Kamui Dimension
The void swirled slowly around.
Within the warped dimension of Kamui, five female figures floated on platforms of solid space, enveloped by the shifting darkness pulsing around them.
Zala. Alvida. Nojiko. Kaya. Mikita.
Their expressions were calm, their eyes alert. They were aware of the mission. Aware of the blood they were sent to draw.
"Water 7 is a city of thin masks. The World Government treats it as a symbol of technology and progress… but behind the enchanted walls, the rot still festers."
Riser's voice cut through the space like an obsidian blade.
"CP9 is there. Franky too. Eliminate both targets. Kalifa, no."
Zala nodded, her eyes glinting like a hunter's.
"Franky first?"
"Yes. Then… the slaughter begins."
Nojiko stepped forward, fists clenched.
"You want it discreet?"
"I want it effective. If you blow up the Engineering Tower, make it count."
Alvida flashed a crooked smile.
"There'll be destruction."
"But no witnesses."
The Sharingan spun in his left eye.
"People should die without understanding what killed them."
Kaya placed a hand over her chest.
"Do you trust us?"
"I expect results. Trust is a luxury."
Mikita twirled her umbrella, excited.
"This'll be fun."
"Don't have fun. Make history."
Riser's left eye opened slowly, revealing the Mangekyō Sharingan in motion.
The Kamui's lines formed in the air, warping space like a living spiral.
With a single command from his gaze, the spheres around Zala, Alvida, Nojiko, Kaya, and Mikita spun, swallowed by the dimensional rift.
FWOOSH.
The five vanished—engulfed by the Kamui's fold, straight into the real world.
Silence returned.
He stood alone in the center of the Kamui once more.
'The first real mission for the five. A chance to prove they're not just vampires with pretty faces.'
The darkness pulsed around him.
'Now… it's my turn.'
He closed his eyes.
The image of the Sabaody Archipelago formed clearly. The roots of giant trees. Floating bubbles. The smiling crowd, oblivious to the rot at the core.
The auction house.
The place where slaves were traded like commodities.
And where three Celestial Dragons—Saint Charlos, Saint Shalria, and Saint Rosward—planned to spend fortunes on humans as new toys.
Riser's jaw tightened.
'If the world hasn't understood the message yet… today it will bleed without knowing who struck it.'
He opened his eyes.
Kamui activated.
The distortion expanded.
FWOOSH.
---
Sabaody Archipelago – Auction House
The crowd cheered.
A mink girl with green eyes trembled inside a glass capsule. The seastone collar pressed against her throat. Chains scraped her wrists.
"AHHH, SHE'S GORGEOUS!" Saint Shalria cackled from the upper balcony, legs swinging back and forth like an excited child.
"Rosward, I WANT HER!"
Saint Rosward snapped his fingers, bored.
"Buy her, dear. Our money is infinite."
The auctioneer rubbed his hands, grinning like a well-fed worm.
"Next bid, noble lords… starting at one hundred million!"
Saint Charlos was chewing something. A piece of meat or a cigar—no one knew.
"I WANT A GIANT FISH! SHE'S TOO SMALL!"
"Charlos, you idiot!"
Shalria shouted.
"SHE'S MINE!"
In the noble balcony, no one argued. Slaves wept silently around them.
But the air… shifted.
The first bubble popped without warning. The second dissolved in the air, as if the atmosphere had lost the will to hold its weight.
Then—the sound.
FWOOSH.
A black rift opened on the stage, spiraling like ink dissolving in still water. Silent. Dense.
Riser emerged.
Standing atop the glass capsule, his robes static in the dead air of the room. No detectable magical presence. No heat signature. Just the void manifesting.
His eyes spun.
Sharingan, active. Kamui, brimming at the surface.
The auctioneer opened his mouth.
The light in his eyes went out.
No scream. No explosion.
His head vanished in a silent vortex—the Kamui devoured from forehead to chin in half a second.
The body collapsed with a dull thud. A dark stain spread across the floor. The crowd began to move, but not fast enough to grasp what was happening.
Riser remained still.
A guard raised a weapon.
He vanished—swallowed by a subtle fold in space. Nothing but a whisper remained.
Saint Charlos stood, stumbling over his own weight.
"SECURITY!!! I AM A—"
His mouth didn't finish.
Kamui.
His head spun slowly, as if torn from reality, pixel by pixel. His expression frozen between panic and disbelief. The body slumped forward without sound.
Saint Shalria's voice rose, trembling.
"SOMEONE—"
Riser raised a finger.
A thin line of golden fire sliced the air like a needle.
It passed through her throat without noise. A second later, her body lost control. Her knees buckled. Her head tilted, held only by charred flesh.
She fell like a broken puppet.
Saint Rosward fumbled for an antique weapon, sweat streaming down his temple.
"I HAVE THE RIGHT T—"
Riser was already in front of him.
His hand touched the man's chest.
No push. No force. Just a magical seal activated—a blazing rune that burned from the inside out, silently consuming organs. When he fell, he was conscious for two seconds.
Long enough to feel his heart fail.
The body hit the ground without sound. No smoke.
The audience had already fled.
The stage trembled with the contained heat of magic, but it didn't catch fire. Only the shadows flickered.
Inside the capsule, the mink girl didn't cry. She only trembled.
Riser looked at her for a second.
The chains dissolved into black particles, absorbed by a delicate, precise Kamui.
She fell to her knees, unconscious.
He touched the glass.
FWOOSH.
Gone.
No alarm.
No name.
No witnesses.
And in the center of the room, three bodies lost the right to keep breathing.
---
Kamui
Riser walked in silence.
The dimension welcomed him like a familiar cloak.
'Three heads down. No sound. No trace.'
The darkness swirled like a mirror around him.
'Let the world search for culprits. Let them blame pirates. Let them theorize about secret agents.'
'But they'll never see me.'
He stopped.
The Sharingan slowed.
'Enies Lobby… time to deliver justice my way.'
FWOOSH.
He vanished.
And the world… remained blind.
---
Marineford
The war room at Marineford was steeped in suffocating silence.
Sengoku stood before the central table, the war map projected on its magical surface flickering with real-time updates. Blue lines represented the Marine fleet, red ones the pirate allies. But nothing—nothing—hinted at what was about to unfold.
He clenched his fist so tightly his knuckles turned white.
"Still no sign of Riser…"
The words came low. A murmur between control and collapse.
"…or Blackbeard."
His temple throbbed. His heart beat too fast for a man with decades of war behind him. He was no longer a young man in his prime, but he was still the Fleet Admiral. And the world demanded stability.
"Two pieces missing on a board about to explode."
The Den Den Mushi on the wall rang urgently.
Purupurupuru.
Purupuru.
Sengoku's gaze lifted slowly. Each second between the rings carried a ton of weight.
Purupurupuru.
He strode forward and grabbed the snail.
"Command Room. Sengoku speaking."
The sound from the other side wasn't normal.
It was as if the officer on the line was trying to stay calm—and failing.
"Fleet Admiral… three Celestial Dragons… dead."
His heart stopped.
"Repeat."
"Saint Charlos… Saint Shalria… and Saint Rosward. Found dead at the Auction House in Sabaody Archipelago."
Sengoku didn't breathe.
"The auctioneer. The guards. The audience… all gone. The security system was completely destroyed. The recording Den Den Mushi… evaporated."
Veins bulged in Sengoku's neck.
"WHEN?"
"Fifteen minutes ago. The bodies were still warm."
"Responsible?"
"We don't know. No witnesses. No sound. No attack recorded. The archipelago's bubbles stopped rising for seven seconds. That was the only sign."
Sengoku gripped the snail so hard it nearly cracked.
"Wake the Admirals. Now."
"A-Admiral Kizaru is available at the port, awaiting mobilization orders."
"Send him to Sabaody. Maximum speed. Code Scarlet Shadow."
"Hai!"
The line dropped.
The Den Den Mushi closed its eyes, exhausted.
Sengoku turned, his eyes blazing.
"The world is crumbling beneath my feet."
He stormed past the officers, his cape billowing behind him like a storm about to break. One of the vice-admirals tried to speak.
"Admiral Sengoku, if we investigate—"
"Silence."
The word cut like a sword without a hilt.
"Three Celestial Dragons dead. And no one saw anything. No cameras. No witnesses."
He turned, eyes fixed on the horizon beyond the window.
"The only thing graver than a war with Whitebeard… is noble blood spilled without explanation."
The command snail trembled alone on the table.
"No pirate in the world would dare touch a Tenryuubito. Not like this. Not with this level of… precision."
Sengoku paced back and forth.
"This isn't an attack. It's a statement. A silent challenge to the global order."
He slammed his fist against the wall.
"The Government demands answers. And I… am the only voice that can provide them."
His fist bled. But he didn't stop.
"I was already dealing with Riser's absence, Teach's silence, and the political pressure of this damned execution."
He turned to the others.
"And now… this?"
"Admiral Kizaru is already departing Marineford at high speed."
"Good. Have him take everything. All mobile units. Containment weapons. Flying dragons, if necessary."
Sengoku gritted his teeth.
"I want this shadow obliterated."
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