Chapter 6: inner world
The morning sun broke through the clouds like golden arrows, flooding the deck of the red apple pirates' ship with a soft and warm light. On the deck, dozens of men bustled about, minding their own business. Their ship was a majestic giant, capable of holding over a hundred pirates. Many of them were pale and tired, suffering from the effects of last night's pleasures. However, despite their hangovers, they were diligently preparing to set sail, knowing that any delay could cost them dearly.
From the heart of the ship came a creak, and then the door to the captain's cabin swung open. The captain himself emerged onto the deck, cutting an imposing figure against the morning light. He towered over the men, standing well over two meters tall, his broad shoulders cloaked in rich black fabric that swayed with the wind. His face was hard and unforgiving, weathered by years of battle and violence. A thick black beard curled down his chin, and a jagged scar sliced across his face—from his chin, over his lip, and nearly reaching his right eye. He wore loose black pants cinched with a wide leather belt, from which two massive sickles hung menacingly at his sides. Completing his image was a red apple-shaped hat perched on his head, a mocking nod to his ship's insignia.
This was Red Robert, the infamous captain of the Red Apple pirates. His name was feared across North Blue, and the bounty on his head was no small sum—54 million bellies.
"Hey, Kim!" Robert's voice boomed across the deck, his tone dripping with authority. "Go check on our goods and give them something to drink." His command was directed at a nearby pirate, a lanky man who had been mopping the deck with an expression of quiet disdain.
"Yes, Captain," Kim replied quickly, dropping his mop with a loud clatter and heading toward the hold. He descended the wooden steps. Robert, meanwhile, turned toward the opposite side of the ship, his thoughts already drifting toward the barrels of cider waiting for him below.
"All right, you assholes, hurry up! We sail in half an hour, and if you make us even an hour late, I'll break your arms!" Robert commanded, heading for the other way down into the hold, where his favorite cider awaited him.
Kim moved through the dim corridors of the ship's belly, picking up a flickering oil lamp as he went. The light cast long shadows over the barrels and crates that lined the walls, revealing a haphazard collection of stolen goods. His fingers lingered briefly over two bottles of rum, which he tucked under his arm as he made his way deeper into the hold. Soon, he reached the iron bars of the cage where the human cargo was kept.
The faint light of the lamp glinted off the rusted bars, casting eerie shadows across the faces of the prisoners. In the corner of the cell, Eden lay curled up on the cold stone floor, his breathing shallow, his body frail. His red hair, bright even in the gloom, spilled across his face like a tangle of fire. His clothes were little more than tattered remnants—a once-white shirt, now stained and ragged, and black pants that hung loosely on his thin frame. His feet, pale and filthy, were bare, testament to his time spent in captivity. Despite his fragile appearance, there was something about Eden's face, even in sleep, that hinted at a beauty now buried beneath layers of exhaustion and misery.
In the dim light of the lamp, Allen could finally see his cellmate.
Kim was looking at the boys with a mixture of indifference and annoyance. "Hey, you guys alive in there?" - he barked, his voice cutting through the silence like the blow of a whip. His gaze stopped on Eden, who remained motionless, his mind desperately clinging to the last vestiges of sleep, which brought far more comfort than the waking world.
Ignoring the lack of response, Kim slammed the butt of the lamp against the iron bars, and a sharp clang echoed through the hold. "Cretin, can you hear me?" - he growled, his voice becoming almost a scream.
Eden stirred at last, the sound dragging him unwillingly from his sleep. His eyelids fluttered open, and for a moment, he stared blankly at Kim before managing a weak reply. "Alive," he mumbled, his voice barely a whisper.
"Good," Kim replied with a sneer. He shoved the two bottles of rum through the bars and onto the floor with a dull thud. "This is all you get until we arrive. Make it last."
He lingered for a moment, his eyes flicking over the boys one last time before turning away, leaving them in the gloom once more. The door to the hold slammed shut behind him, and the sound of his boots faded up the stairwell as he returned to the deck.
Allen waited until the sound of the pirate's footsteps faded, swallowed by the silence of the ship's dark corridors. Only then, with a quiet assurance that no one was near to overhear, did he speak, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Are you all right?" he asked his cellmate, his tone soft yet weary.
Eden, still lying on the cold floor, answered in a weak, sleepy murmur, "Fine."
Earlier, in the dim glow of the pirate's lamp, Eden had noticed the exhaustion etched deeply into Allen's face—the way his eyes sagged, his body trembling slightly with fatigue. There was no mistaking that Allen had spent the entire night awake, though the reasons were not immediately clear to him.
"You've been up all night, haven't you?" Eden asked.
"Uh-huh," Allen responded, his voice a mere grunt of acknowledgment.
"That's not good," Eden said quietly. "They barely give us enough food to stay alive. You should rest, and conserve your strength."
Allen knew Eden was right. Though he'd spent the night practicing controlling his damned energy, he couldn't deny that fatigue was weighing on him. He longed for rest, but the hard, unyielding floor, the chill in the air, and the bitter realization of his situation kept him awake. His thoughts raced relentlessly, unwilling to settle down. Now, however, the weight of fatigue was weighing more and more heavily on his mind.
Just as Allen was unconsciously surrendering to the embrace of dreams, Eden's voice cut through the silence, soft but desperate. "…Maybe it's better to just starve to death out here," he said, as if talking to himself.
Allen opened his eyes, stunned for a moment by Eden's words. "What?" - he asked, his voice sounding sharper than he had intended. But as the words reached him, he realized why Eden's soul had sunk into such darkness. This boy had likely lost everything - his home, his family - and now faced the grim reality of being sold to some miserable bastard. Allen felt the weight of Eden's despair.
"Do whatever you want.," Allen said quietly, his voice calm but firm. "But I'm not going to die here. I'm going to leave this place a free man. Death isn't an option for me."
Eden blinked in surprise, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. The quiet confidence in Allen's words seemed almost absurd in their situation.
"And what makes you so sure of that?" Eden asked. "How could that even be possible?"
Allen opened his mouth to respond, but his words caught in his throat as something warm and comforting began to envelop his eyes. It was a gentle, soothing sensation, as if the world around him had suddenly softened. His consciousness slipped away, falling into an abyss before he even had time to register what was happening.
When he awoke, he found himself standing in an unfamiliar place, a vast and limitless space that stretched out in all directions. It resembled the realm where he had once met Peony, but here, the sky was a soft blue, glowing with an ethereal light that reflected off the surface of the water that covered everything around him. It was as if he stood on liquid glass, yet he felt no cold, no dampness beneath his feet. The sensation was strange, yet peaceful.
"You have survived... The inner world is now open to you."
The words echoed in his mind, yet there was no sound. They simply appeared, as if transmitted directly into his thoughts. Despite their silence, the words carried a warmth and peace that filled Allen with a sense of calm, as though spoken by a benevolent presence. It felt... angelic.
Allen blinked, momentarily disoriented. "Where am I?" he asked aloud, unsure if his voice would be heard
"In the inner world," the voice replied, still soundless but undeniably present.
"What is the inner world?" Allen questioned, his confusion growing. He felt adrift, grasping for understanding in this strange new reality.
"The inner world is a subspace directly connected to your soul," the voice explained. "You can enter it at will. It belongs solely to you."
"And who are you?"
"I am the voice of your inner world."
Allen frowned, still trying to piece it all together. "But what's the point of it? What is the inner world for?"
"It exists to help you master the powers bestowed upon you."
"Explain."
"It will be clearer if you turn around," the voice advised.
Allen hesitated but did as he was told. He turned slowly, unsure of what to expect. When his eyes finally settled on what stood behind him, his breath caught in his throat.
There, no more than ten meters away, stood a figure—tall, and clad in black clothing. His head was held high with an confidence, and though his eyes were obscured by a black blindfold, the striking white hair that stood on end was unmistakable.
Allen's heart raced. He could hardly believe what he was seeing. Standing before him was none other than...
...Satoru Gojo.
Satoru Gojo smiled weakly, the same easy smile that had once seemed untouchable in the pages of the manga for a long time. And Allen, standing in stunned silence, realized that thanks to this "inner world" he would be able to escape the harsh plans of fate.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone