifted his head, he burst into a rather boisterous laugh "Just milk? What are you, a damn cat?"

"Wow, original," Silas replied, waiting for Brauer to pour his drink, "Has anyone ever told you that you are about as funny as sand in your underpants?"

Samuel looked at him crookedly "Not one who was still alive to tell the tale" then, he observed as Silas took a sip, swallowing nervously, finally exploding after a long pause in which the tension seemed palpable, into a thunderous laugh, showing all his yellowish, chipped teeth, except for one incisor, golden. "You should have seen your face, it almost looked like you were about to wet yourself."

His voice had a sound similar to the crackling of billiard balls when they beat against each other.

Silas smiled mischievously, "It's a good thing you don't have a mirror, otherwise you would know what condition you pour your own face into."

Brauer chuckled again "Ladies and Gentlemen, the show was graciously brought to you by Silas, the shrewdest and sharpest tongue in all of Canton Cay," he said as he stretched out his arms and pointed at him, although no one was paying attention to the hilarious picture, drunk and busy with other activities as they were "I'll give you that, you've got guts despite being a brat."

The boy took another sip, wiping his lips with the back of his hand "Well, you know how it is, my dear Sam, someone has to keep things interesting around here. We can't just let the adults have all the fun, can we?" 

Samuel leaned against the counter, crossing his arms "Fair enough. By the way, how come you're all alone today?" he asked, pouring him another glass "Where did your inseparable clique of misfits get to?"

Silas shrugged his shoulders "I'm not sure, actually. I was convinced that after what happened down at the wine shop, they rushed straight here, which I did, too. I wouldn't want anything to have happened to them."  

He decided not to mention his encounter with the Vice Admiral, since the people who frequented this rather rough area had no particular liking for the uniform and preferred not to attract any more trouble.

Samuel chuckled and shook his head, "Don't worry, if there's one thing I know it's that you're pretty smart guys for someone to outwit you so easily, so you shouldn't worry about it too much, maybe they'll have taken refuge in some of your hiding places. You have some, yes?" 

The boy nodded, although a note of concern could still be seen on his face.

"However," Brauer continued, "It seems that this time old Winston is on a rampage about what you have done to his precious barrels. I wouldn't want him to be planning to commit something incredibly stupid." 

Silas raised an eyebrow "Something like shooting us?"

"That wouldn't be such a bad idea after all," sighed the man, setting down to wipe the counter at the exact spot where moments earlier two rather tipsy patrons had spilled a purplish, seemingly viscous liquid.

Silas gave him an annoyed expression "I mean around here people kill each other for a lot less" tried to explain himself to the man "By the way, if you can find Declan, tell him he still owes me 1000 belly. That guy has an unparalleled talent for forgetting his debts."

"Are you perhaps saying that I too am in danger of coming to a bad end?"  

Brauer laughed "In a way, we can say that."

"Well, why don't you put it all on Jenkins's tab, as usual?" asked Silas, pointing to a man in his seventies with a thick beard, who, particularly elated, was hanging out with two comely girls, holding tightly in his hands a half-empty mug of beer. This was the same guy Silas had mentioned during his conversation with Vice Admiral Chase "Anyway, drunk as he is, I don't think he can complain about it." 

"Oh, you think you're smart, huh?" retorted Brauer with a smirk, squeezing the rag into a bucket on the floor behind the bar.

"Well, I learned from the best"  

"Not a bad answer" He opened the damp dishcloth, shook it and spread it out to dry on a beer keg "But you still have a lot to learn if you hope to one day reach the open sea" 

"What do you know about that?"

Brauer pulled an arabesque silver lighter out of his right pocket, lighting the cigarette he had provided moments earlier between his teeth and blowing the smoke into the boy's face "More than you could ever imagine. But that's a story I'll tell you only if you prove you have what it takes."  

Silas tried to ignore what the man meant and turned back to Jenkins, noting how the old man had become bolder than a few minutes ago, as he was now attempting to embrace the two maidens, probably with purposes that were anything but chaste.

"Jenkins, you old idiot of a sailor," the bartender resumed him, "Stop bothering the customers, or you risk them never setting foot in here again. At least wait until they've had at least one consumption. Fucking alcoholic" he then ended up cursing under his breath.  

"So," Silas intervened, again rolling his head toward the man and frantically drumming his fingers on the pinkish, splintered wood, trying unsuccessfully, however, to tone it down, "What news do you bring from the slums?"

Brauer sucked in a long puff from the cigarette and exhaled slowly, watching the swirls of smoke vanish into the void "Get lost. A brat like you shouldn't meddle in these grown-up matters." 

"Antipathetic," muttered Silas, looking grimly at Brauer "I hate it when people treat me like I'm just another kid, especially if you're the one doing it."

The man in response sucked in one last puff and extinguished the fag in the ashtray, which was overflowing with numerous other dark ones, crushed and squeezed with voluptuousness, bursting shortly after into laughter "You are a child. What else are you supposed to be? Let's hear it." 

"Someone much smarter and more skilled than he appears. Someone who so far has always managed to get away with any situation that has presented itself, even without the help of my friends."  

"That's true," replied the bartender, examining for a few seconds the determined expression painted on the boy's face, something capable of counteracting even the snide remark addressed to him just now.

"I may be small and young, Samuel," the boy continued, slamming a hand on the table, though not so loudly as to attract the attention of the others, "But I'm not naïve about it. I've seen more than you think, and the others are no less. So speak up." 

"You don't know and you haven't seen anything yet, believe me," retorted the other "You don't have the slightest idea of what lurks outside the confines of Canton Cay. But if you insist, I certainly don't see why I should be the one to back down. True, you will learn information that someone would be willing to kill to obtain, but it is at your own risk. Just avoid in the future to start making a scene, I don't want my customers to mistake a serious establishment like this for a kindergarten. Understood?"

Silas nodded, "Perfectly. Now, spit it out." 

Brauer looked around circumspectly, his gaze darting from one customer to another, making sure no one was sober enough to eavesdrop on their conversation. After a few more moments of hesitation, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter while beckoning the boy to approach further. Silas obeyed, until he was close enough to sniff his breath, a mixture of stale tobacco and garlic.

"Listen carefully boy," Brauer began. He had greatly diminished the volume of his own voice so that it almost resembled a whisper "Strange rumors are circulating, whispers carried on the wind. Rumors such as have put even Marine Headquarters and the Cipher Pol in an uproar." 

Silas opened his eyes wide in amazement "Even?"

He was well aware of how the Marine and the Cipher Pol, a secret intelligence organization, were not the type to be alarmed over simple and useless trifles. So the situation must have been quite serious. 

Brauer nodded, "Apparently. These rumors speak of dangerous and feared types. Individuals of frightening strength, enough to make even the most hardened criminal's skin crawl, who would be moving all over Canton Cay."

"Dangerous types? What do you mean by that? Who are they?"  

The sequel of questions came out of his mouth like a raging river before he could even realize it. What Brauer had said seemed as if it had paralyzed him, for except for his mouth, he felt as if a mysterious force was blocking every inch of his body. Terror had as if taken possession of him.

Brauer paused for a moment, weighing his words and casting a glance outside, trying to detect prying ears "I have not been able to gather any further details, but it seems that these guys have always been used to plotting and moving in the shadows. That is why I am extremely convinced that in the coming days the situation in Canton Cay will get hotter and more chaotic." 

Silas looked even more agitated "Do you think Declan and the others encountered them while trying to cross town?" 

Brauer shook his head "I highly doubt it and it is rather unlikely that such individuals would have any interest in picking on unsuspecting boys. Also, according to my sources, it seems that Marine Headquarters decided to send Vice Admiral Chase on their trail, as he is considered on par with a monster in strength and skill. It seems that he was seen no less than a few hours ago in the Nansha area."

Silas swallowed, now fully understanding why a guy like a Vice Admiral was prowling around there and that what he had told him seemed to find confirmation with what Brauer was reporting to him. 

"And I'm willing to bet that Cipher Pol has decided to send some agent here, too," he looked away again, as if to check something out "And I'm convinced he's already arrived on the island. He might even be here right now, mingling in the crowd like any other man." 

"But why Canton Cay of all places? What's so special about it?"

"And what we're all trying to figure out," Brauer replied again, "it's a pretty dangerous and abstruse game we're about to take part in. But one thing is certain, if all these figures are converging here, it means that something very dark is at work, and I don't like that at all." 

"Shouldn't we do something about it? What do I know, tell someone who can avert this threat?"

Silas's mind seemed crowded with a thousand thoughts as he scrutinized Brauer's face becoming even more serious than it was "No, absolutely. And now open your ears wide, boy. This information is not to be shared with anyone, not even your friends. Is that clear?" He silenced Silas with a gesture that he wanted to retort, then added, "I don't want them to be alarmed and thus run the risk that they will desist from completing the new assignment I plan to give you."

The boy's eyebrows furrowed in confusion "New assignment? What is it about?" 

"You have to deliver a package to the west area, nothing so complicated" Brauer hinted a smirk "In fact, for you it should be like stealing some candy from old Seymour's store, nothing more. So are you in?" 

"I have to talk it over with the others first. Although I think they will all agree with me to do this task only if the pay is good."

"You have my word, boy," Brauer laid a hand on his own chest, "And you see to it that you keep yours about what we said to each other. Also, although you did not explicitly say so, no, I assure you that you will be in no danger." 

"That's the way I like you, Brauer," smiled Silas.

"Ladies...and Gentlemen...Your attention, please."

They both turned their attention to the scene unfolding in the center of the room: Jenkins, in the throes of the wildest intoxication, had climbed onto a table, raising his goblet in the direction of the room. 

"Jenkins, now you're going too far. Get down from there before you make a complete fool of yourself," Brauer put a hand to his face as Silas laughed himself silly.

"I will tell you a story," declared the old man, completely ignoring the bartender, "A story of courage and fervent belief in one's ideals and dreams. I will take you back in time to a time when the seas were plied by pirates and outlaws eager to prove themselves, challenging and risking their lives every day to satisfy the thirst for freedom that gripped them. And among these righteous and upright men, we cannot but remember the one who has rightfully entered into legend. A man who had the audacity to stand up to those who bullied and was regarded as a heinous criminal and persecuted by the Marine and the special forces of the World Government. I am talking about Guilleme Hank."

A murmur of amazement swirled among the spectators, even Silas was looking forward to hearing the exploits of this extraordinary pirate.  

True, his lifelong myth was Leon, and he missed no opportunity to repeat to anyone who would listen that he wished to cast off his moorings and attain the same fame and importance as his idol, although it was a far-from-achievable dream, but one way or another he would try. However, he did not disdain to hear the stories of men who had helped shape the great era in which he himself lived, and then Jenkis, although he was rather tipsy, was considered a skilled and appreciated speaker.

"Hank was a man of exceptional temperament," Jenkins continued, "Many say that before he became a filibuster, he was a simple sailor of fortune, embarking like many to seek his fortune across the sea. Others, even believed that he was the illegitimate son of a ruler of a powerful and prosperous North Blue kingdom, still others that he had connections of an unknown nature with some important government official. In any case, they all agree that at some point in his life, when he discovered the many injustices the Marine had been guilty of, he decided to rebel. He thus began to plunder in the company of other buccaneers the ships that carried heavenly tribute and to take sides against the rulers he said were corrupt. His fame quickly spread throughout the Blue Sea, and his face became a symbol and a threat to the entire system."

The old Jenkins took a breath and took another sip before continuing "However, on one of his raids, he was betrayed by the one he regarded as a brother and comrade-in-arms and turned over to the Marine. Although, a few weeks later, while being taken to Impel Down, the fleet was overwhelmed by a sudden storm, which gave Hank a way to get to safety, but not before he recruited a crew made up of his fellow prisoners and commandeered one of their ships. He was not the type to slink off like a rabbit, and he wished his executioners to be taught a lesson they would not so easily forget" A smirk appeared on his wrinkled face, furrowed by a few scars that his thick beard could not hide "With the favor of the raging gale, Hank emerged from the murky, dark waters, bearing down with the fury of a raptor on his unsuspecting enemies, who were bewildered by the sudden turn of events. The battle grew fiercer and fiercer, until the Aquila Maris , as her ship had been renamed, succeeded in sinking the fleet. Hank then returned home with bountiful booty and renewed freedom."

Jenkins paused for a moment, he knew how best to dose suspense "...But do you think the World Government would shut up and let such an affront go unpunished? No, sir. It increased the bounty hanging over his head and sent numerous teams led by a powerful Admiral, with the aim of eliminating him for good. But Hank was a man too smart, shrewd and able to adapt to any situation to fall into such traps. To this day he is still a wanted man, and no one knows where he is or if he is still alive."

When he finished the story, he took a little bow, being greeted by numerous warm applause, even Silas stood up and cheered fervently. This was exactly what he longed for more than anything else, to experience adventures like this and to meet so many multifaceted personalities, as well as to battle opponents of extraordinary strength.  

"It seems that today he was more inspired than usual," stated someone leaning against the counter. Silas turned toward the man, carefully examining the individual he had beside him: he was a tall, sturdy man, balding and with a henna-dyed stubble that made his face, leathery and dark, look even darker.

This was none other than Finch, another of the Dancing Squid 's regulars. 

"Yeah," replied Brauer as he poured scotch into the glass the man took, probably already knowing what the man was going to order "But for what it's worth, if nothing else he can entertain customers, a quality anyone in my business particularly appreciates." 

"And you don't even pay for it," the man said, bringing the filled glass to his lips "You are a despicable man, Mr. Brauer."

"Come on," replied the latter in a light tone, "It is already something if I allow him to hugely raise his elbow completely on credit. Besides," he added with a sly smile, "You too could contribute something sometime. An old sea dog like you knows plenty of stories to take your breath away."

"Nah" Finch took another sip, this time a longer one, swirling the liquid within it before continuing "I don't think it would be worth it. Times have changed considerably now since I served aboard the Fancy , and even the Navy, which before Leon's defeat would never have dared to make such moves, has become bolder with each passing day. Moreover, the new recruits are as disrespectful and lacking in the spirit that characterized this era as ever, so much so that even a poor decrepit man like me is thrown into despondency."

"And stop with this negative attitude," blurted out the bartender, then pointing to the little boy sitting to Finch's right "Or you risk our Silas feeling demoralized. You know, he would like to be a pirate." 

"Don’t even tell me" Finch drank all in one gulp what was left in his glass, then turning his head toward Silas "Tell me boy, does what this boaster said ring true? Do you want to pursue a career as a buccaneer?" he asked, casting him an inquiring glance

"Watch how you address yours truly, Mr. Finch or I might seriously take it personally," retorted the other with a grin.  

Meanwhile, Silas, who seemed as if lost in thought, raised his head, nodding decisively. 

Finch snickered, "Well, I hope you have what it takes, kid. Being a pirate is not just what is told in fairy tales and legends. It means living a hard life, full of danger and uncertainty, moreover, you would always have the Navy and the World Government on your tail, not to mention all the daunting challenges you would have to face along the way. Given these premises and the fact that you don't really seem like the type, you would risk losing your life before you even set sail."

Three guys who were sitting nearby burst into thunderous laughter, and Finch also resumed snickering, but not him, he had remained perfectly calm and still. 

"Come on, don't listen to him Silas," Brauer declared, wiping his sweat-soaked forehead "He's just a poor idiot" He paused for a second, only to crumble with laughter immediately afterwards 

"I'll prove you wrong!" exclaimed the boy, settling a fist on the wood of the table.

Suddenly the laughter subsided and a muffled silence descended on the room as everyone's attention focused on the small figure who had climbed onto the counter and turned toward the crowd, even Finch, who had stopped giggling, gave the boy a somewhat quizzical expression.  

"Listen carefully, I will show you all who I am. I may not fully reflect what it means to you to be a true pirate, but I assure you that I will try my best to achieve my dream. I will not allow anyone to stand in my way, not even the most feared scoundrel of the Blue Sea" The irises seemed as if enveloped in flames "And on that day not far away, I will return and you will come on your knees before me, asking me to grant you forgiveness."

Finch smiled, "Well, that's the spirit, boy. But, as you well know, words are of little use. If you're going to get serious, you're going to need more than just a few sound bites, don't you think?" 

Silas clenched his fists "I said I'm going to be the best in the whole Blue Sea and I intend to keep that promise, should it be the last thing I do."

"Well, I guess we'll just have to take your word for it then," Brauer affirmed, placing a large bottle of liquor on the table. "In any case, we'd better celebrate Silas and his ambitious goal before we might regret it. A free ride for everyone!!!" he exclaimed enthusiastically, causing the patrons to cheer, who raised their glasses facing the boy and sang songs that everyone in the West Blue knew by heart.

"If I may, I'd like to give you some advice," Finch whispered to him once the boy returned to his seat, moving closer and resting a hand on his back, "Find good, trustworthy comrades who will stand by your side at all times, even in the most dramatic situations, and who have the guts to throw themselves into the fray when the situation calls for it. In short, friends who can always be counted on. Besides, if you don't want to come to the same miserable end that awaits all those who dream of facing the sea, you'd better start thinking outside the box, believe me, I know it all too well," he concluded, winking at him 

"Thank you, sir. I’ll treasure it," Silas replied. 

"You'd better" retorted the man giving him a slap.

In the midst of the festivities, the door of the Dancing Squid swung open, and a man entered. He was tall and slender, clad in an orange-colored poncho whose edges were trimmed in various triangle patterns, his head protected by a wide-brimmed brownish hat.  

Numerous murmurs and whispers filled the air as the mysterious man walked confidently toward the counter. Silas seemed almost mesmerized by the enigmatic individual, and not even the others nearby dared to utter a word. 

"How may I serve you, sir?" asked Brauer politely.

In response, the man's gaze traveled the entire room, reviewing the faces of those who occupied it, before settling on the bartender "A bottle of your best rum," he finally replied. His voice was almost as intimidating as his appearance. 

"Of course" he replied, turning around and taking from the shelf placed to his right a glass bottle "Anything else you wish?" he asked immediately afterwards

"I need some information." 

The man laid some money on the counter, along with a rectangular-shaped object, something that looked for all intents and purposes like a photograph.  

The bartender eyeballed the bills, then the photograph "What kind of information?"

"Have you ever seen this man?"  

He examined her carefully, then shook his head, "No, I'm sure I've never seen him. As a matter of fact, he doesn't even look like he's from around here, so I'm sorry. How come you are looking for him?" 

The stranger stowed the photograph in his right pocket, leaving the money behind, however, before opening the bottle and taking a sip "Personal business"

"Uh, well, whatever you say. Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?" 

"No," replied the stranger dryly, "Unless you can tell me the quickest route to the Nancun district, you are of no use to me."  

On hearing what the man had just said, many people gave him strange looks. Brauer himself seemed quite confused about his request.

The Nancun district was known to be an even more hostile and lawless territory than the others, even Silas knew well how dangerous it was to set foot there, so much so that he wondered if the man was very brave or perhaps very stupid. 

"What manners" Brauer cleared his throat, composing himself before continuing "Well, once you are out of here, continue north past about seven blocks and turn left. Then proceed straight again until you come upon a huge old bell tower. Pass it and continue until you come near an intersection, there turn right and go straight for a couple more blocks. At that point, Nancun will be right before your eyes," he explained

"Gracias" The man gave him a brief nod with his hat, before turning on his heel and walking undaunted out of the club. 

"You bumptious son of a gun" Brauer then mumbled, putting the money in his apron pocket and passing the cloth over the counter "On the other hand, though, you can hardly say he wasn't generous with the tip." 

"What an odd fellow," commented Silas "I wonder who he was." 

"Don't ask questions you might regret" Finch replied to him "Unless you want to get into a big hornet's nest."

"I can take care of myself, trust me" he retorted stubbornly "But...did you know that guy?"  

"I knew him, yes" replied Finch pouring himself some liquor "Only a fool or a clueless person wouldn't know who he is, or and in this case, even petulant brats" 

"Come on, now, don't make me beg you," he insisted.  

"Eh, all right" he sighed defeatedly "That sinister-looking guy was Ramón Holliday" he affirmed, pouring himself two more fingers of that liquor. He savored its strong taste and moistened his lips, then continued "Also known as 'Black Bullet' . A dangerous and feared bounty hunter. It is said that he is tireless and will stop at nothing to complete his set goal. If he is here, it means the situation is far more serious than I imagined." 

"Wow! I wonder if he is really that strong."

"But then you're not listening to me!" blurted Finch "You really are a stubborn, reckless brat." 

Just then, someone peeped through the crack in the slightly ajar door. It was a little boy about the same age as Silas. He had thick, tousled, shiny hair the color of chestnuts and equally dark eyes.  

"Declan?!" exclaimed Silas in surprise.  

"Yep, your dear friend Declan, who had been looking for you relentlessly for hours." 

"But where the hell had you and the others gone?" rebuked Silas.  

"Long story" cut the other short "Now hurry up, we're busy."

Chapter Text

Chapter VII

Today, Arashi Kingdom…

A cerulean trail snaked through the meanders of the royal palace, a labyrinthine and intricate network of pipes, probably used for draining water, although it couldn’t have said for sure. A quadrupedal creature with thick grayish fur and rather long ears advanced rapidly. Pricking up its ears and sharpening its eyesight spasmodically searching for something.

It was none other than Neal, the guy who a few minutes earlier had been contacted by the infamous Morgan through den den mushi, though now he had taken on an entirely different guise. A guise that resulted from eating one of the mysterious devil fruits;objects that bestowed on one a myriad of powers and abilities. The fruit's ability ranged from generating or manipulating objects, such as one's own bones, to the ability to transform into animals or natural elements.

Paramecia, Logia and Zoan. The one consumed by Neal definitely belonged to the third category, which bestowed the power to assume the hybrid or complete form of a specific animal, in this case a particular species belonging to the leporid class.

Now, having received precise instructions from his captain, he was about to leave the building. At the same time he needed to gather together his comrades, who were still supporting the revolutionary army, so that he could reach their ship, the Horizon.inally able lift the anchor, having now accomplished what they had unleashed that ruckus for.

Let's just hope that reckless one hasn't gotten into any more trouble. He thought, referring to Lysandra, who, no less than a few hours earlier, had rushed to the rescue of the Shinowians once she learned of their imprisonment.

His concern was quite evident, most likely caused by the violent jolts that made the walls and floor of the building shake from time to time. The danger of ending up buried under the rubble was quite real, and Lysandra's continued eagerness to throw herself headlong into this kind of situation only made it worse.

A smile began to form on his face, thinking that nothing could put his friend off her goal, especially if freedom was involved. He had seen this several times, as if the strong attachment to the very concept of freedom, was an echo of her own past.

I'm convinced that Captain Morgan is doing his best to resolve this matter . All I have to do now is to find Yorek, Callaghan and Shay and get the hell out of here.

He turned the corner and found himself facing some sort of opening in the ground, which seemed anything but natural. After carefully assessing the situation, he descended into it: It was a cramped, gloomy, suffocating place. A maze of even more intricate tunnels branched off in every direction. 

Some unprepared person might have gotten lost and turned around blindly, but not him. Not when for himself every second counted for far more than gold or jewelry. He closed his eyes, straining his ears for any sound, even the most imperceptible, they might pick up.

Gotcha! Something he had managed to catch, a screeching of metals vibrating at each other, although it seemed rather muffled. He ran in that direction, nimbly stepping over some obstacles obstructing the passage, until he found himself before a heavily clad wall. There was no way around it, no other direction he could take except to retrace his steps. He was literally at a dead end.

There must be something beyond this wall. Suddenly, he felt the floor open beneath it and with a quick jerk, he leapt backward, thus avoiding a trapdoor that led straight to sharp blades.

Why would anyone build such a contraption if that place itself constituted a trap? But he didn't even have time to think about it, when  a squeak of puffing old machinery echoed around l the chamber. Shortly thereafter a  pendulum-shaped blade swung dangerously toward him.

Are you kidding me? he asked himself as it came barreling toward his snout, hissing into the void. A lightning reflex, an instinctive glance, and the body moved of its own accord. The young pirate deftly dodged it, although he didn't have the luxury of singing victory, as it was charging back following the same trajectory back.

I've got an idea . I just hope that trap isn't composed of sea stone or it could end badly for me. He dodged the blade again with a leap, bringing himself up just high enough for what he needed.

In a flurry of ashy fur and flickering flashes of bluish sparks, Neal's body became more slender and longilinear, bipedal, with his lower limbs considerably more extended than his upper ones " And now... Sky Jump: Lepus . .." Like a shooting-star he swooped down on the blade with a mighty kick "Pedis !!!" and hurling it forcefully against the wall, which went to create a kind of fairly deep gap, almost as if it were an ambulacrum.

Returning to his human form, the guy stepped into it, darting his ice-cold eyes as if to check for unpleasant surprises.

A veil of dust and smoke invaded his nostrils, welcoming every inch of that long tunnel into its oppressive embrace. The metallic clangour he had heard earlier became more and more intense and less distant; inhuman screams began to echo around him like a macabre symphony.

Neal caught a dim light that, although the distance prevented him from discerning details, it resembled a burning flame. He quickly picked up the gait, emerging in a large hall, with massive granite columns rising majestically upward  the ceiling, which soared like the spires of a cathedral.

Ornate chandeliers, blackened by soot and barely holding back crystalline tears, hung precariously from it, casting shadows on the devastation below. The crumbling walls, adorned with torn and nearly charred tapestries, exposed bricks that often plummeted below like meteor fragments.

The stench of burnt wood and ashes replaced the aroma of patchouli and vanilla that once hovered over every surface in the room. Even the large carved oak table, the latter’s showpiece, lay in splinters. The chairs, once beaded with precious gems, had lost their former glory, twisted and deformed by the increasingly scorching temperature.

A circle of flames had gripped the room in its hold, roaring like a beast driven by insatiable hunger and dancing like frenzied spirits, its orange tongues stretching toward the sky. The windows, once decorated with sumptuous velvet curtains, now shattered by the heat and chaos, let out thick plumes of smoke to escape into the night.

However, a noteworthy scene drew Neal's eyes to the center of the room: two individuals were fighting fiercely shoulder to shoulder, backing through the corpses that piled up at their feet.

The former was rather stout and imposing, with a stature that made the other warriors, even those of considerable stature, look tiny. Thick greenish mane-like hair fell over a long mantle of purplish skin, which he wore slung over his shoulders. The long and finely braided viride beard, which gave him the appearance of one of those warlike kings at the head of some kingdom in the distant North Blue, stretched down to his broad, bare chest, which was swathed only by a thin strip of celadon-colored cloth at the left end and which fit into a pair of shiny black pants and was sprinkled with numerous scars and strange symbols probably traceable to some ancient language. Between his large, sinewy fingers he clutched a long, sharp, crimson-bladed Guandao, which swiveled ominously.

But, what seemed to strike terror in his figure more than anything else, were a pair of long white horns that sprouted on the sides of his head, making him resemble a demon straight out of the underworld.

The other would have been considered even more gruesome than its colleague: It was tall and had broad shoulders, which seemed to be covered in a thick layer of brown fur. Its elongated face was a mix between a rat and a bat with pointed ears and two breathing holes. From its lips you could see a pronounced set of teeth with long canines. Its upper and lower limbs ended in three claws each, shining and razor-sharp. From the waist down it appeared to be wearing a pair of baggy black shorts.

It belonged to a race of beings with animalistic traits feared and respected throughout the Five Blues, the 'Minks' .

At the sight of yet another handful of soldiers coming from the north, the creature emitted a sharp screech, spreading its upper extremities, revealing a pair of impressive, leathery wings attached to the underside of its arms.

But Neal also looked ready to fight. He could now be seen clearly: a slender young man, whose torso was covered by a white shirt and a bluish high-necked vest with gold piping, on the sleeves of which were tied two handkerchiefs of the same shade. His head, however, was entirely wrapped in a sort of sapphire-colored bandana, although some medium-length blonde locks protruded from it, including thicker ones that fell halfway down his face, and around it there seemed to be a necklace of pink pearls.

Although he had done his best to be discreet, that little trick earlier had ended up achieving exactly the opposite effect. And now, in less than no time, about twenty swords were pointed at him, precluding any chance of escape.

“I certainly didn't expect such a warm welcoming committee, guys.," Neal smiled, resting both hands covered by perforated mittens on his blue trousers, which were tucked into rather worn brown boots, and drawing out a pair of rather sharp blades. They shone with a truly unnatural light, red and blue respectively.

He raised them to hip level, where a pair of cyan bands were tied. “Let's see if your spirit matches it too.” They were 'Fury ' and ' Frenzy' , both known as the 'Blades of Eternal Damnation'

“Come forward, you pathetic runts!”  From the other side of the room, the horned barbarian advanced, snarling like a mad dog and making his mighty voice ring across the room as he menacingly swung the spear he held so tightly to him. “And face the fury of one they call 'Bonebreaker'. ”

Meanwhile, the chiropteran-like creature let out another of those piercing calls, spreading its wings in a disturbing display, “Do you have the courage and the effrontery to cross the path of a Mink, and above all, mine, Callaghan's?” It hissed that question with an almost unnatural quality, so much so that it made those shudder before the presence of it.

The soldiers hesitated for a moment, clearly intimidated by the fearsome pair that stood between them. One of them, a man with crimson armor that shone in the light of the flames that continued to engulf portions of the walls and earth, had the courage to take a step forward, unsheathing a longsword.

 "Keep your position, men! And don't give in to fear in the slightest. We have faced situations like this before and always emerged victorious. These monsters are formidable opponents, that's a given, but certainly not without any weakness."

“But sir,” protested one of them, who seemed more frail than his own companions, “Those two are members of the 'Devil's Pirates', a crew that in this period has done nothing but spread terror across the seas. They even had the guts to openly challenge the World Government."

“They’re bloodthirsty beasts, I tell you. There's no joke with them, we better retreat," added another, a woman wearing a lighter red uniform and wielding a long ranseur with a wrought-iron handle that looked like an eagle.

“Listen up” whispered a third soldier, slowly approaching, “These two are known to be particularly ruthless, even more than the man who commands them, 'The Devil of the Seas' ” As soon as he had said that name, his voice began to tremble and his face became pale as a rag, as if he had been struck by an invisible illness “...Challenging them so openly could cost us dearly...We should reconsider our approach...captain”

"Well?" asked the man again, raising an eyebrow and the tone of his voice so that his entire garrison could hear him, "Are you suggesting that we should yield to cowardice? To the superiority of the enemy? Never!" He raised his sword upward. "We have been personally chosen by the ruler to defend this kingdom from the barbarities of the outside world, to protect the innocent lives that inhabit it. If we allow ourselves to falter before danger, who will fulfill this task? We should be proud warriors, the elite chosen from so many valiant men-at-arms." He gave a quick glance at his men. "But today, I do not see this. Today, I see only a bunch of weak and pathetic idiots, backing down in the face of what has undermined the stability of the kingdom with their tails between their legs."

No one dared to react, as if they had been caught in the act by those words stinging like dagger blades driven into the flesh.

Only someone seemed to sneer, the same creature that instilled so much fear in their hearts, the bat-like mink.

"If you were wise, you would listen to your men and renounce your warlike intentions," it said with an almost disconcerting calm as its face distorted into a rather sinister smirk, "We aren't sadistic beasts devoid of intellect and honor. Nor do we want further bloodshed. So throw down your weapons and perhaps we can show you mercy."

With a simple wave of his hand, the man intimated his comrades not to back down to those words. "Do you think we would easily give in to such vile blackmail?" he then asked, taking a further step forward. "Especially if it comes from a foul being like you."

"And here I thought this kingdom was founded on upright and virtuous principles," retorted the Mink "But I see that bigotry also seems to be an integral part of its society. So, is that your final answer?" It asked him with a certain note of disappointment.

The other nodded in assent, stretching his blade ahead of him and starting to run toward the creature, letting out a battle cry, and in the same split second, the soldiers resumed their assault, hurling themselves like a shower of arrows.

It cast a glance at its comrade "Are you ready, Yorek?" receiving a nod in response, then returned to scrutinizing the enemy with a resolute air, as a strange, almost electric glow began to crackle in its amber-colored irises. "And so you chose...DEATH!"

With a rapid burst, it launched itself toward them as a chaotic dance of lightning and sparks seemed to envelop it, running over every inch of its body, and especially its wings and the back of its spine " Zap and Dash! "

Nothing the soldiers could do as they were swept away by an electric fury that made imperceptible erratic movements, including the man who had so impudently challenged it and whose face contorted in rage before his sight faded into oblivion.

In sync, the brute it called Yorek began to whirl his wielded weapon in a whirlwind of bloody fury. "You poor fools, you had better accept its offer. Your dullness has decreed your end. MAKAI ! " he shouted before hurling it with violence to the ground.

Telluric tremors pervaded the battlefield, until the cracks began to fork, surrounding the handful of soldiers charging toward the big man from the east and creating a chasm beneath their feet that engulfed them as if it were a wrathful  predator.

On the opposite side, a dense troop of infantrymen towered over Neal. What a useless waste of time he said to himself, assuming the hybrid form and observing them, motionless and posed.

 "Come on, men," thundered one of those soldiers, "Let's take down this abomination!"

His lips parted in a smile, although it looked rather bitter. An abomination? Do you think I haven't heard worse ones? Pathetic.

"Neal Cassidy, you won't escape your fate."

 "Fate?" he asked shortly after, "Oh, I never believed in such nonsense." He stretched his right leg backward, slightly bending his left knee and bending his back forward. "But if you insist on letting fate come toward me..." He regulated his breathing, raising both swords to the height of his face and anteed them toward the soldiers, bent sideways and parallel to each other "...Then let it dance to the rhythm of my blades!"

He sprang a leap toward them, " Disruptive Comet Style: Comet Wave!"

A great slash erupted from his blades, heading to them as if it were a flooding river, tearing through the air itself with a deafening roar. A groan of agony emerged from their throats as they tumbled to the bare stone and their swords and spears hammered the floor in a dissonant cacophony.

He had gotten the better of his enemies, and as much as he didn’t like to admit it, his comrades had been at least as quick as he was. A myriad of corpses crowded the room that was once filled with laughter and all kinds of celebration but now gave way to a dead silence.

He returned to his usual form, going to meet the duo, who, having eyeballed him, were about to do the same.

Although he wasn't the type, he had to admit that the size of those two intimidated him, since they towered over him almost making him resemble a common child: Callaghan was quietly close to 10 feet and this seemed to be partly due to its slender and lean physique, however, the real goliath of the situation was none other than Yorek, since according to Neal himself, he even reached 20 feet.

A case that wasn't entirely abnormal, as the Five Blues was packed with people of all different shapes, races and sizes, but to be confronted by such a big man was no small feet, no matter how much he didn't belong to the race of giants, as they were at least twice the size.

"Cheers to you, brat," exclaimed the Mink as it widened its smile, showing even more of its long canines, "You don't miss an opportunity to strut your stuff, do you?"

The young man reciprocated with a resolute expression, “Not to do so would have been disgraceful, don’t you think?”

The creature snapped its tongue between its teeth, “Talking to a fop like you is always a hoot.”

"I must say we were no less than that either." Yorek looked around and burst into thunderous laughter. "Of course, crushing gnats is never fully satisfying. It’s time to crack some other skulls," he slammed a fist into his palm.

"Shut up, you idiot ogre," Callaghan retorted. "Banter alluding to own epithet I consider to be a very reprehensible conduct." With a bored air, it laid its gaze on the claws, dipped in the blood of slaughtered soldiers "No wonder you and the captain get along so well, despite the fact that you were once sworn enemies and both worked for the World Government, albeit with completely different institutions from each other."

“You mean when he was famous by another name, right?” asked Neal, squinting. 

Callaghan clicked its tongue again, letting out a dry chuckle “Famous? Try infamous. This deranged lunatic was part of the dreaded S—”

"That's enough!" interrupted Yorek visibly irritated, which made an amused smirk dart across the Mink's muzzle. "Now you're talking about a lifetime ago and the world has changed since then." He shook his head. "And then you of all people would like to lecture me," he pointed with his index finger at his fellow chiroptera, who was squaring him with a frown. "After all, we've all had our disagreements with the World Government. The hatred of what they did to us.That's what binds this crew of misfits together."

"To be honest, no," Callaghan admitted, "I understand that your race isn’t exactly renowned for having above-average intelligence, but from here to clueless waffling there is a pretty clear line," it pointed out, indicating the curved growths placed on either side of its friend's head.

"What do you have to say about my tribe?" asked Yorek, cracking his knuckles, as if he wanted to intimidate it or was on the verge of losing his patience and wanted to make it swallow those words with his fists.

In observing that skit, a smirk appeared on Neal's face, even though the context was anything but funny and their time was running out. 

"Oh, I would have many things to say," replied the other nonchalantly, "But this isn't the time or the place." It looked around again, dwelling on the flames that were growing larger by the minute, sucking up everything in their path and threatening to collapse everything. "Besides, of those who are part of our crew ' of misfits ' as you call them, very few have had the pleasure to pick a quarrel with the World Government and the Marine. Yet, our very existence and the feat we are attempting to accomplish, gives them all the reason they need to wipe us out. But nevertheless, you know full well that the bond that unites us is much more than what you have just stated."

The others watched in astonishment, knowing full well what he was alluding to. The World Government relentlessly hounded anyone who dared to take sides against it or pose a threat to their authority, no less their crew, who had delved into knowledge that was strictly forbidden.

Besides, with a captain like theirs and the crimes he was guilty of, things couldn't have been any different.

"But why are you here?" Neal asked. "Wasn't your job to assist Revolutionary Army officer Xun in holding back Vladius and his garrison?"

"Long story," Callaghan exchanged a glance of understanding with Yorek. "But let's cut the small talk", it resumed, "What I'm concerned about at the moment is getting out of this hell-trap with the artifact for which these men fought and lost their lives today." It turned its gaze for a moment to the corpses of the soldiers strewn on the ground like fallen leaves, who, until a few minutes ago, had foolishly rejected what for all intents and purposes seemed a reasonable proposal and had met an unpleasant fate, becoming collateral casualties “A debt paid with their own blood, which one day we too will have to settle”

Yorek huffed, crossing his arms “Now don't start with your usual macabre thoughts.”

 "So, carrot-eater," Callaghan ignored the mate's words, returned to squaring the guy, "Have you found the Poneglyph and more importantly what should be our next move? " Neal gave a decisive nod. "Excellent. So, it would be best to contact the captain and discuss what to do."

”I actually heard from Captain Morgan not less than a few minutes ago,“ Neal  informed it " He was about to retrieve the treasure. Probably waiting for us on the Horizon's deck.”

"Where do the tremors come from?" Yorek wondered, scratching his head.

“Doesn't matter,” Callaghan replied quickly. “Finally some good news. Did anyone inform the first mate of this?”

"Don’t think so"

“So what are you waiting for? A formal invitation?” the Mink chided him. “Be quick, so we can be done with it.”

Neal didn't have to be told twice and put his hand to the pitch-colored snail transponder, until on the third ring, someone answered him. He heard an authoritative voice.

“I’m Neal, reporting in!” said immediately after the young man, passing a hand over his bandana.

"Speak, Cassidy"  They heard gunshots, screams, and explosions. Neal supposed that the man was still in the thick of the action and hadn't found shelter yet.

“Shay, I completed my assignment and was reunited with Callaghan and Yorek. We are now headed for the ship. What is your situation?”

Other noises spread into the room through the device, including a sort of boom that sounded very much like thunder. "Shay?"

“I apologize, a minor setback,” he justified himself after a few seconds. “As for the Captain and Yoi, what is their current position?”

"Unknown," Neal explained. "They could be waiting for us near the Horizon or they could still be in the throne room. However, something isn't quite right." He lifted his head as looking at the other two members of the crew.

“Alright," Shay sighed, "I'll take care of the matter. As soon as I'm done with them," Another boom exploded and rang out for a long time, even through the walls. “What about Lysandra?”

“It's rather complicated,” stated the young man, “But I informed the captain right away of this. He’s likely already handled it."

“I hope you're right,” replied the other without too much conviction. “Now, go. Over and out." concluded the man.

After he had placed the den den mushi in his pocket, he met the gaze of his two companions, who were watching him as if they were trying to detect any signs of him watering down the truth.

“So,” Callaghan prodded him, as it tapped its fingers nervously on its folded arms, “Why don't you do us the favor of enlightening us as to Miss Read's true fate?”

Neal became even more serious. "Well," he began "Less than a few hours ago, Lys, after learning from after learning from the guards that two Shinowian prisoners were still in the castle, went back and rush to the rescue”

“That girl is reckless,” Yorek said, frowning, although he fully understood her reasons.

After all, who better than him or Callaghan could understand what those who were different felt, given all the oppression, prejudice and discrimination with which they themselves had grown up and lived for most of their lives.

"She's playing with fire, and if she continues at this rate she's going to get herself killed," Callaghan added worriedly. "And she seems to like it a little bit," it shook its head. "However, If I were her, given her past, I’d probably do the same."

Yorek hesitated for a moment, then blurted out, “Is there anyone among us who hasn't had a tragic past?”

"No," Callaghan admitted, turning around and watching the flames writhe and tussle like a pack of quarrelsome dogs, almost as if enraptured by the spectacle "Each of us carries our own burdens, has faced our own demons engaged in different battles. Each of us proudly sports our scars, even those that others cannot see. Our shared experiences have helped forge a bond far more solid and enduring than steel."

Neal found himself impressed by Callaghan’s words. However, he knew they all shared that belief in their own way. They faced a thousand dangers before arriving in the kingdom of Arashi, although he believed that this was only the beginning.

"How sappy you are," muttered Yorek in disgust.

"Yeah," nodded the other, "I barely recognize myself. But we've got much bigger problems now." Chunks of rock broke off from the vault to their right, falling to the ground with a roar  "We've got to get the hell out of here immediately. Now!"

“Hey, hey...are you leaving so soon? Come on, that's no way to treat a star!” 

Those words resounded in the scorching air like a thundering drum roll, which attracted the attention of the three, who looked around with the intent to glean about who had just uttered them.  

“Who are you? Show yourself!” shouted Callaghan toward where the voice seemed to be coming from. It heard a noise behind it, and turned sharply, instinctively moving to the right. An arc-shaped shockwave crashed against the wall, leaving a large crack on its surface right where the chiroptera had just been standing. 

“What was that attack?” wondered Yorek instead, clutching his weapon, closely followed by Neal, who put his hand to his belt, ready to unsheathe both of his blades. 

A laugh echoed for a long time and a figure emerged from the flames. Two hirsute, stocky paws marked time in the footsteps that echoed on the unmade floor, with black pants that wrapped powerful legs and crimson hair, especially on the head and sides of the grayish muzzle, that swayed with every movement. It advanced erect, though one couldn't fail to notice the animalistic features that emerged from its appearance, until Neal realized that what they had before them belonged to the same race as Callaghan, although the fellow looked like a large ape with zebra stripes over much of its abdomen. 

“Looks like the party's already started and I'm just late,” that individual said, shifting its gaze concealed by sunglasses from one side of the room to the other. “You guys really know how to make a mess, huh? I mean, damn, this place is more trashed than a mosh pit at a thrash metal concert.” 

“Who the hell is this guy?” blurted out Callaghan, with Neal beckoning, pointing to the large white coat that mink wore over its broad shoulders, particularly the symbol placed right between the back and the thick fur collar, which the three recognized as the emblem of the World Government. “Ah, the Cipher Pol 0,” It then stated contritely, ”That's all we need.”

The individual's gaze continued to roam the room, lingering on the bodies of the defeated or the rubble being engulfed by fiery jaws, smiling as if this provoked some hilarity in it. “Blood, corpses, broken dreams. It's all so punk. But you know what's still missing?” It lifted its hand adorned with a golden metal bracelet until it formed a horn-like mark with its index and pinky fingers “A fucking encore.” 

“Come on, guys,” Callaghan then resumed, calling out to its comrades, “Let's leave this lunatic to its delusions. We're not here to pick fights with government lap dogs, and I certainly don't intend to stay in this place another second longer.” 

Neal nodded, closing his eyes to examine his surroundings and having a small gasp as soon as he spotted an opening that would allow them to slip away, which he quickly prepared to communicate to his companion.  

They both took a few steps, although Callaghan, once it turned his head, saw that Yorek hadn't moved, rather, with his glaive resting on his shoulder, he stared at the approaching government agent as if he intended to confront it. 

“You're kidding, right?” blurted out the chiroptera, casting a glance of lightning at the big man ”You couldn't be more stupid than that.” 

Yorek tilted his head slightly “You, on the other hand, would like to say that we should run away like helpless little mice? When what I want is within my grasp?”

“Are you explicitly admitting that what you seek is death?” Callaghan asked chagrined, ”Come on, Cassidy, at least you, try to talk some sense into this imbecile.” 

Neal breathed out sharply, "And do you really think he would listen to me? You know how he is; once he gets something in his head, he becomes as stubborn as the Captain, so I would just be wasting my breath. But I fear he is right about one thing," he quickly unsheathed both swords. "We must defeat this lackey. We can't afford to let it roam freely in the castle. And what if it warns someone, or worse, if it isn’t alone?"

Callaghan clicked its tongue, “Poor me. I'm surrounded by a bunch of idiots.” 

The ogre's sharp teeth flashed in a smile “Come on, Callaghan, don't tell me you're afraid.”

“I'm not afraid, you stupid brute” The mink frowned ”Unlike you, I know when it is or isn't worth wasting my time. And fighting this ape isn't worth it.” 

But Yorek would not listen to him. His shoulders were shaking slightly and one could sense barely contained excitement radiating from his body “I'm Yorek Goliathson, a proud member of the Oni race and more than anything else I'm a warrior. Abandoning a battle is about as dishonorable as it gets” He rotated his weapon with a firm motion of his wrist, striking the ground with the lower part of the shaft ”Besides, I just want to see how tough this guy really is” 

Callaghan sighed, running a paw over its muzzle “Gods, you guys are such dickheads” It cracked its neck, also preparing to go to battle “Fine. We don't have time for an actual fight, but if a couple of broken bones is what it takes to get your flabby backside moving, I'm game.” 

Neal smiled as his eyes focused on the cipher pol officer, who had bridged the distance between them. Now, a few feet away, the ape mink had stopped, shoving its hands into its pants pockets. Its sunglasses gleamed in the firelight as it cast a slow, deliberate glance at each of them. 

Then it smiled “Well, well. I was sure I recognized you guys” Pointed its index finger at Callaghan ‘ Bloodsucker’ then at Yorek ‘ Bonebreaker ’ and finally at Neal ‘Quickfoot’ 

The Chiroptera clicked its tongue, “So what? Your masters know exactly who we are, so there's no need to stand in ceremony. I, on the other hand, would like to know who I have the pleasure of talking to, you know, I keep track of all noteworthy victims whose lives I take,“ It pointed with its clawed thumb at the soldiers behind it “And unfortunately they weren't.” 

The ape mink let out a short laugh, “Very interesting. You're a real rebel yourself, huh? Very punk as a thing. My name is Dai-Wen and I'm an agent of the dreaded Cp0. And you, on the other hand, are a bunch of noisy posers trying to burn down the stage.” 

“What the hell It saying,” Callaghan retorted, “Do you understand any of this, Neal?” The one shook his head, confirming what the fellow mink said.

“What does it matter,” Yorek burst out, beating the staff to the ground, “Let's hit it.” 

The Ape Mink laughed again “That's right, if you want to get out of this pogo alive, you will have to turn up the decibels and shredding. Ah, for you mere mortals, that means you will have to face me,” it explained, noticing their confused faces. 

“That's what I wanted to hear,” stated Yorek with a grin, tending ahead of him to the Guandao ”Let's hurt it.” 

Neal swung both swords “A true warrior catches the coming storm and doesn't retreat even before the ominous howl of the wind. If you think you are unbeatable, be my guest, let your conviction waver against my blades.” 

At those words, Callaghan sighed again, but spread its wings, so as to also prepare itself for the confrontation that was soon to come “Damn it. And all right then, let's put an end to this charade.” 

Small discharges began to flow and illuminate the agent's limber body, as the smile widened even more “Very good, I love the vibes coming from you three” the current intensified, particularly in the area of the upper limbs “Bring it on, then. Let's make some noise.” 

*** 

In the eastern part of the castle, a somber noise from the end of the corridor echoed along the stone walls like the beating of a drum. A thrum of footsteps grew closer and closer, until out of that gloomy darkness came two figures running like madmen as if a horde of monstrous creatures were at their heels.

One of them was panting as if she were a beast of burden unaccustomed to bearing heavy loads. Her almost angelic, bronze face beaded with sweat and long, wild, fiery red hair glued to her temples and forehead, her robes ragged and filthy enough to resemble a sack of potatoes. However, it wasn't her face that gave her the appearance of a sublime creature, but rather the long swan-like wings, white, gleaming like polished pearls, which she wore folded on her back like two floppy flags for the lack of wind.

The other, much taller and slimmer, seemed completely at ease, as if that was just a healthy walk. She wore dark robes whose cloth seemed quite fine, able to skillfully blend with the darkness and a hood was lowered on her head, though a pair of long black and gold locks sprouted from it. From her belt hung daggers whose silver blades glittered like moonbeams, including one with an even more unusual shape, at the end of which seemed to be a thin but thick rope, which was coiled at her side. A medium-length, straight-bladed sword was placed in a scabbard across her back.

However, what seemed to be on their trail weren't mere living beings so much as the structure itself, which seemed as if it had awakened from a millennia-old dream. The walls groaned and cracks as thin as cobweb threads formed in the ancient stones, as if the very foundation of the castle were rebelling against the passage of time. Dust rained down like hail from the ceiling, and violent tremors spread throughout the surrounding area, as if it had been shaken by an unseen force and now sought to crush those who dared to intrude.

 "We should hurry, Miss Read," murmured the winged girl with an edge in her voice "Everything is falling apart."

"I can see that" replied the other, maintaining a calm and composed attitude, scrutinizing her with those catlike golden irises that momentarily left her breathless "But no Miss, call me by my name.  "I hate formalities. Call me by my name—we're equals."  Along with those black clothes, she also wore an indecipherable expression.

"I've been a slave all my life," the redhead retorted in a flat voice, "I'm used to treating others with reverence."

Lysandra’s cold, resolute air was quickly replaced by a grim look as she glowered as the shinowian girl "Don't you dare ever utter such a sentence in my presence again," she hissed between her teeth. "And now listen to me carefully, because I'm not going to repeat it," her tone sounded even more menacing and determined. "No one is born a slave. We come into the world completely free; our very breath is the claim to such a right. To this day these words of mine might seem like a utopia, a dream so far away that we cannot even discern its outlines. But I will fight to the bitter end to make it a vivid reality. Is that clear?” The girl simply nodded

They continued at a brisk pace, while around them the chaos seemed to increase, gurgling as if it were the belly of a beast craving for exquisite game. Not for a moment did her thoughts yield to apprehension about the fate of her companions. No, what mattered to her at that moment was the goal she had set for herself, and nothing would divert her from that.

"Stop!"

From the north came a crammed troop of soldiers who arranged themselves to form a barrier and block their way. They wore dark leather armor and steel studs and large helmets covered their faces. They were armed with spears and swords, although Lysandra glimpsed one wielding a menacing iron club.

"In the name of the king, stop immediately!" barked one of the warriors.

“These guys never learn—not even in a situation like this” Lysandra stated in a bored manner first observing the soldiers and then around her.

"Oh no!" exclaimed the angelic girl, stopping short "What do we do now?" From her expression she looked rather terrified, probably about the idea that if they captured her again, she would certainly receive far worse treatment than those two soldiers murdered by Lysandra had given her.

"He ordered you to stop. What, can't you hear us?" growled a second soldier, tapping the weapon he was holding on the floor.

"Uh...Lysandra?" called the other one backing away, but with a quick snap, the first one had interposed herself between her and the soldiers and with her right hand, enjoined her to stand still and maintain her position.

"Stay here," she had again given her that cold stare, capable of projecting anyone who encountered it into the harshest climate "It's safer for you and will keep you out of unnecessary danger."

"What about you?" she asked her.

She continued to stare at her with that impassive expression for a long moment, then turned back to the troop, putting her hand on her belt "I just want to have a chat with them" she drew three elaborate snake-like daggers, the blades of which seemed to be made of jade "I won't be long"

"Wait!" the girl shouted after her, but to no avail. Lysandra
Read had already moved forward in the direction of the soldiers and with a simple flick of her wrist, hurled the daggers toward the latter, cleaving the air with a ghostly whisper and sticking them precisely into the chests of the men, who slumped to the ground without even opening their mouths.

The others stood dumbfounded, motionless without even realizing what just happened, staring at each other with wide eyes. And Miss Read needed no more.

Slashing toward the group, she used a boulder that had just tumbled from the ceiling as if it were a trampoline, gaining momentum and taking a spectacular leap into the air. The soldiers, still trying to recover from the shock of seeing their comrades succumb in an instant, were again caught in a wave of astonishment at the woman's performance.

As she swooped down like a bird of prey on an unsuspecting victim, she drew her sword in midair, a jian of deep black and smoky gray, adorned with golden inlays. The unmistakable steel trill resounded throughout the corridor, ripping through the darkness, sinking into the man's chest once it landed, all the way into the flesh.

Nephele stared at the scene with disbelieving eyes, unmoving. Her gaze darted to the hooded figure moving with such fluidity that it seemed like a dance. One by one, the warriors fell under her blows, a combination of swift slashes and elegant, graceful parries. 

The soldiers, disoriented and overwhelmed, tried to regroup, but Lysandra was a force of nature. She moved from one to another, piercing them with attacks as precise and deadly as the bites of a snake. The same animal, a long colubrid with shiny, pitch-black scales, into which she had just morphed to avoid the spear that one of the warriors had hurled at her, clinging to the shaft like a vine and using it to then pounce on the hapless man, planting her sharp fangs in his neck, and with venom gushing out like water, that one wouldn't stay alive much longer.

As even the last of the men reached the cold land of the dead, a tomblike silence fell in the hallway, broken only by the increasing tremors. Lysandra settled gracefully, holstering the weapon with which she had dispensed her judgment.

"Nephele," the woman addressed the shinowian. In response, the latter had raised her head, staring at her with wide eyes, as she still couldn't wrap her mind around what she had just witnessed.

"Come," she continued, assuming her usual impassive and detached attitude, motioning the other to follow, "We don't have much time, and as you have ascertained for yourself, fate may have other surprises in store for us."

“But you…Who are you?” asked the girl, almost stammering, rising awkwardly from the floor. She cast one last glance at the bodies lying on the floor, bodies that had been overwhelmed by unparalleled fury.

“Trust me, you don't want to know,” Lysandra merely replied, almost as if her enigmatic figure was not already shrouded in the thickest mystery-or at least that was what the Shinowian found herself thinking before resuming her path. 

***  

“Tobu Shigan: Senshin! “  

“Tobu Shigan: Ushitama!” 

Inside the throne room the situation had become rather heated: the infamous Captain Morgan, known as 'The Devil of the Seas' and Ramesh Devaki, an agent of the deadly Cp0, one of the strongest and most dangerous intelligence agencies operating under the direct control of the World Nobles. They had already been clashing for a few minutes, putting into play every technique acquired during their training, without being able to prevail over each other.

Outside, the situation certainly wasn’t the best : the battle raged almost like the violent storm that had engulfed the Arashi kingdom, the clang of metal against metal had the same roar as thunder, like those piercing the sky like swords . The revolutionaries, assisted by Morgan's crew, had now laid waste to Arashi and were now preparing to get rid of the last pockets of resistance of the royal army.

Their goal was clear: overthrow the monarchical regime and restore to the submissive subjects the long-awaited freedom, which everyone had their right to enjoy. For those known as 'The Devil's Pirates', however, it was to hold out as long as possible, waiting for Morgan to find what they had come here for and break away as quickly as they could.

But this turned out to be a difficult task, Devaki wasn't naive and Morgan knew this better than anyone, given their past episodes: clashes in which he had snatched victory with his teeth and which had left him with indelible memories.

Something else had come into play now–something that would change the fate of the world forever–a goal that the young pirate intended to accomplish at the cost of his own life, which is why he couldn't afford to make any misstep.

“You've improved a lot since our last meeting, I'll give you that,” stated Morgan, with the clear aim of teasing the Cipher Pol agent. In response, Devaki’s anger flared even more ”But that won't be enough to stop me. My crew will get what we came for, so step aside or I will send you to the deepest, darkest depths of hell."

"Never!" exclaimed the other “A scoundrel like you doesn't even deserve to continue living. Until now your conduct, although brutal and unspeakable, was considered a whim, but now you have crossed the line. The Government will no longer tolerate further insolence!"

He launched himself at him, " Soru ..." and then disappeared from sight. But Morgan had already anticipated his move. In fact, once the other appeared before him, ready to throw a punch ".. .Kokoken! ", Morgan managed to nip this initiative of his in the bud, blocking him with a kick stiffened by the technique called, Tekkai: Klotz

The Sea Devil smiled, something akin to a mixture of mockery and determination "Do you think the words of a puppet can have any effect? You poor, delusional man. Let me show you something effective, Rankyaku: Pachinko" Waving his right leg with extreme speed, he generated a kind of air blade that although directed at Devaki, left visible gashes on the ground, but the latter managed to avoid it with great skill by using Kami-e : Resami Pravaha to turn his body as flexible and light as paper. He weaved through the air blades, his movements almost hypnotic as they sliced through the air on either side of him.

The techniques used by the two contenders, including this one, were known as Rokushiki, or the Six Powers. They were developed by the World Government to turn its agents into powerful weapons capable of completing missions quickly and with minimal casualties. 

"You lackeys of the World Government have the false belief that can predict and control everything," continued Morgan using the technique Tekkai : Rustang to deliver a blow also enhanced by Armament Haki, which, was easily neutralized by the Cp0 agent, who countered with his own leg, also coated with same type of Haki."A storm of immense magnitude is looming on the horizon, dear my little soldier and I will in no way allow the Celestial Dragons to continue their tyrannical grip on the populace. I have a score to settle with those fraudulent fucking idols and it is something far greater than you or me"

Morgan lunged forward, catching his opponent off guard with a sudden strike to the chest, sending him tumbling backward on the floor. Ramesh was up again in no time, shaking off the dust with a gesture, as if nothing had happened,

 "Your tenacity is admirable," he commented with a smirk "You have sacrificed quite a lot along the way to prove the veracity of these hypotheses of yours, although they are totally unfounded. And yet, you have made a huge mistake."

"And what would that be, pray tell?" asked Morgan, frowning.

"You have dragged your crew into a conflict you cannot possibly win, and if by your misfortune, they should lose their lives, your conscience would live with the remorse of that until the end of your days."

"You filthy bastard!" he growled. "I would do anything to preserve the lives of my crew, even sacrifice my own existence, but not before eliminating whatever obstacles stand in our way. I look forward to chopping off your tongue and making you swallow it. Tobu Shigan: Uchiwa!"   A horizontal, compressed air blade erupted from his hand. 

"You will die trying," retorted the agent of cipher pol , kicking the air with both legs, " Rankyaku: Sho!"

Both aerial slashes joined as if forming an X, colliding with the shockwave created by Morgan and annihilating each other with a deafening roar.

"My knowledge of the Six Powers far exceeds yours" Devaki declared "Surrender and perhaps I may grant you a quick death.”

"Is this a fight or an exchange of courtesies?" the pirate said sarcastically and almost with a bored air. "I was convinced that government thugs were trained to quickly eliminate those deemed as threats. So why are you still prevaricating?"

"Would you like a real demonstration of my strength?" asked the other defiantly"You will pay dearly for your impudence. You have underestimated the power of the World Government for the last time, Morgan!"

His body began to change rapidly: His size tripled and his muscles swelled as a thin layer of fur erupted from his skin, covering him with an elegant obsidian cloak. What was once human gave way to a feline muzzle with his hands intertwined into razor-sharp claws, as did the lower limbs, and a long, tapering tail hissed behind it. His irises now glowed a luminescent yellow. A guttural cry escaped from his mouth, exposing saber-like fangs.

“Not so tough now, are you?” he remarked immediately afterward.

"If you think you're going to impress me by showing off your hybrid form, you're sadly mistaken," replied Morgan cockily

"Your little revolution ends here and now," the other growled before leaping high into the air. "I will destroy any hope you have of subverting the status quo, and I will do it in the name of true justice. Rankyaku: Chishitaka!"

From his hind leg, he unleashed a strike sharper than any blade that took the form of a winged beast as it shot toward its target.

"You don't seriously think you're going to stop me, right?" Morgan put his hand to his own sword " Ittoryu: Sai Mikazuki" With a swift movement he drew his weapon, thwarting the offensive with a curved lunge that looked like a half-moon.

"Not bad," Devaki congratulated him. "But this confrontation has just begun!" 

He projected forward and cried " Soru: Zalabast". In a flash he disappeared as if swallowed by an invisible force but the pirate wasn't of the same opinion. Do you think such a trick would work against someone like me?

The panther-man appeared right behind him, however, he was prepared for such an eventuality and in fact, once he attempted to strike him with his claws, he promptly responded with a blow of his sword.

"Come on, you can do better than that" Morgan teased him

“You're right" retorted the other "But you're exactly where I want you."

"What?" demanded Morgan abruptly, not realizing what the scoundrel was alluding to. "Oh, fuck!" he exclaimed immediately afterwards as if he had just solved it, but by then it was too late to mull it over or to fail to notice the beast's hooked index finger pointing straight at his shoulder, 

" Shigan: Agapanthus! " Ramesh whispered immediately afterwards, unleashing a rapid barrage of blows that pierced his skin, causing blood to gush out.

"Geppo: Toramporin!" shouted the young pirate still in pain, as he swiftly launched himself into the air, escaping the enemy’s reach. "I’ll give you credit, Devaki, you landed a hit before I could guard myself with Haki. That’s no small feat," he admitted.

"After all, I'm just one of the best assassins under the direct command of the World Nobles. You on the other hand, just a petty thug, feared for his so-called ferocity, which I haven't yet had the honor of observing. Calling you 'The Devil of the Seas' was the most ridiculous thing I have ever seen anyone do.”

"Pompous jerk," muttered the other looking at him mockingly, "I'm going to put you out of your misery, mannequin of my assholes. Ranjin!" With khopesh in hand, he threw an air blade that, unlike Rankyaku, was larger and spun like a circular saw.

"You're more stubborn than I remember," Devaki admitted, "But if you want to play hard, I certainly won't back down. Soru: Saburu Sprint!"  

With the same speed as a fired cannonball, he sprinted toward the enemy, deftly avoiding the slash that sliced a pair of columns in two and crashed into the walls, destroying some of the plaster. Entering the most favorable area, he prepared to unleash another of those deadly strikes. 

"Robo"

" You won't catch me unprepared this time," replied Morgan confidently, waving his sword, " Ittoryu: Sai Mikazuki: Bocho!"   

From it started a rapid series of small crescent-shaped arcs, which, once they reached Devaki, expanded as they went. The sudden growth caught the government agent by surprise, forcing him to dodge, but two still struck him in the back. The third hit him in the center, flinging him to the ground and leaving a large smoldering crater on its surface and causing bloodstains to splatter all over the room.

"Don't celebrate just yet," Ramesh growled, stepping out of the dust cloud left by the impact. He staggered slightly, but his eyes burned with unbridled fury "You're injured, and soon, your left arm will be useless. You won’t last much longer—you’re finished" A sneer twisted his lips.

"On this I dissent!" exclaimed Morgan as he landed on the ground. " It's you and that corrupt institution you serve who are finished! You can't protect the World Government for much longer, Devaki. The people deserve to be free!" 

"You're a fool, Morgan, and you always will be," the other rebuked him, "What you haven't realized yet is that the World Government is the only force keeping the world from descending into madness. Without it what do you think would happen? What do you and Beaumont really plan to do when everything has fallen apart? Do you think the organization that should then replace it would keep its line and ethics neat? Do you still believe that the world is divided into good guys and bad guys, and you are part of the former? If you truly think so, you are either deluded or simply stupid. The freedom you yearn for so much and do nothing but talk about would only generate chaos."

The Sea Devil raised his sword just in time, deflecting the air bullet the other had hurled at him, "That’s some reasoning befitting a loyal servant of the state. Damn, man, you are a true patriot," He taunted him, maintaining a fighting stance and a firm grip on his own weapon, in case the enemy wanted to go on the offensive again, "I, unlike you, have no interest in playing model citizen."

The Cp0 officer set off on an assault, but Morgan managed to block both of his arms with the blade of his sword. "This is because your morals are dictated solely by personal gain” Devaki spat, pressing against the blade “And that's what will mark your downfall. Ashigan!"

One of his paws went towards the pirate's chest, but he was able to dodge “And that's where you're wrong. I have full confidence in my crew and its abilities. And in spite of everything and everyone, we will succeed in realizing our dream: Eradicate the government regime, Shigan: Inderos ” His left index finger pressed against the sole of his opponent’s foot, but unlike a normal Shigan, it didn’t pierce through.

Devaki's eyes widened as he realized his entire left limb was numb, as if it had fallen into a deep sleep. 'What did you do to me?”

“Can't you see it yourself or do you need help from your superiors here too?” Morgan quipped,“I numbed your pretty little foot, big cat. That way, I stopped a blow that could've done some real damage.”

He struck Devaki’s right arm again, sending him collapsing, weakened "Now you are helpless and an easy prey to my attacks. Ittoryu: Sai Mikazuki.”

The crescent-shaped slashes tore through his arms and hips, while Morgan swiftly retreated to a safe distance. In the end, although he was weakened, he was still quite a skillful and powerful zoan user.

"Damn you!" grunted Devaki "You won't get away with it this time either. A traitor of your caliber deserves to suffer a fate far worse than death for the affront to the government. Rottingin the lowest level of Impel Down amid atrocious torture and suffering should be more than adequate."

"This your attachment to the World Government I just don't understand, Ramesh" Morgan brought a hand to his injured shoulder, and in feeling it, he felt a slight twinge that made him grind his teeth in an attempt to resist "To them we are but mere pawns on a chessboard, expendable the moment we are no longer of any use to them. We are just commodities, numbers on a chart, items for sale, each one is considered a tool for their dirty ends. What makes you think they won't hesitate to get rid of you when they no longer need or have no place for you in their grand scheme? You are a loyal soldier, Ramesh, always have been. But your trust is misplaced."

"Shut up!" barked the Cp0 officer, at the same time trying to rouse his arm and leg from their stupor, "You trying to confuse me won't work, I assure you. You are just a fake, a traitor, a perjurer, one who masks his dirty pirate and parasitic ways with the justification that they serve to protect the world from the bad guys. When the real villain is right in front of me. The Vice Admiral Baron was right: Pirates are only a disease infesting society that should be eliminated as soon as possible.”

Morgan chuckled, narrowing his eyes, "Ah, yes, dear old Marines never disappoint. It's rather strange that none of them are here today. I thought stopping me was in their interests as well, yet only Cipher Aigis 0 was sent on my trail, am I right? I guess your solidary comrades are wandering around the castle, waiting for their best agent to complete the task assigned to him? Or are the revolutionaries, whom you so much considered totally inept, giving them a hard time? Or if you want an absurd theory” He put his hand out as if pondering what he would say next, "Did you come here just because you wanted another fight with me, disobeying orders? Wow, I'm so moved I could faint at any moment. Do you think that by bringing them my head, they'll give you a few scratches behind the ears and eternal glory? Or are you aiming for something greater? You are pathetic."

"I told you to shut up!" After spitting out a blood clot, Devaki continued, although he was just starting to regain feeling in his limbs "How dare a gutter rat like you lecture me? A former Marine who went against everything he was supposed to represent. Where is your honor now or the meaning of this pointless crusade? You have always been far too rash, Morgan. What makes you think you'll succeed where everyone else has miserably failed?”

"You talk to me about honor?" asked Morgan, putting his hand on the chest "You serve an organization built on corruption, slavery, and oppression. Where is the honor in this? What happened to me was the ultimate proof that I had to change something. It was as if I had been blind until then and suddenly regained my sight.I chose to live and die as a free man, for a cause beyond myself, rather than have others decide my fate. Which you would never understand unless you start thinking for yourself “ He tapped his temple briefly with his index finger “And as for my crusade, as you call it, I’m just fighting so that every inhabitant of the world no longer has to submit to such a despotic dictatorship.  For protection of the freewill "

"Wretched assassin.” The man-panther struggled to get up, having now noticed how he was gradually regaining his vigor, probably the anesthetic effect of that fearsome technique had now ended, "You can justify your actions any way you want. You can hide behind lofty speeches and big words, but in the end, you will always remain a lousy pirate. A man who has turned his back on his duty, on his comrades, and who has cast a disgrace both the Marines and his own family, is that it?”

A dangerous gleam flashed in the pirate's eyes, as if those words cut deeper than any wound. Pleased to have hit a nerve, Devaki continued, "The World Government is the only thing that can bring order and peace to a tortured land, the only thing that protects the peoples from the barbarity of piracy. And today, you damned rascals, assisted by those fanatics of the revolution, have brought it into this idyllic realm, unleashing death and destruction.This is an unacceptable!!! Tekkai: Nagareboshi!"

With a roar that almost made even stone tremble, Devaki launched himself at the pirate.

"Order and peace built on the backs of the oppressed and on lies? No, Ramesh, I refuse to accept that." Morgan twirled his own sword, before launching the counteroffensive. " Geppo: Duivels Sabrer!"

Despite the fact that the shockwave of considerable intensity from that clash had shaken even the very foundation of the castle, the two stood firm as the steel of the blade screeched against the claws of the humanoid beast. "I have seen with my own eyes what lies behind the screen of justice and I’m even willing to sacrifice myself in order to eradicate it, even piece by piece if necessary."

"You can try, but I will always be there to stop you," he retorted, "I will in no way allow your reckless plans to succeed. Most importantly, you will be left empty-handed when the World Government emerges victorious from the coming storm!!!" He landed a couple of punches with considerable ferocity, although Morgan managed to parry them masterfully. But Devaki was able to inflict one on the fresh wound, and a strong shock spread throughout the pirate's body, tearing a groan of pain from him.

"You know, once again I find this your fervent devotion to the government commendable," sneered the pirate just before coughing, "How can you still have faith in the institutions after the atrocities they have committed? It is as if they have enslaved you to their will, turning you into a good and obedient soldier, a remote-controlled automaton. Or is there more to it than that? You know, when I was still in the Marines, I had heard rumors about it, but I thought it was just idle chatter"

The Cp0 officer clenched his fists, "A mindless, selfish bastard like you can never understand that..."

As the first light of dawn painted the sky in shades of saffron, the island of Agasthya was revealed in all its splendor, emerging from the mist. A mystical jewel wrapped in the thick, suffocating embrace of jungle wilderness, in the heart of the West Blue.

Towering trees, adorned with creepers that snaked down to the ground in search of other footholds to cling to, loomed upward like motionless giants, their verdant foliage catching the sun's rays. On the ground, a rich variety of flora thrived and flowers cloaked in every hue imaginable dotted the sea of emerald foliage,  hinting at the island’s rich biodiversity.

A gentle breeze laden with various aromas carried with it a heavenly symphony: the chatter of a few primates swinging among the branches, the murmur of the stream whose waters tumbled down a rocky slope flanked by towering cliffs, bellowing frighteningly and bouncing in white flecks of froth, the industrious hum of insects moving back and forth, and occasionally the raucous roar of some ferocious beast could be heard.

A corner of paradise where civilization and nature coexisted in harmony, a testament to the various villages scattered across the land with the steady beat of drums and the calls of exotic birds signaled its awakening.

In one of these villages, made up of around a hundred thatched-roof huts, a black-haired boy played, chasing butterflies under the watchful gaze of a tall, slender woman. Her green eyes gleamed like polished gems, and her long black hair was woven into a single braid that trailed down her back. She wore a simple, white cloth draped over her frame, its once-bright fabric now dulled by time and wear.

"Rami!" the woman called to him, "It's time to go. The wise Kerani is waiting for you."

"But Janani," the little one pouted, stepping closer "Why should I go to that old witch?”

“Ramesh Devaki!" she scolded him, "That old witch as you call her, she takes care of your education and that of the other children in the village. Also, she is always so caring, especially toward you."

"But I don't want to go" huffed the little boy, "Why can't I go with you and Pitā?"

The woman squatted down to his eye level, "Do you know what day it is today?"

He shook his head no. At that moment, someone emerged from inside the hut: He was a man with a bronze complexion and medium-length ebony hair. He was tall with massive muscles, wearing a simple turquoise cloth covering both legs. In his right hand he carried a long ivory-white spear and whistled an ancient and traditional tune.

"Today is the ‘Shasyotsava’,” the man said, "And on this day, we honor the spirits of our ancestors with a great hunting party. The strongest and most valiant warriors from each village will take part, and those who distinguish themselves will earn the right to compete for the title of 'Rakshak.' The winner will be honored with a sacred object by the shaman, a gift bestowed upon us by the deities many moons ago.”

"And why can't I participate?" insisted Ramesh, crossing his arms. "I'm strong too."

The woman smiled, gently tousling his hair, a gesture that made the little one protest as if it bothered him "You're the boldest little rascal I know. But today’s events are not for children. It's too dangerous”

“But Janani..."

"Your mother is right," added the man, also hinting at a small smile, although he continued to maintain that somber look, "These aren't topics a brat should care about or do you want to anger the gods?" Ramesh quickly shook his head.

"That's better," he continued, "Fighting is a matter for vigorous men like your father, and you still have many summers ahead before you too can prove your worth."

" Ugh," grumbled the little one, kicking a pebble with his foot.

"Come on," his father approached him, "the venerable Kerani isn't so evil.  She plays a key role in preserving our traditions, and through her, you will learn that the strength of a true warrior isn’t  only in the muscles, but also here and here." he placed the forefinger of his right hand first on his forehead and then in the center of his own chest, "When you truly understand this, only then will you be ready to become a man. Do you understand?”

The woman gave her husband a dirty look, and the little boy, although he didn’t fully understand what his father meant, nodded decisively.

"All right," he huffed again but in a tone of surrender, "Uh... Pitā?"

"Yes, beta?"

"You're going to win, aren't you?"

" Obviously, my little kamal," smiled the man, then taking him in his arms and lifting him into the air. Ramesh squealed with delight, "Very few can boast of having challenged your old man and come out unscathed. Your mother knows something about that."

Both adults burst into thunderous laughter with their oblivious little son joining them in fervent delight.

A few hours later, Ramesh was sitting cross-legged on the beaten ground in a rustic, but rather spacious hut with walls of wood and woven thatch, including the roof.

A few of his peers were scattered here and there around the room, intent on a wide variety of activities, yet all listening attentively to the wise Kerani—an elderly woman who smelled of spices and moving with measured grace.

She was an old woman, probably in her nineties but clearly looking at least twenty years younger, with long silver-gray hair braided and gathered in a bun at the base of her long, elegant neck, high cheekbones and sparkling dark eyes. She wore a long skirt, an impeccably cut blouse and a light golden scarf that fluttered with her every movement.

Her slender fingers, adorned with three silver rings, flipped through a yellowed book, telling stories dating back thousands of years in a quiet, warm voice, with the words flowing through the air like a sweet lullaby.

From time to time she would lift her gaze to observe her students, lingering on one in particular who idly plucked at blades of grass sprouting from the cracks in the ground.

Kerani suddenly closed the book, a gesture that made the young boy wince, forcing him to raise his face in the direction of the elderly woman, who was now eyeing him sternly, 

"Ramesh," she called to him, "Could you explain to the rest of your comrades how the valiant hero Shaurya defeated his arch-enemy Chichiluva?"

The little boy lowered his head, feeling uncomfortable, "I don't know," he replied shyly, continuing to keep his head bowed as if shame was about to devour him.

"Very well," she said resignedly after a few minutes, then clapped her hands, "That's all for today, my little Chatras. Remember to rehearse what we talked about today, especially the legend of Shaurya and the crimson diamond. You can go."

As if swept up in a sudden fury, the children began screaming and laughing, sneaking away from old Kerani's house in no time, all except little Ramesh, who was now beginning to get up and head slowly toward the door.

"Ramesh?" the woman called to him.  

"Yes, venerable Kerani," he turned, looking at her curiously. 

"Is something troubling you?" she asked gently, "You seemed more inattentive today than usual."

He nodded, his own gaze drifting past the window toward the clearing, as if he wished to be anywhere else.

"Are you sure?" she insisted "I can always tell when someone isn’t being honest with me, and right now, that includes you."

Ramesh sighed defeatedly, "I just find stories going back thousands of years to be boring!"

He was convinced that old Kerani possessed a mystical gift, almost like she could read people's minds. Her deep knowledge of customs and traditions made her highly respected among the villagers. She was even on par with the Marakati shaman.

The elderly woman chuckled, "You know, when I was your age, I also said the exact same words as you. However, as I grew up I learned that stories contain more than just phrases that have been moldy with time, that the tales we pass down from generations are like mirrors."

"Mirrors?" he repeated in confusion. 

"Exactly," nodded the woman, "They reflect different aspects of reality depending on how we look at it. Take for example the story of Shaurya and the crimson diamond. It teaches us about resilience, sacrifice and the power of determination. More than just a collection of events, it serves as a guide to the challenges life can throw at us.”

At first, Ramesh barely paid attention, but as she spoke, something shifted. His disinterest faded, replaced by a quiet curiosity that grew with every word.

“As you grow,” Kerani continued, “you will discover that stories aren’t confined to the past; they echo into the present and their legacy shapes the path of our future. Shaurya's journey isn’t just a story; his spirit lives on in our community, guiding us even now. But I understand that for a child your age what I said doesn't make sense.”

She approached the boy, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Take your time, Ramesh. Embrace stories, because they are the whispers of our ancestors that guide us through the labyrinth of life. I'll let you go now, I doubt you'd want to miss the rest of the festival”

Ramesh nodded, quickly thanking the woman, although he seemed particularly shaken by the words addressed to him and went out, walking towards the center of his village.

"It's just nonsense," thought the little boy as he walked down the stretch separating elder Kerani's house from the rest of the village.He had never understood why people placed so much importance on these things. However, he knew that in order to be taken seriously and to be respected, he had to prove himself, and he looked forward to being able to grow up so that he could live up to his father's standards.

A group of older girls walked past him, smiling and murmuring something about who had prevailed in the hunt. He hated that he was still too young to even witness what he thought were the most exciting events of the ‘Shasyotsava’. Still, his parents' words lingered in his mind—their concerns for his safety, their belief that a child like him shouldn’t see something so gory

He was convinced that they were exaggerating. 

"However, my Pitā will win for sure," Ramesh said to himself, clenching a fist confidently, "he is one of the strongest warriors in the village”

As he approached the central square, the festive atmosphere enveloped him. Excited shouts were lost in the breeze, and the air was filled with the rich aroma of saffron-infused rice, spiced lentil stews, and sizzling skewers of tandoori meat, prepared specially for the celebration. Even old Machua was displaying a pair of boom-boom hares and some dervish monkeys, complaining about how much effort it took him to catch and cook them.

"It’s starting," Ramesh observed, but he couldn’t get any closer. A stabbing pain pierced his head from side to side "What the…"

He felt as if he was on fire. But what was even stranger was that in between his migraines, he sensed a dim but perfectly understandable voice, as if someone was ordering him to head elsewhere, far away from the square and the festivities. As if someone was calling him.

He felt his body moving of its own accord, beginning to run elsewhere. It was as if someone else had seized control, pulling him toward an unknown destination. A chill ran through him—this was the kind of thing that happened in the old stories, the ones he had always dismissed as nonsense. Yet here he was, living one. He didn’t understand where he was going until he found himself near a hut, far larger and sturdier than old Kerani’s house.

He was in front of the dwelling of Marakati, a shaman who was revered and considered quite skilled and powerful by the villagers. A licorice-like smell seemed to emanate from it, but as little Ramesh had also observed, there seemed to be no sign of anyone.

Sure enough, he had gone to the village to witness what the boy had been expressly forbidden.

Ramesh couldn't help but feel it was a real injustice, as he again tried to struggle against that whisper grew louder, urging him in. He hesitated for a moment, looking around inquiringly, making sure the shaman wasn't already on his way back or that there was no one else watching him.

With his heart threatening to explode from his minute chest, the little boy crossed the threshold, pushing open the wooden door oddly left ajar, stepping inside.

The interior was dimly lit although many things were still visible, with flickering candles projecting strange symbols on walls draped with woven tapestries and animal skins.The aroma of licorice and spicy herbs grew stronger as the little one stepped inside, along with the strange force that seemed to guide him. A cold, oppressive energy hung in the air, thick with a presence that seemed to press against his skin, sending chills down his spine.

He turned his head to his right: Strange cruets were arranged on the shelves, some containing skulls of who-knows-what creatures, others roots and plants of various shapes and sizes, meticulously labeled using a language he didn't know. A partially open tome, with complicated formulas sprawled across the pages, lay on a wooden table.

A brazier, now extinguished but still smoldering with lingering ashes, dominated the center of the room, surrounded by pillows and rugs.

The fear that Marakati might return and find that someone had entered his home uninvited had never left him, as he had been taught that committing such acts was severely punished.

With each step it seemed as if the weight of it was about to overwhelm him, accompanied by the constant whispering that faded the moment  Ramesh's eyes rested on an ornately wrapped object, its shape unclear but the gold embroidery gleaming under the dim light, nestled among various other heirlooms belonging to the powerful sorcerer.

Without further ado and with his heart now rising in his throat, Ramesh cautiously discovered what was contained in it: It was a large, round fruit, slightly bigger than his hand, with a yellowish top fading to a dark, almost black underside, speckled with darker spots. Eight emerald-green leaf-like stems encircled it, and from the top sprouted a delicate, fountain-like petiole, its twisted tips spiraling upward.

Now he was beginning to hear it again. It was as if the voice or strange sensation was coming from the odd item Ramesh kept twisting between his fingers, though that seemed impossible, since it was just a strangely shaped and colored fruit.

The urge to bite into it got the better of him, and the moment it touched his lips, a rush wracked every cell in his body. A rancid, briny tang coated his tongue, like fermented sea water and ash, so vile that he nearly retched. He cursed himself for his recklessness, praying that the sensation would soon disappear.

It was as if he had plunged into a real nightmare, and he probably was, for once he swallowed the morsel, the room began to swirl around, twisting and warping like the coils of a snake, until everything went black.

The last thing he heard before sinking into the abyss was an echo that seemed distant, as if it was calling him into a realm beyond the boundaries of his understanding....

A few hours later...

"He’s still breathing."

Ramesh muttered. He felt as if he had slept two full days in a row. His head pounded like a drum, and his body ached, as if a herd of oxen had run him over.

"Kid, are you still with us?"

He made a great effort, concentrated, and managed to open his eyes. The world blurred at first, but he focused harder, blinking rapidly. With one last push, his vision sharpened, and a face materialized in front of him: A tall man with a thick red beard and glasses with dark lenses. The strangest haircut Ramesh had ever seen topped his head—shaved on both sides, short in front with a high tuft, and longer in the back.

Standing next to him was something even stranger: a creature with short but thick fur and long whiskers that seemed to vibrate in the presence of the breeze that was beginning to blow. It resembled the sea lions Kerani had once described in the legends, tales she had passed down to him, though he'd never seen one in person.

Yet there was something quite different about that being, so much so that he doubted whether it was real or not: It stood upright, like a human, wearing a short white jacket and pants of a bluish hue, tucked into brown leggings. Around its neck it wore a black tie that sat perfectly on its toned, well-built chest, but not as large as his Pitā’s.

"Pitā! Janani!" the little boy exclaimed shortly after without even realizing it, with the two continuing to observe him. His mind, still aching, began to crowd with worries about his parents and why he was here, as well as who these strange individuals were.

"Hey, you sure you're okay kid?" asked the guy with the bizarre hairstyle again, "You look like you've seen a Dame Blanche”

The little boy didn't respond; rather, he struggled to his feet, summoning all his strength not to think about the pain that still cramped his little body and running off in the direction of the village, heedless of whether those guys were following him or not.

Hell, he was increasingly convinced that those two were nothing more than the figments of his imagination or some strange dream.

"Congratulations, Alaris," said the humanoid sea lion, "As usual you always know the right approach to use." Its gaze followed the little one as he disappeared into the bushes.

”Do me the favor of shutting up," retorted the other, still squatting, and glancing at his interlocutor "Why should I be to blame this time? Look at you, even your mother would be scared of you”

Ramesh continued to run relentlessly, although pain had once again taken hold and he felt suffocated, stumbling over scattered branches along the way. His eyes were fixed on the dense blanket of smoke that rose beyond the forest thicket and could only come from one place on the entire island that was exactly at that exact spot…

"The Village!" He thought, with panic imposing itself on his already distressed psyche. Was it even possible that something had gone wrong during the festival or that someone from elsewhere on the island or even from the outside had attacked the place he called home? Whatever happened, he hoped in his heart that both his parents had escaped it. After all, his Pitā was one of the strongest warriors in the entire village, and anyone who dared challenge him was either a fool or had no idea what they were up against.

Reaching the edge of the forest, he hesitated, catching his breath. An odor of smoke quickly filled the air, but there wasn’t only that that clouded the air as if it were an unbearable stench, there was an acrid, sweetish smell...the smell of death. In fact, once he had looked ahead of him, a most terrifying scene opened before his eyes and a thump in his heart struck him violently, making him wince: An orange glow roared and claimed for itself the houses it hadn't yet devoured, for all that was left of the rest was a pile of rubble. And on the ground, limp and lifeless, were bodies. Too many to count. Too still. Too silent.

"It can't be!" the little one exclaimed terrified, trudging between gasps.

The place he once thought was the most beautiful in the world, where he loved to lie on the grass and admire the clear blue sky, where he loved to chase butterflies and play with whatever cuddly little animals came from across the clearing, had now been reduced to a desolate, deserted heath.

Where a few hours ago the laughter of its inhabitants and the sounds of the festival filled the air, now only a mournful stillness dwelt there. Could it be that in those few minutes when he had lost consciousness, or so he thought, had the gods poured their fury on the village? Was he to blame for this?

He should never have picked up or tasted the damn thing, but he couldn't have shirked it either, as if some force had compelled him against his will, now mysteriously disappearing into thin air.

"What happened? What is all this? Where’s Pitā? Janani?" He staggered forward, his breath shallow, his gaze flickering over the ruins in a frantic search for life. But with every step, the air thickened—choked with the coppery tang of blood, the charred bitterness of wood, and something worse. Something sickly-sweet, clinging to the back of his throat. The scent of death. 

Bodies were strewn like discarded dolls, their limbs twisted at unnatural angles. Blood slicked the dirt roads, pooling in the cracks, seeping into the earth as if the island itself was trying to drink it down. Some corpses lay sprawled with vacant eyes staring skyward, throats slashed as if by a large, ravenous beast. Others were torn open, ribs jutting from gaping wounds, their insides hollowed as if something had feasted upon them. Warriors still gripped their spears in rigor-stiff hands, their faces frozen in expressions of defiance or agony. And then there were those whose flesh had been scorched, their skin blackened and peeling like old parchment, as if the fire had taken them mid-scream.

But even that didn't make sense. His father and the other warriors were the strongest people he knew—none of them had ever lost to the wild beasts that roamed the forest. They wouldn’t. They couldn’t. Something else had done this. Something worse.

But then who or what? Those two strangers from before? No, they were definitely too weird not to belong to some corner of his imagination, likely a result of his condition. His Pitā had explained to him that in certain stressful situations, the mind could play strange tricks, which was rather disadvantageous to anyone aspiring to become an intrepid warrior.

And if on the off chance that those two were real and the real perpetrators, why would they ever spare him? Or why let him escape and not follow him? No, something was definitely not right.

It was definitely a surreal situation; he felt as if he was still dreaming. But, then why couldn't he wake up? Because it was the damn reality, that's why.

He climbed over the debris, looking again at the slaughtered remains of those who had been friends and acquaintances to him. Why did such a thing happen? He asked himself again. Fear and despondency seemed to overwhelm him, but he didn't give up, clinging with all his soul to the glimmer of hope that his parents were still alive. That there were still survivors, hidden away waiting for someone to rescue them.

He called out with all the breath he had left, but it was a gesture in vain. No one seemed to react or answer the call, except for the faint crackling of the now dying flames or some debris tumbling to the ground. With each step, Ramesh's resolve seemed to waver more and more, but he couldn't stop. He had to find answers, had to find his parents and his Pitā would teach a lesson to the one who had caused all this.

But as soon as he had turned the corner, his breath caught and his legs trembled. Every thought he had had up to that moment was no longer of any importance. There, in the midst of that bleak devastation, he spotted a body whose clothes left no room for doubt. His beloved Janani, Maryam was lying on the ground with her face submerged in mud and not hinting at any movement, not even the most imperceptible. 

Despair swallowed Ramesh in one gulp, who threw himself on his mother's body, insistently trying to rouse her, but by then there was nothing more to be done: her face had been disfigured, her body torn apart by sharp, merciless fangs. Just beyond, his Pitā, Chanda, lay broken in the dirt. His body was battered, torn, his fingers still locked around the spear he had refused to let go of—even in death. He had fought. Fought with everything he had to protect her. And yet, he had fallen all the same, left to rot beside the woman he couldn’t save.

The bewilderment in Ramesh's heart was so strong that he couldn't even mourn.Sitting in that quagmire, the little Devaki held his mother's head tightly. His eyes, hollow and unfocused, drifted toward his father, yet he wasn’t truly seeing. His gaze was lost, staring past the ruin, past the blood, past the world itself.

"I am so sorry," he said, as he stroked his mother's hair with a hand soaked in mud. But what could a little boy like him, so small, so weak, have done, other than get himself killed, making any attempt he might have made to save them useless?"

"We don't want to hurt you," 

A quiet, yet imperious, voice cut through the heavy silence like a shard of ice.  

Squeezed in his own grief, the little boy didn't even notice the presence of  two intruders standing mere a few feet away. His head snapped to the side, and his eyes widened in disbelief as he saw them: the same figures who had crossed his path on the beach, the ones he now suspected might have been involved in the horrors that had befallen his village. The human sat perched on a crumbled piece of wall, while the sea creature stood beside him, its posture as protective as a sentinel.

Now Ramesh could observe the human more clearly: He wore a violet-colored, double-breasted suit jacket over a black shirt, paired with a floral-patterned tie. His turquoise shorts were decorated with a cracked egg pattern, and he wore simple sandals on his feet. Draped over his shoulders like a cape was a white jacket with golden epaulets and crimson sleeve cuffs.

Still frightened, the child struggled to get up. His eyes darted around, searching for an escape, but his legs refused to respond, leaving him paralyzed.

"Calm, try not to do anything silly," declared the man as if he had read his mind or sensed his intentions, "We don't want any trouble, right Commodore?" he continued, looking around, before turning to the individual on his right. The other nodded, although it sported a rather thoughtful expression, as if pondering something. 

"I guess you've never seen a Mink in the flesh before, am I right?" He then asked the little one noticing how he was continuing to stare at the sea lion "Well, its name is Welo," he said pointing at it with his thumb " It’s my faithful right hand, a sea lion-type mink and a formidable warrior. But don't be fooled by its physique or badass aura, it's a real prick," he smiled as if he had just uttered something funny. 

"What the hell is wrong with you Baron?" blurted out the creature, dumbfounded "Does this seem like the time or place to talk this kind of shit?"  

"Well, you know how I am" The man couldn't help but smile at it "I don't like lying, especially in the presence of such a cute and innocent little guy" 

"You hairless ape," muttered the Mink between its teeth. 

The former threw it a dirty look, "Um, did you say something, Commodore?"  

"Absolutely nothing, sir." 

"Very well, then," the man did, turning then toward Ramesh. Although it was a far from pleasant situation, given that and especially who he was clutching between his small fingers now dipped in blood, he had to admit that that little comic skit between those two had distracted him for a few seconds, even calming him down, but he felt he couldn’t let his guard down. 

"Are you hurt or something?" The firm tone used by the man roused him from those thoughts. He lifted his head, meeting the man's gaze, and nodded.

"Your parents?" the man asked, examining with his gaze first the body of his Pità and then dwelling on that of his Janani, who despite her wounds, had retained her beauty, her eyes were wide open and glassy. Her skin was colder than usual, white and pale as if she had always been refractive to the sun. She was motionless and rigid like a statue.

He felt a burning sensation in his eyes, his vision blurring for a few seconds, as he nodded at the question from the man, 

"I'm so sorry," he quickly lowered his eyes, then raised them again, but at the exact moment he was about to utter the word again, he was startled by the little guy in front of him, who after minutes of glacial silence, broken only by a few gestures, had asked a "Who are you" in a trembling voice. 

"It was my intention to ask you the same question but you are right," he smiled amicably, "Forgive my rudeness for not introducing myself sooner. My name is Alaris Baron and I'm a Marine Vice Admiral, and this is Welo" the man then explained, indicating the Mink with a slight nod “A Marine Commodore”

"Very pleased," replied the creature, making a small bow with its head.

"One of our patrol ships went missing not far from here. We were sent to locate any wreckage or survivors. When we saw the smoke, we thought it might be connected. Instead, we found you unconscious on the beach. And following you then led us to this” he concluded, pointing with his hands to the surrounding carnage.

"What is the Marine?" the little Ramesh asked. He had never heard of it, not in the village tales, not in the whispered warnings of the elders, not even in old Kerani’s stories, and she knew everything there was to know. Had she, unlike his parents and the others, managed to survive?

"Since this island isn't affiliated with the World Government, it is plausible that you don't even know what the latter is or the organization to which I have dedicated my life" Alaris stood, brushing sand from his uniform. He looked even taller than Ramesh imagined "Well, the Marine is the military organization of the World Government responsible for maintaining order, peace and justice in a world full of danger. A shield against the darkness that threatens to engulf us. It is a beacon of hope, a symbol of courage in the face of all adversity, a firm and stable bastion in these tumultuous and chaotic times." 

Although he found many words addressed to him rather unintelligible, Ramesh seemed as if enraptured by his fervor.

"The Marine represents a bulwark against those who prey on the weak” Alaris proclaimed "We are the defenders of freedom, the guardians of justice. Silent guardian angels who tirelessly patrol the oceans to uphold the rule of law." 

Welo, the sea creature, nodded in agreement, standing resolute beside its superior.

But perhaps most importantly," Alaris continued, "is that the Marine represents unity and solidarity. It brings together people from all walks of life, uniting different races and creeds under a common cause. Our mission is simple: to make the seas safe for all who sail them and to eradicate, once and for all, one of the greatest plagues upon this world, the piracy”

"Piracy?" echoed Ramesh. 

"Yes, piracy," he nodded, "The banner under which the worst scum of the seas gather. A plague that, if unchecked, will erode the very foundations of civilization. Pirates aren’t just thieves preying on ships, they are ruthless butchers who spread fear wherever they go, leaving devastation in their wake”

As he spoke those words, Ramesh looked around, and although he was only a mere five-year-old brat, he probably sensed where this man could or would be going with this. The man noticed this and decided to continue "Bloody monsters incapable of feeling any pity or remorse, not even towards the lives they take or for others they ruin. Yes, I guess you must have figured that out, and although you are just a child, in the Marines I'm known for my particular blunt honesty”

"But, sir," the comrade Mink interrupted him, taking a step forward, "Why are you revealing all this information to a civilian? Aoshika had been quite clear..." 

But the man shushed it with a simple wave of his hand "I'm well aware of his directives, but as you know, I don't approve of the methods used by that icy carrion. He is just a fanatical fool, too blind to grab what's there ready for the taking.”

Ramesh frowned in confusion. Who was this man they were talking about? The weight of everything, the loss, the stranger’s words, the sheer flood of information, pressed down on him. His head pounded, and his legs felt unsteady, as if the world itself might slip out from under him

“So... where were we?" the Vice-Admiral asked, turning to the child as if gathering his thoughts. "Ah, right!" He snapped his fingers. "The devastation here today, the slaughter of the inhabitants, the loss of your parents is the work of ruthless and sadistic pirates. I deeply regret that we arrived too late to stop such cruelty, and that you had to witness such evil at such a young age."

Ramesh’s eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. Could ordinary men really have committed such slaughter? Were they truly no different from the beasts his Pità had fought ruthless enough to butcher an entire village, to turn on their own kind like predators? And why? Why had his home, his parents, been singled out for such devastation?

At that moment, a surge of emotion welled up inside him, hot and furious like a boiling river. Anger flooded through him, and before he even realized it, his right fist was clenched tight. The Vice Admiral's sharp eyes caught the movement and a smirk spreading across his face, one that carried an unmistakable, sinister edge.

“Anyway, kid..." Alaris let the words hang for a moment before leaning in slightly. "You still haven't told me your name”

The little one took a deep breath. "Ramesh Devaki," he said, his eyes flashing with determination. Alaris' grin widened, as if savoring the moment.

"Very well," he mused, running a hand over his thick crimson beard, "A beautiful name that if I'm not mistaken comes from a very ancient language and is supposed to mean 'preserver' or 'one who saves from danger' , a concept that I and the government particularly appreciate. And although you haven't had a chance to demonstrate it today, I'm sure you will in the future."

“What do you mean?" the boy asked, confusion etched across his face. There was something unsettling about the man, not just his words, but the way he delivered them, as if he were speaking in riddles only he could understand.

The Vice Admiral studied the boy for a moment, his expression unreadable as he stroked his beard. Then, as if the previous question had never been asked, he said, "Tell me, Ramesh, did you love your parents?"

Ramesh's heart leapt at the mention of his parents as his gaze drifted to their battered bodies, and the memories began to flow: his mother’s warmth and soothing voice, his father’s steady presence and firm embrace. They were the center of his world, something he could never be without.

Now, it felt as if they had vanished like ghosts or had never existed at all, leaving him more alone than ever. A knot formed in his throat, tightening with each silent sob as he fought desperately to hold back the tears carving paths down his face, his voice barely clinging to a whisper.

“Yes, with all my heart,” he whispered with shining eyes

Alaris's gaze seemed to soften for a moment, only to return to his usual composure "The pain you're feeling now, Ramesh... it won’t fade easily. Loss like this leaves a wound that never truly heals. And as the days pass, you'll find yourself alone, struggling just to endure. But perhaps, fate hasn’t abandoned you entirely. My subordinate and I can offer you something more than grief. A path forward”

Lucky? He echoed the word in his mind, disbelief twisting into anger. How dare he call this lucky? His entire world, his family, his home, had been torn away in an instant, with such brutal finality that it barely felt real. What gave this madman the right to say such a thing?

Heat surged through him, his nails biting into his palms as his fists clenched tight. The Vice Admiral caught the gesture, his expression unreadable. Then, in a tone that was almost measured, he spoke.

“Perhaps I was too hasty," he admitted, his voice deceptively calm. "But tell me, Ramesh. If you had the chance to take revenge on the ones who did this, the ones who stole your family, your future… would you take it? If you could stop them from doing the same to others, if you could protect the innocent and bring order to a world teetering on chaos… would you hesitate?”

Ramesh’s breath hitched. What exactly was he asking him? Was he serious? It all seemed so absurd to him. His father, his Pitā, had been one of the village’s strongest warriors, yet he had fallen like all the others, wiped out as if they were nothing. If even they hadn’t stood a chance, what hope did a frail, grieving child have?

The very idea was lunacy.

But something in him refused to doubt; the Vice Admiral’s words rang with a certainty he couldn’t ignore. He nodded, firm and resolute, as if his very life depended on it.

"Magnifique!" exclaimed the Vice Admiral clapping his hands, "However, there is a matter we need to discuss first.”

The boy tilted his head.

“I’ll be blunt,” the Vice Admiral continued. “Given your age and, frankly, your size, you wouldn’t even be able to scare off a house cat, let alone the kind of cutthroats who razed this village. They’d carve you up in seconds, devour you whole, bones and all. Look around you. Do you see how easily they wiped out men who seemed strong at first glance? That’s why, if you truly wish to stand for justice, you’ll have to endure training so brutal that few survive it. Tell me, do you still have the resolve to fight?”

Ramesh swallowed hard, disbelief still etched on his face as thoughts crashed chaotically through his mind.Would the Vice Admiral truly take care of him now that he had nowhere else to go?

Yet, what terrified him even more was stepping into something with no guarantee of survival, something that, as Alaris himself admitted, only a few lived through. He wasn’t like his Pitā, he hadn’t inherited his strength or resilience. So what chance did a child like him have?

But the little boy nodded with conviction. Nothing should have frightened him, for he believed that his parents, from the place where their souls had arrived, would feel deep shame if they looked at him. 

Look at your parents' faces one last time," the man commanded. The request struck Ramesh as both cruel and bewildering. Why force him to relive such agony?

"Carve their expressions into your memory," Alaris continued. "Let them be a warning, a reminder of what happens when you falter. You don’t want to share their fate, do you?”

Ramesh nodded, though he didn’t fully grasp what the man meant.

"So, what steps will you take to make sure their end is not yours?”

What was he supposed to do? He certainly wouldn’t want to share their fate,no matter how much he longed to see their smiling faces again. He couldn't bear the helplessness, guilt, and inadequacy, nor could he keep depending on others to save him or anyone else.

Clenching his hand into a fist, he looked one last time at the faces of his parents. Their sacrifice wouldn’t be in vain; of this, he was certain. He then peered at the Vice Admiral, locking eyes with his ruby irises without fear or shame. His voice had grown hoarse, “I will become stronger.”

Yes, he would learn to rely on his own strength and conviction, ensuring that the vision of the one saving him would come to fruition.

Alaris smiled. "So, come on!" He held out his hand. "Take charge of your life, and help me build a bright future for all."

Terms used in the fic:

- Janani: In Marathi and Sanskrit language it means "mother"

- Pitā: In Hindi language it means "father"

- Shasyotsava: In Hindi language it means "Harvest Festival"

- Rakshak: In Sanskrit language it means "Protector" or "Guardian"

- Beta: In Hindi language it means "Son"

- Kamal: In Hindi language it means "Lotus"

- Chatras: In Hindi language it means "Disciples"

- Dame Blanche: In French it means "White Lady" and refers to the ghosts or malevolent spectral figures existing in that culture/folklore