Year 1510, Sea Circle Calendar — Impel Down, Infinite Hell.
The sound of boots on stone echoed from the depths.
Domino gritted her teeth, forcing the key into the ancient lock.
With a groan of rusted metal... the door to Shiryu of the Rain's cell opened.
Shiryu stepped forward, his face shadowed beneath his officer's cap, his coat dragging across the floor like a shroud.
The moment freedom touched his skin, a thin smile cracked his face.
Cold.
Hollow.
Without a word, he grabbed Domino by the throat.
She gasped, her feet kicking off the floor as he lifted her like a child.
"You should have stayed upstairs, girl," he rasped, snatching the sword Raigou from her trembling hand.
The cold steel was like an old friend.
He dropped her without care, letting her crumple to the stones.
Ryoku Vale watched from the shadows.
There was no room for dialogue.
No bravado.
This... was a monster.
Another predator in a pit already overflowing with them.
Ryoku's breath came shallow, his body hollowed by the puppet technique's toll.
But he knew... Shiryu's sword would slice through his puppets like paper.
His only path now was to feed the seal again.
To crack his body further.
To let the curse drown him deeper.
He clenched his fists, forcing the cursed legacy to break the next gate.
Shiryu noticed him.
"You the rat who's making Magellan sweat?" Shiryu asked, his voice empty, like a bored executioner.
Ryoku didn't answer.
His fists answered for him.
Leaf Instant Body.
Gate of View... opened.
His body screamed as the seal forced it past its limits once more.
The chakra boiled his blood.
Bones cracked.
But he moved.
He struck.
Shiryu's blade sang.
Ryoku barely twisted his body, the sword grazing the edge of his sleeve, severing strands of hair as it passed.
The air howled from the force.
Stone split.
Ryoku felt the weight of death breathe down his neck.
He couldn't match Shiryu's blade.
But he didn't have to.
Morning Peacock.
His fists ignited the air.
A storm of burning strikes hammered down upon Shiryu like meteor showers.
Shiryu, caught mid-step, grunted as the blows battered him backward, the searing fists scorching his coat, his flesh blistering under the barrage.
Ten meters.
Twenty.
Ryoku never stopped.
The prison shook.
Shiryu wiped the blood from his mouth, his smile gone.
From the cells, laughter echoed.
Vasco Shot, face pressed to the bars, grinned drunkenly.
"Shiryu, you're getting old... the rats are biting back."
Shiryu's eye twitched.
He turned his blade sideways and, without turning his head, slashed toward Vasco Shot's cell.
The steel carved through iron like butter.
Vasco stumbled back, sweat pouring from his greasy face.
"Shut up, fool," Shiryu hissed, his face dark as the abyss.
This was not a fight for glory.
This was a fight to breathe.
Ryoku's body was already near collapse.
But he couldn't stop.
Not now.
Not ever.