"BOOM—!"
Thunder roared, a percussive explosion that seemed to split the very sky, as the torrential rain battered the fortress of Impel Down.
Level 1, the "Crimson Hell," had already lived up to its name.
It was no longer a forest of razor-sharp trees; it was a sea of blood.
The ground was littered with the corpses of countless criminals, their scarlet lifeblood staining the Crimson Hell an even more sinister, gruesome hue.
Piercing, agonized screams echoed up the central shaft from the levels below, a symphony of the damned.
Every single prisoner, from the petty thieves on Level 1 to the ancient legends chained in the dark, understood.
Their time had come.
Garp, Sengoku, and Zephyr stood side-by-side, their bodies radiating a suffocating, murderous intent.
They were not admirals.
They were not heroes.
They were three gods of slaughter, returned from a hell of their own making to cleanse this one.
"GUHAHAHA—! Its so Fucking Refreshing!" Garp roared, cracking his massive knuckles, the sound echoing like a string of firecrackers.
"It's been a long time since I've had such a satisfying slaughter! I really did haul in quite a few of these bastards back in the day!"
"Now I finally understand…" Zephyr flexed his massive mechanical arm, the "Pulverizer," its sea-prism stone tip gleaming.
His eyes, burning with a blood-red light, scanned the carnage.
"Mercy towards scum like this is a crime in itself!"
Amidst the piles of corpses, a red-nosed clown, his body split into pieces, was quietly trying to slip away, his detached feet tiptoeing through the gore.
Suddenly, a massive, golden hand descended from above, snatching him out of the air like a baby chick.
Buggy's eyes widened in pure, abject terror as he found himself staring into the impassive, radiant face of a golden Buddha—Sengoku.
"Daring to play such pathetic tricks right in front of me?" Sengoku's voice was a low, commanding rumble.
"Buggy the Clown," Tsuru remarked coolly from the side, her eyes never wavering.
"Former apprentice of the Roger Pirates. Not exactly a nobody. He's barely passable for a public execution."
"Public execution?" Sengoku scoffed, his grip tightening.
"This trash doesn't even deserve the stage. The New Marine, now reigning supreme, has no need for a clown like this to make an example!"
"DIE—!"
With a furious roar, Sengoku unleashed an overwhelming surge of his Conqueror's Haki.
Golden, crackling shockwaves erupted from him, a tangible force of pure will.
The Haki coiled violently around his arm, veins bulging as terrifying power surged.
THUD—
It was a dull, wet, anticlimactic impact.
Buggy didn't even have time to scream.
Sengoku, the Buddha, the "Resourceful General," crushed the pirate into a fine red mist, his component parts obliterated.
No luck, no tricks.
In the face of absolute, overwhelming strength, his Devil Fruit was powerless.
Sengoku casually flicked the blood from his golden hand as if he had merely swatted an insignificant fly.
"Crimson Hell is done. Next up… Level 2, the Beast Hell!"
The four of them—Sengoku, Garp, Zephyr, and Tsuru—strode forward with a unified, grim purpose.
Soon, the sounds from below began to change.
....
"WAAAH—! SAVE ME—!"
"DON'T KILL ME—! I'LL DO ANYTHING!"
The criminals' screams rose and fell, only to be drowned out by the Buddha's roars and the thunderous, sickening impacts of iron fists and mechanical pulverizers.
For a moment, the cacophony of sounds—beasts howling, men screaming, fists crushing bone—intertwined, a true symphony of hell.
Levels 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5 were swiftly, brutally, and thoroughly purged.
...
Level 6—Infinite Hell.
The clanking of heavy, sea-prism stone chains abruptly shattered the deathly, frozen silence.
In a cell shrouded in absolute darkness, a pair of tightly shut eyes snapped open.
Golden, predatory pupils glared out, two conspicuous searchlights in the oppressive gloom.
"Hmm? This presence…" a hoarse, ancient voice echoed from the cell, laced with both confusion and surprise.
"No mistake… it's them..."
"Boom— Boom— Boom—"
From the neighboring cell, a dull, relentless thudding sound continued, as if some monstrous beast was trying to ram its entire body through the reinforced walls.
"Kahahaha!" a wild, unhinged laugh erupted.
"Redfield! You feel that? It's definitely those two old bastards—Sengoku and Garp! Seems the skies of Impel Down are about to change!"
"Change? It's not so simple!" a third voice, deep and disbelieving, interjected from another cell.
"They're here… to massacre Impel Down!"
The voice, belonging to Shiryu of the Rain, the former Head Jailer, now held a sharp edge of urgency.
"Bullet! Redfield! Care to team up?"
"Shiryu… team up with you?" The voice of Douglas Bullet, the "Demon Heir," dripped with contempt.
"You caused me plenty of trouble when you were the jailer. Now you want an alliance?"
"Is now really the time for this?!" Shiryu shot back, his voice cold. "Would you rather sit here and wait to die?!"
"..."
"Do you two really think…"
The first voice, belonging to Patrick Redfield, the "Lone Red," reverberated through the hollow prison, his words carrying an icy certainty.
"…that Sengoku would leave us any openings if he's truly made his move? That old man is no soft-hearted fool. If he and Garp have chosen to act, they have prepared for every contingency. We… stand no chance."
Redfield slowly rose to his feet, his golden, vampiric eyes gleaming with a sharp, analytical intensity.
As a man who had once stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Roger and Whitebeard through sheer individual might, his pride and his judgment were second to none.
"Trying is better than waiting for death, isn't it?!" Shiryu snarled, his patience gone.
"I refuse to die a pathetic death in this hellhole!"
The screams from the upper levels were proof.
Someone was truly executing every last prisoner.
"Shiryu is right. After all, no one wants to die," a hoarse woman's voice broke the silence.
"Rather than wait here, we might as well take the gamble. There might still be a sliver of hope."
It was Catarina Devon, the "Crescent Moon Hunter."
She licked her lips, a glimmer of desperate hope flashing in her eyes.
"Let's try it," Redfield's voice rang out, resigned but resolved. "They're already here!"
Before his words faded, the heavy, rhythmic tap… tap… tap… of footsteps grew louder, approaching the entrance to Level 6.
Each step struck like a hammer against the prisoners' hearts.
"Long time no see, scum of the sea," Sengoku's voice boomed, full of righteous fury.
He, Garp, and Zephyr appeared at the entrance, their killing intent so palpable it was a physical force.
"This time…" Garp cracked his knuckles, a terrifying grin on his face.
"We're sending you straight to hell!" Zephyr finished, his mechanical arm whirring.
.....
Meanwhile.
A massive New Marine warship, its red flag snapping smartly in the wind, cut through the waves, leaving Impel Down far behind.
On the deck, Ace sat quietly, the sea breeze tousling his black hair, the cool, salty air helping to dispel the turmoil in his heart.
Earlier, Kizaru had casually tossed him a Den Den Mushi.
After a brief, agonizing silence, the familiar, hearty voice of his "Pops" had come through, and Ace's eyes had burned with emotion.
"..."
'Pops… you actually agreed to join the Warlords… just to save me…'
Ace's voice, when he'd spoken, was soft, trembling with a mixture of shock, profound guilt, and overwhelming gratitude.
"Gurarara! What nonsense are you spouting, you brat?!" Whitebeard's voice had boomed, as confident and strong as ever.
"The fact that we, father and son, can be reunited is the best possible outcome! I'll be waiting for you at Headquarters!"
"Yeah!"
After hanging up, Ace's emotions remained unsettled.
He looked out at the endless horizon, a new, uncertain future stretching before him.
Not far away, Akainu, Kizaru, and Kuzan stood in a casual cluster, conversing in low voices.
"Are you sure it's alright to leave Impel Down to the old-timers and Tsuru-san?" Kuzan asked, a rare note of concern in his voice.
"After all, Level 6 holds those legendary pirates. What if—"
"Hmph," Akainu snorted, steam hissing from his cigar.
"No matter how legendary they are, after being starved and chained for so long, how much strength could they possibly have left?"
Kuzan was about to nod in agreement when a sudden, bizarre, and horribly familiar laugh interrupted him, echoing across the open water.
"ZEHAHAHAHA—HIC—!"
All three admirals turned their heads as one.
A massive, crude, and dilapidated wooden raft was slowly approaching them.
"Impel Down is just ahead!" a triumphant voice roared from its deck.
---------
Note : Rip Buggy and also Rip Teach (Soon).