The Thousand Sunny cut through Sabaody's bubble-strewn waters, its sails taut and singed, the wood still smoldering in patches where Marine lasers had grazed it. The air reeked of salt, burnt resin, and the metallic tang of Kuma's cooling circuitry as he sat motionless on the deck, his massive frame casting a shadow over the crew. Duval leaned against the railing, adjusting his helmet with a theatrical flourish.
"Y'know," he drawled, flashing a grin at Marya, "most folks faint when they see this face. Lucky you're tougher than—"
Marya tilted her head, golden eyes narrowing. "Is there something wrong with your eye? You're blinking unevenly."
Duval froze mid-wink, his cheek twitching. "I—it's called charm, lady!"
Shakky chuckled, lighting a cigarette as she steered the ship through a narrow channel of mangrove roots. "Save the act, Duval. She's not here for your charm."
Marya's gaze lingered on Kuma, her blade Eternal Eclipse humming faintly at her back. "He's mechanical. Like the other ones. But… different."
Law leaned against the mast, arms crossed. "We're not staying for a seminar. Where's safe?"
"Safe?" Shakky exhaled a trail of smoke that circled around her. "Grove 66. Abandoned shipyard. Marines avoid it—superstitious about ghosts."
Hakugan adjusted his mask, squinting at the horizon. "Ghosts, huh? Better than Vice Admirals."
Shakky's eyes flicked to Marya, sharp as cut glass. "You're new. But that sword… and those eyes. You swing steel like someone I once knew."
Marya's expression remained impassive. "I get that a lot."
"I bet." Shakky smirked. "Mihawk's shadow's long. Even here."
Before Marya could reply, Bepo's paw shot up, clutching a Vivre card that pulsed like a frantic heartbeat. "Captain—it's moving! Toward us!"
Law straightened, tension coiling in his shoulders. "Coordinates?"
"East-northeast! Closing fast!"
Kuma's head swiveled abruptly, his red optical sensors flickering. "Revolutionary… rendezvous." His voice was a grating monotone, yet it carried an odd weight.
Marya stepped closer, studying his exposed wiring. "You're with Dragon's army. Why intervene here?"
"Protect… future."
Law's jaw tightened. "We don't have time for riddles. Take us—Grove 66. Now."
The Sunny banked sharply, ducking under a low-hanging bubble reef. Duval's flying fish riders flanked them, their mounts skimming the waves as Kuma's lasers picked off pursuing Marine skiffs.
Marya watched Kuma, her curiosity slicing through the chaos. "He's a weapon. But not just a weapon."
Shakky nodded. "A king who chose to become a martyr. Now? He's… something else."
As Grove 66 loomed—a graveyard of derelict ships half-swallowed by mangroves—Bepo's Vivre card inched further.
"They're here!" he yelped, pointing to a shadow slipping through the wreckage: the Polar Tang, its hull scarred but defiant.
Law's lips quirked. "Took them long enough."
Marya glanced at Kuma one last time, the Void's energy whispering in her veins. "Debts and martyrs," she muttered. "What a tedious web."
The Sunny slid into the shipyard's embrace, its temporary crew vanishing into the labyrinth of rust and rot—one step ahead of the storm, and one step deeper into the game.
*****
The Marine warship Judicator loomed in Sabaody's twilight waters, its hull scarred by laser burns and its deck littered with shattered sonar buoys. Vice Admiral Venus Harlow stood at the prow, her prosthetic leg locked rigid against the ship's uneasy sway, the hydraulic joints whirring faintly as she adjusted her weight. The air reeked of spent gunpowder and seawater, undercut by the acrid tang of her fifth cigar. She exhaled a smoke ring, watching it fracture in the salt-laden wind, just as the Den Den Mushi on her hip erupted in a shrill warble.
"Harlow," growled Sentomaru's voice through the snail, its face contorting into his trademark scowl. "The Straw Hat's ship slipped the net. Your chaos twins better have intel."
Venus's jaw tightened. Behind her, the thud of massive wings announced Nuri Evander's landing, his Arambourgiania form shrinking back into human shape as he stumbled onto the deck, baseball bat clattering from his grip. Kai Sullivan followed, his sniper rifle slung over one shoulder, humming a tense Bach fugue under his breath.
"They're here," Venus said curtly into the receiver. "Update me yourself if you're so keen."
Sentomaru's snort crackled through the line. "Pacifista Unit 02's offline. The Heart Pirates interfered. And Mihawk's brat—Marya—was with Law. You let them slip."
Venus adjusted her sleeve, her bladed hand guards glinting. "They're rats in a maze. We'll corner them."
"And Mihawk? Intel says he was sighted nearby."
Her prosthetic leg twitched, a gear grinding audibly. "No sign of him. Just shadows and gossip."
"Tch. Keep your eyes open. Dock at Grove 7 by dusk. We'll comb the wrecks." The line died.
Venus crushed the cigar under her heel, the ember hissing against the damp deck. Nuri saluted, his uniform smudged with soot and pterosaur down. "Mission report! We, uh… intercepted three skiffs, diverted a Sea King, and Kai here nailed a Pacifista's core with a ricochet shot! Oh, and I almost clipped the Sunny's mast—"
"Almost isn't a result," Venus snapped, her light eyes slicing to Kai. "Status?"
Kai adjusted his glasses, fingers brushing the rifle case strap. "Sabaody's shipyards. They'll hide there. Kuma's Vivre card trail is faint, but…" He hesitated, his humming stuttering. "The Heart Pirates are resourceful."
"Resourceful?" Venus's laugh was a blade on stone. "They're pirates. Scavengers." She turned toward the helm, her prosthetic clicking with each step. "Set course for Grove 7. And Evander—"
Nuri stiffened. "Ma'am?"
"Clean your uniform. You look like a dockhand."
As the crew scrambled, Venus gripped the rail, her blades biting into the wood. The horizon blurred, the ghost of Aric Thorne's voice mingling with the crash of waves. You're chasing phantoms, Venus.
Behind her, Kai's violin began a low, mournful tune—Adagio in G Minor—as Nuri lobbed a cannonball into the sea "for luck." The Judicator creaked toward the grove, its shadow stretching long over the water, where Mihawk's skiff had already vanished into the mist.
*****
The Thousand Sunny drifted silently into Grove 66, its hull scraping against the skeletal remains of a century-old Marine galleon. The air hung thick with the reek of rust and brine, the shipyard's carcasses groaning as bubbles rose from their decay. Kuma stood motionless on the deck, his red eyes casting faint reflections on the water, while Marya leaned against the railing, her gaze tracing the labyrinth of wreckage.
"Here!" Bepo barked, clutching the Vivre card as its motion stopped. "They're here!"
Without hesitation, Bepo, Uni, Clione, and Hakugan vaulted overboard, their splashes echoing through the graveyard's hollow bones. Law watched them vanish beneath the murk, his jaw taut.
Marya tilted her head, listening to the creak of metal. "You're worried. They are alive, they have to be."
In the depths, the Polar Tang huddled beneath the keel of a capsized luxury liner, its algae-clad hull blending with the rot. Inside, Jean Bart manned the sonar, his massive frame tense. "Marine patrols above. Two clicks east."
Ikkaku cursed, elbow-deep in the engine's guts. "Almost got the thrusters online. Just need—"
A shadow blotted the dim light filtering through the viewport.
"Something's out there," Shachi whispered, dagger drawn.
The sub shuddered. A metallic clang reverberated through the hull—once, twice. Penguin pressed his face to the glass. "Sea king? Marine drone? What?"
The knocking came again, rhythmic, mocking.
"Surfacing's suicide," Jean Bart growled, hand on the emergency ballast lever.
"Do it," Ikkaku hissed.
The Tang lurched upward, breaching beside the Sunny in a geyser of foam. Through the spray, Bepo's sodden face grinned from the other side of the glass. "We found you!"
On the Sunny's deck, the reunion was a cacophony of shouts and soggy embraces. Shachi wrung seawater from his bandana. "What is all this?" Looking up at the Jolly Roger, "Isn't this the Straw Hat's ship?"
Law ignored him, addressing Jean Bart. "Status?"
"Engines at 40%. Hull's patched, but Marya's sub needs a full overhaul," Ikkaku said, jerking her thumb at the sleek, battered vessel bobbing next to the Sunny.
Marya crouched beside Kuma, poking at his exposed circuitry. "Fascinating. He's more machine than man."
Kuma's head swiveled toward her. "Priority: protect the ship until return."
Shakky emerged from belowdecks, a tray of glasses in hand. "Celebration's in order. My bar's got enough rum to drown your woes, but this will have to do for now."
Law's eye twitched. "We're not staying. The Marines—"
"—won't sniff us in the black market," Ikkaku interrupted, wiping grease on her overalls. "I need parts. Good parts. And she's right—Grove 13's got the best smugglers this side of the Red Line."
Hakugan adjusted his mask, grinning. "I'll guide ya. Know a guy who trades in seastone plating."
Marya rose, sheathing Eternal Eclipse. "I'll accompany them." Her gaze lingered on Kuma.
Duval struck a pose, helmet gleaming. "I'll charm the vendors! They'll give us discounts for sure!"
"You'll scare 'em off," Shakky snorted, lighting a cigarette. "But drinks first. Your pirates, right?"
Law exhaled sharply, conceding. As the crews filed toward the galley, Marya lingered at the stern, watching the shipyard's shadows. Somewhere in the rust, Mihawk's skiff glided past, unseen.
Kuma's voice rasped behind her. "Final protocol."
She didn't turn. "What is that?"
"A future… unshackled."
Marya smirked. "That's ambitious."
But as the others laughed over stolen rum, she stared into the graveyard's heart, where the shadow of her father's presence lingered.
The black market of Grove 66 sprawled like a festering wound beneath Sabaody's mangrove canopy, its alleys choked with stalls hawking seastone shackles, counterfeit Devil Fruits, and rusted ship parts that reeked of salt and deceit. Law led the group through the shadows, his Kikoku sheathed but his grip tense. Marya drifted beside him, her golden eyes cataloguing every flicker of movement—smugglers bartering in hushed tones, children pocketing loose screws, a one-eyed vendor peddling Vivre card forgeries.
"Portside thruster coil," Ikkaku muttered, tossing a Berry to a vendor with a face like sun-bleached driftwood. "And a crate of tungsten rivets."
"Tungsten?" Penguin hissed. "You trying to bankrupt us?"
"You want the sub to hold? Pay up."
Duval adjusted his helmet, winking at a woman selling poisoned cutlasses. "How 'bout a discount for the handsomest pirate in the Blues?"
The vendor spat. "Only discount here's a slit throat."
Marya paused, her blade humming as she eyed a stall stacked with Poneglyph rubbings. The vendor, sensing danger, pulled a tarp over them. "Not for sale," he croaked.
"Pity," she said, turning away.
A shrill whistle pierced the air.
"Marine patrol!" Hakugan hissed, yanking Penguin behind a corroded anchor.
But it was too late. A young officer, his uniform crisp and eyes wide with recognition, fumbled for his Den Den Mushi. "V-Vice Admiral Harlow! Targets spotted in Sector—"
Law's Room flared. "Shambles."
The officer's head swapped places with a rusted cannonball, his body crumpling mid-sentence.
"Move. Now," Law barked.
The mangrove forest erupted into a symphony of destruction. Vice Admiral Venus Harlow's warship, Judicator, descended like a steel meteor, its hull screeching against the gnarled roots of Sabaody's ancient trees. Pacifistas thudded into the earth, their metallic feet crushing coral and bone, lasers searing through the canopy in molten rivers. The air reeked of fumes and charred wood, the sky blotted out by smoke and the frenzied beat of Nuri Evander's wings as he circled overhead, his hybrid form—half-man, half-Arambourgiania—churning the air into a cyclone of debris.
"There!" Venus bellowed, her voice raw with vengeance. Her prosthetic leg hissed, hydraulic joints firing as she lunged across the battlefield, bladed hand guards crackling with black Armament Haki. The edges carved arcs of deadly light, aimed straight for Marya's throat.
Marya pivoted, Eternal Eclipse meeting the strike in a shower of sparks. The clash reverberated through the grove, sending shockwaves that splintered nearby trunks. "You've slowed," she remarked coolly, her golden eyes narrowing. "Age or something else?"
Venus's snarl twisted the scar on her cheek. "You're just a ghost of Mihawk!" She swung again, her prosthetic leg whining as it strained against the marshy ground.
Marya's blade twisted, tendrils of Void mist snaking around Venus's mechanical limb. The vice admiral staggered, gears grinding to a halt as frost crawled over the metal. "Damn you—!"
Law's voice cut through the chaos. "Room!" Blue light engulfed two advancing Pacifistas, their limbs disassembling mid-stride, screws and plating scattering like shrapnel. "Penguin! Shachi! Get Ikkaku to the ship—now!"
"But Captain—!" Penguin protested, ducking as a laser vaporized the ground beside him.
"GO!" Law roared, his nodachi flashing as he parried a Pacifista's laser blast.
Sentomaru materialized from the smoke like a specter, his seastone axe humming with lethal intent. "No one's escaping, Surgeon of Death," he growled, the weapon's edge glinting with borrowed moonlight.
Marya stepped between them, Eternal Eclipse raised. Her voice was a blade of ice. "Says who?"
With a fluid, almost casual motion, she swept her sword through the air. The world seemed to fracture—a crescent of black Haki erupted, devouring light and sound. It cleaved through Pacifistas like paper, their molten cores exploding in showers of sparks. Mangroves centuries old toppled in silent slow-motion, their trunks sheared clean as the shockwave ripped a chasm into the earth. Sulfurous steam geysered skyward, mingling with the screams of Marines caught in the blast.
Sentomaru staggered back, his axe notched and smoldering. "Just like Mihawk…" he breathed, awe and dread warring in his tone.
In the distance, perched atop a crumbling watchtower swallowed by vines, Dracule Mihawk sipped wine from a goblet. The rim hid his smirk as he observed the destruction. His daughter's slash had carved a perfect crescent into the horizon—a signature as unmistakable as the scar it left on the land.
"Magnificent," he murmured, the word blending with the wind.
The grove trembled in the aftermath. Law grabbed Marya's arm, his palms slick with ash and blood. "You could've mentioned you could do that."
She shook him off, unruffled, her gaze lingering on the smoldering fissure. "You didn't ask."
Behind them, Venus writhed in the muck, clawing at her frozen prosthetic. Nuri swooped low, talons snatching her from the fray as Kai's sniper fire peppered the retreating Heart Pirates—a futile volley swallowed by the rising steam.
The Polar Tang's engines roared to life, Bepo's voice echoing across the marsh. "HURRY!"
As the crew scrambled aboard, Shakky leaned against the helm of the Sunny, a glass of rum in hand. Her laughter cut through the tension. "To shadows and sharper blades," she toasted, though her eyes flicked to the horizon where Mihawk's silhouette vanished like a rumor.
Marya stood at the stern, the Void's whispers curling around her like smoke. Somewhere in the wreckage, Kuma's final words echoed: "A future… unshackled."