The Grand Line's morning sun beat down on a flat, endless pane of blue. Across it, a trail of white smoke cut a frantic line, the roar of engines a solitary defiance of the ocean's silence. Vice Admiral Smoker hunched over the handlebars of his Billower Bike, the seaspray cooling the sweat on his scarred brow. A transponder snail clutched in his other hand mimicked Tashigi's exasperated voice with perfect clarity.
"—just saying, if you'd filed the logistical report before leaving, we wouldn't be having this—"
"The report is a distraction from the pursuit," Smoker growled, his teeth clamping tighter on his twin cigars. "The lead on the black market seastone is solid. I don't need paperwork to follow my nose."
"Your nose got you lost in the Calm Belt last year!"
"That was a tactical reconnaissance!"
The bike's engine gave a wet, pathetic cough. Then another. The steady roar sputtered into a hacking gasp. The plume of smoke from its exhaust thinned, then died. The vehicle's forward momentum bled away until it was just a weird, mechanical raft adrift on the gentle swell.
Smoker stared at the controls. He smacked a gauge. Nothing. "Tch… damn it."
Gasp! "What? What is it?" the snail cried, its eyes wide.
"Nothing. I'll call you back." He shoved the silent snail into his coat, the connection severing with a faint click. He was alone. Just the lap of water, the cry of a distant gull, and the infuriating silence of dead machinery. He lifted the seat, peered at the intricate dials and pipes of the steam-powered core, his scowl deepening. "Come on…"
The water around the bike began to tremble. Not with waves, but with a deep, internal vibration that traveled up through the metal frame and into Smoker's boots. Bubbles, large as barrels, broke the surface in a frothing circle. The sea directly beneath him began to bulge upward, a great dome of water rising.
"What the—?"
The dome burst. With a sound like a mountain being born, a colossal shape of polished black alloy and sweeping architectural curves exploded from the deep. The Billower Bike was lifted, balanced precariously on the crest of a rising deck plate as the submarine breached. Seawater cascaded in thunderous waterfalls from its hull, revealing a vast, teardrop-shaped deck larger than a Marine battleship's parade ground. The bike tilted, then settled as the vessel found its buoyancy, now resting on a surface of textured, non-slip metal.
Smoker stood on his bike, rooted in place, his jaw slack around his cigars. "What the hell is this?"
A hatch on the deck's dorsal spine hissed, then swung open. A stream of people filed out, talking, laughing, utterly oblivious to him. He saw a tall woman with raven hair and a Heart Pirates jacket, a long-necked man tapping a glass slate, a massive lynx-mink cracking his neck, a wobbling blue jellyfish, a woman with an impressive afro, a tiny girl in a chef's jacket, a rainbow-haired musician cradling a guitar, a silver-haired swordsman in black leather, an engineer in stained overalls, a man in a pith helmet, a girl with pink space buns, a child with ridiculous eyebrows, and a pale, horned man in a medical coat who looked at the sky as if it were a personal insult.
Smoker's instincts kicked in. He leaped from his bike, landing in a crouch on the strange deck. His hand went to his back, drawing the segmented length of his Nanashaku Jitte. The sea-stone tip gleamed dully. "You! Identify yourselves! What is this vessel?"
For a heartbeat, no one heard him. The long-necked man—Galit—was pointing over the portside railing. "Sensor pings are going wild. The beast's signature is coming from portside. Deep, but rising fast."
The raven-haired woman, Marya, and the silver-haired swordsman, Aurélie, nodded in unison, their eyes on the water.
Bianca's gaze, however, had snagged on Smoker's bike. Her magnifying goggles slid down from her forehead. Her mouth formed a perfect 'O'. "Like… holy cow." Sanza followed her stare. The boy's eyes grew huge, reflecting the polished metal. Jelly, beside him, mirrored the expression, his whole body morphing into a starry-eyed shape.
Vesta strode to the center of the deck, struck a power chord on Mikasi that echoed across the water, and belted out, "WAKE UP! GRAB A BRUSH AND PUT A LITTLE MAKEUP!"
Atlas and Jannali leaned against the railing near Smoker, ignoring his combat stance. Jannali tilted her head, giving him a once-over. "G'day, mate. You look a bit lost. Bike give up the ghost?"
Atlas chuckled, tearing into a piece of dried meat from his pocket. "Looks like a fish out of water to me."
This was too much for Bianca. With a sound like an excited teakettle, she dashed past Smoker. Sanza and Jelly were a step behind, a trio of uncontainable curiosity. Charlie, noticing the exodus, adjusted his pith helmet. "Ahem! I shall… ascertain if the situation requires analytical insight." He hurried after them.
Bianca skidded to a halt by the Billower Bike, her hands fluttering over its pipes and gauges without touching. "This is like the coolest thing I have like, ever seen! Look at the steam-recirculation manifold! It's a closed-loop system!"
Sanza climbed onto the seat, his small hands gripping the handlebars, making soft "vroom" noises. Jelly launched himself onto the front, morphing into a makeshift figurehead, his gelatinous face streaming back in the artificial wind of his own imagination.
"Hey!" Smoker barked, stepping toward them. "Get off of there! And you—weird girl—don't touch anything!"
Bianca, now peering at a clogged intake valve, didn't look up. "It's just a little carbon scoring. Probably from low-grade coal." Sanza was lost in a world of high-speed chases. Jelly was trying to taste the wind.
Charlie leaned in, squinting. "A fascinating fusion of maritime and terrestrial locomotion principles. A true marvel of applied thermodynamics."
Eliane ran past the whole group, her little boots pounding on the deck. She went straight to the very tip of the bow, shaded her eyes with a hand, and scanned the horizon. "I don't see anything!" she called back, her voice high with anticipation. "Are you sure it's—?"
The ocean off the port side erupted. A mountain of muscle, scales, and streaming water launched into the air. It was colossal, its body a deep ocean blue, a magnificent mane of white, fin-like frills ringing a head dominated by a powerful, leonine muzzle. Its single, intelligent eye fixed on the submarine. The Lion Sea King gave a roar that vibrated in Smoker's chest, a sound of deep water and primal challenge. Salt spray rained down on the deck.
"Everyone, get back!" Smoker yelled, falling into a familiar stance, his Jitte raised. This was a crisis. This was a fight.
Eliane squealed. Not in fear, but in pure, undiluted delight. "THERE IT IS!"
And Aurélie walked forward. Not a rush, not a charge. A calm, methodical walk towards the bow, her hand resting on the hilt of Anathema. Her silver hair was undisturbed by the wind.
"Lady, are you deaf? I said get back!" Smoker's voice cracked with disbelief.
The Sea King reared, its body coiling like a spring. It lunged, a tidal wave of teeth and scale aimed to crush the bow—and the tiny chef standing there.
Aurélie's blade left its sheath. The movement was a single, silver flicker, a line of light that for a moment seemed to cut the very air. There was no dramatic clash, no straining of muscles. The Lion Sea King's charge simply… parted. Along a perfectly straight, diagonal line from shoulder to opposite hip, the colossal creature split. Two huge sections of monster slid past the submarine, hitting the water with world-shaking thuds that sent geysers of pink-tinged foam into the air. What rained down on the deck were not chunks, but perfect, clean slices of deep-red meat, each as thick as a mattress.
The roar of the beast was replaced by a deafening silence, broken only by the patter of falling sea king sashimi.
Smoker stood frozen, his Jitte half-lowered, his cigars threatening to fall from his mouth.
Eliane jumped up and down, clapping her hands. "Yes! Perfect! Everyone, come on, help me! We have to gather it before it sinks or gets eaten by scavengers!"
"Sashimi!" Jelly cried, morphing his mouth into a gigantic bowl and bouncing towards the nearest slice.
"Oh no, you don't!" Jannali yelled, sprinting forward. She tackled a large fillet, wrapping her arms around it. "Atlas, you lazy bum, grab that loin! Charlie, make yourself useful! Bianca, stop fiddling with the man's bike and help us save our dinner from the walking appetizer!"
The deck dissolved into chaos. The crew descended on the bounty, laughing, shouting, and wrestling slices of meat larger than they were. Galit and Marya coordinated, using cargo netting from a deck locker. Atlas hefted a quarter of the beast on one shoulder with a grunt of effort. Vesta, trying to help, slipped on a wet patch and pinwheeled her arms, saved only by Galit's long arm snatching the back of her jacket.
Smoker watched, his mind a perfect, blank slate of marine protocol violation reports. He was jolted back to reality by Bianca's voice. "Got it!" She stood up from the bike's engine, holding a small, wriggling fish that had been lodged in a vent. She tossed it to Eliane.
"Oh, good catch!" Eliane called, snatching it from the air. "Bring that along too!"
"Like, cool," Bianca said. She turned to Smoker, wiping her greasy hands on her overalls. "Nice bike. The intake was, like, totally choked. Should run great for you now." She gave him a bright, grease-smudged smile and dashed off to help with the meat.
Sanza climbed off the bike seat, giving it a pat. Charlie adjusted his glasses, looking at the clear sky. "Ahem. The atmospheric conditions appear most conducive for a continued vehicular excursion. A fine day for it."
Jannali, struggling with a huge slab of meat, glared at Charlie. "Stop yappin' and start draggin', professor!"
With a final, disbelieving turn of his head, Smoker watched the bizarre crew, their arms overflowing with enough sea king meat to feed a village, file back through the hatch, still bickering and laughing. The last one in, the little chef, gave him a cheerful wave before the hatch sealed with a definitive thunk.
A series of heavy clunks echoed from within the hull. The deck beneath Smoker's feet shuddered. With a gargantuan sigh of venting air and swirling water, the massive submarine began to sink, sliding beneath the waves with a quiet dignity that belied the insanity of the last five minutes. In moments, it was gone, leaving only a fading whirlpool and Smoker alone on the water, sitting on his bike.
He mechanically cranked the ignition lever. The engine coughed once, then roared to life, the plume of white smoke billowing out strong and healthy. He stood there for a full minute, listening to it purr. He looked at the empty sea. He looked at his Jitte. He looked at the spot where a mountain of sashimi had just been.
He and gunned the throttle, speeding away over the waves. The wind whipped his coat. His face was a stone mask of pure, unadulterated confusion.
"What," he asked the empty horizon, his voice flat, "did I just witness?"
If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider giving Dracule Marya Zaleska a Power Stone! It helps the novel climb the rankings and get more eyes on our story!
Thank you for sailing with us! 🏴☠️ Your support means so much!
Want to see the Dreadnought Thalassa blueprints? Or unlock the true power of Goddess Achlys?
Join the Dracule Marya Zaleska crew on Patreon to get exclusive concept art, deep-dive lore notes, and access to our private Discord community! You make the New World adventure possible.
Become a Crewmate and Unlock the Lore:
https://patreon.com/An1m3N3rd?utm_medium=unknown&utm_source=join_link&utm_campaign=creatorshare_creator&utm_content=copyLink
Thanks so much for your support and loving this story as much as I do!