The moment Creed entered, Redfield already sensed his presence.
Creed was about to speak.
"This time, looking for someone to spar swords with again, Director Creed? How about me? As long as you give me wine, you can cut me into pieces and I won't complain!"
From the cell to Shiryu's left, a man with a huge sausage-like nose, somewhat clownish in appearance, shouted.
Creed recognized the name: Vasco Shot, a future cadre under Blackbeard, infamous for his love of drink.
But with only a weakened SSS– level ability, Creed had no interest in sparring with him.
"Director Creed, don't bother with that drunk! Pick me, me, me! My More More Fruit is still useful!"
From the right cell, another man shouted, even sticking his arm through the bars, frantically trying to draw attention like a merchant desperate for business.
Creed glanced over — it was Bundy World, someone he had disciplined before.
At least this time he seemed more obedient, the lesson having stuck.
"World, you don't know the first thing about swordsmanship. What makes you qualified to spar with Director Creed? Pick me, Director Creed!"
Even Shiryu chimed in.
In the dark, cold hell of Impel Down, with endless solitude, hunger, and torment — even water torture for some — any chance to step outside, feel sunlight, eat and drink normally, was enough to drive them mad with desperation.
Begging Creed was the only option left.
No one could blame them for having no pride — decades locked away in this pit would break even the strongest of wills.
Creed ignored them, walking to the deepest cell.
"It's me. Redfield, how have you been?"
Along the way, he quietly scanned the abilities of the other inmates. The strongest among them were at best SSS+ in Armament Haki or Observation Haki — but no one possessed SSSS-level power.
With his current strength, even Infinite Hell no longer held anyone capable of matching him.
Only Redfield might still trade a few blows — and that only if his power were fully restored.
"Cough, cough… Still alive, at least."
The lone Redfield, soaking in the cold water, looked paler, but still carried his elegance and composure.
"Barorick Redfield, become my partner."
Creed looked him in the eye, speaking with sincerity.
"You're…?"
Redfield hadn't expected him to be so direct, but refused at first.
"I will never serve the Marines, nor act for them. I'd rather rot here until death."
"No. I'm a Marine traitor now — I'm no longer with them."
Creed explained calmly.
"Oh? Then the Marines' high command are truly fools."
Redfield sighed.
"Speak plainly, young man. What do you want from me?"
"Your strength. Your knowledge. Witness me reaching the highest peak of this world."
Creed's voice was firm.
"Partner? Hahaha!"
Redfield laughed loudly, his voice bitter and layered with resentment.
Back then, after defeating Steelbone Kong, he had been left vulnerable because he had no partners to back him up — leaving Garp to swoop in and capture him, condemning him to the lowest hell of Impel Down.
Once, he alone could rival Roger's crew or Whitebeard's — what glory he had! And yet, because of one hollow victory, the Marines had locked him away.
Years passed, leaving him aged and weakened.
Solitude, he thought, was not always a strength.
Creed watched him silently.
"…Very well, my captain."
After a long pause, Redfield finally spoke, acknowledging Creed's role.
"Perhaps my heart has grown old… afraid of dying here, still longing for freedom…" he muttered.
But deep down, the truth was clear: he sensed no evil in Creed.
Creed was sincere — his Observation Haki confirmed it.
"ROOM!"
Hearing his response, Creed sliced through all of Redfield's restraints in a single motion.
"Our trouble has come. Leaving won't be so easy now."
Redfield frowned.
"He won't be able to stop me."
Creed replied calmly.
The two walked out together, stirring the other prisoners into a frenzy of pleas, begging Creed to free them too, willing to become his slaves if necessary.
But before their voices grew too loud, a terrifying aura washed over the entire floor, forcing silence upon them all.
That aura — they knew it well.
The Warden of Impel Down, the Poison Man, Magellan!
His methods were seared into every prisoner's mind.
"His ability is troublesome. Captain… be cautious. I suggest covering your body completely in Armament Haki, with Conqueror's Haki as an outer shield. And unless absolutely necessary — don't breathe."
Redfield warned.
"…I understand. Falkor, handle the fodder, and assist the Count."
Creed shook awake the little one resting on his shoulder. It stirred angrily at first — but when it saw it was Creed, its annoyance faded into pitiful complaint.
Yawning from its interrupted nap, it prepared to fight.
As they stepped through the gate and into the open ground, they were met with an assembled force — guards and beasts alike, radiating killing intent.
Magellan had mobilized every fighter in Impel Down, a full-scale deployment not seen since Shiki's escape.
The hulking warden stood, devil-like in form, with horns on his head and black wings sprouting from his back.
But when the figures emerged from the darkness, many rubbed their eyes in disbelief.
"D-Director Creed? I'm not seeing things, am I?!"
Even in Impel Down, news spread slowly. Many still remembered him as Deputy Warden, not yet knowing of his betrayal.
Hannyabal covered his mouth dramatically, tears in his eyes.
"Director Creed, you've returned! Did you come to topple that useless Magellan and make the wise, great Hannyabal the new Warden?! I'm so touched!"
"Shut up!"
Magellan nearly unleashed a Hydra on him then and there.
"Listen well, all of you! Creed is no longer a Marine. The World Government has placed a twenty-billion belly bounty on his head! He is our enemy! If he escapes Impel Down today, all of our heads will roll!"
Magellan's voice boomed, shaking the crowd.
They could hardly believe it. Creed — once the rising star of the Navy, destined for greatness — now branded a traitor?
"You all deal with Redfield. Creed is mine."
Magellan pointed toward Redfield as he issued his order.
(End of Chapter)
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