The vaulted intake hall of Impel Down was a cratered expanse of broken flagstones and shattered gallery railings. Smoke billowed from the shattered outer gates, yet inside, even the air seemed pinned beneath the pressure of the fight bearing down on the chamber.
Fleet Admiral Sengoku stood at the center of the debris, his golden Daibutsu form radiating a blinding, divine light that cast long, distorted shadows across the stone walls.
"You think the two of you can hold me here?" Sengoku's voice carried through the wrecked chamber, shaking loose chunks of masonry from the ceiling.
Benn Beckman stood fifty paces away on a fractured upper gallery with his long-barreled flintlock raised. Beckman's expression never changed as he tracked Sengoku's stance. He exhaled a thin plume of grey smoke from his mouth, his dark eyes locked entirely on the Fleet Admiral's posture and the firing lane opening around him.
"That's the idea," Beckman said, his voice level and steady.
He pulled the trigger.
"Dead Reckoning."
The heavy slug left the barrel wrapped in Armament and Advanced Conqueror's Haki, black lightning ripping through the air behind it.
Black lightning crawled across Sengoku's golden palm. He thrust it forward without touching the incoming round.
"Iron Mandate."
The bullet stopped inches from his hand. Conqueror's Haki crashed against Conqueror's Haki, black lightning ripping across the floor before the impact forced Sengoku half a step back.
Before Sengoku could recover, Lucky Roux vanished from the shadow of the gallery stairs. Propelling his heavy frame with burst acceleration, Roux closed the distance in a fraction of a second, spinning low beneath the Fleet Admiral's sweeping reach.
"Prime Cut."
Roux surged upward, driving his massive, Armament-hardened shoulder directly into Sengoku's ribs. The impact echoed like a cracking bell, driving the wind from the Fleet Admiral's lungs.
Yet Sengoku was a veteran. Even as the blow landed, his massive golden hand whipped downward, aiming a point-blank shockwave straight at Roux's midsection.
Roux's eyes widened as the lethal kinetic pressure gathered.
While Roux occupied Sengoku at close range, Beckman's hands worked the flintlock without looking. Powder. Ball. Ramrod. By the time Sengoku's golden palm dropped toward Roux, the rifle was back against Beckman's shoulder.
Beckman's shot struck Sengoku's wrist just as his palm drove forward, knocking the attack off-line. The displaced edge of the shockwave caught Roux and hurled him sideways, clear of the killing center.
Sengoku's gaze snapped up to the elevated stone gallery where Beckman stood. With a roar of fury, the Fleet Admiral thrust his arms forward.
"Suppression Palm."
Black lightning crawled over Sengoku's golden palm. The Daibutsu thrust forward, unleashing a golden shockwave directly at the stone support pillar beneath Beckman's position.
The support exploded. The gallery collapsed, plunging Beckman downward amid heavy masonry. The ball seated in his barrel just before the stone gave way beneath him. As Beckman twisted mid-air to land, a jagged shard of stone whipped past, tearing deep through the muscle of his left shoulder in a spray of dark blood.
"Beckman!" Roux roared.
Sengoku stepped toward the fallen first mate, one golden foot lifting over the rubble. Roux exploded across the hall before it could come down.
"Rolling Cleaver."
His Haki-blackened fists caught Sengoku's descending leg at an angle. The impact drove Roux to one knee and split the stone beneath him, but the giant's advance stopped for one heartbeat. Beckman tore himself free of the rubble and rolled clear.
"Move!" Roux barked.
Sengoku watched Roux begin his return pass. Instead of chasing him, the Fleet Admiral checked his own advance and pivoted directly into the lane Roux had used twice already.
Sengoku's golden fist stopped a handspan from Roux's torso. Black lightning exploded across the gap.
The heavy blow bypassed Roux's guard entirely. The impact folded Roux around the blow and launched him across the broken floor. Roux hit the ground twice and rolled to one knee. When he moved again, his explosive first step was gone; he tried to burst forward, but his second step dragged half a beat behind. Sengoku saw it immediately, and Roux saw from the Fleet Admiral's cold expression that he was known.
Beckman steadied the flintlock one-handed, his left arm locked stiff against the pain from his torn shoulder muscle as he lined up the shot.
The high-output ACoC round hammered into Sengoku's golden shoulder and forced the giant to stagger. The delay was enough. Roux rolled into the smoke just as Sengoku's retaliatory blast shattered the eastern gallery. They had bought the time.
Deep within the stale, iron-ribbed corridors of Wild Beast Hell (Level 2), the air grew thick with the stench of rotting straw and caged predators.
Shanks and Giovanni burst through the threshold of the reinforced stairwell. Giovanni's bound right arm stayed tight against his chest; every jolt sent another stab through his cracked ribs. Shanks's right arm was slick with fresh blood from his reopened gash.
From the upper corridor behind them, heavy footsteps echoed through the dim stone passage. Bonk Punch and Monster pounded down from the dock route, closing the distance to secure the rear.
Suddenly, metal screamed above them. The sabotaged lift car dropped half a story before Bonk Punch planted both feet and caught its lower frame against his shoulders.
"Move!" Bonk roared, his muscles straining against the descending iron.
Monster scrambled across the support beam, yanking the loose brake chain around an iron brace while Shanks and Giovanni crossed beneath. Bonk shoved the car sideways into the support structure, holding the bent frame firmly in place.
Further down the corridor, Robin, Hongo, and Limejuice hurried forward. An eye bloomed across the exposed side of the lift housing while Robin studied the gears and indicator plates from the corridor, checking for hidden bypass alarms.
Beside her, Hongo crouched beside a drainage grate, keeping his glove clear of a thick purple residue. He held a strip of treated cloth near the grate, and the fabric darkened immediately.
"Poison," Hongo warned, standing up sharply. "Magellan's. We're not going back through here."
"Then we push straight through toward Level 3," Shanks said, tightening his blood-slick right hand around Gryphon. "Bonk, Monster—hold this junction. Keep the beasts off our backs and don't let anyone close our way home."
Bonk nodded once. Monster bared his teeth from the support beam.
"Gio, how's your breathing?" Shanks asked, turning back to the younger swordsman.
"I'm breathing," Giovanni replied through clenched teeth. "Let's move."
The small group breached the heavy iron bulkhead marking the outer boundary of Level 3—Starvation Hell. The air was searingly hot, dry, and filled with the distant crackle of flames rising from the depths below.
Shanks and Giovanni rushed toward the primary record alcove where Renji's holding cell was officially logged. Giovanni stepped up to the heavy steel door. His heart hammered against his cracked ribs as he reached out with his left hand and swung the door open.
The cell was empty. Open Seastone restraints hung from the wall bracket beside the cot, and fresh scrape marks crossed the floor where chains had recently been dragged away.
Giovanni moved with agonizing rigidity, turning toward the identification mount. The board was gone; four raw screw-holes remained in the stone.
Shanks stepped into the cell beside him, his single eye fixing on the empty bracket.
"They moved him," Shanks said quietly.
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