Chapitre 172: [172] Union of Disasters

[3155 words]

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[Present Time]

"'Heart and name'... so the meek and timid Asura is…"

"Me," Indra finished Damien's sentence.

The latter hummed, watching a complicated look flash by lightning pirate's eyes.

"My brother Indra was everything Kali ever hoped for. The final embers of the Zenora; a blessing amidst a cursed few decades."

A brief silence passed as the two young men sat still while a cool breeze zoomed on, ringing a gentle hum through the forested land.

Indra took a deep breath, glancing at the bright moon in the background. "Polemos was already in flames, left in shambles from decades of battle and war by the hands of the World Government."

He continued, "That day, I cast away my old self, throwing aside my chains and weaknesses to become Zenora Indra."

Damien leaned back, nodding at the newfound information. "That was in 1481, five years ago now," the undying pirate said.

Indra nodded, "I spent the first two years drifting across the New World, slowly sharpening my skills. But even then, I was still stuck in a vortex of loss, unable to find anything to anchor down to."

A self-deprecating smile thinly stretched across Indra's face as he went on to say, "Kali was right. He spent twenty years ingraining our minds to become a weapon for himself. He made sure that no matter what, we would always be incomplete without someone to wield us."

"My mind was subconsciously curious toward impressive pirates," he revealed. "During that period of numbness, I heard whispers of a monstrous pirate crew emerging from the shadows of the Three Overlords. A crew that broke every taboo known to the seas, the Rocks Pirates!"

"It was right after the fall of Esso Borealis that they had begun recruiting more pirates into their Divisions."

Damien chuckled at the memory. It felt so long ago when he was as weak as fodder. "Hehe, Shakky-nee threw me hundreds of pirates to pick and choose someone worthwhile… the time when our paths crossed."

Indra's eyes met Damien's, glowing with a solemn glint.

"I have fought many battles in the Fourth Division's name. But against Xerxes, it happened. I fell into my Figures—something I had resolved myself against doing…"

Damien remained silent, letting the usually quiet Indra continue. "All our people fell into madness by those exact Figures. Starting from Mors to Kali, both lost in their rage, spelling doom for our people."

"Although I was trained to master them, I lost that confidence after the real Indra's death. Even now, I can feel their influence gnawing at my mind."

The voice was riddled with deep anger and self-loathing, something truly rare for the reticent Indra to do.

"You wanted to disprove that old hoot's claim," Damien's relaxed voice echoed in his ears, drawing him to silence. "Kali wasn't wrong; the greatest strength of your people lies in that incomplete gene…"

Indra's eyes fell onto Damien once more, wavering ever so slightly.

"That's it, isn't it? You don't hate Kali. Instead, you hate that he was right all along."

The words were blunt and to the point. "Kali saw Asura to be a weak excuse of a Warborn, living in his brother's shadow."

Damien shot up from his seat, standing across the lightning human. Both pirates towered over most others, creating long shadows from the creeping night.

"You became Indra and slowly began fitting into the picture Kali painted. Now that you have activated your Figures after five years, you can't get that out of your own head."

Damien smiled slightly as he saw Indra shut his eyes and lower his head in thought.

"..."

The silence was loud.

Damien cupped his chin, knowing exactly how to proceed: "Activate them."

He met Indra's confused eyes and remained unshaken: "Do it. Let the hate flow through you."

The words forced the long-haired pirate to take a deep breath. After seeing that Damien was genuinely serious, he followed through after a brief moment of hesitation.

Indra closed his eyes, concentrating on his breathing.

*Hiss* It was a whistle-like sound leaking from the man's body. Slowly but surely, the moisture in the ambient air began to evaporate, creating a smoke-like effect.

Indra's heart was pumping rapidly, sending vast currents of fresh blood through his arteries. With that came the ruddy glow across his markings—the ominous red glowing brighter and bloodier by the passing second.

*Huuu* Indra released a deep, foggy breath, slowly losing his calm composure. He gritted his teeth, opening his blood-red eyes to glance at Damien.

"Let's see how tough a Warborn really is…"

The Sin Incarnate then struck without giving Indra even a second to think.

*Krrrr* Black lightning began to spark through the pirate's arms, crackling wildly with deep anger.

BAM!

The attack came at a speed faster than sound, easily shattering the sound barrier with a resounding boom.

Indra, who was at arm's length, was just as fast.

Bang!

A roar of thunder, and the hissing pirate disappeared into loose electrical sparks, dissolving in mid-air.

"Pretty fast," Damien commented.

He felt a presence appear not too far away and shot ahead once more. "Don't worry, I used my powers to destroy the air particles surrounding where the others are sleeping; they won't hear a thing!"

The voice was lax, yet it came with a crushing punch wrapped in thick Haki.

Indra, who had retreated previously, chose against retreating.

*Crackle* The once blue lightning turned red, the colour of blood!

It echoed through the skies. Some loose arks of electricity even rang through the clouds, bringing a bloody hue and emulating God's wrath.

The thunderous fists met like two unstoppable forces blazing ahead.

BOOM!

A colour burst of black and red crashed throughout the island, creating quite the spectacle left unseen by others.

Indra frowned as he felt his crackling arm beginning to waver, ever so slowly being pressed by the weight of a mountain.

*Crack* It was instantaneous; the ulna bone shot right out of its position, tearing through the elbow skin and protruding outwards. The blood splashed out, unveiling the white of the bone.

Damien's strength threw him back through the air, leaving a crackling trail of blood-red lightning.

"Hmm?"

The Sin Incarnate narrowed his eyes as he saw Indra casually press his protruding bone back into the arm with his left palm, putting it back into place.

"So that's what it looks like when I do it," he muttered, watching Indra heal the injury within moments.

"Lunarians had incredible resilience and recovery. It translates through your incomplete gene even better than I expected."

The booming roars of thunder voiced out, sending shivers through the island. The red lightning's zapping and cracking continuously increased.

Shing!

The Sacred Blade Tenmei was unsheathed; soon enough, it, too, was bathed in white currents of electricity.

Indra lifted the blade, pointing it to the skies above. The combination of blood-red and holy white was quite the stark contrast.

His thoughts mandated the clouds to churn and warp as Indra desired. The loose electricity began moving as he wished, slowly materializing into a giant divine hand spanning hundreds of meters, pointing out a sole finger.

"Rumbling Sword Style: Hand of God!"

The white-red hand fell from the heavens alongside the majesty of Tenmei, both crashing onto the infamous Sin Incarnate.

Damien smirked, feeling the budding threat moving at the speed of lightning, striking in a fraction of a second and leaving destruction in its wake.

…

A red light flashed past Damien's eyes as Indra unsheathed his weapon, readying the divine attack.

In response, Damien tried something new.

*Krrrr* *Sz*

The air began to revolt under the pirate's Haki. It went from a pristine black to a sizzling red. The frenzy-like Haki began steaming and fizzing through the air, sizzling with tiny red particles dissolving from the coat.

Alongside the Armament were thick currents of black lightning that thundered out and into the open air—Empyrean Haki!

*Whizz* Damiens shot to the sky, meeting the incoming godly strike with something that could only be considered legacy.

"Warstrike!"

BOOOM!

A resounding and deafening explosion was followed by a bright flash of light that lit up the dark skies with a morning glow.

The shockwaves quaked through the air and rang across the nearby tectonic shifts, creating dull tremors that birthed powerful tides. The howling winds were strong enough to rip the trees from their roots and take them to the skies.

Alongside the blinding flash, a spectacle of red, black, and white lightning coursed through the shrieking air.

Indra, who brought down a thunderous attack, was on the defending end. The opposing Haki from Damien was far more devastating than he thought.

The rippling pain through his arm forced a frown across the swordsman's face as he gritted his teeth. 'Is this the Infusion of Haki? Not just that, his Haki has turned far more paralyzing than before… almost to the point of buried rage…'

Damien, who was essentially being bathed by what some would consider the wrath of the gods, was awfully unfazed.

The volatile and violent lightning that crackled with millions of amperes of current was barely able to penetrate the shredding Haki and was dispelled without difficulty.

BAM!

The punch forced itself forward, shattering the giant hand into dust and then some.

The sizzling Haki-clad fist slammed onto Indra's chest, ringing it with incredible power. Infusion and Empyrean Haki, both running in synergy to echo through the Warborn's chest.

At the speed of lightning, he was sent hurtling through the air and crash-landing into the uninhabited North End of Mortem, ringing the entire landmass with tremors.

The darkness reappeared fast, hiding away the blinding light that had lit up the clouds moments ago. Damien, effortlessly floating in the sky in his Logia-like form, looked to the side, noticing a certain presence.

"The tsunamis will ripple through and crash hard on nearby islands," came a woman's voice.

In return, the male pirate scratched his cheek, "Maybe I went a tad bit overboard…" He looked toward another person who had arrived: "Kuzan, since you're awake, go freeze them the waves."

"Ehh? Can't you just bop them?"

Damien hummed, looking in the boy's direction with crossed arms. "I could, but making kids do all the work is more fun."

*Zap* The air whistled with the sound of pixelation as the stream of crimson particles reformed behind the inconspicuous Kuzan.

"Here, I'll give you a headstart."

With that said, Damien picked up the ice boy by the neck and flung him through the skies, shooting him at incredible speeds. The howling winds masked any complaints from Kuzan as he disappeared into the darkness of the night.

Damien dusted his hands with a clapping gesture, almost as if having done some excellent task.

Aurora walked up to Damien's side, her attention fixed on the distant crater at the northern mountain range. Darkness was her ally, and Indra's state was easy to read.

"It's no wonder the Government is so envious of Lunarians. Even what they considered a 'failed experiment' is able to stay conscious after your attack."

Damien slowly nodded, his eyes locking onto the motion a few kilometers away.

With the roar of thunder, Indra was before them, revealing a somewhat miserable state—his chest was purple with a noticeable depression in the shape of a fist. Clearly, a rib or two had broken inwards, piercing the left lung and slicing the heart.

The Warborn, his body still hissing, absently placed his right hand over the injury, feeling his internal system working overtime. He even added in lightning to speed up the process!

*Crack* Click*

It was like hitting the undo button—the broken ribs snapped back into place while the electricity encouraged the flesh around to heal faster. The fractured bones were fixed within a minute, and the bleeding stopped.

'It pairs well with my lightning,' Indra thought. He still remembered using his Figures to heal from Kali's abuse for years on end. Yet it was significantly faster now!

The only thing remaining was the spanning purple bruise and a nasty ache.

'His body is only a level or two from Kaido's in toughness,' Damien examined. 'The recovery alone is only a stage below mine.'

>=-=----[]---<>---[]---=-=<

[Zenora Indra]

[Age: 25 years, 2 months, 13 days]

[Status: Thriving]

[Height: 11' ] (3.35 m)

[Devil Fruit: Rumble-Rumble Fruit (Nigh-Advanced Mastery) ↑]

[Fruit Rating: 6.5 Stars]

[Weapon: Tenmei of the Supreme Grade Series]

[Skills: Figures of War, Absolute talent in swordsmanship, One Sword Style, Rumbling Sword Style, Moonwalk, Shave, Heightened Observation (Rumble-Rumble Fruit)]

[Haki: Observation Haki (Nigh-Advanced Mastery), Armament Haki (Nigh-Advanced Mastery) ↑, Conqueror's Haki (Intermediate Mastery) ↑]

[Strength: Pseudo Yonko ↑]

>=-=----[]---<>---[]---=-=<

'His strength is even to the likes of the original Yonko's top dogs. And that's without his Figures activated,' Damien thought to himself. 'But his Haki remains subpar.'

It was a very quick and dirty evaluation but satisfied the Captain. It only meant that Indra would take a few years to bloom into a monster.

"Well, how was it?" Damien questioned the swordsman. "Purposefully activating your Figures after all these years?"

Indra looked down at his arms, veins throbbing a fiery red. "It's a rush of strength as before, but far more intense than I remember."

Damien narrowed his eyes, watching Indra pause in thought. "...I always felt as if it was incomplete."

"Much like the Lunarians genes you were born with?"

Indra's gaze snapped up to meet Damien's, where a knowing, almost playful smile lingered. The pirate strode forward with a light grin.

"Nature is relentless, Indra. It doesn't settle for imperfection—it adapts, evolves, and overcomes. You were created with an incomplete blueprint, a piece missing from the puzzle. Yet here you stand, alive and unyielding. That means your body has been fighting every moment since you were born to fix that error."

Damien now stood at arm's length, his voice softening into an almost reverent tone. "Life always finds a way."

As if on cue, faint sparks of lightning coiled around Indra's arm, unnoticed by the swordsman himself.

His brows furrowed in confusion. 'I didn't release that electricity purposefully,' he thought.

"The Lunarians regulated their system by switching between the fire ignited over their body," Damien continued, his voice steady and sharp. "Swapping between nigh-invulnerability and incredible speed. You lack that outlet. That fight within you turns inward—into rage, into chaos."

Damien gestured at Indra's arm. "You ate the Rumble-Rumble Fruit. You not only create lightning, you are lightning. And now, your body—forced to endure this incomplete state—seeks to release that rage in other forms."

Indra's dark pupils widened as realization set in. "You mean, I can emulate the Lunarians, not through fire, but through lightning?"

"You can, or you will eventually," Damien said, crossing his arms. "Nature evolves past its hurdles, but it takes time. More time than I'm patient enough to wait for. So, why don't I just rid you of that biological delay?"

Without further preamble, Damien raised his arm, its surface shifting to a grey hue with luminous white cracks.

"Genesis Deprivation."

Indra felt weightless as his instincts went haywire. His sturdy frame trembled, his very insides bubbling as if liquefying.

"!!!" The sensation wasn't pain but a deep, unsettling awkwardness. Something intangible was leaving him—a flaw embedded within his very being.

Damien hummed a low tune, collecting the dull stream of energy into his palm, inspecting it as if it were a rare gem. "As perfect as Mother Nature is, she tends to take her time."

He dissipated the energy into the night air, his gaze now locked onto Indra. "Don't fight it. I removed the obstacle to your evolution. Let it do its thing."

Indra remained still, his entire body teetering on the edge of an unknown precipice.

Then it struck.

Decades of pent-up rage and chaos erupted, a storm detonating from within him. A primal scream tore from Indra's throat, reverberating through the ground and sky alike.

*Krrr!* *Rumble!*

The earth roared in answer. Massive shards of jagged metal tore free from the ground, their sharp edges gleaming like jagged teeth in the sparse moonlight. They converged toward Indra in a frenzied, magnetic dance. Sparks of static flickered through the air, carrying the promise of an unfathomable power.

Damien glanced toward Aurora, whose usually calm demeanour cracked in stunned silence. A massive metal claw had erupted mere inches beneath her, displacing even her ethereal Logia form.

Her voice was a whisper of astonishment. "He pulled it from deep within the earth…"

Above, Indra's form began to shift, his body dissolving into pure lightning, coursing like a storm around the jagged metallic display.

"Magnetic control?" Aurora murmured, her words trembling with the weight of their significance.

[Spectacle Image (in Discord)]

Damien's brows knitted in speculation. "A man of lightning, now capable of controlling metal?"

As the energy settled, Indra reformed, his towering eleven-foot frame crackling with red lightning. His Figures glowed a deep crimson, his eyes burning with unshakable clarity.

With a single wave of his arm, another pillar of raw metal surged upward from the earth. Another wave refined the shape.

*Rumble!*

After half a dozen attempts, a perfectly rounded metal pillar stood erect, three meters tall. A mere push of his hand sent it retreating into the ground, followed by the rest of the shards. The battlefield cleared as if nothing had happened.

Indra's voice was laced with awe. "This is… evolution."

His hands flexed as the power coursed through him, the answer echoing in his mind. "My lightning control has grown sharp enough to attract and repel anything magnetic. The rage from my Figures is also gone, releasing passively with this new power. And my mind… it's clearer than ever before."

Damien's smirk widened at the sight of Indra standing taller—physically and spiritually. The light in the swordsman's eyes spoke of a man reborn, unshackled from his past.

"You are no longer a failed Lunarian," Damien said, his voice deliberate.

Indra's gaze sharpened as his past surged through his thoughts—years under Kali, the death of his brother, and the transformation from Asura to Indra. All the pain and chaos had crystallized into something unshakable.

"I'm the first perfect Warborn, the weapon they engineered us to become," Indra declared, his tone resolute.

Damien's eyes gleamed with approval as he extended the invite to the man who had been his right-hand man for the past few years, ready to make it official. "So, become the most destructive weapon in my hands, Zenora Indra."

The weight of those words hung in the night air, filling Indra with a sense of purpose he hadn't felt in years.

With a measured step, Indra unsheathed the Sacred Blade Tenmei. He held it with reverence, one hand on the grip, the other supporting the blade—a swordsman's vow of loyalty.

"..." No words passed between them. The night's cold breeze bore silent witness to this union of disasters—a camaraderie that would shake the seas to their core.

To Be Continued…

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Author's Corner.

When the Rocks Pirates ended, so did the Fourth Division. It should not be assumed they will join Damien's incoming crew just because they were under him when he flew Xebec's flag. That's why we saw Pablo and Akai depart. In other words, Indra was left in a limbo state. Now, alongside newfound spirit, Indra is officially a pirate under Damien's soon-to-be-declared crew.

Images are available on Discord alongside other niche details: https://discord.gg/aJHHHPvb6q

commentaire Commentaire 54

Voter

Chapitre 173: [173] Bound and Unbound

[2440 words]

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[Domain of the Gods, Mariejois]

A reasonably tall, dark-haired young marine stood rather stoically. His young face sharply contrasted with his mature expression, though his heart was shaken at this moment.

Standing at the very center of the world, the most heavily guarded place, swarming with defences and a sea of knights.

The Domain of the Gods!

The young marine stood tall before the Celestial Dragon Gate, which was embedded with priceless jewels. His stance resembled that of a loyal dog—something he truly hated.

One voice in the young marine's mind told him to remain standing as he had for the past five hours, while the other told him to abandon everything and fall back.

The Holy Land's air was fresh beyond belief, and its flora and fauna were world-class. Everything yelled luxury and paradise, but the darkness behind the curtain of divinity was ever-damning.

Five hours of waiting had left this thought in the young man's mind, slowly washing away his sense of respect and loyalty to the World Government…

A picture was created in his mind through his Haki, one of the atmospheres many meters below the surface.

A large open area held up by thick pillars. A vast array of slaves, hundreds of them. With sweat, blood and tears covering their faces, they were forced to heave a giant contraption to create an auto-walk that the Celestial Dragons could choose to use to move about their holy land.

A moment of rest meant a sharp pain in one's back as the guards mercilessly whipped them. Food breaks were awarded for ten minutes in the form of literal slop and dirty water. The bathroom was just a hole in the ground at the corner of the cave, with no privacy whatsoever.

The men pushed the flat escalator while the few women were there to entertain the guards when they so desired.

…

The desperate wails, the resounding screams and the deafening cries of woe all came together to pound the young marine's mind. They were so loud that they began to break apart the mental defences of the young marine, gnawing away at his sanity and leaving him lost.

'We don't deserve this!'

'Someone, please... If you can't save me, just put me out of my misery!'

'I haven't seen my kids since they were born. Will I ever get the chance!?'

The white marine coat that danced in the cool wind was printed with 'JUSTICE' in bold ink. Yet he now stood lost while hearing the miserable cries of the weak endlessly oppressed by the very Justice he swore to uphold.

Then suddenly, the screaming and despair were washed away from the creaking of the titanic gates before him.

The thick doors opened outwards, shining a ray of light to reveal the majestic Pangaea Castle in the distance, blinding the soldier.

*Thump* *Thump* *Thump*

Dozens of men in black walked out, their eyes scanning every meter within their eyesight for possible threats.

They cleared the area and took their position to line up the sides of the path, allowing a giant man to crawl out on his hands and knees. Numb to the world around him, the slave continued his crawl with the explosive around his neck, keeping him in check. After all, a God was riding his back!

The Noble held a chain that clanged on the ground occasionally, slowly pulling a string of three young girls, each moving rather robotically.

"Apologies for the short delay," the lead agent concisely informed. "Saint Roswald-sama wished to sleep a little longer."

Naturally, he noticed the broken expression of the young marine and was obliged to warn him in a sharp tone, "You may be one of the Star Rookies of the Navy, but in front of a Saint, you are nothing more than a guard dog."

Roswald, who had begun to put on his helmet before leaving the safety of Mariejois, was even more blunt: "Hmph, I only tolerate you because you are the son of the Marine Hero! He did well protecting us from that evil scum, Rocks; consider it an honour to escort me!"

Naturally, Garp had gone to some lengths to prepare his son:

'Remember, boy. Those freaks up top are as bad and sometimes worse than the pirates out there. But even I can't change that without throwing millions to die in the process of some revolution. Just know this: the Navy is the only thing standing in the way of anarchy. The question is: can you live with that?'

Dragon slowly nodded at the sacred presence before him. Deep down, he knew this was a test from the Five Elders onto Garp, yet it would yield a result the Government would one day regret.

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[A Week Later]

[An Island in the West Blue]

The West Blue was a sea known for its Five Mafia Families, who held an iron-like grip over the proceedings of their waterways.

However, this order was disrupted by a certain young man nearly seven years ago when he killed Gambino Delago and slaughtered his Gambino Family.

The unrest caused all those years ago still plagued the West Blue, the four remaining families clashing head-on often. Yet nowadays, this sea was known for a far grander occasion—where the fateful God Valley Incident took place!

…

A cheerful man casually lay with his head supported by his interlocked hands. He leaned back into his hammock, breathing in the warm air, hearing the birds squawking about.

The afternoon sun was genuinely spectacular, pounding the man's pores with its juicy Vitamin D. The feeling of being reinvigorated by the graceful sun's rays was addictive.

"Oh, it looks like I missed a lot of big news during my little vacation. Wahahaha!"

A few bundles of newspaper lay on the floor, stacked in a pile. The man parsed through a few of them, looking for the most booming headlines.

"Hmm…"

Many different big bundles of news that could shake the world.

The Navy Headquarters' Demilitarization.

The Advent of Justice.

The Great Escape from Hell.

The Levelled Enies Lobby.

The Ten Omens of Disorder.

He read through the headline, and it brought out a wide grin fit for a pirate. "Wahahahaha! That guy really made it out of that hellhole!"

No one would have thought that a boisterous man enjoying his vacation would be a fearsome pirate worth over 4 billion berries! The striking stubble, confident eyes and thrown-aside saber that could cut islands in half—the man was Gol D. Roger!

However, his attention on the papers was stolen by something more mundane.

"Oye, Oye, kid! Don't play with that!"

Roger, an infamous pirate, was completely brought to his knees as he saw a young toddler, barely a year old, playing with an everyday straw hat.

The older man gulped, seeing his prized hat being tussled and thrown around by the child's iron-like grip.

Watching the red-haired child gleefully laugh at the occasion left the pirate apprehensive. "Heh, let's see how my special attack goes…" Roger rummaged through his pocket and grinned, bringing out a giant lobster!

He knew the young devil had a strong inkling of lobster, so he always had some in stock.

The pirate tossed the fresh lobster to the side, drawing the eyes of the child like a magnet. "Ooh, aha!" he laughed.

*Fwooo* The straw hat was thrown away while the toddler rushed toward the seafood, the pirate, to the hat.

"That was a close one…" Roger sighed in relief, squeezing the grip over his prized headwear.

He glared at the giddy child, remembering a conversation:

"You'll be lazy if I don't have you do something. Hmm, I'll let you take care of the lad."

"This little devil, Shanks, why did Rayleigh make me take care of him?" the pirate annoyingly smacked his lips.

Looking away from the toddler, Roger's gaze lingered on the swaying tides, the usual gleam of mischief in his eyes dimming for a moment. The headlines he'd read replayed in his mind, each one a harbinger of the chaos stirring beneath the surface.

"The seas won't stay this calm for long," he muttered to himself. His fingers brushed against the brim of his hat, a symbol of the freedom he'd carved out for himself.

"But freedom always comes at a cost, doesn't it?" His grin returned, sharper this time, as he turned to the child gleefully chasing the lobster. "Let's see if this new era can handle it."

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While peace found itself into even the Mafia-ridden West Blue, there was currently a rather loud Marine Battleship entering it.

The glamorous Marine banner and flag kept away anyone with ill intent, both Marines and pirates alike. What seemed to be a routine patrol was instead used as a transport by a collection of infamous pirates who, together, could send the Navy Headquarters into a frenzy!

Upon the upper decks stood two: a young child and a young man, a tutor and a student.

Their main similarities lay in their choice of weapons: swords.

*Shing!* *Whizz* *Zhaaaa*

Swift and clean strikes done in practice to perfect the sole usage of a sword: to kill. "You've already learned to damage steel at a young age. It is remarkable," the older one stated.

With dark skin, black markings and a razor-sharp sword at his side, naturally, it was the Indra. He calmly watched as the six-year-old lad went through a sequence of slashes and swings, using metal railings and posts to sharpen his attacks.

*Swish* *Zing*

'His talent with the sword is beyond anything I've ever seen,' Indra thought to himself. 'The discipline in his training is not that of a child.'

The appreciative glance of the renowned pirate was warranted as he watched the young boy, Dracule Mihawk, display skill and efficiency that could not be found elsewhere.

…

Directly below the upper deck was a large cabin.

One that was used as a mess hall to feed the thousands of marines that could both live and serve off this vessel.

Yet under the dull light of a few closed windows sat a sole woman, glancing at a snail before her. "How was their response?" the woman questioned. Her voice carried authority as if speaking to a subordinate.

The snail had morphed into the face of a bald man who nowadays was called 'The Voice of the Dead' aka Nekrós, one of the two Hounds of Fulcrum. The man was quick to respond: "Better than expected, Boss! Looks like they realized the true worth of having an Underworld Emperor at their side!"

Aurora pondered for a while, giving time for Nekrós to elaborate further. "The Styx Passage remains supreme. Though there were rumours of the World Government summoning big-name scientists to find a way of mastering the Sea Kings, even sending an invite to Buckingham Stussy."

The bald snail snorted while providing crucial information: "We lost contact with half a dozen Sea Kings last night, only to return to their destination a day late."

Aurora narrowed her eyes, sending a chill down Nekrós' back: "Let me guess, there was no sign of the World Government's tinkering."

Nekrós, noticing his boss' sharp tone, answered immediately, "That's right! But although the Sea Kings were unharmed, they were quite agitated, even destroying a port."

Aurora leaned back, staring at the dark ceiling in thought.

'The fall of the Rocks Pirates and disappearance of Roger has left the Underworld as the remaining obstacles to the peace and order the Government seeks,' she thought. 'It won't be long till their snooping turns violent. Especially with the new Chief of Cipher Pol taking up office.'

The girl's amethyst eyes glistened with a sharp light as she weighed her choices. 'I can't go to Damien for every little problem…'

"Nekrós, alert the other Emperors about the Government's actions; the Styx Passage represents not just my interest but theirs as well."

The young woman peered past the darkness of the room, locking with the transponder snail. "Remain wary; if the World Government keeps acting up, then war might come to our shores." A dull face and battle-hardened face came to mind, one of the new CP-Chief. "Kade is a lot more inquisitive than Xerxes ever was."

"Consider it done, Boss!" "Katcha~!"

…

A grand kitchen was revealed as the camera panned to the other side of the deeper layer. Healthy tunes and humming resounded in the area made to serve thousands of soldiers, now run by a sole woman: Toki. The good doctor had dived into Marine Specialties found in various cookbooks. That, along with state-of-the-art kitchen technology, had taken up quite a lot of her time.

…

Beyond the thick walls of the inner cabin area was the primary collection of people. Near the edge was a snoring Solomon and Kuzan. After all, going from the Grand Line to the West Blue came with a somewhat overpowering jet lag.

Working atop one lookout station was Quentin Kraft, the newly reborn shipwright drilling through a few textbooks and diagrams of the shipbuilding technology he had missed in the past twenty or so years of his imprisonment.

…

Closer to the main mast were two men of striking similarities, father and son.

"Ruhahahaha! You're using their battleship to take the express passage," Ares laughed. Yet his eyes gleamed with a rather cunning light as he asked, "So, why bring a dying old man like me to this small sea?"

Ares' laughter echoed across the deck, but Damien caught the faintest tremor in his father's voice.

"You think I haven't noticed?" Damien asked, his tone quieter now, yet no less piercing.

Ares fell silent, the weight of his son's words settling heavily between them. He glanced at Damien's eyes, so like his own, and saw not accusation but understanding.

>=-=----[]---<>---[]---=-=<

[Einar D. Ares]

[Birth: 66 years ago]

[Fate: A legendary pirate, feared by most, forgotten by all.]

[Death: Within a day.]

>=-=----[]---<>---[]---=-=<

"Ruhahahaha! So I guess this is my goodbye present?"

Damien lightly sighed as a complicated expression appeared on his face. Instead of answering, the young pirate suddenly stood up, feeling a distant landmass.

Ares did the same, though with a more surreal look.

The aged man felt his breathing skyrocket as his eyes fell upon the mass of green on the horizon—a rather nostalgic sight, not just for Ares but even for Damien.

"I've spent over half a decade keeping away from this place to keep the chances of it being connected back to me low." A surge of nostalgia struck the younger pirate's eyes, forcing his heartbeat to spike. "I'm finally back home… Renaissance!"

To Be Continued…

----------------------------------------------

Author's Corner.

More of a transition chapter between key perspectives. What was meant to be used against Garp ended up doing more to Dragon. Meanwhile, a baby Shanks is being brought up by Roger in the West Blue (canonically, Shanks' home sea). Cipher Pol also has a new Chief who is much sharper than Xerxes. However, that won't stop a particular father-son duo from returning home.

Images are available on Discord alongside other niche details: https://discord.gg/aJHHHPvb6q

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