The horizon erupted with the white sails of vengeance as a massive naval fleet descended upon Bona Island like an unstoppable tide. Warships stretched across the water in every direction, their imposing silhouettes forming an impenetrable net that sealed off all possible escape routes. The sheer scale of the operation spoke to the absolute determination of the World Government; this was no mere manhunt, but a declaration that no corner of the world could harbor those who had dared to spill Celestial Dragon blood.
Marine soldiers poured onto the island's shores in organized waves, their white uniforms a stark contrast to the tropical landscape, as they began their systematic search. Every building, every cave, every possible hiding place would be examined with military precision. The deployment was vast and overwhelming, thousands of trained fighters armed with the authority to eliminate any resistance they encountered.
But the visible forces represented only a fraction of the true scope of their operation. Beyond the immediate blockade around Bona Island, additional warships had spread out along every shipping lane within a hundred nautical miles. The search pattern resembled a spider's web, with Bona Island as the center and patrol ships stationed at calculated intervals to intercept any fleeing vessels. No ship, no matter how small or inconspicuous, would escape their attention.
Admiral Kizaru sat on a weathered rock near the shore, his yellow-striped suit immaculate despite the tropical humidity. His posture exuded the casual boredom of someone who had participated in countless such operations, though his eyes remained alert behind his distinctive sunglasses. One hand moved with mechanical precision as he cleaned under his fingernails, a habit that spoke to his methodical nature.
The scenery around him might have been beautiful under other circumstances, crystal clear waters lapping against pristine beaches, palm trees swaying in the ocean breeze, the kind of paradise that drew tourists from across the Grand Line. But today, the natural beauty served only as a backdrop for a military operation of unprecedented scope.
A rear admiral approached with a crisp military bearing, his boots crunching against the sand as he stood at attention before the admiral. Sweat beaded his forehead despite the ocean breeze, not from the tropical heat, but from the pressure of reporting to one of the most powerful figures in the Navy.
"Report, Admiral Kizaru!" the officer announced, his voice carrying over the beach. "No target found!"
The confession hung like an accusation in the salt air. Hours of intensive searching by thousands of trained personnel had yielded nothing but empty buildings and deserted streets. Every stone had been overturned, every structure methodically examined, yet the fugitives remained as elusive as smoke in the wind.
"Really... ran away?" Kizaru mused without surprise, pausing from his nail-cleaning routine to blow away the accumulated debris.
The Admiral's lack of shock was telling. The fact that these two criminals had escaped alive from the Sabaody Archipelago, despite overwhelming opposition from both his own forces and the Donquixote family, had already demonstrated abilities far beyond those of ordinary pirates. Someone who could orchestrate such an impossible feat wouldn't be caught by conventional search methods.
Still alive.
The implications of those two words sent ripples of concern through every level of the World Government hierarchy. For weeks, every intelligence network had operated under the assumption that the God Slayer had perished in his desperate flight from Sabaody. His survival represented the World Government's worst nightmare made manifest, proof that even their most extreme reactions could be overcome with sufficient determination and skill.
When news of the fugitives' continued existence had reached Navy Headquarters through their intelligence network, the reaction had been immediate and visceral. Fleet Admiral Sengoku himself was said to have turned pale upon receiving the report, while the Five Elders had convened an emergency meeting that lasted through the night.
The anger of the Celestial Dragons had been indescribable.
"However," the rear admiral continued, pointing to a group of soldiers approaching from the interior, "we found the only resident who had not left the island... an old man."
The prisoner they were escorting was a study in contrasts. His clothing marked him as a common laborer, patched work clothes stained with the honest grime of manual labor. But something in his bearing, the way he held himself despite obvious exhaustion, suggested depths that contradicted his humble appearance.
Kizaru's attention immediately sharpened, his casual demeanor replaced by professional interest. "This is no ordinary person..."
Though he didn't recognize the individual, years of experience had taught the Admiral to read the subtle signs that separated dangerous men from harmless civilians. The old man's eyes held a depth that spoke of accumulated experience, while his controlled breathing pattern indicated a physical conditioning that transcended his apparent age.
Even more telling was his composure under circumstances that should have terrified any innocent bystander.
Before departing for Bona Island, the World Government's intelligence apparatus had worked with characteristic efficiency to compile extensive background information on their destination. The island's history, its various inhabitants, the criminal organizations that had claimed it over the years, all had been catalogued and analyzed for potential relevance to their mission.
"I said... how could a guy like Crocodile suddenly go quiet," Kizaru murmured with dark amusement, pieces of a larger puzzle clicking into place in his analytical mind.
The Admiral rose from his rocky perch and approached the prisoner with predatory grace, each step measured and deliberate. When he reached conversational distance, he lowered himself slightly to bring their faces level, his proximity calculated to increase the psychological pressure.
"I think you... need to know something?" The words came with deceptive gentleness, though steel lurked beneath the surface politeness. "Can you cooperate with our navy's investigation?"
The old man's response was to survey the massive naval deployment with obvious appreciation rather than fear. His weathered gaze swept over the warships that stretched to the horizon, cataloging their firepower with the professional eye of one who understood naval warfare.
"What a big battle," he remarked with casual understatement.
These were no ordinary patrol ships, or even standard warships. The armament he could observe spoke of preparation for total destruction, the kind of overwhelming force that preceded operations like the legendary Buster Call. Artillery capable of reducing entire islands to rubble, enough firepower to eliminate any trace of resistance.
The old man, of course, had heard whispers of the Navy's ultimate sanction during his years on the seas. Even without the formal activation of such extreme measures, the current deployment suggested that Bona Island's future had already been decided by forces far beyond local control.
"What do you want to know?" he asked with sardonic resignation.
His tone carried the bitter acceptance of someone who had witnessed enough government "investigations" to understand their predetermined outcomes.
"You know what this slave has accomplished," Kizaru's voice hardened with implied threat, "and there's no good end for those who shield him. With your... qualifications, even if you don't die today, you will spend your remaining years in the deepest levels of Impel Down."
The Admiral paused to let that threat sink in before continuing with renewed focus. "When did he leave? Which direction did he go? What kind of ship?"
"Southeast," the old man replied without hesitation, pointing with theatrical certainty to a random section of the horizon. "A very small raft. If it had been something more conspicuous, how could it have traveled all the way from the Sabaody Archipelago to here without being discovered?"
"Yes," Kizaru nodded thoughtfully, stroking his chin as if considering the information carefully.
His body language suggested full acceptance of the explanation, though his eyes remained coldly analytical behind their yellow-tinted lenses.
Then, without warning or change in expression, he struck.
BANG!
The old man's body crumpled around Kizaru's foot as a tremendous force drove the air from his lungs in an explosive rush. Blood spurted from his mouth as the kick lifted him off the ground for a moment before depositing him in a crumpled heap on the sand.
The casual brutality of the attack left the nearby officers stunned, their faces pale as they struggled to process the sudden transition from conversation to violence.
"Pirates," Kizaru observed with clinical detachment as he watched his victim writhe in obvious agony. "Every one of them is so cunning."
A Marine officer swallowed nervously, clearly overwhelmed by the casual cruelty he had just witnessed. They had assumed the old man was simply an innocent civilian caught in unfortunate circumstances.
"Vice Admiral Garp is here!" the Rear Admiral suddenly announced, his voice filled with obvious relief as he spotted a familiar figure disembarking from one of the larger warships.
The legendary naval hero approached with his characteristic exuberant energy, his hands casually tucked into his pockets despite the gravity of their mission. His famous dog-headed hat sat at its usual jaunty angle, while his weathered features showed none of the tension that marked his subordinates.
"Hahahahahaha! Did you find anything?!" Garp yelled before he even reached the beach. "I heard the little bastard got away again?"
His voice carried over the water with infectious enthusiasm, as if they were discussing a particularly entertaining sporting event instead of hunting down the most wanted criminals in recent history.
Kizaru gave a brief summary of their discoveries, or rather the lack thereof. The systematic search, the abandoned settlements, the mysterious disappearance of practically every inhabitant except for their current prisoner.
"He must know something," Kizaru concluded, gesturing to the old man who remained curled up on the sand, blood staining the white grains beneath him.
The injured pirate raised his head with obvious effort, crimson dripping from his mouth as he fixed both Admirals with a look of defiant hatred.
"You are too late!" he growled through clenched teeth, his voice carrying the bitter satisfaction of one who has seen defeat turned into victory. "I saw him... He is no ordinary man! People like him will enter the New World sooner or later and cause a great disturbance!"
His laughter erupted with manic intensity, equal parts rage and vengeful glee. "Your Marine has failed again... Hahahaha! Wait and see... He will give you a great surprise! I have seen that day... Hahaha!"
The old man's words carried the weight of prophecy, delivered with such conviction that several officers unconsciously stepped back.
"Then I'm more interested in him," Garp replied with genuine amusement, his legendary composure unshaken by threats or predictions of doom.
The Marine hero's reaction was characteristically direct; where others saw crisis, he saw challenge. Decades of experience had taught him that the most dangerous criminals often made the most entertaining opponents.
"The higher-ups have given orders to cover up news of his survival," Kizaru continued with bureaucratic precision, though his tone suggested skepticism of such efforts. "But I suspect the outside world already knows. The Celestial Dragons want him silenced forever, even if word gets out... Including this island."
He paused meaningfully before adding, "I thought Vice Admiral Garp never liked getting involved in things like this..."
"I'm only here to catch the brat," Garp replied with characteristic bluntness. "I'll leave the rest to you."
Without further ceremony, the marine hero produced his Den Den Mushi and began walking back to his warship, his attention already shifting to broader strategic concerns.
"Hey... Kuzan," his voice carried clearly over the beach as he contacted his colleague. "That brat shouldn't have gone far... He's nearby, but he definitely didn't go to Reverse Mountain. The surrounding routes are completely blocked, but there's no sign of him. So... most likely he entered the Calm Belt..."
As Garp's voice faded with distance, the scene shifted to an entirely different part of the ocean, the treacherous border where the Grand Line met the windless waters that served as a natural barrier between the world's major sea routes.
Admiral Kuzan rode his beloved bicycle along a path of ice that stretched to the horizon, his distinctive frog-eye mask shielding his vision from the harsh glare of the ocean. The surreal sight of a man pedaling across frozen seawater might have been comical under other circumstances, but the Admiral's expression remained grimly focused on his mission.
"Have you been there?" Garp's voice crackled through the den mushi attached to his handlebars. "No discovery?"
"What I'm more curious about," Kuzan replied thoughtfully, his breath forming visible clouds in the artificially cooled air around him, "is that a normal ship will definitely lose power when entering the Calm Belt. Without wind to push the sails, it becomes a death trap. Besides, the Sea Kings here are extraordinary in number and ferocity."
He braked carefully, placing one foot on the ice beneath his tire as he considered the tactical implications. "If only two of them are escaping, the ship they're using won't be too big and their maneuverability won't be too strong. Once they enter the Calm Belt, they'll lose speed and might even run aground. Not to mention being destroyed by Sea Kings."
"At the speed I can travel," he continued with growing confusion, "even allowing for delays, I should have found them long ago if they were using conventional methods..."
Kuzan's frown deepened as he considered possibilities that defied rational explanation. "Are they dead? Eaten by sea kings? But there's no wreckage..."
The absence of wreckage bothered him more than he cared to admit. In his experience, the ocean always yielded evidence of destruction, hull fragments, personal effects, something to mark the passage of those who had challenged its depths without success.
"This feeling is very similar to what happened in the Sabaody Archipelago," he mused aloud, drawing connections between their current frustration and the previous impossible escape.
"Unless... they have some special means to perfectly solve the hidden dangers of the Calm Belt."
The Admiral dismounted, his analytical mind working through scenarios that bordered on the impossible. Everything about this pursuit felt wrong, too neat, too convenient, as if their quarry had advantages that shouldn't exist.
"What are you going to do?" Garp's voice was more curiosity than concern.
"Given all the unknowns," Kuzan replied resignedly, "we can only use the simplest and most basic method."
Cold began to radiate from his body with palpable intensity, ice crystals forming on his clothing as his Devil Fruit powers responded to his will. The temperature around him plummeted as he prepared to use one of his most devastating techniques.
He knelt at the water's edge, placing both palms against the surface with ritualistic precision.
"Ice Age."
The words carried over the waves with quiet authority, followed immediately by a transformation of impossible proportions.
From his position, ice spread across the ocean's surface with terrifying speed. What began as a small patch of frozen water expanded exponentially, racing outward in all directions like a crystalline wildfire. The sea itself yielded to his will, transforming from liquid to solid in a display of power that redefined the environment itself.
As a naval admiral, Kuzan's abilities operated on a scale that defied conventional understanding. His mastery of the Devil's Fruit allowed him to freeze the waters between entire islands, creating temporary land masses that could support armies or serve as battlegrounds for conflicts that shaped the fate of the world.
In the distance, massive sea kings that had been cruising the shallow waters sensed the approaching danger and broke the surface in a desperate attempt to escape. Their enormous forms, creatures that could swallow islands whole, burst from the depths with primal urgency.
But even their legendary size and strength were no match for the overwhelming power of the Admiral. Before they could fully emerge, before they could retreat to safer depths, the ice claimed them. One by one, the legendary monsters became frozen sculptures, their massive forms trapped in crystalline prisons that glistened like jewels in the afternoon sun.
When Kuzan finally stood up, the world around him was completely transformed. As far as his enhanced vision could see, the ocean had become a dazzling expanse of white ice. The surface stretched unbroken to the horizon, a testament to the terrifying scope of his abilities.
"Even though it's out of sight," he murmured thoughtfully, "as long as they're active in the surrounding sea area, they'll definitely be affected."
His gaze shifted downward, considering the possibilities that lay beneath the frozen surface.
"Including submarines."
The Admiral's tactical thinking was characteristically thorough. Based on their method of escape from the Sabaody Archipelago, combined with the need for self-propelled, maneuverable vessels that could operate without wind or environmental assistance, submarines represented the most logical choice for Calm Belt travel.
Its Ice Age technology could reach impressive depths below the surface, enough to freeze anything hidden on the ocean floor. While its range was limited compared to the true depths of the ocean, ordinary submarines couldn't descend far enough to escape its influence. Water pressure and Sea King predation alone made deep-sea travel prohibitively dangerous for conventional ships.
"This is really tedious," Kuzan sighed, getting back on his bike with weary determination. "Let's keep looking."
As he pedaled away across the frozen highway, the Admiral couldn't shake the feeling that their quarry was somehow just out of reach. Every conventional method had failed, every logical assumption proven false.
Somewhere in these waters, the God Slayer continued to elude the combined might of the World Government's most powerful agents. The hunt that should have ended in hours had stretched into days, with no resolution in sight.
But Admiral Kuzan was nothing if not persistent. He would continue his search until either his targets were found or his superiors called off the operation altogether.
The game of cat and mouse was far from over, and the stakes had never been higher.