The answer came not in words, but in the slow, deliberate creak of the tavern's main door swinging open. The low hum of conversation in the Crystal Goblet didn't die, but it shifted, curiosity prickling the air. From their shadowed booth, Marya, Jannali, and Jelly watched as a single figure, swathed in a heavy, crimson hooded cloak, moved through the room with a predator's grace. The figure went directly to the far corner table Auset had indicated and sat, back to the wall, facing the room. The cloak obscured everything except the faintest glimpse of a sharp jawline and the confident, relaxed way the figure leaned back in the chair, one booted foot propped on the table.
At the bar, Celeste and Annabelle tensed. Auset, polishing a glass with a clean white cloth, didn't look up, but her violet eyes were unfocused, seeing beyond the tumbler in her hand. The soft clink of the glass as she placed it under the counter was deliberate. A moment later, her voice formed in the minds of the two women at the bar and, curiously, in Marya's mind in the booth—a cool, clear stream of thought amidst the mental noise.
That one, Auset's telepathic voice murmured, is not your quarry. The cut of that cloak, the insignia pin barely visible inside the hood… they sail under the flag of the Crimson Lioness.
Annabelle's brow furrowed in confusion. She mouthed the name, a silent question.
Auset's mental sigh was a whisper of frustration. Jeanne de Clisson. A noble-turned-pirate from the Bret Sea. She hunts Marines with a vengeance that has become legend. Her ship, the Black Revenge, is a ghost with blood-red sails. They say she's sunk ninety-nine Marine vessels, each for a day her executed husband suffered. This one is likely here on her business, not yours.
Before anyone could process this, the tavern door opened again. This time, the trio that entered was exactly who they'd been waiting for. Finn Rix led the way, his spiky half-fuchsia, half-teal hair a vibrant shock of color, his youthful face set in a cocky grin. Behind him, Vesper Corvin moved with an aloof elegance, his carmine-red hair tied back, his expression one of bored disdain. Drusilla Lorne brought up the rear, her pearly hair swaying, her sharp blue eyes scanning the room with a paranoid flicker before landing on the hooded figure. Clutched in Finn's hands was a rectangular object wrapped in plain, dun-colored cloth.
They made their way to the corner table. The hooded figure didn't stand. "You're late," a low, gravelly voice issued from the depths of the crimson hood, carrying a note of clear irritation.
Drusilla ignored the complaint, sliding into the booth opposite the figure. "We're here. Do you have the payment, or did you call us out here to waste our time?" she demanded, her voice a low thrum of impatience.
At the bar, Annabelle began to fidget, her fingers tapping a rapid, nervous rhythm on the polished wood. "They have it. We should intervene now, before they complete the transaction," she whispered, her voice tight with anxiety.
Celeste placed a calming hand on her arm, her own posture taut as a drawn bowstring. "Wait. We must be sure. Rushing in could be a—"
But Annabelle's academic courage, fueled by indignation, overrode her sense of self-preservation. She shook off Celeste's hand, pushed her oversized glasses up her nose, and marched toward the corner table. She stopped a few feet away, drew herself up to her full, unimpressive height, and—
"Hah-ISHOO!"
A tremendous sneeze ripped through the tense atmosphere, making several patrons jump. Sniffling, her eyes watering, Annabelle cleared her throat, her face flushed with embarrassment and resolve. "Excuse me!"
Every head at the table turned toward her. Finn looked amused, Vesper's lips curled into a condescending smirk, and Drusilla's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. The hooded figure seemed to shrink back slightly into the shadows of the cloak.
Annabelle pointed a trembling finger at the cloth-wrapped bundle in Finn's hands. "That," she declared, her voice gaining strength, "does not belong to you."
Vesper let out a soft, derisive laugh. He leaned back, exchanging an amused look with Drusilla. "And…" he drawled, his tone dripping with mockery.
In the booth, Jannali leaned closer to Marya, her voice a low murmur. "Crikey, this looks like it's about to go pear-shaped. Should we…?"
Marya smirked, taking a slow sip of her blood-red wine. She didn't look away from the unfolding drama. "Not yet."
Jannali blinked, confused. "What? But the little sheila's about to get herself chewed up and spat out."
"I didn't want to get involved in the first place," Marya replied, her voice a study in calm indifference. A faint, dark amusement glinted in her golden eyes. "Might as well make it fun and entertaining."
Back at the bar, Celeste was a statue of coiled tension. Her hand, which had been resting near her side, now gripped the smooth, lacquered hilt of Ame-no-Murakumo, her knuckles white. Her large grey eyes were fixed on Annabelle, every muscle in her slender frame ready to erupt into motion at the first sign of real danger. The air in the tavern grew thick, charged with the promise of violence, a stark contrast to the warm, fragrant scent of baking bread and the low, ever-present rumble of the island's volatile heart.
Vesper Corvin's smirk widened, a flash of white teeth in his refined, almost feminine features. He leaned back, the picture of arrogant ease. "And…" he drawled, letting the word hang in the air, "if you think you can retrieve your lost property, little lady, you are more than welcome to try." His tone was a velvet-wrapped insult, dismissing her entirely.
Annabelle stood frozen for a second, confusion and indignation warring on her face. The sheer audacity of the challenge left her floundering. Then, forcing a pang of raw, unscholarly courage to the surface, her body convulsed. "Hah-ISHOO!" The powerful sneeze made her glasses fly off her face, dangling from one ear by a bent arm.
A wave of chuckles rippled from the table, Finn's snicker the loudest. Drusilla rolled her eyes, and even the hooded figure's shoulders shook with silent laughter.
Blushing furiously, Annabelle shoved her glasses back onto her nose with a trembling hand. She drew herself up, sniffled once, and nodded with a dignity she absolutely did not feel. "Thank you," she said, her voice quavering only slightly. "I think I will." She reached a determined hand toward the cloth-wrapped book in Finn's grasp.
The laughter died instantly. In a blur of motion, the hooded figure's hand shot out from under the crimson cloak, a wicked, curved dagger appearing as if from nowhere. The steel point hovered inches from Annabelle's outstretched wrist. A low, gravelly voice issued from the hood's shadows. "Unless you plan on leaving here without that hand…"
The threat hung in the air, sharp and cold.
It was cut short by the soft, almost musical shiiing of a blade leaving its scabbard. In the space between one heartbeat and the next, Celeste was there. She hadn't run; she had simply appeared, a silent phantom of silver hair and grim purpose. The pristine, mirror-like length of Ame-no-Murakumo was pressed against the hooded figure's throat, the edge so keen it indented the fabric of the cloak.
"I don't want to hurt anyone," Celeste said, her voice a soft, steady murmur, belying the lethal promise of the supreme-grade sword. Her large eyes were wide, but her grip was unwavering.
From the booth, Jannali gasped, her drink forgotten. "Stone the crows! Did you see that? She moved like a blink!"
Marya placed her wine glass down on the table with a soft, definitive clink. A faint, knowing smirk touched her lips. "Told you not to underestimate her."
"Blimey," Jannali breathed, watching the standoff. "You reckon they'll even need our help?"
Marya leaned back, her golden eyes tracking every micro-shift in the room's energy. "Yes," she said, her voice calm. "In a moment."
The moment arrived. The scene at the table exploded. The hooded figure, ignoring the blade at their throat with a gambler's recklessness, spun away from the threat with shocking speed, the dagger slashing toward Celeste's midsection. Finn, with a yell, slammed his hands on the table, the wood groaning as he began to reshape it, seeking to entrap Celeste's feet. Vesper's body began to dissolve into a cloud of fine, grey ash, billowing toward her face to blind and choke. Drusilla was a flash of motion, her hand snapping out to snatch the book back from the table as Annabelle, with a squeak of surprise, finally managed to grab the other end of the cloth bundle.
"Do we now—?" Jannali started, but the booth beside her was empty. Marya was simply gone, leaving only a faint disturbance in the air. "Ah, for fox's sake!" Jannali cursed, vaulting over the table with a grunt, Jelly bouncing behind her with a panicked "Bloop!"
The hooded figure, now free of Celeste's immediate threat, caught a glimpse of Marya cutting through the chaos. Her expression was one of cold, focused intent as she moved toward the scuffle over the book. The figure's eyes widened in recognition and sheer alarm. "Hell's teeth—!" they cursed, their voice losing its gravelly affectation for a split second.
It was all the distraction Celeste needed. As the ash cloud descended, she moved, a blur of violet and silver. There was a wet thwack and a grunt of pain from within Vesper's cloud.
Jannali arrived at the table, her own fists coming up. "Righto, you pack of galahs! Party's over!" Jelly, morphing his hands into giant, wobbly mallets, let out a brave, squeaky war cry.
The sight of Marya's approach and the sudden, violent competence of the newcomers was too much. Finn, Vesper, and Drusilla shared a single, panicked look. Their resolve shattered. "Scatter!" Drusilla hissed, and with a final, forceful yank, she tore the book from Annabelle's grasp and bolted for the door, Finn and the re-forming Vesper on her heels.
"Hey!" Annabelle yelled, her academic fury overriding her fear, and she took off after them, her short legs pumping.
Marya, who had been about to intercept, stopped dead. She rolled her golden eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn't fall out of her head. Scholars.
Celeste, still engaged in a fluid, brutal dance with the hooded figure—parrying a dagger thrust, ducking under a wild punch—called out, her voice strained. "Marya, you have to—!"
"Yeah, I know," Marya groaned, the words heavy with the burden of other people's problems. She was already moving, a streak of black leather and motion, Jelly squishing himself into a bouncing ball to keep up with her.
Jannali, left standing amidst overturned chairs, threw her hands up. "Oh, come on! Not again!" She cursed vividly and sprinted after them, her boots pounding on the wooden floor.
The hooded figure, now alone and panting, bled from a shallow cut on their arm. They disengaged from Celeste, putting a table between them. "This will not be forgotten," they spat, their voice returning to its forced gravel. "The Crimson Lioness will have her recompense."
Celeste adjusted her stance, the point of her katana unwavering. Her usual shyness was burned away, replaced by a cold, righteous anger. "You will not leave this place unscathed."
The figure let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "You think a little girl like you can leave a mark on me?"
The insult landed. A flicker of hurt, then pure, unadulterated offense flashed in Celeste's grey eyes. For the first time, she stopped trying to minimize her presence. She stood tall. A visible surge of energy, a dark, shimmering ripple, flowed down the length of Ame-no-Murakumo—Busoshoku Haki, hardening the legendary blade to an impossible degree.
She moved.
It wasn't a step; it was a displacement. There was no blur, only the before and the after. One moment she was six feet away, the next she was past the figure, her back to them. She stood perfectly still for a heartbeat, then smoothly flicked her wrist, casting a single drop of blood from the pristine edge of her sword.
Across the room, the hooded figure stared down in shock. A clean, horizontal slash had been carved through their leather armor and tunic, right across their chest. A line of crimson welled up, beading along the perfect cut. A second later, the pain hit, and they screamed, a raw sound of agony and disbelief.
Celeste adjusted her stance, the sword coming up again for a final, fatal blow. All trace of the timid girl was gone, replaced by the inheritor of a supreme blade. "Do," she said, her voice low and deadly calm, "not underestimate me!"
The hooded figure cowered, arms raised in a futile defense. But as Celeste's blade began its descent, the figure's form seemed to… waver. Like a mirage in the desert heat, they flickered. There was a faint popping sound, a swirl of crimson fabric, and then nothing. They had vanished, leaving behind only the coppery scent of blood and a few drifting motes of dust.
Auset stood behind her bar, the glass she'd been polishing frozen in her hand. Her violet eyes were wide, her mouth slightly agape. The constant, whispering stream of the world's voices had just been drowned out by the sheer, shocking spectacle of the gentle, quiet girl revealing herself to be a storm of lethal grace.
Without a word, Celeste sheathed her blade with a soft, final click. She didn't even look at the spot where the figure had disappeared. Her face was set, determined. She turned and ran for the tavern door, vanishing into the dim alley after the others, leaving behind a room full of stunned silence and the echo of a threat made very, very real.
The chase plunged into the labyrinthine underbelly of Bootleg Island, where the main thoroughfares gave way to narrow, shadow-drenched alleys that stank of sulfur and damp stone. The air was cooler here, the volcanic rumble a deeper, more intimate threat. They found Annabelle buckled over halfway down the first alley, her hands on her knees, gasping for air like a landed fish. Her chest heaved, and her glasses were fogged with exertion. "I… I couldn't…" she wheezed, pointing a trembling finger further into the maze.
Marya, Jannali, and Jelly blew past her without breaking stride. Ahead, the three thieves—Finn, Vesper, and Drusilla—glanced over their shoulders, their eyes wide with panic as their pursuers closed the distance with terrifying speed.
"Dammit!" Vesper spat, the word tearing from his throat.
"I got this!" Finn yelled, skidding to a halt. He slammed his palms against the rough volcanic rock of the alley walls. The stone groaned, rippled like liquid, and surged upward, forming two hulking, crude figures of rock and grit—golems with fists like anvils. They lumbered into the alley, blocking the path.
"Ah, you've got to be joking me!" Jannali cursed, fumbling for her spear.
"Handle them," Marya commanded, her voice flat and devoid of breathlessness. She didn't wait, simply leaping onto the wall, her boots finding impossible purchase as she ran along the vertical surface, bypassing the obstruction entirely.
Jannali cursed again, more colorfully this time, as she flicked her wrist. Her spear, Anhur's Whisper, extended with a series of sharp clacks. "Right, you big ugly galoots! Let's dance!" She hurled her Echo Boomerangs, the carved weapons whirring through the air to slice into the golems' stony hides. Chunks of rock flew off, but the ground itself supplied more material, the wounds healing almost instantly. "Strewth, they're reforming!"
Marya, now ahead of the chaos, was closing the gap on the fleeing trio. Vesper, seeing her approach, spun around. His body dissolved into a billowing cloud of fine, grey ash, thick and choking, flooding the narrow alley to blind her and cut off pursuit.
"Split up!" Drusilla's voice was a sharp cry from within the cloud. "Meet at the rendezvous!"
"Agreed!" Vesper's voice echoed from the ash.
Marya didn't hesitate. Eternal Eclipse was in her hand in a flash of obsidian darkness. She didn't swing wildly; she drew the blade in a single, perfect arc. The sword didn't just cut the air—it seemed to eat the ash, creating a sudden, clear tunnel of visibility. She watched, her golden eyes cool and analytical, as the three figures scattered down different fissures in the rock.
"Jelly," she said, her voice cutting through the din. "The spiky-haired one. Go."
"Bloop! On it!" Jelly giggled, his form morphing into a bouncing, azure sphere that ricocheted off the walls after Finn.
Vesper, still shrouded in ash, wasn't finished. He coalesced his form into a monstrous, shifting shape of ash and rage, a giant fist swinging down at Marya. She didn't flinch. A dark, shimmering energy—Busoshoku Haki—sheathed her blade. She met the charge, Eclipse cutting a clean, vertical line through the ash monster. It split in two with a sound like tearing silk, dissipating into useless dust.
A low, eerie mist began to pour from Marya's free hand, a cold fog that seemed to bleed from her very pores. It flowed down the alley after Vesper, and within its depths, skeletal, shadow-like specters began to form, their movements jerky and unnatural. Vesper, scrambling backward, screamed, a raw, primal sound of terror as the phantoms gave chase.
Drusilla, meanwhile, had already transformed. Her form shifted, sleek muscles elongating, ears becoming tufted, a spotted tail lashing behind her. With the grace of her Serval Zoan form, she shot up a nearly vertical wall and vanished over the rooftops, using the narrow, high spaces to stay unseen.
Vesper was in a full, gibbering panic, fending off spectral claws with wild swings of his ash-coated arms. He saw Marya walking toward him through the mist, her expression one of utter, bored calm. As she raised Eclipse for a final swing, he let out a final, desperate shriek and his body exploded into a great poof of ash, scattering on a sudden, sulfurous breeze, leaving nothing behind.
Back at the golems, Jannali was panting, her spear chipping away at the endlessly reforming rock. "C'mon, you stubborn drongos!" A flash of silver. Celeste arrived, her katana a blur of light. Three swift, humming cuts later, the golems collapsed into inert piles of rubble. Celeste didn't pause, her enhanced Kenbunshoku Haki reaching out, sensing the unique, frantic energy signature of Finn Rix. She was gone again in an instant, a silver streak in the shadows.
She found them in a dead-end cul-de-sac. Jelly had Finn wrapped up in a giant, sticky, rubbery blue bubble, pinning his arms to his sides. Finn was squirming and cursing, his face red with effort. "Let me go, you stupid blob!"
Jelly just giggled, poking the bubble with a wobbly finger. "Bloop! Wiggly!"
All the fight drained out of Finn in an instant when he felt the cold, unforgiving kiss of Celeste's katana against his neck. He froze, his eyes wide with terror.
Moments later, Marya, Jannali, and a still-wheezing Annabelle arrived. Jannali leaned on her knees, catching her breath. "Blow me down, they got away! The ashy bloke vanished and the cat-woman's gone to ground!"
Marya raised a judgmental brow. "Not all of them." She nodded toward Finn.
Celeste smoothly sheathed her blade. She knelt, bringing herself to eye level with the terrified young man. The shy, hesitant girl was completely gone, replaced by a persona of chilling, quiet authority. Her gaze was direct, her voice low and even. "I don't want to hurt you. Just tell us where your associates went, and we will see that you are taken care of."
Jannali's jaw went slack. "Well, I'll be a monkey's uncle," she whispered, impressed and slightly unnerved. "I wouldn't wanna cross her in a dark alley."
A faint smirk touched Marya's lips. "No one would."
Annabell, finally getting her breath back, pushed her glasses up her nose. "Th-thank you for your help. But will you…?"
Marya cut her off, her tone leaving no room for argument. "This is where we part ways. My involvement ends here."
Celeste stood. Her shoulders rose and fell in a slow, deep breath. She looked at Marya, and the cold mask melted away, revealing the familiar, gentle concern beneath. "Are you sure you won't…?" she asked softly.
Marya nodded. "It was good to see you, Celeste. But I must continue on my own path." Annabelle opened her mouth to protest, to plead, but Celeste gently cut her off with a look.
"We understand," Celeste said, her voice regaining its formal grace. She gave a slight, respectful bow. "Thank you for your assistance. Safe travels."
Marya returned the nod. "Jelly. It's time to go."
As Jelly's form retracted, Finn saw his chance. He scrambled backward, turning to bolt. He didn't make it two steps. In a movement too fast to follow, Celeste's foot hooked behind his ankle and her palm struck his chest, sending him sprawling breathlessly to the gritty ground. She stood over him, not with anger, but with an air of simple, indisputable fact.
Marya turned to leave. Jannali shot one last, wide-eyed look at the effortlessly competent swordswoman and the subdued thief, then hurried to catch up with Marya.
"Are all your friends like that?" Jannali asked, her voice full of awe.
Marya didn't break her stride, her smirk widening just a fraction as they disappeared into the swirling, sulfurous mist of the alleyways. "I don't know," she said, her voice laced with dry amusement. "Why don't you ask the wind?"