Bang! Bang!
A barrage of gunfire erupted as a large number of Marine officers gathered around the water source, unleashing a relentless fusillade into the depths below. Muzzle flashes lit up their grim faces as bullets pierced the surface, creating expanding ripples that caught the lamplight like liquid metal.
The Marine Warrant Officer's expression was thunderous, his jaw clenched so tight it could crack teeth. The weight of failure pressed down on his shoulders like a physical burden, he had already confirmed that one of the suspects was very likely the murderer of the Celestial Dragons. The blood on his hands might as well have been his own career bleeding out through his fingers.
He had notified his superiors the moment recognition struck. But despite everything, despite the lockdown, despite their overwhelming numbers, despite having them cornered, he had still let the bastards slip away.
The dense curtain of bullets churned the water's surface into a frothy chaos, but not a single crimson bloom suggested they had found their mark. The depths remained mockingly pristine, swallowing their ammunition like a hungry void.
"Fools! Two humans think they can dive into the deep sea?" the Warrant Officer snarled, spittle flying from his lips. "Just wait here and watch them drown!"
His tactical mind raced through the possibilities. Normal humans could only hold their breath for minutes at most, even if some impossible passage led to the deep ocean below, both fugitives would need massive oxygen reserves to survive the journey. The only scenario that truly worried him was a coated ship waiting in the depths, some elaborate conspiracy involving multiple accomplices.
But even then, the mathematics were brutal. No matter how shallow the geological layers might be in this district, only fishmen possessed the natural adaptations for extended deep-sea travel. Ordinary humans attempting such a descent faced overwhelming odds of drowning long before reaching any potential rescue.
Far below the surface chaos, Oboro pulled Dom deeper into the underwater passage with powerful strokes. The rocky walls on either side gradually widened as they descended, and small fish began appearing in the water, a promising sign that they had found a genuine connection to the open ocean.
Suddenly, the dark water around them exploded into blinding brilliance. Oboro's pupils contracted painfully as he twisted to look upward toward the overflow port, where dazzling light penetrated the depths with such intensity it nearly destroyed his enhanced vision.
Kizaru!
The Admiral had arrived.
Oboro's heart hammered against his ribs, but his swimming technique immediately shifted into overdrive. Every muscle fiber strained as he pulled them deeper with desperate urgency.
On the surface, before the assembled Marine officers could even process what was happening, a figure composed of dancing light particles materialized before them. Admiral Kizaru adjusted his yellow-striped suit with casual precision, smiled down at the water source with predatory satisfaction, and extended a single finger. A sphere of concentrated photons gathered at his fingertip, pulsing with barely contained destruction.
Without preamble or warning, he unleashed his assault.
Rainbow beams of pure light lanced into the water's depths, each one carrying enough destructive force to vaporize human bodies. But Kizaru didn't limit himself to simple targeting, within seconds, he had fired dozens of light rays, deliberately deviating their trajectories to bombard the soil and rocks surrounding the water source.
The ground beneath their feet trembled violently as his systematic destruction of the underwater foundation sent massive chunks of debris cascading into the passage. What had been clear water instantly transformed into a churning maelstrom of mud, broken stone, and pulverized earth.
The strategy was as brilliant as it was ruthless. By destroying the structural integrity of the descent route, he was burying his targets alive beneath tons of collapsed geological material. Even if they somehow survived the direct energy attacks, the debris would trap them in a tomb of their own making.
No way to survive this, he thought with clinical satisfaction.
"Hmm... no red coloration yet..." Kizaru withdrew his hand and crouched beside the water source, waiting with the patience of an apex predator. The surface remained turbid with disturbed sediment, but the telltale crimson of blood had yet to stain the chaos.
He pursed his lips in mild disappointment. "How troublesome... did they escape somehow?"
The Admiral touched his chin thoughtfully, golden eyes reflecting the lamplight. "Or perhaps they were simply... consumed by something down there."
His casual tone made the surrounding Marines shiver despite the tropical climate. "If we cannot locate the bodies, explaining this to the Celestial Dragons will prove... problematic."
"Admiral Kizaru!" The Warrant Officer and his subordinates snapped to attention with military precision, their earlier failure weighing heavily on their shoulders.
Kizaru waved dismissively, rising to his full height as he absorbed the tactical situation. After hearing the complete report, he pushed his glasses up his nose and released a theatrical sigh.
"Unless they possess fishman physiology, survival becomes... unlikely," he mused with scientific detachment. "Even if they somehow reached the deep ocean, humans cannot swim beyond Sabaody Archipelago's boundaries during such extreme oxygen deprivation. The World Government has confirmed only two suspects... no additional accomplices. Which means no underwater extraction team waiting to assist them."
He paused, considering alternatives with the thoroughness of someone whose casual decisions could reshape battlefields.
"Perhaps they chose suicide over recapture. Pride can drive people to desperate extremes."
"Even fishmen face significant challenges," Kizaru continued conversationally. "The varying depths create corresponding water pressure differentials... not absolutely survivable by any means. Sabaody's geological foundation extends quite deep..."
The distinctive sound of a Den Den Mushi interrupted his analysis. Kizaru extracted the communication device from his jacket and answered with characteristic lethargy.
"Moshi moshi..." he drawled, though his expression remained alert.
The Den Den Mushi's features immediately transformed to mirror someone whose tension could cut steel. When it spoke, the voice carried the weight of absolute authority and barely contained fury.
"Report your status immediately."
Fleet Admiral Sengoku. And he was not pleased.
"Ah... slight timing issue," Kizaru admitted with infuriating calm, scratching his head as if discussing minor paperwork delays. "The suspects entered the water before my arrival."
"You, !" The Den Den Mushi's face flushed crimson with rage.
"However," Kizaru smoothly redirected, "their survival probability approaches zero. We may need to discuss corpse retrieval protocols, assuming the Celestial Dragons accept... post-mortem justice."
The surrounding soldiers suddenly straightened with excitement, their eyes fixed on the water source. A spreading patch of red was beginning to color the disturbed surface, blood rising from the depths like a crimson flower blooming in reverse.
"Explain that development," Sengoku's furious tone moderated slightly, though the underlying steel remained.
Kizaru provided a concise tactical summary while privately noting how quickly fortune could shift in their favor.
Deep within the chaotic underwater environment, Oboro and Dom moved like desperate fish navigating through liquid hell. The massive rockfall had created deadly obstacles throughout their descent route, any one of which could have crushed them instantly.
Oboro's enhanced physical conditioning and supernatural senses had barely kept them alive, allowing him to predict falling debris and find safe passages through the destruction. But their survival hinged entirely on the expanding dimensions of the underwater chamber, in a narrow passage, burial would have been inevitable.
His strategic selection of descent routes had quite literally saved both their lives.
However, Dom's condition was rapidly deteriorating. Oboro glanced back to see his companion's face turning purple, massive bruises covering his body from pressure and impacts, pupils dilating as oxygen starvation began shutting down his enhanced nervous system.
Without hesitation, Oboro opened his mouth and exhaled a perfectly formed bubble. Miraculously, instead of floating toward the surface or dispersing in the current, the sphere maintained its structural integrity and hovered motionless in the water.
Oboro guided the bubble to Dom's mouth and nose, allowing him to breathe normally despite their impossible depth.
Air manipulation, Oboro thought with grim satisfaction. This wasn't merely compressed atmosphere, it was his own "breath," controlled and sustained through techniques developed during his time in the Hunter x Hunter reality.
His mastery over external air currents exceeded anything possible in this world's established power systems. The ability represented foreign knowledge that gave him crucial advantages in impossible situations. Moreover, his advanced control meant he could survive extended periods without breathing through pure technique rather than biological necessity.
After absorbing life-giving oxygen, Dom's awareness sharpened considerably. Oboro smiled encouragingly and continued their descent toward whatever awaited in the crushing depths below.
As they went deeper, the marine life around them grew progressively larger and more dangerous. Dom's wounds continued bleeding, attracting predators whose size defied rational comprehension. Fortunately, most creatures that approached their position fled in terror after a single glance from Oboro.
Though his soul abilities remained suppressed by this world's dimensional barriers, they weren't entirely unusable. The primitive consciousnesses of these aquatic predators offered no resistance to basic manipulation, making crowd control surprisingly manageable.
The real challenge emerged as water pressure mounted beyond sustainable levels.
With each meter of descent, Oboro felt his body growing impossibly heavy, bones creaking under stress that threatened to powder his skeleton. Swimming became an exercise in controlled agony as his enhanced physiology struggled against forces that could crush submarines. Dom's situation appeared equally desperate, though his determination kept him moving despite obvious suffering.
Finally, the surrounding rock walls vanished entirely, replaced by the infinite darkness of true deep ocean. They had broken through Sabaody's geological foundation into the open sea, thousands of meters below surface, where sunlight had never penetrated and pressure could liquify unprepared humans.
Oboro's enhanced senses detected massive spiritual fluctuations approaching through the abyssal water. His eyes lit up with predatory satisfaction as recognition struck.
A Sea King.
The creature that emerged from the darkness possessed the upper body of a giraffe, complete with elongated neck and distinctive proportions, but its head bore rabbit-like ears that moved independently to track sound. Its lower half transitioned seamlessly into powerful fins and a muscular tail designed for deep-ocean navigation.
The sight was magnificent and terrifying in equal measure. Compared to this legendary beast, Oboro and Dom appeared smaller than insects, barely qualifying as snacks for such an apex predator.
This particular specimen ranked as a "small" Sea King by the standards of its species, though its dimensions still dwarfed anything humans normally encountered. The creature seemed utterly disinterested in two tiny humans, focusing instead on the school of fish attracted by Dom's blood trail.
When the Sea King opened its cavernous mouth to feed, displaying rows of teeth larger than ship anchors, both humans felt primal terror flood their systems despite their enhanced capabilities.
The massive eyes noticed the two "black specks" floating nearby but dismissed them as irrelevant, until Oboro began swimming directly toward its head.
Moving with suicidal confidence, he reached out and made physical contact with the creature's armored scales. The moment his fingers touched its hide, waves of spiritual energy radiated outward with Oboro as the epicenter.
The Sea King's entire body convulsed as its consciousness fell under external control. For the first time in its existence, the apex predator found its will subordinated to a creature it could swallow without chewing.
"Open your mouth," Oboro commanded through direct mental contact.
Obediently, the Sea King's jaws gaped wide, creating a whirlpool-like entrance that drew Oboro and Dom inside along with the surrounding current. The sensation of being voluntarily swallowed by a creature of legend was unlike anything either had ever experienced.
The internal space exceeded Oboro's wildest imagination, chambers large enough to house buildings, interconnected passages that formed a living labyrinth, and biological architecture that seemed designed by alien intelligence.
Using Sea Kings as escape vehicles, Oboro mused with dark satisfaction. This was something the World Government could never anticipate or counter. In this reality, no one possessed the ability to communicate with or control these legendary beasts through soul manipulation.
Well, almost no one. Princess Shirahoshi's power remained undiscovered and undeveloped, making Oboro's technique truly unique in current circumstances.
Inside the Sea King's vast internal cavity, soaked and exhausted, Oboro supported the unconscious Dom as they struggled onto the "shore", living tissue that formed solid surfaces within the creature's body. Both men looked utterly bedraggled, and Dom's condition had deteriorated to near-death status.
Water pressure had deformed his limbs and hands as bones compressed beyond sustainable limits. Internal organs showed signs of severe damage from the crushing forces they had endured. Somehow, his enhanced physiology had kept him alive, but consciousness had fled entirely.
Oboro located the Sea King's lung cavity and carefully punctured a single alveolus with his finger. Fresh oxygen immediately flooded the space, each individual air sac measured the size of a house, and the minor damage barely registered to the creature's massive respiratory system.
After ensuring Dom had access to breathable atmosphere, Oboro collapsed beside him, every muscle in his body finally allowed to relax. His own fingers showed signs of damage, twisted and swollen from the descent, but he smiled with genuine relief.
He had scouted the shipyard district beforehand, calculating probabilities and escape routes with mathematical precision. The successful execution of his plan filled him with savage satisfaction.
"This is merely the beginning," Oboro whispered to the living walls around them.
Meanwhile, thousands of miles away in the New World, Admirals Akainu and Aokiji received emergency communication from Marine Headquarters. Both had been stationed in the most dangerous waters of the Grand Line, monitoring tensions between the Big Mom Pirates and Whitebeard's forces.
Recent intelligence suggested potential conflict between two Yonko crews, the kind of development that could reshape the entire balance of power if it escalated beyond control. Their surveillance mission represented critical strategic importance that should never be abandoned lightly.
When Sengoku's voice crackled through their Den Den Mushi with orders for immediate return, both Admirals understood that something unprecedented had occurred.
"A Celestial Dragon has been killed," Kuzan announced after ending the call, his normally relaxed demeanor replaced by grim focus as he looked across at Sakaski's cigar-wreathed features. "Everything changes now."
Akainu's eyes narrowed to burning slits, but he remained silent, processing implications that would ripple across every ocean.
"I'll depart first," Kuzan stated matter-of-factly, rising without waiting for response or acknowledgment.
Despite holding equal rank, the relationship between these two Admirals carried undercurrents of philosophical opposition that made cooperation a constant struggle. Their approaches to justice, their views on necessary force, their fundamental understanding of the Marine's role, everything divided them like fire and ice.
The contrast extended beyond mere personality differences into deeply held convictions about how power should be exercised. If not for direct orders from Fleet Admiral Sengoku, they would never willingly work together on any operation.
Kuzan departed via warship rather than his preferred bicycle, the urgency of the situation overriding personal preferences. Throughout the Grand Line, every Marine General received similar recall orders as the World Government mobilized for unprecedented retaliation.
The following day, Marine Headquarters buzzed with barely controlled tension as senior officers gathered in Fleet Admiral Sengoku's office. Though many Generals remained en route from distant assignments, the core leadership had assembled to address the crisis.
"Have search teams been deployed to recover the bodies?" Sengoku's fingers interlaced tightly, his expression darker than storm clouds as he fixed Kizaru with penetrating stare.
"Continuous operations ongoing," Kizaru confirmed with characteristic ear-tugging gesture, his casual demeanor unchanged despite the gravity of their situation.
The desk before them held scattered papers and reports, prominently featuring detailed portraits of both Oboro and Dom. Intelligence files contained every scrap of information the World Government and Marine had gathered about the suspects, though the material painted frustratingly incomplete pictures.
Near the window, Sengoku's pet goat contentedly chewed a wad of discarded paperwork, apparently unbothered by the crisis consuming everyone else's attention.
"Even without recovered corpses, escape probability remains minimal," Vice Admiral Tsuru observed from her position on the office sofa, teacup balanced with perfect composure despite the chaos surrounding them. "Survival chances approach less than one percent based on available data and known capabilities."
Her silver hair caught the morning light as she gestured toward Dom's wanted poster. "Neither suspect demonstrates exceptional combat prowess according to their documented histories."
"However," she continued with analytical precision, "their escape methodology shows clear advance planning. Successfully evading our pursuit and encirclement suggests significant tactical capability..." Her gaze shifted to focus on Oboro's scarred features. "This spatial manipulation ability enabled movements that conventional criminals could never achieve."
"But technique alone cannot explain their success," Tsuru's voice carried the weight of decades spent analyzing criminal behavior. "Their breakout route demonstrated intimate knowledge of Marine deployment patterns, timing their movements with precision that suggests either extensive reconnaissance or..." She paused meaningfully. "Internal intelligence."
The implication hung in the air like poisonous gas. If circumstances hadn't confirmed this individual's background as a Celestial Dragon slave, she would have suspected infiltration within their own ranks.
"Moreover, executing such a complex plan under extreme pressure requires psychological fortitude rarely found among common criminals," she observed grimly. "This man possesses capabilities that defy his documented background as royalty from a fallen kingdom. His tactical acumen represents a genuine threat."
"Such individuals never choose suicide over calculated risk," Tsuru concluded with finality. "He possessed sufficient confidence to murder a Celestial Dragon and expect successful escape. Without your timely intervention destroying the underwater route..." She glanced at Kizaru. "He might have actually succeeded."
"However, considering current circumstances, even miraculous survival would merely delay inevitable death rather than provide genuine escape."
The Vice Admiral's assessment cast a pall over the room as its implications crystallized.
"Regardless of their fate, our immediate priority involves managing Celestial Dragon fury," she continued relentlessly. "The Marine bears partial responsibility for this catastrophe, and consequences will be... severe."
"We must also prepare for broader ramifications," Tsuru added with clinical detachment. "An incident of this magnitude cannot remain secret. Given Morgans' aggressive journalism, news agencies are likely rushing emergency publications as we speak..."
The silence that followed carried the weight of understanding, their world was about to change in ways none of them could fully anticipate, and the foundations of eight centuries of unchallenged authority had just developed their first crack.