The tavern's lanterns swung wildly as the door blew open, ash and saltwater gusting into the room. Marya froze mid-sip, her beverage sloshing over the rim of her mug. Her fingers tightened around Eternal Night's hilt, the blade still sheathed but humming against her back.
"We need to go. Now," she hissed.
Ace glanced up from his third plate of lava-spiced ribs, sauce smeared across his freckled cheeks. "What's the rush? These ribs are art—"
"Now," Marya repeated, her voice a blade's edge, but it was too late.
The air thickened, the tavern's raucous chatter dying mid-laugh. In the doorway stood Vergo, his white trench coat pristine, a half-eaten skewer of meat dangling from his left hand. His bamboo staff tapped the floorboards, each click a death knell.
"Dracule," Vergo said, his voice flat as a guillotine. "So, the rumors are true."
Ace choked on a rib bone. "Dracule? As in—Mihawk?!"
Marya didn't answer. She spun, Eternal Night flashing from its sheath just in time to meet Vergo's staff. The impact cracked the air, sending tables splintering. Marya skidded backward, her boots carving trenches in the floor.
"Not bad," Vergo said, advancing. "But Mihawk's blood shouldn't skid."
He struck again—a relentless barrage, each blow aimed to maim, not kill. Marya's blade became a silver blur, deflecting strikes with fidelity honed by a lifetime of her father's brutal tutelage. But Vergo's Haki was a vise, crushing her defenses.
"Run!" she snarled at Ace and Charlie.
Ace ignited his fists, flames licking up his arms. "Not happening!"
Vergo's staff grazed Marya's ribs, drawing blood. "Sentimentality. How ordinary."
Pirates poured into the tavern—Beast Pirate grunts with Kaido's jagged crest inked on their necks. Ace hurled a fireball, engulfing the doorway. "C'mon, ugly! Let's dance!" They swarmed him, clubs and cutlasses swinging. Ace weaved, fists blazing, but the tide was endless. A cleaver nicked his shoulder; he retaliated with a searing uppercut. "Marya! Hang on!"
But Marya was locked in a deadly waltz, Eternal Night screeching against Vergo's staff. She feinted left, mist swirling to mask her strike—but Vergo pivoted, his Haki-laced knee slamming into her gut. She flew backward, crashing through the tavern wall into the ashen street.
Vergo stepped through the rubble. "Your father would be… disappointed."
Marya spat blood, rising. "He's always disappointed."
Charlie crouched behind an overturned cart, his ledger clutched to his chest. Beast Pirates sprinted past, chasing Ace's trail of fire. He fumbled for a glow stone, scribbling a frantic message: Navy here. Spire's east quadrant. Send help. The transponder snail blinked—signal weak. "Work, you stupid mollusk—"
A shadow fell over him. A pirate grinned, raising his axe. It gleamed in the fractured moonlight, a crescent of death poised above Charlie's head. His heart hammered against his ribs like a caged bird, adrenaline sharpening the world into brutal clarity. Without thinking, he hurled the glow stone clutched in his trembling hand. It struck the pirate's face, erupting in a burst of searing light. The man howled, clawing at his eyes, and Charlie bolted.
Vergo's staff descended. Marya swung her blade, the force driving her to her knees. The street cracked beneath her. "You're slowing down," Vergo observed.
"You're. Annoying," Marya gasped. Her mist surged, enveloping them in a swirling gray shroud. For a heartbeat, she vanished—then reappeared above, Eternal Night aimed at Vergo's throat. The blade sang as it sliced through the ash-choked air, a silver streak of lethal intent.
Vergo didn't flinch. His bamboo staff snapped upward, Armament Haki hardening it to black steel. The collision rang out like a funeral bell, sparks cascading as Marya's wrists buckled under the force. She landed hard, boots skidding across the volcanic rock, the impact rattling her teeth.
"Predictable," Vergo said, advancing. His staff whirled, a blur of brutal efficiency. "Mihawk's heir? A disappointment."
Marya parried, each strike driving her deeper into the rubble-strewn street. Her arms burned, her breaths ragged. Vergo's Haki pressed down like a tidal wave, crushing her defenses.
Marya's fury boiled, each clash of steel against Haki pushing her closer to the edge. The memories of her training with Shanks flooded back—those relentless drills, the sharp sting of his words, the lessons she struggled to master. She could almost hear his voice over the din of battle, coaching, chastising, encouraging.
Clang!
Marya stumbled back, Eternal Night trembling in her grip. Shanks laughed, his sword casually deflecting her flurry of strikes. Around them, the Consortium's festival raged—paper lanterns glowing, wisteria blossoms swirling in the warm breeze.
"Eyes here, kid," Shanks said, tapping his temple. His voice was light, but his gaze was sharp. "Haki isn't just in your fists. It's in your head. Watch the wind. Watch me."
He lunged. Marya closed her eyes—and felt the shift in the air, the tremor of his footfall. She pivoted, his blade whispering past her ear. "Better!" Shanks grinned. "Now stop trying to hit me. Know where I'll be."
Marya's grip tightened on Eternal Night as Shanks' words echoed in her mind. The scene of the festival dissolved, replaced by the harsh reality of the battle before her. Back in the present, Vergo's staff arced toward Marya's ribs. She started to block—then froze. The wind shifted.
Watch me.
Her eyes snapped shut. The world dissolved into sensations: the crunch of Vergo's boot on gravel, the faint whistle of his staff cutting air, the sour tang of his breath as he leaned into the strike.
She sidestepped, and his staff smashed into stone, shattering the ground where she'd stood. Vergo's eyebrow twitched—a flicker of surprise. Marya pressed the opening, Eternal Night grazing his shoulder. A shallow cut, but enough to draw blood.
"Luck," Vergo sneered, recovering swiftly.
"Maybe," she shot back with a smirk.
Vergo roared, furious and blinded by the ash. Marya danced around him, each movement more assured. She felt the weight of his presence, the rhythm of his attacks. Then, just as she prepared to strike again, a memory surfaced—distant, yet vivid.
Years ago, she stood on the rugged cliffs of Kuraigana Island, the salty breeze tugging at her hair. The sun had barely risen, casting long shadows across the training yard. Dracule Mihawk, with his imposing aura and piercing eyes.
"Strength is a blunt tool."
Mihawk's voice cut through the chill of dawn as Marya lay sprawled in the training yard, her blade flung far from her hand. He loomed above, Yoru pointed at her throat. "You rely on force. On anger. That is why you lose."
She gritted her teeth. "Then what should I rely on?"
"Stamina. Finesse. A blade is not a hammer—it is a needle. Find the gaps. Wait." He struck. Marya rolled, snatching her sword, but Mihawk's boot hooked her ankle, dropping her once more. "Again," he commanded. "And stop trying to win. Survive." His gaze never wavered. "Precision. Patience. Understanding your opponent. These are the tools of a true swordsman."
The memory faded, replaced by the present. The cacophony of battle returned, sharper, more urgent. She could almost hear Mihawk's voice guiding her, the lessons seared into her very being.
Vergo's onslaught intensified, but Marya's movements grew fluid, calculated. She weaved between strikes, Eternal Night flickering like a serpent's tongue. His staff grazed her hip—a searing pain—but she pivoted, using the momentum to spin behind him.
Find the gaps.
Her blade stabbed at his spine. Vergo twisted, Armament Haki flaring, but Marya's hilt slammed into his kidney instead. The hit landed with a dull thud, not deep enough to wound, but sharp enough to stagger him.
"Clever," Vergo spat, regaining his footing. "But not enough."
Marya's chest heaved, sweat stinging her eyes. Stamina. Finesse. She feinted high, then dropped, sweeping Eternal Night at his ankles. Vergo leaped—but Marya's free hand snatched a handful of ash, flinging it into his eyes. Blinded, he swung wildly. Marya ducked, her blade slashing upward in a crescent of silver.
CLANG.
Eternal Night struck his hardened throat, the reverberation numbing her arms. Vergo skidded back, his heels carving furrows into the stone, unharmed. "Armament wins," he said, wiping ash from his face.
"Think so," Marya, her breath ragged as she parried another of Vergo's crushing blows, "it's a little early to call it, don't you think?" Her arms trembled under the weight of his Haki-hardened staff, her boots grinding against the volcanic stone. Vergo's smirk deepened, his aura a suffocating storm of arrogance and brute force.
Marya's fingers tightened around Eternal Night as she recalled another voice that had whispered secrets of finesse and subtlety. "Haki is not a hammer. It is a scalpel." Aurélie's voice cut through her memory, crisp as winter air. Marya had just arrived at the Consortium and was stubborn; she had been disarmed for the tenth time that morning. Her mentor stood silhouetted against the dawn, silver hair blowing loose in the wind, Anathema sheathed at her hip.
"Masculine Haki shouts," Aurélie said, gesturing to the training dummy splintered by Marya's rage. "It demands. Feminine Haki… listens." She pressed a palm to Marya's chest. "Find the center. His aura, your anchor. Hook into it and unbalance him."
To illustrate, she recited one of her infamous poems:
"The locust flies where storms cannot—
A whisper cuts what fists have fought."
Marya stifled a groan.
Back in the present, Vergo's staff slammed down, and Marya listened. Through the haze of pain, she felt it—the faint pulse of his aura, a roiling core of arrogance at his solar plexus. The center. She stopped resisting. Let his strike graze her shoulder as she pivoted, Eternal Night lashing not at his body, but at the air around that pulsing core. Her blade hooked nothing, yet everything.
Vergo staggered, his balance fracturing. "What—?"
Marya's eyes locked onto Vergo's, a calm storm of determination brewing within her. She felt as if Aurélie were standing beside her, guiding her movements with an ethereal hand. The memory of her mentor's teachings resonated through her every sinew, tuning her strikes to a new, harmonious rhythm.
Vergo's confusion morphed into rage, his formidable aura wavering. Marya could sense the fissures forming in his defense, each one a testament to her growing mastery. She danced around his attacks, Eternal Night glinting with purpose, each movement a testament to the lessons of subtlety and precision imparted by Aurélie.
"Watch."
Aurélie's eyes glinted, unnervingly sharp, as she faced a hulking mercenary in the Consortium's arena. The man charged, Haki roaring. Aurélie sidestepped, Anathema flicking once. Not at him—at the space between his strides. He crashed face-first into the dirt.
"The center is not always a place," she said. "It is a weakness. Find it. Own it."
Marya blinked, the memory fading like mist in the morning sun. She could almost hear Aurélie's voice guiding her, feel the echo of her mentor's movements in her own. In that moment, Marya found her center. She was no longer just a student; she was the embodiment of Aurélie's teachings.
Vergo's aura wavered, confusion and rage battling within him. He swung again, but Marya was already moving, each step, each strike a dance of accuracy and purpose. She was not aiming to overpower him; she sought to unravel him. Marya pressed, her blade a silver thread weaving through Vergo's defenses. Each strike aimed not to wound, but to tug at that churning core. His swings grew wild, his veracity crumbling.
"Enough!" Vergo roared, Haki erupting in a shockwave.
Marya leapt back, wings of gray mist billowing from her shoulders—an unconscious echo of Aurélie's locust flight. She landed lightly, Eternal Night humming.
"You fight like your father," Vergo spat. "All force, no grace."
Marya smirked, "I will take that as a compliment."
The words hung in the air, a challenge and an affirmation intertwined. Marya's smirk deepened, a silent declaration of her resolve. She advanced again, Eternal Night a blur of silver in her hands. Vergo's eyes widened, realization dawning. This was no mere duel of strength; it was a clash of philosophies, of legacies.
In the heart of the storm, Marya moved with a grace that belied the fury of the battle. Each motion was calculated, each strike a deliberate unraveling of her opponent. She was the eye of the hurricane, calm and relentless.
"You will regret this," Vergo snarled, but there was a tremor in his voice, a crack in his confidence.
Marya's response was a swift, precise strike that bypassed his defenses and brushed against his core. For a heartbeat, the world seemed to hold its breath. Then, with a surge of Haki, she forced him back, the energy rippling through the air like a stone cast into a pond.
Aurélie's teachings echoed in her mind, a reminder of the power she wielded—not just in her blade, but in her very being. She was a force to be reckoned with, a testament to the strength found in subtlety and precision.
Vergo lunged once more, desperate. Marya's movements were fluid, a dance of shadows and light. She met his aggression with a deft hook, the edge of Eternal Night grazing his center, infused with Haki.
"They will mock you," Aurélie warned, her feet silent against the dojo floor as she demonstrated a leap. "They will call feminine Haki 'weak.' Let them. Then cut their legs out." She paused, her stern facade cracking. "The world fears a woman who does not need to roar."
The dojo's lessons resonated within Marya as she danced through the battlefield, each movement a testament to years of discipline and an unyielding spirit. Vergo's desperation grew with every clash, his strikes becoming more erratic as Marya's accuracy cut through his defenses.
"You underestimate me," Marya whispered, her voice carrying the weight of her resolve. She let the Haki flow through her, a current of power that coursed from her core to the tip of Eternal Night. Vergo snarled, but his confidence was visibly eroding, the cracks in his facade widening with each failed attack.
With a final, graceful pivot, Marya anticipated Vergo's next move, stepping into his path and deflecting his strike with effortless ease. Her counter was swift and unerring, the black blade of Eternal Night humming as it connected with his center once more.
In that fleeting moment of contact, the very air seemed to shatter, resonating with the force of her Haki. Vergo's balance wavered, his grip faltered, and Marya seized the advantage, spinning with the fluidity of a shadow and the brightness of light.
Vergo lunged. Marya hooked.
Eternal Night grazed his center. Not with steel—with Haki.
The air itself seemed to fracture. Vergo's staff veered wide, his stance faltering. Marya spun, her blade slicing upward in a crescent moon arc.
CLANG.
Armament Haki saved his throat, but the force lifted him off his feet. He crashed into a crumbling wall, ash pluming around him. Marya stood over him, Eternal Night poised. "And this is what it cost you."
*****
The air reeked of burnt rum and charred flesh. Bodies piled at his feet, but the tide never relented. A pirate tackled him from behind, slamming his face into a table strewn with broken mugs. Ace rolled, flames erupting from his palms to scorch the man's chest. "Y'all ever heard of personal space?!"
He lunged toward the tavern's shattered wall, where Marya's mist flickered in the distance. But a wall of pirates blocked him—hulking brutes with sea-stone-studded gauntlets. One swung a chain, wrapping it around Ace's ankle. He hit the floor hard, fire guttering in his fists.
"Stay down, flame-brat," the pirate sneered, raising a spiked club.
Ace grinned, blood trickling from his lip. "Nah. I'm just warming up."
He unleashed a firestorm, the blast incinerating the chain and searing the pirates' eyes. They staggered back, howling, as Ace vaulted onto a table. "Marya! Where—?" The answer came not in words, but in a sound—a keening, metallic shriek that silenced the battlefield.
Ace turned.
A crescent of silver light—pure, devastating, and impossibly precise—sliced through the horizon. It carved through the Spire of Ash like a god's scalpel, shearing the mountain in half. For a heartbeat, the world held its breath. Then the upper half of the Spire slid, grinding against stone with a roar that shook the island. Fire and debris erupted from the volcano's exposed maw, painting the sky in hellish hues.
Ace froze, his flames dying to embers. "Whoa…"
Even the Beast Pirates paused, their weapons slackening as they stared at the cataclysm. The tavern trembled, ash raining through cracks in the ceiling. "That's… Marya?" Ace whispered, equal parts awe and terror tightening his chest.
The moment shattered as the mountain's collapse triggered the island's wrath. The ground split, swallowing pirates whole. A tsunami of molten rock surged toward the coast, and the air filled with the screams of men realizing they'd gambled against nature itself.
Ace laughed, reckless and bright, as chaos became his ally. "Alright, Koralia! Now you're talkin'!"
He blasted through the remaining pirates, their morale crumbling faster than the Spire. Dodging falling debris, he sprinted toward the epicenter of destruction, where Marya's silhouette stood outlined against the inferno.
"Should've known," he muttered, grinning as he ran. "Never bet against a Dracule."
*****
The alley swallowed Charlie whole—narrow, reeking of brine and burnt sugar cane, walls closing in like the jaws of some primordial beast. His boots slipped on ash-slick cobblestones, the screams of his pursuers echoing behind him. Left. Right. Another left. The maze of Isla Koralia's backstreets twisted, a labyrinth designed to disorient and devour. Shadows danced mockingly in the corners of his vision, and the air tasted metallic, like blood and lightning.
Breathe. Breathe. His lungs burned, each gasp a dagger. He'd read about this once, in some Consortium manual on survival tactics: Panic is a louder killer than the blade. But the words felt hollow now, drowned out by the thunder of his pulse. Fragments of the island's taboos flashed in his mind—don't touch the sand, don't climb the Spire—but survival had reduced his world to two truths: Run. Don't stop.
A wrong turn. A dead end.
Charlie skidded to a halt, chest heaving, as the pirates' laughter slithered closer. The wall before him was pocked with ancient cracks, vines snaking up its face like skeletal fingers. Desperation clawed at his throat. Think, think— He'd mapped this sector days ago, scribbling notes in his ledger. There's a passage. A gap. His fingers scrabbled at the vines, tearing them aside to reveal a crevice just wide enough to squeeze through. He wriggled in, jagged stone biting into his shoulders, as the pirates rounded the corner.
"Where'd the rat go?!"
"Check the drains!"
He held his breath, pressed into the stone's cold embrace. The glow stone's residual light pulsed faintly in his pocket, casting his trembling hands in ghostly blue. Marya's out there. Ace is burning the world. And I'm… hiding. Guilt curdled in his gut, sharp and acidic.
When the footsteps faded, he crawled free, emerging into a sulfurous haze. The docks were close—he could smell the salt, hear the distant crash of waves. But the path there was a gauntlet: pirates brawling in the streets, flames devouring market stalls, the ground shuddering as the Spire's corpse groaned in its death throes.
An explosion rocked the air, and Charlie ducked as timber and shrapnel rained down. His glasses cracked, the world fracturing into splintered images. He stumbled forward, vision blurred, until the shouts of familiar voices cut through the din.
"—sub's fried, but I'll, like, unfry it—"
Bianca.
"—form up! Celeste, flank left—"
Vaughn.
Charlie's legs gave out as he rounded the final corner. The docks sprawled before him, a nightmare painting: the Consortium's sub listing in the water, Bianca half-inside its guts, tools scattering as she cursed. Vaughn and Jax battled a swarm of pirates, their weapons gleaming under the hellish glow of the volcano's wrath. Celeste and Riggs fought back-to-back, blades dancing.
"H-Here!" Charlie rasped, voice raw. "I'm here!"
Riggs spun, katana slicing a pirate's cutlass in two. "Look alive, folks! The bookworm's back!"
Vaughn's gaze snapped to him, relief and rage warring in his eyes. "Status?!"
"Marya—she's alive! Navy's here, and Ace—the Spire—" The words tumbled out, half-sobbed. "The mountain—she cut it—"
Another tremor shook the island, and the sky split.
A silver arc—clean, cruel, beautiful—sliced through the distant smoke. The remnants of the Spire groaned, then collapsed in an avalanche of stone and fire. The shockwave knocked pirates to their knees, and for a heartbeat, the battlefield stilled.
"Marya," Vaughn breathed.
Charlie crumpled to his knees, laughter and tears mingling on his ash-streaked face. They'd found him. He'd found them.
Bianca vaulted from the sub, wrenching him up. "Like, save the waterworks! We're not dead yet!"
But Charlie barely heard her. The world narrowed to the solid weight of Jax's hand on his shoulder, the sight of Celeste's sword gleaming like a promise, the sub's hatch yawning open—a ragged, glorious beacon of home.
He'd made it.
Now they'd finish it.
*****
The sub limped into Isla Koralia's bay, its hull groaning as Bianca wrestled with the steering column. The sub shuddered, seawater sloshing into the engine room through a crack Vaughn had hastily patched with his boot.
"Like, next time, let's take a nicer boat!" Bianca shouted, dodging a spray of sparks from the overloaded controls.
Isla Koralia loomed ahead, the Spire of Ash belching smoke into a blood-red sky. The docks were pandemonium—Beast Pirates sprinted through streets choked with fire, while the ground itself seemed to rebel. A landslide devoured a watchtower whole, triggered by some unseen taboo.
"Docking in five!" Emmet yelled, clutching a rail as the sub bucked. "Probability of survival: 32.8%!"
"Optimistic!" Jax barked, hefting his staff.
The sub scraped against the pier, metal screaming. Celeste was first out, katana drawn, her silver bob singed by embers. "Something's wrong. The island… it's angry."
Riggs vaulted onto the dock, katana gleaming. "Perfect! I've been craving a proper brawl!"
Chaos Unleashed
The air reeked of burnt sugar cane and panic. Firestorms raged where Ace's flames clashed with Beast Pirate explosives, turning the market into an inferno. The ground trembled, cracks splitting the earth as the island's taboos retaliated against the chaos.
"Bianca—fix the sub!" Vaughn ordered, Light Bringer already blazing. "Emmet, stay with her. The rest of us find Marya!"
"Like, yes sir!" Bianca saluted with a blowtorch before diving into the engine hatch. The team surged into the carnage.
They found Charlie halfway up the docks, sprinting toward them with a pack of Beast Pirates on his heels. His glasses were cracked, his shirt stained with soot and what looked like squid ink.
"VAUGHN!" Charlie wheezed, skidding to a halt. "They're alive! Marya's at the Spire—Ace is—oh gods, the taboos—"
A pirate lunged. Jax's staff shattered the man's knee. "Talk later. Fight now."
Celeste and Riggs fell into formation, blades flashing as they carved through the mob. Charlie babbled between gasps: "Marya's fighting Navy—Ace lit the sugar cane fields—the Spire's unstable—don't touch the sand!"
Too late.
Riggs stomped a puddle, triggering a geyser of boiling water. "Whoops!"
The ground heaved, tossing pirates into the air.
Then came the sound—a keening slice that split the sky.
Every head turned.
A crescent of silver light erupted from the Spire's base, cleaving the mountain in a single stroke. The upper half of the monolith slid, slow and terrible, crashing into the volcano below. Fire and rock exploded skyward, raining hell onto the island.
"Marya," Vaughn whispered.
Even the Beast Pirates paused, staring as the Spire's shadow fractured.
"We need to move!" Jax roared, yanking Charlie from a fissure.
Celeste pointed to the smoke-choked path leading uphill. "There! The cut came from the east ridge!"
Riggs grinned, bloodied and wild. "Let's go save the princess!"
"She'll kill you for calling her that," Vaughn warned, already running.
Behind them, Bianca's voice crackled over the comms: "Like, sub's halfway fixed! So, like, don't die yet!"
Ace's laughter echoed through the flames as the Spire groaned its final breath.
*****
Ace blasted through the remaining pirates, their morale crumbling faster than the Spire. Dodging falling debris, he sprinted toward the epicenter of destruction, where Marya's silhouette stood outlined against the inferno.
"Should've known," he muttered, grinning as he ran. "Never bet against a Dracule."
Marya leaned against a shattered column, Eternal Night trembling in her grip. Blood streaked her face, her breaths ragged, but her eyes burned with unyielding fire. At her feet, Vergo lay sprawled and unconscious, his bamboo staff snapped in two. The Spire's collapse had buried half the battlefield, and the air reeked of sulfur and scorched steel.
Ace skidded to a halt, flames flickering around his fists. "Hey, nice light show."
Marya wiped blood from her lip. "Took you… long enough."
A pirate's roar cut through the smoke. A dozen Beast Pirates surged from the rubble, blades raised. Ace cracked his knuckles. "Dibs on the left side!"
Marya pushed off the column, her mist coiling like a living storm. "My island. My dibs."
They fought back-to-back, a tempest of opposites. Ace's flames roared in wild arcs, incinerating pirates mid-lunge, while Marya's blade flickered like a ghost, slicing through armor with lethal precision. A pirate swung a chain at Ace; Marya dissolved it into the mist. Another lunged at her blind spot; Ace reduced him to cinders.
"Not bad," Ace said, grinning as he vaporized a brute's club. "For a fancy swordswoman."
"You think this is fancy… You haven't seen nothing, yet," Marya shot back, decapitating two pirates in one stroke.
The ground split beneath them, lava bubbling through cracks. The island screamed its fury—landslides devoured streets, geysers of molten rock erupted skyward, and the Spire's remnants groaned as they sank into the sea.
A cannonball of fire erupted to their left, scattering pirates. Vaughn charged through the smoke, Light Bringer carving a path, Jax and Celeste flanking him with brutal efficiency. Riggs leapt from a crumbling rooftop, katana flashing.
"Docks! Now!" Vaughn barked, yanking Marya by the collar. "Bianca's got the subs running!" Marya didn't argue. She sheathed Eternal Night and ran, Ace at her side, the others forming a protective wedge.
"Who's this guy?" Riggs asked.
Ace grinned, waving a greeting as they sprinted, "Hi! I'm Ace!"
"Keep moving!" Vaughn Barked as he jumped over a fallen body.
The docks were a warzone. Bianca stood atop the Consortium sub, welding torch in hand, shouting orders at Emmet, who frantically recalibrated the engine. Marya and Charlie's sub smoked ominously beside it.
"Like, hurry up!" Bianca screamed. "These things ain't gonna pilot themselves!"
*****
The island screamed its death throes. Ash choked the air, turning daylight to dusk, while molten rock oozed from fissures like blood from a wound. The Spire of Ash, once a monolith of dread, had collapsed into a smoldering tomb, its remnants hissing as waves crashed against the disintegrating shore. Amid the carnage, Vergo lay motionless, his white trench coat gray with soot, a jagged gash splitting his brow. His bamboo staff, snapped near the hilt, lay discarded beside him—a shattered symbol of invincibility.
They came as shadows through the haze: six Marines of G-5, their uniforms singed, faces masked by grime and terror. Sergeant Kato led them, a grizzled veteran with a scarred cheek and a voice like gravel.
"Stay tight!" he barked, ducking as a flaming timber crashed nearby. "Find the Vice Admiral—alive!"
The squad moved in formation, boots crunching over volcanic glass. Corporal Ren, youngest of the group, muttered prayers to gods he didn't believe in. The ground trembled, and a fissure split open ahead, spewing sulfurous steam.
"There!" shouted Lieutenant Mira, her rifle slung tight. Vergo's body lay crumpled near the Spire's base, half-buried under rubble.
They scrambled toward him, dodging geysers of scalding water and debris. A Beast Pirate, wild-eyed and bleeding, lunged from the smoke. Kato's blade silenced him mid-snarl.
Kato knelt beside Vergo, checking for a pulse. "Alive. Barely."
Ren gagged at the sight of Vergo's injuries—a chest dented from Haki blows, an arm bent unnaturally. "H-How do we carry him? The ship's gone—"
"We improvise," Kato snapped, yanking a splintered plank from the rubble. "Mira, bind his arm. Ren, help me lift."
The squad worked swiftly, securing Vergo to the makeshift stretcher with belts and torn fabric. As they hoisted him, the Spire's remnants shuddered, raining jagged stone. "Move!" Kato roared.
They ran, the stretcher bouncing between them, Vergo's head lolling. A lava flow surged to their right, devouring a fleeing pirate whole. Ren stumbled, screaming as embers seared his leg. "Don't stop!" Mira hauled him up, her grip iron.
The docks were a graveyard of shattered ships. The G-5's backup vessel—a slender frigate dubbed Iron Resolve—waited at the last intact pier, its hull scorched but seaworthy.
"Go, go, GO!" Kato bellowed.
They heaved Vergo aboard, the frigate's engines already snarling. Ren collapsed on deck, clutching his burned leg. Mira manned the helm, steering them into the roiling waves as the island imploded behind them.
Kato stood at the stern, watching Isla Koralia vanish into fire and foam. Vergo's breath rasped faintly beside him, a rhythm as stubborn as the man himself.
"Why'd we even bother?" Ren whispered, staring at his trembling hands.
Kato didn't look back. "Because he's ours."
*****
The docks heaved like a living beast, planks splintering as volcanic fissures tore the island apart. Marya sprinted ahead, dragging Charlie by the wrist, while Ace lobbed fireballs behind them to slow the stampede of Beast Pirates. Vaughn's shouts cut through the chaos—"Go, go, GO!"—as he herded Jax, Celeste, and Riggs into their sub, its hatch already sealing shut.
Bianca hung halfway out of the repaired sub's cockpit, welding torch in one hand and a half-eaten energy bar in the other. Sparks rained down as she fused a cracked thruster nozzle, her goggles reflecting the hellish glow of the disintegrating island.
"Get in!" she barked, yanking Marya and Charlie through the hatch. Ace slid in last, kicking the door shut just as a lava bomb obliterated the dock behind them.
Marya lunged for the control panel, her fingers flying over switches. "Engines?"
"Like, jury-rigged!" Bianca spat, tossing the welding torch aside. "Hit the blue one!"
The panel remained dark.
"Bianca—" Marya's voice sharpened.
"I know!" Bianca slammed her fist into the console. The dashboard sputtered, holograms flickering to life in a storm of teal static. "Told ya! It's got personality!"
Ace stared, wide-eyed, as the sub hummed awake. "Whoa! This thing's got more buttons than Marineford's kitchen!"
"Shut up and brace!" Bianca yanked the throttle.
The sub lurched backward, narrowly avoiding a falling pillar of molten rock. Outside, the second sub—Vaughn's—vanished beneath the waves in a geyser of foam.
"Depth, depth, depth!" Charlie chanted, clutching a ceiling strap as the hull groaned.
Bianca flipped a switch labeled DO NOT TOUCH (SERIOUSLY). "Hold onto your butts!"
The sub plummeted like a stone, pressure seals hissing. Marya gripped the controls, her knuckles white, as the viewport illuminated the underwater hellscape—chunks of the Spire sinking like cursed monoliths, lava meeting seawater in explosions of steam.
Ace pressed his face to the glass. "This is awesome!"
"Like, focus!" Bianca swerved around a sinking pirate ship, its mast snapping against their hull. "Charlie—map the thermal vents! Marya—keep us from becoming squid food!"
Marya's eyes narrowed. "There's a trench ahead. Deep enough to avoid the blast radius."
"Blast radius?" Charlie squeaked.
The island answered.
A deafening boom reverberated through the water, the shockwave rattling the sub like a toy. The viewport flared orange-red as Isla Koralia erupted above, its heart detonating in a supernova of fire and ash.
"Now we dive!" Bianca yelled, slamming the thrusters. The sub torpedoed into the abyss, leaving the carnage behind. Minutes later, the only light came from the sub's bioluminescent algae strips. Bianca slumped in her chair, wiping grease from her face. "Like, remind me to kiss the engineer who built this junkheap."
Marya exhaled, her shoulders loosening. "You did good, Bianca."
Ace flopped onto the floor, grinning. "Best. Field trip. Ever."
Charlie peered at the sonar, watching the second sub's blip trail beside them. "Vaughn's signaling. 'Regroup at Waypoint Sigma.'"
Bianca snorted. "Waypoint Sigma. Sounds like a bad band name."
Marya allowed herself a smirk. "Set the course."
As the sub glided through the dark, Ace marveled at the holographic controls. "Hey—what's this button do?"
"DON'T—" The sub's alarm blared. "—touch that button."
*****
Vergo's eyes snapped open. The sterile stench of antiseptic and blood filled his nostrils, the rhythmic beep of a heart monitor grating against his skull. Bandages bound his chest, tight enough to fracture his breaths, and his left arm hung in a sling—shattered from the Dracule girl's final blow. The medical bay was dim, lit only by the flickering glow of emergency lanterns, their light warping the faces of the two Marines stationed at the door. They stiffened when he stirred, hands drifting to their sidearms.
Pathetic, Vergo thought. Even broken, he could taste their fear.
The Den Den Mushi on the bedside table began to ring, its shell morphing into a familiar smirk beneath pink-tinted sunglasses. Vergo's jaw tightened. He reached for it with his good arm, ignoring the flare of pain in his ribs.
"Vergo-san~," Doflamingo's voice oozed through the snail, equal parts silk and venom. "Heard you took a nap on the job."
Vergo sat up slowly, his movements precise, deliberate. A Marine medic scurried in, hesitated, then retreated at the sight of his glare. "The Dracule girl. She's… resourceful."
Doflamingo laughed, the sound sharp enough to cut glass. "Resourceful? You let a teenager turn you into a rug, Vergo. Kaido's laughing so hard he cracked a tooth."
A vein throbbed in Vergo's temple. "They escaped. The Spire's destruction compromised—"
"Excuses," Doflamingo purred. "You're slipping, old friend. First Gossypium, now this… What's next? A toddler steals your lunch?"
The insult hung in the air, weighted with unspoken threats. Vergo's fingers dug into the mattress, the heart monitor spiking. "I'll rectify it. The girl —she'll burn."
"Oh, she will," Doflamingo said, his tone shifting to something colder, darker. "But not by you. You've lost your privileges, Vergo. Kaido wants your head. I convinced him you're still… useful."
The snail's grin widened, grotesque and unblinking. "So listen close. Lick your wounds. Kiss your Marine badge. And when I call…" The line went dead.
Vergo stared at the snail as it sagged back into dormancy. Somewhere below deck, a Marine laughed—a bright, ignorant sound. He crushed the Den Den Mushi in his palm, its shell splintering like bone.
Weakness. Ordinary.
The heart monitor flatlined as he ripped the IV from his arm.