The Marine warship Judicator cut through the cerulean waters of the New World, its prow carving white froth into the shimmering expanse. The vessel's deck gleamed under the harsh sun, every brass fitting polished to a militant sheen, every rope coiled with geometric precision—a testament to Captain Kai Sullivan's meticulously obsessive nature. In the crow's nest, a lookout squinted through a telescope, his voice cracking as he hailed the horizon: "Sabaody Archipelago, starboard bow!"
Inside the captain's quarters, Vice Admiral Venus Harlow exhaled a smoke ring that curled like a noose around the Den Den Mushi's trembling shell. The snail's face mimicked the stern visage of a Marine bureaucrat, its voice tinny through the receiver: "Update your ETA, Vice Admiral."
Venus adjusted her immaculate sleeve, her prosthetic leg—a sleek Marine-issue model with hydraulic joints—thrumming faintly against the floorboards. "We're at Sabaody's doorstep. Tell the Fleet Admiral his headache relief arrives on schedule." She crushed her cigar into an ashtray shaped like a Celestial Dragon's fist, the gesture deliberate, vicious.
"And the Heart Pirates' sub?"
"Rusted scrap by now," she lied smoothly, her bladed hand guards glinting on the desk beside a smuggled catalog of Grand Line silks. The ghost of Aric Thorne's laughter echoed in her skull—always the debts, Venus—but she smothered it with another drag.
On deck, Captain Nuri Evander fidgeted with his steel bat, its MVP engraving catching the light as he rambled to a grunt about the aerodynamic superiority of pterosaur wings. "—Arambourgiania, see, could outmaneuver even hawks in a dive, which, statistically speaking, makes my Devil Fruit the optimal choice for—"
"Captain Evander."
Venus's voice sliced through his lecture. She limped into the sunlight, her prosthetic leg clicking with each step, the sound swallowed by the snap of sails. Nuri stiffened, nearly dropping his bat. Kai stood at attention nearby, his rifle case strapped to his back like a second spine, fingers subtly adjusting his glasses.
"You're late," Venus said, though Nuri hadn't moved.
"A-Apologies, ma'am! Calculating wind resistance for the mission, and—"
"Save the taxonomy. Transform. Both of you—scout the groves." Her light gaze flicked to Kai. "And keep him focused."
Kai nodded, already unstrapping his sniper rifle, Silent Requiem. "Coordinates logged. We'll survey Auction Grove 12 first."
Nuri grinned, tapping his bat against his palm. "Hybrid form's perfect for tight spaces! Did you know the Arambourgiania's wingspan could—"
"Now, Evander."
With a mock salute, Nuri's body rippled, flesh merging with scales as wings burst from his shoulders. Kai mounted the creature's back, rifle in hand, humming a staccato rendition of Eine kleine Nachtmusik to steady his nerves.
"Try not to crash," Kai muttered, leaping to stand atop his as he rode.
"Crash? My dives are art!" Nuri beat his wings as he finished shifting to his beast form, lifting them skyward in a gust that sent Marine caps tumbling.
Venus watched them shrink into specks, her prosthetic leg locking as she leaned against the rail. The scent of salt and cigar ash clung to her coat. Somewhere belowdecks, a grunt whispered about her limp; she silenced him with a glare.
"Ma'am!" A lieutenant approached, clutching a report. "HQ confirms the Polar Tang was sighted at Grove 42. Awaiting orders."
Venus's bladed hand tightened. Marya's shadow looms there too, she thought, the scar on her cheek throbbing. "Ready the cannons. And fetch my coat."
As the Judicator plowed toward Sabaody's bubble-lit chaos, Venus lit another cigar, its ember mirroring the fires of distant auctions. Above, Nuri's triumphant whoop echoed as a screech—"Grand Slam incoming!"—as he dive-bombed a pirate skiff, Kai's rifle singing backup.
Debts would be paid today in steel, smoke, and splintered wood.
*****
The Vlissingen sliced through Sabaody's iridescent bubbles, their prismatic sheen fracturing against the ship's prow like fragile dreams. Fenna Van Dijk gripped the helm, her parrot squawking a warning as the scent of gunpowder and bubbles clawed in the air. Ahead, chaos roiled—Marine warships encircled the Thousand Sunny, cannons belching fire, while Kuma's towering form loomed like a silent titan, his palms blazing with searing lasers. The Flying Fish Gang darted through the fray, their riders weaving between cannon fire, and Shakky barked orders from the Sunny's deck, her voice sharp as cut glass.
"Dock starboard, away from that mess," Fenna ordered, her knuckles white on the wheel. "We ain't paid to play heroes."
Law stepped forward, Kikoku already unsheathed, its blade glinting cold under the bubble-lit sky. "Change course. Get us closer."
Bepo's ears twitched. "But Captain—!"
"Now."
The crew froze. Even Fenna hesitated, her parrot's wings snapping taut. Marya leaned against the mast, Eternal Eclipse resting lazily over her shoulder. Her golden-ringed eyes flicked to Law. "Sentimentality, Trafalgar? How unlike you."
Law didn't turn. "Just Move."
Fenna cursed but yanked the wheel, the Vlissingen lurching toward the maelstrom. Bepo scrambled to adjust the sails, his paws trembling. Uni and Clione armed themselves with stolen Marine rifles, their faces pale but resolute. Hakugan adjusted his cracked goggles, muttering a prayer to gods he didn't believe in.
As they neared, the cacophony engulfed them—screams of wounded pirates, the metallic clang of Kuma deflecting cannonballs, the wet thud of Marine bodies hitting water. Shakky's voice pierced the din: "Hard to port!" The Sunny's sails billowed, straining to escape the noose of Marine ships.
Marya's blade hummed, Void energy coiling around its edge like smoke. "Orders, Captain?"
Law's Room bloomed, blue light swallowing the deck. "Defend that ship. No survivors."
Marya grinned, a flash of teeth in the gloom. "That is something I can get behind."
The Vlissingen rammed a Marine sloop, splintering its hull. Marya leapt onto the wreckage, mist swirling as she dissolved and reformed behind a line of Marines. Eternal Eclipse arced, severing rifles and limbs in a single stroke. A lieutenant lunged; she sidestepped, her blade plunging into his chest, the Void's hunger blackening his uniform to ash.
"Void-Step."
She vanished again, reappearing atop the Sunny's mast. Below, Kuma's lasers carved trenches in the sea, boiling water hissing into steam. The Flying Fish Gang's leader, Duval, roared as his mount spiraled to avoid a cannon volley. "Who the hell are you?!"
"Distraction," Marya replied, leaping down to cleave a Marine officer in two.
On the Vlissingen, Law's Room pulsed. "Shambles."
Marine snipers swapped places with cannonballs mid-air, their bodies exploding in gory blossoms. Uni and Clione fired relentlessly, covering Shakky as she hauled the Sunny's anchor. Bepo barreled through a squad, his claws raking across their shields.
"Incoming!" Hakugan yelled as a Marine battleship turned its guns on them.
Fenna's parrot shrieked. "Abandon ship! Abandon—!"
"Tact."
Law's fingers twitched. The battleship's cannons vanished, reappearing pointed at its own deck. The blast tore through its hull, flames licking the sky.
Marya landed beside Law, her blade dripping crimson. "They're regrouping. Vice Admiral's ship on the horizon."
Law's jaw tightened. "Buy time."
"How original."
Kuma's laser seared past, obliterating a Marine warship. Shakky met Law's gaze, nodding once—a silent pact. The Thousand Sunny trembled as cannon fire cratered the water around it, geysers of seawater drenching the deck. Shakky spun the wheel, smoke trailing from her cigarette under Sabaody's soapy haze, while Bepo and the Heart Pirates scrambled to secure the rigging. Above, the Flying Fish Gang weaved through laser fire, their mounts screeching as Kuma's mechanized doubles—Pacifistas—leveled their glowing palms.
"This isn't a fight—it's a damn execution!" Fenna shouted from the retreating Vlissingen, her parrot screeching obscenities as the ship vanished into a curtain of bubbles.
Law parried a Marine's saber with Kikoku, his Room flickering. "Marya—flank left!"
She didn't respond, too busy studying the Pacifistas. Their faces—uncanny replicas of Kuma's stoic visage—piqued her curiosity. "Clones?" she mused, sidestepping a laser that vaporized a mangrove root.
"Targets," Law snapped, swapping a Marine with a cannonball. The explosion painted the air pink with misted blood. "Destroy them!"
Marya's blade hummed, Void energy licking its edge. "If you insist."
The sky darkened as Captain Nuri Evander plunged from the clouds in full Arambourgiania form, wings blasting the sea into froth. "Grand Slam!" he bellowed, slamming into the Sunny's railing. Wood splintered, and Shakky cursed, steadying the helm.
"Kai—now!" Nuri yelled, talons scrabbling on deck.
Standing atop the Arambourgiania, Kai Sullivan's rifle barked. A Haki-imbued bullet tore toward Law, who deflected it with a Shambles, the shot ricocheting into a Pacifista's chest. The machine staggered, its circuitry spitting sparks.
"Annoying," Marya muttered, decapitating a group of Marines with a deathly crescent arch of Haki.
Sentomaru's voice boomed through a Den Den Mushi: "Pacifista Unit 02—eliminate the pirates."
The androids turned in unison, lasers charging. Bepo ducked as a beam seared the mast above him. "Captain—they're everywhere!"
Law's breath frayed. "Hold the line!"
"Holding isn't a strategy," Marya said coolly, though her knuckles whitened on Eternal Eclipse.
Nuri dive-bombed again, his wings clipping the Sunny's figurehead. "Oopsie!"
"Focus!" Kai's voice crackled over the din, his sniper scope glinting from atop him.
The Pacifistas advanced, lasers crisscrossing the battlefield. Marya dissolved into mist, reforming atop one's shoulders. Her blade plunged into its neck, Void energy corroding its metal shell. The Pacifista collapsed, but two more took its place.
"They're endless," Law growled, sweat slicking his brow.
Marya leapt back, narrowly avoiding a laser. "Then reset the board."
She raised her sword, the air thickening with fog. "Nebula Veil."
A suffocating mist engulfed the battlefield, reducing the chaos to muffled shouts and the hiss of lasers cutting blindly. Shakky seized the moment, wrenching the Sunny's wheel. "Full sail!"
"Bepo—portside anchors!" Law ordered, his voice echoing eerily in the gloom.
Marya materialized beside him, her blade black with oil and ash. "Better?"
"Move!"
They retreated through the fog, Kuma's silent figure covering their escape with precise laser fire. The Flying Fish Gang swooped low, Duval hauling Hakugan onto his mount.
As the Sunny broke free, the mist dissipated, revealing Sentomaru's scowling face and Nuri circling overhead, his wings battering the fading haze.
Shakky leaned against the helm, exhaustion lining her smirk. "Not bad, rookies."
Duval tipped his helmet. "We owe you one." He said with a strained winking eye.
Marya sheathed her sword, disinterested.
Law ignored them, checking Bepo for injuries. The polar bear's fur was singed, but he grinned weakly. "We made it, Captain."
Kuma's blank eyes met Law's. "Thank you," he intoned, his voice mechanical, final, before sitting in the middle of the deck.
*****
The Sabaody Archipelago lay in ruins, its once-vibrant bubbles now drifting through air thick with the acrid sting of burnt gunpowder and seared wood. The skeletal remains of Marine warships floated like tombstones in the neon-lit waters, their hulls splintered, their decks smoldering. Amid the wreckage, a lone figure glided silently atop a slender coffin-shaped skiff, his black greatcoat billowing like a funeral shroud. Dracule Mihawk's golden eyes, sharp as honed steel, scanned the carnage with detached curiosity.
A jagged mast bobbed past, trailing tattered sails embroidered with Marine insignias. Mihawk nudged it aside with the tip of Yoru, the world's blackest blade, its edge drinking in the scant light. The sea whispered secrets—creaking timbers, the distant wail of a wounded battleship settling into its grave, the muffled cries of soldiers clinging to debris. He inhaled, tasting salt and iron, and smirked.
Interesting.
Ahead, chaos churned. The Thousand Sunny carved through the froth, pursued by the snarling silhouette of a Marine dreadnought. But it was the fog that seized Mihawk's attention—dense, unnatural, swirling with violet undertones. It devoured the battlefield, swallowing ships and screams alike. Within its depths, a shadow moved: lithe, deliberate, trailed by the faint hum of Void energy.
Mihawk's pulse quickened, a rare spark igniting in his chest.
He steered his skiff closer, Yoru resting casually over his shoulder. The fog parted reluctantly around him, tendrils recoiling as if sensing a predator. Through the haze, he glimpsed her—a woman with raven hair whipping like a storm, her blade cleaving through a Pacifista's arm with eerie precision. The machine's severed limb sparked, its molten core hissing as it sank.
Marya.
Her name echoed in his mind, a ghost from another life. She fought like her father: ruthless, efficient, every motion a sonnet of destruction. The Void clung to her, tendrils of mist weaving through her strikes, erasing her from sight only to reappear elsewhere—a phantom in the gloom.
Mihawk's grin deepened.
A Marine frigate, its hull painted with the grinning skull of Sentomaru's command, lunged from the fog, cannons blazing. Marya didn't flinch. She raised her sword, and the world bent. A vortex of darkness swallowed the cannonballs, spitting them back as ash. The frigate erupted, flames licking the sky, and for a heartbeat, her eyes met his through the inferno.
Gold ringed by Void.
Hawkeyes.
She vanished, the fog closing like a curtain. The Sunny surged forward, Kuma's lasers carving a path through the remaining ships. Mihawk's skiff drifted after them, slicing through the wreckage with serene indifference.
A Marine lieutenant spotted him, clinging to a floating barrel. "Assist us—!"
Mihawk flicked his wrist. A crescent of air pressure severed the barrel, silencing the man mid-plea.
The fog thickened, but Mihawk needed no compass. He followed the trail of dying light—Void energy gnawing at the edges of reality, a song only he could hear. Ahead, the Sunny's sails vanished into the bubble canopy, its wake glittering with defiance.
Marya stood at the stern, her back to him, Eternal Eclipse dripping with the remnants of her enemies. She didn't turn, but her voice carried, cold and clear:
"Tell my father I'll come for him soon."
Mihawk chuckled, low and resonant as he intertwined his fingers, crossing one knee over the other. "He'll be waiting."
He watched until the fog reclaimed her, the sea swallowing the last echoes of battle. Around him, Sabaody's bubbles rose anew, fragile and fleeting, their colors dancing across Yoru's blade.
The game had just begun.
*****
The Polar Tang lurched through Sabaody's murky depths of the Yarukiman Mangroves, its hull groaning ominously as Jean Bart wrestled the helm. The dim glow of control panels painted the crew's faces in ghostly hues, their breaths shallow in the recycled air thick with the stench of oil and sweat. Above, the muffled thud of Marine depth charges echoed through the water, each explosion sending tremors through the sub's creaking frame.
"We need to surface!" Shachi hissed, his voice cracking as he clutched a flickering monitor. "They'll blast us to scrap down here!"
Ikkaku slammed her wrench against a leaking pipe, sealing it with a spray of steam. "Shut it! If we surface now, those Marine hounds'll sink us faster than you can say court-martial!" She wiped grease from her brow, her goggles reflecting the red emergency lights. "Engines are shot. And Marya's sub? It's got a hull breach big enough to park a battleship in. We fix both, or we die."
Penguin paced the narrow corridor, his beak-shaped hat askew. "Fix them where? The Marines are crawling over every inch of Sabaody like ants on syrup!"
Jean Bart's voice rumbled from the helm, steady as a metronome. "We hide. Find a blind spot—wreckage, a trench. Law'll track us." He tapped the Vivre card tucked in his bandolier, its frayed edge pulsing faintly. "He always does."
Shachi groaned. "Yeah, and what if he doesn't? That auction house was swarming with Beast Pirates!"
The sub shuddered violently as another depth charge detonated nearby. Loose tools clattered to the floor, and the lights flickered. Ikkaku steadied herself against a bulkhead, her jaw set. "We're not leaving the Tang. Or Marya's tin can. End of story."
Jean Bart adjusted their course, his massive hands precise on the controls. "Sabaody's graveyard—the Shipwreck Shallows. Old pirate hulls, Marine derelicts. We nest there."
Penguin's laugh was brittle. "Perfect. We'll blend right in with the corpses."
The Tang crept into the Shallows, a labyrinth of skeletal ships half-buried in silt. Barnacle-encrusted masts speared the gloom like gravestones, and the carcass of a Marine galleon loomed ahead, its hull peeled open like a rotten fruit. Jean Bart guided the sub into its shadow, the Tang's exterior scrapes blending with the decay.
"Engines off," Ikkaku ordered, killing the thrusters. The sub settled into the muck with a hollow groan.
Shachi peered through a periscope, his voice tight. "Marine patrol boats above. Spotlights. They're… they're dropping sonar buoys."
Ikkaku yanked open a maintenance hatch, revealing the Tang's battered engine. "Penguin—hand me the plasma torch. Shachi, get the patch kit from Marya's sub. Quietly."
Shachi grimaced but slipped into the airlock, walking the corridors with agonizing slowness. Outside, the water was ink-black, save for the occasional sweep of a Marine spotlight piercing the depths. Inside, the dark was absolute. Shachi fumbled for the kit, his gloves brushing against something cold—a Void-stained blade sheath. He recoiled, then shoved the memory aside.
Back in the engine room, Ikkaku welded a fractured coolant line, sparks cascading around her. "Jean Bart—hold this panel. Harder."
The giant braced his shoulder against the metal, veins bulging as the sub creaked under the strain. "We're sitting ducks here," he muttered.
"Ducks with teeth," Ikkaku shot back, her torch flaring. "Once the engines are online, we slip out with the tide. Law'll find the Vivre card's trail. He's—"
A sonar ping reverberated through the hull, sharp as a knife.
Everyone froze.
"They're close," Penguin whispered, clutching his dagger.
Above, a Marine submersible drifted into view, its searchlight slicing through the dark. The beam crawled over the wreckage, inching toward the Tang's hiding spot.
Ikkaku killed her torch. "Lights out. Now."
The crew huddled in the dark, the only sound the drip of condensation and Shachi's shaky breath. The searchlight grazed the Tang's hull, illuminating a patch of rusted metal inches from the viewport. Jean Bart's hand drifted to his cutlass.
Seconds stretched into eternity.
Then—the light swept onward, the submersible gliding away.
Ikkaku reignited her torch, her face grim. "We've got six hours till high tide. Move."
As the crew worked, the Shallows whispered around them—the groan of shifting wrecks, the skitter of deep-sea crabs over bone-dry hulls. Somewhere in the dark, the Vivre card pulsed, a lifeline throbbing in time with Law's heartbeat.
Jean Bart watched the shadows, his voice a low rumble. "He's coming."
Penguin glanced at the card, inching steadily. "Better be."