Shanks stood on the shore with a focused calm, his crimson hair tousled by the breeze. Across from him was Marya, her long raven hair flowing like a shadow in the wind. Eternal Night, gleamed in the fading light, its blade reflecting the fiery colors of the horizon.
"Marya, calm down!" Shanks called in a steady, firm tone. He parried another of her strikes, the force of it sending shockwaves through the ground. "You're losing control!"
But Marya didn't—or couldn't—respond. Her emotions and power overwhelmed her, and with a guttural cry, she unleashed a devastating slash that sent a wave of energy tearing across the beach. The sand erupted like a geyser, and the nearby palm trees were sliced clean through. Shanks barely managed to dodge.
As the ship anchored and the crew disembarked, the beach erupted with laughter and cheers. Benn Beckman, led the group, his ever-present cigarette dangling from his lips. Lucky Roux, was already munching on a drumstick, his laughter booming across the sand.
"Well, well," Benn said dryly with amusement as he approached. "Looks like you've been busy without us."
Shanks glanced at his crew; Gryphon held firmly in his grip as they ascended the beach, grinning broadly. "About time you showed up. I was starting to think you'd gotten lost."
Yasopp, still rubbing his head from the earlier explosion, laughed as he greeted his crewmates. Clasping arms, "You guys took your sweet time. What happened? Did you stop for a snack?"
Lucky Roux's round face chuckled, holding up his drumstick. "Maybe. But we're here now, aren't we?"
The crew quickly surrounded Yasopp, their teasing and laughter filling the air. Limejuice, light hair blowing in the breeze, leaned on his staff and smirked. "So, looks like you two have been getting cozy on some island while we were out there braving the storm?"
Bonk Punch, his muscular frame towering over the others, crossed his tattooed arms and grinned. "Yeah, Captain. You didn't forget about us, did you?"
As the crew continued to tease Shanks and Yasopp, their attention was suddenly drawn to the figure further down the beach. Shanks laughed, "Not a chance. But you're just in time to help with…." Marya's attention snapped towards him. Her eyes, wild with untamed power, locked onto Shanks, and instantly, she was upon him. With a swift, fluid motion, she unleashed a barrage of sword strikes, the air around them humming with the ferocity of her attacks. Her movements were a blur, Eternal Night, gleaming in the sunlight as she unleashed a series of devastating strikes.
Benn raised an eyebrow, holding the cigarette between two fingers. "And who's that?"
Shanks dodged, sending Marya back with a controlled swing, "That's Marya. She's... had a rough day. We're trying to snap her out of it."
Yasopp nodded, taking hold of the back of his neck. "Yeah, she's strong. Like, really strong. And right now, she's not exactly herself."
The crew's eyes widened in disbelief. "Marya?!" Hongo exclaimed in shock. "As in Mihawk's daughter? That Marya?!"
"The one and only," Shanks replied as he readied himself for her next on slot. "And right now, she's a force of nature."
Lucky Roux whistled, his tone impressed. "She's holding her own against you. That's no small feat."
Before they could process the revelation, Marya turned her attention to the newcomers. Her blazing eyes locked onto them, and with a swift motion, she raised Eternal Night. The air around her shimmered as she activated her Mist-Mist Fruit powers, turning the surrounding area into a dense, impenetrable fog. The crew instinctively tightened their formation, their years of experience kicking in.
"Looks like we're getting serious," Lucky Roux muttered, tossing the bare bone.
Bonk Punch cracked his knuckles. "Want us to step in, Captain? We could use a good fight."
Marya lunged at them, her movements a blur. Benn Beckman intercepted her first strike, his rifle clashing against her blade with a resounding clang. "Damn, she's strong," he grunted, his feet digging into the sand.
"She's Mihawk's kid—what did you expect?" Yasopp quipped, already taking aim with his rifle. His shots, infused with Haki, forced Marya to dodge, but her speed was unmatched.
As the battle raged, the crew began to fall into their familiar rhythm, their banter and camaraderie shining through even in the heat of combat. "Hey, Marya!" Limejuice called, dodging a mist-infused slash. "You've grown a lot since we last saw you!"
"Yeah, but she's still as reckless as ever!" Bonk Punch added, his massive fists slamming into the ground to create a quake that momentarily halted her advance.
The ground beneath them began to tremor and shift, an ominous rumble echoing through the fog. The combatants paused, sensing a new threat emerging. The sand and rocks around them moved, coalescing into towering golem-like entities. These behemoths, formed from the very environment, glowed with an eerie, otherworldly light.
"Shanks!" Benn called, his sharp eyes scanning the scene. "What the hell is going on?
"Great, just what we needed," Shanks muttered, his grip tightening on his sword. Marya's eyes widened, but only for a moment. She smirked, clearly unfazed by the new challenge.
The golems, animated by some dark force, lumbered towards them with heavy steps, each footfall shaking the ground anew. Their forms were crude but imposing, with jagged limbs and blank, glowing eyes that seemed to pierce through the mist.
"Guess we don't have much of a choice," Benn Beckman called out, raising his rifle once more. He fired a shot that ricocheted off one golem's stone hide, barely leaving a mark. "We're gonna need a lot more firepower."
Shanks' eyes narrowed, the familiar tingle of Haki sending shivers down his spine. His Observation Haki flared, extending his senses into the distance. He could feel it—an intense surge of power, like a storm brewing far off yet rapidly approaching. The raw energy of the battle resonated through the air, a symphony of clashing wills and unbridled strength.
His crew felt it too. Yasopp's fingers twitched, adjusting his aim almost instinctively. Benn Beckman's grip tightened around his rifle, a grim purpose settling over his features. Limejuice and Bonk Punch exchanged glances, their usual banter momentarily silenced by the intense atmosphere.
"Something big is coming," Shanks murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Bigger than these rock giants?" Limejuice asked, his brow furrowing in skepticism.
"Much bigger," Benn confirmed, his eyes flicking towards the horizon where the mist seemed to part just slightly, revealing fleeting glimpses of the battle beyond. Marya, equally attuned to the shift in the environment, smirked with renewed fervor as her blade flashed ominously in the eerie light.
The crew braced themselves, their collective Haki amplifying, intertwining in a display of unity and readiness. The air around them crackled with anticipation, the ground beneath their feet vibrating with the reverberations of the distant conflict. It was a call to arms, a challenge they could not ignore.
"Ready yourselves," Shanks commanded with a steady unyielding tone. "We're heading into the eye of the storm."
Marya's lips curled into a grin, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of malevolent intent and unrestrained delight. The anticipation of the impending conflict surged within her, a thrill that electrified every fiber of her being. She could feel the power coursing through her veins, aching to be unleashed. Without a word, Marya turned on her heel, leaving the beach behind as she strode purposefully towards the source of the emanating Haki.
The crew watched her in surprise, their eyes darting to Shanks for guidance. "What do we do, Captain?" Yasopp asked, running his fingers through his blind dreads.
Shanks didn't hesitate. "We follow her," he commanded, his gaze fixed as he raced after her. "Stay close and stay sharp. We're in for a fight."
The crew sprang into action, rallying around Shanks as they moved to follow Marya. Their Haki flared once more, a collective wave of power that rippled through the air, signaling their readiness for the challenge that awaited them. The mist parted before them, revealing the path to the storm's eye, where the true battle was about to unfold.
*****
The island is a maelstrom of chaos. The airships loom overhead, raining down destruction as Finn Rix's Mold-Mold Fruit powers reshape the terrain, creating barriers and traps to keep the Guardians occupied. The mercenaries swarm the island, their shouts and gunfire blending with the cacophony of explosions. Amid the turmoil, the Guardians rally, their fortitude unwavering despite the overwhelming odds.
Celeste, Riggs, Jax, and Vaughn arrive together, their eyes wide with awe as they try to make sense of the chaos unraveling around them. Celeste's gaze sweeps over the destruction, her mind processing the scene. Riggs cracks a grin despite the bedlam, his katana already drawn and ready.
"What the hell is happening here?" Jax demanded, his three-sectioned staff twirling in his hands as he inspected the devastation. His muscular frame tensed as he looked at Vaughn for answers.
Vaughn, with his double-sided ax, Light Bringer, resting on his broad shoulders, eyes darted about. "It's Devil Fruit Powers," he said, gripping the hilt of his ax. "Reshaping the terrain, creating chaos."
"Great," Riggs muttered, his grin widening. "Just another day at the office." He dashed forward, his movements fluid and unpredictable, eager to engage the enemy.
Celeste's eyes flickered with a moment of hesitation as she watched Riggs. She bit her lower lip, her voice barely above a whisper as she called after him. "R-Riggs, please be careful," she stammered.
Riggs caught her words, and though he didn't slow his pace, he glanced back with a reassuring grin. "Don't worry, Celeste! We've got this together!" he shouted.
Celeste's cheeks reddened slightly, and she took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. She gripped her katana tighter, her hands trembling just a bit. "I-I'll do my best," she murmured as she followed.
"Wait!" Jax called out, his voice cutting through the cacophony of battle. "We need a plan before we rush in blindly!" He watched in exasperation as Riggs and Celeste continued their charge, seemingly deaf to his orders.
"Celeste, Riggs, stop!" Jax shouted, his frustration mounting. "We can't just—"
But his words fell on deaf ears. Riggs was already several paces ahead, his katana gleaming as he deflected bullets and clashed with mercenaries. Celeste moved with her usual grace and precision, her katana slicing through the chaos. Neither showed any sign of heeding his call for strategy.
Jax huffed in annoyance, his eyes narrowing as he watched his companions ignore his urgent pleas. "Fine," he muttered under his breath, his grip tightening on his three-sectioned staff. "Have it your way."
With a resigned scoff, Jax sprinted after them with swift purpose. "You two are impossible," he grumbled as he closed the distance. "But I won't let you face this alone."
Riggs, already several paces ahead, grins over his shoulder, his shaggy blond hair whipping in the wind. His katana gleams as he deflects a stray bullet with practiced ease. "Relax, Jax! We've got this!" he shouts, his reckless optimism undimmed. He dashes onward, his movements fluid and unpredictable, his sword slicing through the air as he engages a group of mercenaries. "Come on! Let's see if you can keep up with the future greatest swordsman!" Celeste giggles at Riggs' bravado as a small smile tugs at her lips.
Riggs, meanwhile, is a whirlwind of energy, his katana a blur as he cuts through the enemy ranks. His reckless abandon is both a strength and a liability. "Come on, Jax! You're slowing us down!" he teases. Celeste moves like a shadow, her katana finding its marks with deadly accuracy.
"Stay focused!" Jax barks, his voice cutting through the noise. "We need to push them back and protect the civilians! Riggs, stop charging ahead like an idiot!"
Vaughn watched the interaction between Riggs, Celeste, and Jax with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. Their camaraderie, though endearing, bordered on recklessness. He couldn't help but chuckle. "Keep it together, you three!" Vaughn called out with a note of warning. "This isn't the time for your antics."
But as he spoke, a sudden sensation gripped him. His eyes widened, and he stopped in his tracks, every muscle tensing as he sensed a familiar yet deadly Haki moving at lethal speed toward them. The air seemed to buzz with the oppressive force, and Vaughn's heart pounded in his chest.
"Get down!" he shouted, hoping his warning would reach them in time.
*****
The submarine glides silently in the dark waters, its sleek form cutting through the depths like a shadow. Inside, the dim glow of control panels casts an eerie light on Vesper Corvin and Drusilla Lorne as they prepare for their mission. The hum of the engines is the only sound, a low, steady thrum that underscores the tension in the air.
Vesper sits at the controls, his long carmine hair tied back into a loose man-bun, his refined features sharp in the pale light. His fingers move with practiced accuracy, adjusting the submarine's trajectory as they approach the island's port. Drusilla leans against the bulkhead nearby, her pearly waves cascading over her shoulders, her blue eyes scanning the sonar display.
The island above is in chaos. The distant echoes of explosions and shouting filter down through the water, muffled but unmistakable. The Guardians are fully occupied with the airship invaders, their attention diverted by Finn Rix's relentless assault. Vesper smirks, arrogantly as he glances at Drusilla. "Right on schedule," he says with smooth confidence. "They're too busy playing hero to notice us slipping in."
Drusilla sarcastically rolls her eyes. "Let's hope your confidence doesn't get us caught. I'd hate to have to save your pretty face again." She adjusts her pistols with well-practiced ease before checking the dagger strapped to her thigh. Her Serval Zoan instincts are already on edge, her senses heightened as she prepares for the infiltration.
The submarine surfaces quietly in the shadow of the port, its hatch opening with a soft hiss. Vesper and Drusilla emerge into the cool evening air, the chaos of the island now a cacophony of noise and tremors. The port is eerily deserted, the inhabitants having retreated to their secured hiding locations as instructed. The only signs of life are the distant rumbles of battle and the occasional roar of an explosion.
Vesper scans the area with a practiced eye, "The target's last known location was the engineering complex," he says, pulling out a vivire card. "It's about half a mile inland. We'll need to move quickly and stay out of sight."
Drusilla nods, her playful smirk becoming determined. "Lead the way, pretty boy. But don't slow me down." She adjusts her fishnet stockings and ruffled crop top, ensuring her movements won't be restricted, before falling into step beside him.
They move through the port like ghosts, their footsteps silent on the well-worn walkways. Vesper's Ash-Ash Fruit powers are at the ready, a faint wisp of smoke curling around his fingers as he prepares to create a smokescreen if needed. Drusilla's Serval Zoan instincts keep her alert, her ears twitching at every sound, her eyes scanning for any sign of danger.
As they approach the engineering complex, they spot their target: a middle-aged man with a harried expression clutching blueprints as he hurries toward a fortified structure. Vesper's lips curl into a sly smile. "There he is. Right on time."
Drusilla cracks her knuckles, her blue eyes gleaming with eagerness. "Let's make this quick. I don't want to miss all the fun up there."
Demeanor calm, Vesper calls out to the engineer, "Going somewhere?"
The man freezes, his eyes widening in fear as he turns to face them. Before he can react, Vesper unleashes a cloud of ash, enveloping the area in a thick, suffocating smog. Drusilla moves like a predator, her Serval Zoan agility allowing her to close the distance in an instant. She disarms the man with ease, her dagger pressed to his throat as she whispers, "Don't struggle. It'll only make this worse."
Vesper emerges from the smoke with cold calculation, "You're coming with us. Quietly, if you know what's good for you."
The engineer nods frantically, his blueprints falling to the ground as he raises his hands in surrender. Drusilla secures his wrists with a pair of restraints. "Let's move," she says in a low voice. "We've got what we came for."
As they slip back into the shadows, the chaos of the island continues unabated. Vesper and Drusilla move with stealthy execution, their target in tow, their mission nearly complete. The Guardians remain none the wiser, their attention still fixed on the distraction above. For Vesper and Drusilla, it's just another job—dangerous, calculated, and performed with ruthless efficiency.
*****
The battlefield is a tempest of clashing steel and roaring flames, but for Darius Rhea and Aurélie, the world narrows to just the two of them. They stand facing each other, the air between them crackling with unresolved history and years of unspoken pain. The chaos around them fades into a distant hum as their eyes lock, gray meeting brown, each pair filled with a storm of emotions.
Darius's leather jacket billows in the wind, his pompadour unmoved, his chiseled jaw set in a hard line. His brown eyes burn with a mixture of bitterness and determination as he grips the hilt of his weapon, the Gator-Gator Fruit's power humming within its steel edge. He doesn't speak at first, letting the weight of his presence speak for him. His harmonica, tucked into his pocket, feels heavier than usual, a reminder of the life he once had—and the life he lost.
Aurélie stands tall, her long silver hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of moonlight. Anathema gleams in the twilight, her big gray eyes steady but filled with a quiet sorrow. She wears her stoicism like armor, but beneath it, she feels the sting of guilt and regret. Her Locust-Locust Fruit powers are dormant for now, though the faint outline of insectoid wings flickers at her back, a subconscious reflex.
"Darius," she says finally, her voice laced with an undercurrent of pain. "This doesn't have to happen. You don't have to do this."
Darius's lips curl into a bitter smile, his deep voice cutting through the noise. "Don't I? You of all people should understand why I'm here, Aurélie. Or have you forgotten what happened to my brother?"
Aurélie flinches, her grip tightening on Anathema. "I haven't forgotten. I think about it every day. But this—this isn't the way, Darius. Your brother wouldn't want this."
"Don't you dare speak for him!" Darius snaps, his voice rising with a raw edge of anger. "You weren't there when he needed you. You failed him. You failed me."
The words hang in the air like a blade, sharp and unrelenting. Aurélie's stoic mask cracks for a moment, her gray eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I know," she whispers, her voice barely audible. "I know I failed him. I've carried that guilt every day since. But this path you're on—it's only going to destroy you."
Darius's jaw tightens, his bitterness warring with something deeper, something he doesn't want to acknowledge. "Maybe I'm already destroyed," he says quietly, his voice tinged with a rare vulnerability. "But if I'm going down, I'm taking you with me."
Without warning, he lunges forward, his blade shifting as the Gator-Gator Fruit activates. His blade transforms into a chomping alligator, teeth glinting in the light as it juts at her with brutal force. Aurélie reacts instantly, Anathema flashing as she parries, the clash of their weapons sending sparks flying.
The fight is fierce and unrelenting, each strike fueled by years of pain and unresolved conflict. Darius's attacks are relentless, his movements driven by a mix of anger and sorrow. He doesn't hold back, his alligator blade giving him an edge. But Aurélie is a master swordswoman, her movements measured and fatal. She dances around his attacks, Anathema is a blur as she counters with swift, deliberate strikes.
As they battle, their emotions spill out in bursts of dialogue, their words as sharp as their blades.
"You think you're so noble," Darius growls with dripping sarcasm. "The perfect Guardian, always doing the right thing. But where was that nobility when my brother needed you?"
Aurélie's eyes flash with pain, but she doesn't falter. "I made a mistake, Darius. I know that. But I've spent every day since trying to make up for it. You think vengeance will bring you peace? It won't. It'll only consume you."
"Peace?" Darius laughs, a harsh, bitter sound. "I gave up on peace the day I buried him. This is about justice."
"Justice?" Aurélie counters, her voice rising. "This is about your pride. Your pain. You're so blinded by it that you can't see what you're becoming."
Their blades clash again, the force of the impact cracking the air. Darius's eyes narrow, his bitterness giving way to a flicker of something else—doubt, perhaps, or regret. But it's gone as quickly as it appears, replaced by the hardened resolve that has driven him this far.
Aurélie, meanwhile, fights not just to defend herself, but to reach him. She sees the man he used to be, the friend and comrade she once knew, buried beneath the anger and vengeance. She doesn't want to hurt him; she wants to save him, even if he can't see it.
The battle rages on, a storm of steel and emotion, neither willing to back down. But beneath the clash of their weapons and the heat of their words, there's a shared pain, a connection that neither can fully sever. They are two sides of the same coin, bound by loss and regret, each fighting for what they believe is right—even if it means destroying each other in the process.