Chapter 4: Starting a Breakout
Giselle stretched languidly in her chains, a yawn escaping her lips as her golden eyes blinked open, glinting in the dim light of the prison cell. The musty smell of mold made her nose twitch in annoyance. She hated the smell, but after a hundred years of it, she had almost grown used to it. Almost.
"Hey, Celestine," Giselle muttered, her voice tinged with a mix of boredom and irritation. "How much longer must I stay locked up in this place? I figured a hundred years of collecting data was enough. Don't tell me eating the scraps of different beings that the Navy brats bring me every day in my slime form wasn't enough to make a form that suits me best."
She paused, her nose wrinkling in mock annoyance. "And don't even get me started on you. I didn't spend over 20 years creating you just to listen to you nag me. You know, it's not like making an AI system in my head, one that only I can hear, was a great idea. Who even came up with this? Oh, right, me."
A voice piped up in her mind, dry and unamused. "Forgive me, Mistress, but Model Second Form: Tiamat will be complete in exactly 9 minutes and 52 seconds. Until then, might I suggest you save your energy for something more productive, like returning to your slime form? Optimal results require less whining and more compliance."
Giselle rolled her eyes, groaning as she stretched again. "You're as insufferable as ever, Celestine."
"Thank you for noticing, Mistress," Celestine replied with her trademark sarcasm. "It's not as though I've spent decades confined to the body of a rodent—one that you deemed fit for my 'graceful' presence. Might I remind you, this mouse body has a tail with kinks in it. I deserve better."
"You're a mouse I found in this disgusting cell," Giselle snapped back, her tone playful despite her grumbling. "You're lucky I gave you a body at all instead of leaving you as nothing but a voice in my head. Maybe I'll make you a cockroach next time."
"Truly, Mistress, your generosity knows no bounds," Celestine replied dryly. "Perhaps you should focus on the matter at hand instead of fantasizing about insulting me. After all, you'll soon have only three remaining slots for morph creation after Tiamat is complete. Might I remind you that your limited capability is entirely your fault for devouring substandard material over the years?"
Giselle huffed, her form rippling as she let herself dissolve into a puddle of translucent pink slime. "Fine, fine. Slime form it is. Happy now?"
"Ecstatic," Celestine replied in a monotone voice. "As always, your compliance is a gift to the universe."
Before Giselle could snap back, her senses tingled, alerting her to the sound of approaching footsteps. They were faint but growing louder, accompanied by the metallic clink of keys and the steady tread of boots. Giselle let out a resigned sigh, her voice dry. "Ah, my daily scraps have arrived. How thoughtful of them."
The iron door to her prison cell creaked open, the sound echoing in the oppressive silence of the Eternal Hell—the lowest level of Impel Down, where only the most dangerous criminals were kept. This floor wasn't just a prison; it was a tomb for those whose mere existence posed a threat to the World Government itself. For Giselle, it was home.
A figure stepped into the room: a tall Marine Vice Admiral with sharp, angular features, dressed in the immaculate white and navy-blue uniform of the World Government. Her presence exuded authority, but there was an ease to her posture that betrayed her true nature.
"Vice Admiral Serina," Giselle greeted with a smirk, her golden eyes gleaming with amusement. "What brings you to my humble abode today? Come to gawk at the slime monster, or did you finally bring me something interesting to eat?"
Serina chuckled, closing the door behind her. "Giselle, if you're a monster, then the rest of us are amateurs. And you know why I'm here. Can't have you wasting away, after all."
The two exchanged pleasantries as if they were old friends, a peculiar camaraderie between prisoner and jailer. But the truth was far more twisted. Serina wasn't here out of duty or pity—she was here because she was Giselle's puppet. Twenty years ago, Giselle had taken control of Serina, implanting a fragment of her slime into the Marine's body, turning her into an extension of herself. Through Serina, Giselle had gained access to the outside world, using her to collect information, books, and knowledge from across the seas.
Serina reached into her coat and pulled out a small stack of books, setting them on the stone floor. "I found these in a library near Water 7," she said casually. "Thought you'd like a little light reading."
Giselle's form rippled with excitement, the pink slime shifting as she reformed her upper body to inspect the books. "Finally, something worthwhile," she muttered, her tone approving. "See, this is why I keep you around, Serina. You're surprisingly useful for a Marine brat."
"Flattered," Serina replied with a smirk. "Though I can't say the same for the conversations we've been having for the past two decades. But there is something I thought you'd want to know."
Giselle tilted her head, her interest piqued. "Oh? Do tell."
Serina's voice lowered slightly, her tone serious. "Odile Nico's daughter, Olvia… she's alive. And not just that—she's about to have a child of her own."
For a moment, Giselle was silent, her golden eyes narrowing as she processed the information. Memories of Odile surfaced, the pirate who had changed the course of her life forever. "Odile's daughter…" she murmured, her voice almost wistful. "She survived after all."
Serina nodded. "Not only that, but she's becoming a force to be reckoned with in her own right. It seems the legacy you helped protect back on Sakura Island is still alive and thriving."
Giselle let out a low chuckle, her form shifting slightly as her amusement bubbled to the surface. "Well, well. The world just keeps getting more interesting. Perhaps I didn't waste all that effort after all."
Serina smirked, crossing her arms. "You never do, Giselle. But don't get too excited. The Marine's been keeping tabs on her, and it won't be long before they make their move."
"Let them try," Giselle said with a sly grin. "If they're half as incompetent as they've been with me, she'll be just fine."
Celestine's voice piped up in her mind, dry as ever. "Mistress, if you're finished with your theatrics, might I remind you that Tiamat is now ready? If you wish to intimidate the Marine further, perhaps you'd like to begin your tests?"
Giselle laughed, a rich, mischievous sound that echoed through the cell. "Oh, Celestine, you do know how to ruin a moment."
"It's a talent," the AI replied flatly.
After Serina left, closing the prison door behind her to do Giselle's bidding. Giselle stretched as her sea stone cuffs shattered into fragments. The subtle crackling sound echoed ominously in the cavernous chamber of Level 6, the lowest floor of Impel Down, reserved for those too powerful, too dangerous, or too infamous to be allowed even a sliver of freedom.
Giselle smirked, shaking the stiffness from her wrists. Her golden eyes gleamed, a predator's glint in the dim light. Long, pale pink hair tumbled around her shoulders in wild waves, matted with the grime of a hundred years of imprisonment. She stretched lazily, her chained limbs finally freed, while Celestine's voice filled her mind with dry commentary.
"Congratulations, Mistress. You've successfully broken your restraints. A feat only 98 years overdue."
Giselle laughed softly, a rich, throaty sound that echoed in the quiet, oppressive air of Eternal Hell. "Patience, Celestine. Good things come to those who wait, don't you think? Besides…" Her smirk widened, sharp and wicked. "I've been saving my best tricks for the right moment."
Celestine, her AI companion confined to the body of a small, ragged mouse perched near the edge of her cell, squeaked indignantly. "If by 'tricks,' you mean the Tiamat form you've been refining for decades, then might I suggest now is the time to show off? Or are you planning to stroll leisurely through six levels of Hell as your usual self?"
Giselle's smirk deepened as she stepped into the center of the massive cell, her bare feet padding softly against the cold stone. "Tiamat is ready, isn't she? Why wouldn't I try my newest creation? The Fusion is optimized with defensive abilities, too, right?"
"Of course," Celestine replied, her tone laced with dry sarcasm. "Not that you've let me refine her further, considering the…quality of material you've absorbed over the years."
"Always such a critic," Giselle replied, her voice teasing as her body began to glow faintly, shimmering with a radiant pink light. "Alright, Celestine. Let's give these fools something to fear."
The air around her thickened, crackling with energy. Her form began to shift, her pale skin darkening as her body transformed into a being of pure, destructive power. Her wings emerged first—six massive, leathery dragon wings, each one shimmering with a pale pink translucence, their edges rippling with energy. Her armor materialized next, forming from her own slime-like essence. It was sleek, black, and intricately detailed, clinging to her form like a second skin and resembling scales forged in fire. Her hands grew clawed, razor-sharp talons glinting in the faint light, while her legs were encased in segmented, spiked greaves.
Horns curled elegantly from her head, crowning her like a queen of dragons. Her tail, long and sinuous, swished behind her, ending in a barbed point that gleamed menacingly. Her hair, now longer and wilder, glowed faintly in soft waves of pale pink, cascading around her like an ethereal halo.
Her golden eyes burned brighter than ever, their intensity rivaling the sun, as her full transformation into Tiamat completed. She stood tall, radiating power, her presence suffocating and divine.
Celestine let out a low whistle, her voice tinged with mock admiration. "A masterpiece, if I do say so myself. Though the six wings may be overkill. What exactly are you compensating for, Mistress?"
Giselle chuckled, flexing her clawed hands as her tail lashed behind her. "Oh, Celestine. You know better than anyone—I never do overkill. I just like to make an impression."
"And a lovely impression it is," Celestine deadpanned. "Now, shall we address the matter of breaking through six levels of the most secure prison in existence? Or are you planning to monologue until the guards arrive?"
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