Chapter 75: The Black Sword Emperor
The transformation was absolute. Gion, a moment ago a defeated Vice Admiral clutching a reforged blade, now stood as a nexus of terrifying power. The colossal Valkyrie of swirling black smoke that loomed behind her was not an illusion; it was a manifestation of condensed spiritual will and the stolen, reforged essence of fallen souls. The air crackled with oppressive authority, a tangible field of darkness that blotted out the sun streaming through the shaft.
The Black Sword Emperor. The name echoed with finality, not just a title for the blade, but a declaration of the power it bestowed.
Gion's eyes, once clouded with despair, now glinted with a cold, resolute light. She could feel it. The immense, brooding strength of the sword, the instinctive understanding of its abilities—not just enhanced cutting power, but the lingering, predatory nature of the Dark-Dark Fruit, now bound and weaponized. She felt the echoes of Shiryu's lethal precision and the raw, chaotic will of the other sacrificed souls, all honed into a single, obedient instrument of her will.
Levi watched, a scientist observing a successful experiment. The Zanpakutō forging had worked beyond expectation. He hadn't just created a powerful sword; he had created a power amplifier, a spiritual focus that elevated its wielder's entire being. The soul fragments, when properly structured and bound with a guiding will—Gion's own soul sliver—create a synergistic entity. It's not just a tool; it's a symbiosis.
He looked at the cowering, terrified masses on every level. The message was sent. Defiance meant not just death, but consumption. Your very soul would become fuel for the enemy's arsenal.
"The guardian has its orders," Levi said, his voice cutting through the awed silence. He gestured to the Arrancar, still standing sentinel at the base of the shaft. "The sword has its master. The prison is sealed." His gaze swept across the remaining prisoners—Crocodile, Kid, the Supernovas, the countless others. "The choice is yours. Return to order, or become part of it."
There was no more fight. The sight of Blackbeard's agonizing dissolution, the instantaneous empowerment of Gion into a figure radiating Yonko-commander level threat, and the monstrous, leashed creature blocking the only easy exit… it broke them.
One by one, prisoners on the upper levels turned and shuffled back toward their cell blocks. The boldest of the Level 6 survivors, those not yet slain, averted their eyes and retreated into the shadows of their cells. The riot was over, not with a bang, but with a whimper of soul-deep terror.
Shanks watched it all, his face a mask of grim understanding. He had come to rescue a legend, and instead witnessed the birth of a new kind of tyranny. Levi wasn't playing by the old rules—Haki, Devil Fruits, ambition. He was operating on a level that dealt in the currency of souls themselves.
"Rayleigh-san," Shanks said quietly, helping the older man steady himself. "We should go."
Rayleigh nodded, his eyes complex as he looked at Levi. There was no hatred there, only a profound, weary recognition. He had been a piece in this game from the moment Levi captured him, and the game was far larger and darker than he had imagined.
Levi didn't stop them. He watched as the Red Hair Pirates, supporting Rayleigh, made their way carefully past the motionless Arrancar and up the shaft, exiting into the daylight above. He let them go. Their witness was useful. Let them carry the tale of Impel Down's transformation back to the world. Let the Emperors and the Revolutionary Army know what they were truly facing.
His attention returned to Gion. The black Valkyrie was slowly dissipating, the power receding into the blade, but the new-found strength in her stance remained. "Can you handle the rest?" he asked.
Gion looked at the blade in her hand, then at the subdued prison around her, and finally at Magellan, who was watching with a mixture of relief and deep unease. "Yes, Admiral. I can."
"Good. Secure the prison. Assist the Warden. I have to return." Levi's eyes turned toward the distant horizon, where the spiritual tumult of Marineford still raged like a distant storm. Whitebeard was waiting. The final act of his public performance was unfinished.
But before he left, he had one more task. He walked to the edge of the shaft, looking down at the Arrancar. He extended a hand, and a dense ball of the lingering soul fragments—the remnants of the slain that hadn't been used for the sword—coalesced in his palm. He pushed it toward the creature.
The Arrancar's single eye fixed on the offering. It opened its jawless mouth, and the ball of spiritual energy was absorbed. The creature shuddered, its form becoming slightly more defined, its crude blade gleaming a shade brighter. It was fed. Its loyalty, such as it was, reinforced.
"Guard," Levi commanded again, the Reiatsu-backed order sinking in. "Grow. Consume those who trespass."
With that, he turned. He didn't leap or flash-step. He simply willed himself upward, a reverse fall of pure spiritual impetus, shooting up the shaft and out into the open sky above Impel Down.
Below, Gion took a deep breath, the weight of the Black Sword Emperor solid in her grip. She looked at Magellan. "Warden. Let's restore order."
Magellan, after a long moment, nodded. The nightmare was contained, but the prison would never be the same. It now had a new, terrifying guardian, and its chief jailer wielded a blade forged in a soul-smith's fire.
High above, Levi accelerated, a black streak over the Calm Belt, his mind already shifting back to the grand theater of Marineford. He had secured his backroom, forged a new weapon, and created a controllable monster. The variables were managed.
Now, it was time to give the world the climax it was waiting for. The fall of Whitebeard. And he would ensure it was a fall that cemented the name "Black Crow" not just as an Admiral, but as the heir to the title of the world's strongest force.
The Crow returned to the war.
(End of Chapter)
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