"It seems that wish came true!"
Ares' face was stretched from ear to ear with pride and relief. But that grin warped into a frown as a violent cough ran up his throat.
"Ugh!" The War God lowered his head, coughing a lung into an already bloodied rag.
"..." Damien watched with his arms crossed, seeing his father's single eye turning red from blood.
'His body is giving up on him. The same illness that claimed the future King of the Pirate Roger's life.'
The younger pirate closed his eyes momentarily, his father's repeated coughing echoing in his ears.
An image of the white-haired woman came to mind—always smiling, seeing the good in everything that was bad.
Opening his eyes, he saw Ares breathing heavily, trying his best to stabilize his condition. "For all my life, I wanted to find my useless father who left my pregnant mother alone in this cruel world and beat him to a pulp…"
The father in question looked up with some apprehension, not for his possible death, but for being hated by his only remaining family.
"...But now it seems that the last part is already done."
"..." Ares blinked, trying to understand Damien's expression. His sole widened into a smile, and a laugh howled from his bloodied lips: "Ruhahahaha!"
Damien lightly smiled at the old man's hollering and suggested, "I'm not fully convinced that I don't hate you for what happened… I think I'll figure it out after a hearty meal."
The War God quickly nodded and shot up with newfound energy, but his eyes soon fell on the shackles around his son. "Too bad some annoying Underworld Emperor is sourcing Seastone… they swapped the chains to hundred percent purity now; they're as tough as diamonds!"
Ares clicked his tongue and began thinking of ways to free the Sin Incarnate.
His pondering was interrupted by two loud thuds kicking up the dust within the prison.
"What the…" Ares' jaw hit the ground, seeing Damien rubbing his wrists from the numbness.
Ares missed his previous display of crumpling the cage in his emotional state; only now did he realize the absurdity of the situation—his son's Emission Haki was the culprit!
"S-Seastone should easily diffuse your Haki…"
He looked at his own wrists. Even after twenty years, he couldn't remove the cuffs, even after rusting the chains that anchored him down.
The only real solution was to cut off the limbs…
Damien's words broke the man from his reverie, "The one thing you should know about me, old man," he grabbed the prison gate edges with each arm, "I tend to surprise people with the impossible."
With a light tug and a pulse of flowing red, the seastone door that caged the Sin Incarnate was ripped off its hinges, crying out in a miserable squeak.
"..."
A stunned Ares stood speechless as his son reached for his twenty-year-old cuffs and tore them open with a hearty squeeze.
The lightness of his wrists left him in disbelief. "They really gave you a free ticket to get in here, didn't they…"
"I hear the wolves in the Frozen Hell are considered a rich delicacy," Damien commented, rubbing his stomach in a lost gaze. "I haven't eaten in two weeks… Let's have our fill."
…
[Few Hours Later]
A few alerts were reported to the Warden's office of prison guards falling unconscious at the Fifth Level; meanwhile, the Snail Surveillance was phasing in and out. Yet Ponos was not awfully worried. After all, Impel Down had been inescapable for centuries now, and it wasn't odd for some devices to malfunction here and there due to age.
Over a bonfire, the father-son duo shared some stories of their battles. The main reason was the God of War's keen interest in his son's previous conquests.
Disarming Zephyr, blinding Basara and traumatizing Kong—all feats leaving Ares exploding in laughter; his son was the Bane of Admirals!
Eventually, the two pirates returned after enjoying a feast of 300 wolves, keeping their tracks hidden with unconscious prisoners and glitching surveillance snails.
…
*Creak* The door to Eternal Hell opened again, bathing the recently woken-up prisoners with the burning light.
"S-So brigh–!"
Yet before they could even factor in who it was that had come, a stream of overwhelming weight rushed in from the opened doors, befalling the prisoners with two dense clouds of Haki that would easily send even the most battle-hardened Vice Admirals to sleep.
Black lightning crackled through the air, ringing through the seastone bars with an infernal symphony.
"You both need to stop throwing your Haki around so wildly."
Ares and Damien both paused upon entry and looked at an inconspicuous cell on the other side of the floor.
Ares suddenly grinned, slapping Damien's back, "You probably noticed him before. He's an old rival of mine."
The veteran pirate strolled across the cold floors of hell, reaching the depressing cell. A mischievous eye locked onto the dark silhouette under the blanket of darkness, leaving Ares smiling with nostalgia.
"To be able to ascend into the post of the Commander-in-Chief, a Fleet Admiral must accomplish at least two incredible feats," he told his son, knocking on the bars twice.
Damien made a thoughtful gesture, cupping his chin. "Endou was so dominant that he ticked those boxes sixteen years before the promotion came to him. Before taking you down, he also 'vanquished' Bloodspawn Mors all alone."
The three crimson pupils studied the grim figure with his head down towards his knees.
"That's right, he's also rotting here," Ares confirmed with a grin.
"..."
The man in question slowly raised his head, glaring at the chipper fellow legend. "War God, you have an impressive son."
The voice was rough and hoarse, and it came from a man who had been in a hellish cell for over three decades!
The once-notorious Mors stood up, slowly walking ahead. The thick Seastone chains snapped at the floor, tugging the man backwards.
*Thump* *Thump* *Thump*
His massive frame measured a little over 22' 7" (6.9 meters) and thudded heavily on the base below.
Mors was a titan among men. His burly body was covered in intricate, swirling tattoos that marked both his skin and his past with tales of violence and victory. His heavily muscled body bore the signs of relentless battles, each scar a testament to his unyielding spirit.
A thick, braided beard fell from his rugged jaw, framing a face hardened by years of war. His eyes, shadowed beneath a sharp, pronounced brow, held a fierce intensity that spoke of a man who'd seen countless souls fall before him.
He looked around 70 years old with a weathered face. Yet his eyes were cold and discerning.
"I can smell one of my own off of you…" the Bloodspawn breathed with narrowed eyes. "Looks like a few embers of Polemos lived through the extermination."
Damien naturally knew what the man was insinuating. With a smile fit for a pirate, he said, "It's nice to meet you too, Zenora Mors!"
[Zenora Mors Image (in Discord)]
.
The towering beast of a pirate examined the young sprout before him, but that went both ways.
'His Figures of War are permanently on,' Damien noticed. Unlike Indra, Mors' dark skin was forever marked with red!
A short hum escaped the Warborn's lips before he walked back to sit down.
"You don't want to get out of here?" Damien curiously asked.
The Bloodspawn scoffed—he had seen the absurd sight of Seastone being torn like paper, but the bold fellow before him held all the cards. "And why would you free me?"
Ares leaned in and whispered to Damien from the side, "I've known him for decades. He's always been broody like this."
The younger pirate returned a mysterious smile to the reclusive Mors before turning away: "Perhaps we can work out a deal later…"
…
The father and son duo returned to the homely cell, with Ares left thinking, "I know you have other reasons for coming here. But why don't we take advantage of this indestructible floor?"
Damien's brow furrowed while he analyzed the cheeky grin on his father's face. He had already coughed another lung out during their meal, reducing Damien's trust in the matter at hand: "You want to train me here? In your condition…"
If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
Ares scowled, raising a blackening fist bubbling with molten Haki. "My body is still in its forties. Don't insult a God of War!"
Black cracks opened up along the pirate's body, releasing orange sparks of damnation. "Come on then, let me see what you got, Sin Incarnate!"
----------------------------------------------
The wholesome scene at the bottom of Impel Down was fairly resemblant of the peace that surrounded the seas.
It left the man overseeing the fabled Headquarters of the Navy endlessly satisfied…
…
*Slurp* A tranquil Kong loudly slipped his green tea; the fresh aroma made him smile.
"Aahh," he hummed in delight, leaning back to the leather seat. "What a nice morning…"
It was truly serene. The Fleet Admiral's office, once a mess of papers, bounties and reports, was now clean and tidy with not even a speck of dirt.
Kong's desk needed no replacement since God Valley, and the same could be said for his windows.
Such heartwarming peace.
"..."
*Bang!* The door flew open as a boisterous man waltzed in, shoving crackers down his gullet, "Bwahaha! You should have called me over if you were gonna enjoy some tea, Kong-san!"
Kong's eyes shot open while his fingers dug into the armrests. The top marine calmed his breathing, reciting a mantra, 'He's the Marine Hero, I must tolerate. The world is at peace, I am at peace…'
Kong cleared his mind and brought both arms to rest over his table. "Garp, what brings you here?"
The Vice Admiral paused, glancing at Kong with a curious gaze, even stopping his chewing of crackers.
"..."
The Hero cautiously sat on the chair across the desk, peeking at his superior with doubt. "Kong-san, did you forget your meds today?"
*Creak* A thin crack spread from under the Fleet Admiral's finger resting on the desk, yet his face remained calm.
"If you are so free, why don't you help me with these commands from the Five Elders."
Garp raised an eyebrow, "Oh? *Munch* What's *Munch* that?"
Kong ignored the crumbs quickly decorating his desk and briefly summarized, "The World Government had a high deficit in the past few years, one that quadrupled after the Remote Reverie took place; Rocks really left us clawing for resources."
He then tapped the sheet of paper, nodding at its wise directions, "The World Military Draft pumped us with hundreds of thousands of recruits worldwide, eating up a lot of money. With the New World threats destroyed, we no longer need a vast army… A demilitarization is in order."
Garp oohed and ahhed at the news, inhaling his snacks.
.
Kong leaned his head onto his fist, pondering some things. "Your new mission has been assigned. You'll do it alongside Sengoku and Zephyr."
"And what's it?" the Hero questioned, wiping his face ridden with crumbs.
"Whitebeard, Charlotte Linlin, Vitalius Shaw, Patrick Redfield and Shiki. All these Level One Threats are your targets. You don't need to vanquish them; just force them into hiding. It's enough to win back the trust of the world."
Garp picked at his nose, commenting on the new mission, "Well, whatever. I just want to enjoy my lifetime supply of rice crackers."
"Though, Kong-san," he suddenly said in a serious tone. "What do you think about Damien? Do you think Impel Down can hold him?"
Yet the insinuating words were immediately shot down by the Strange Beast. "He's amongst two other living legends, and like them, he will rot there!"
Garp crossed his arms, recalling a tale from his days as a fresh recruit. "What if he goes missing like his pops?"
The Fleet Admiral scoffed, his anger flaring at the thought of the War God. "Ares disappeared from his cell nearly twenty years ago. I still remember his sickened body when we vanquished him at Marineford. Even if he broke out from his chains, he's long dead now!"
"As for Einar D. Damien…" Kong's jaw tightened. Subconsciously, he raised his right arm. The metallic clicks and clacks of the foreign limb left the Paramecia-user livid.
Like Zephyr, Tensai granted him a replacement. However, being a Devil Fruit user, the Strange Beast couldn't take on a Seastone arm.
Feeling the cool metal lacking all hints of life, he inwardly raged, 'Even with the Elastium of Arkaos, I can't help but remember that insufferable pirate's face every damned day!'
A boiling hiss escaped the gaps of Kong's jaw while a beastly air leaked from his pores. "I made sure to double the shackles around him. Rest assured, The Undying will forever rot in the Great Prison!!!"
----------------------------------------------
The quaking air around Marineford now resembled Impel Down. As Kong ensured, the Sin Incarnate was indeed still in the Great Prison. Although not in the capacity the Fleet Admiral assumed…
…
BOOM!
Hundreds of knock-out prisoners were flung through the cells, their emaciated bodies clanging at the bars. All but two cells remained untouched by the torrents.
Though the ones responsible could care less.
Damien threw a barrage of Haki-clad fists at his father, sending torrents of air in his wake. Yet not a single one of them connected.
"Sometimes, the future will not be your ally. This is the first lesson!"
Ares’ fist blurred before it struck like a thunderclap, the force reverberating through Damien’s bones.
*Vvooo!* The undying pirate shot across the floor, his body bouncing off the ground.
"!!!" Damien abruptly stopped in the air, his feet gently clicking onto the ground. The remaining momentum and acceleration sent out a shockwave to rattle Eternal Hell.
"Hmm, it's like Xebec and Roger; they can really throw off my Observation," Damien muttered, caring little for the earlier punch.
Ares blew air at his fist, polishing the scarred weapon of flesh. "What the hell did she feed you to make your bones that hard…" Though his face warped into a smile, "But your thoughts are correct—this technique is called Observation Killing!"
"It allows for control of one's own aura or presence, negating an opponent's ability to see into the future with Observation Haki," Ares explained, releasing a storm of black lightning. "It's an ability in the hands of those who have mastered the Colour of Supreme Kings."
"Alright then, show me your Armement!"
Damien nodded, raging on ahead with clenched fists. Meanwhile, Ares cracked his old bones, readying the defense.
A single left punch rammed into the older man, sending streams of Haki into his body.
BOOM!
The flowing Haki coursed through Ares' body, even rippling through his arms and legs to leave cracks along the cold, hard floors.
They continued a brawl, with Damien taking the lead. Naturally, it also allowed the younger pirate to understand the extent of his father's abilities.
>=-=----[]---<>---[]---=-=<
[Einar D. Ares]
[Age: 66 years, 4 months, 15 days]
[Height: 11' 6"] (3.51 m)
[Devil Fruit: War-War Fruit (Complete Grandmastery)]
[Fruit Rating: 6.5 Stars]
[Skills: Incredible Talent in Conqueror's Haki, Will of D, Primitive Rokushiki, Art of War, Titanic Power]
[Haki: Advanced Mastery of Observation Haki, Grandmastery (I) of Armament Haki, Grandmastery (II) of Conqueror's Haki]
[Strength: Middle Tier Yonko (regressed extensively due to illness and age)]
-----
[Art of War: Convert combat and slaughter into Conqueror's Haki.]
[Titanic Power: Each strike holds devastating power, flowing in harmony with all Colours of Haki.]
>=-=----[]---<>---[]---=-=<
"Your Emission Haki is very solid, not bad at all! But it can be trained a little further."
Ares scratched his stubble, "Your fruit power fits really nicely with Emission of Haki… I bet if you can get it to harmonize, it'll unlock something truly special."
Damien narrowed his eyes. 'Sengoku's shockwaves were the same, granting him his Exalted Emission.'
He slowly nodded at his father's insights, accepting the experienced pirate's teaching without a second thought.
"What about my Observation?"
Ares immediately shook his head as if someone had rubbed salt over his wound. "Your senses are well beyond me." With a sigh, he admitted, "Your talent in Conqueror's Haki should be from me. As for Observation, hmm, it must be inherited from your mother."
The information left Damien puzzled. "She had a talent for Observation?"
With a grin, Ares smiled in memory of his wife, "Hehe, 'talent?' Your mother was born with Observation Haki, which allowed her to sense the goodness in someone. It's a rare thing but it does happen to one in every dozen million people born."
Damien was left dumbfounded. But for one glaring reason, he knew the truth of the statement…
…
"You seem very quiet nowadays, Damien-chan," Nadia said as she admired the glorious night sky.
"I can tell you're dying to ask me something."
The boy looked up at his mother, a little surprised, "How can you tell?"
Nadia giggled, "Hmm, I could always see the grace in someone's heart. It was a little odd growing up, but now I'm glad I have it."
She cupped Damien's nose, "So, go ahead and ask."
…
He could still remember his mother's words from thirteen years ago. After all, it was the day before her death (Chapter 1).
'So that's why my Observation developed Empathy at Grandmastery as well...'
"She really was special…" Damien mumbled in disbelief. But it gave way to more questions: "Who even was she?" he asked his father. "Not only did she kill off their scouting party with a rusty old spear, she even burst out with Haki to keep them down."
Ares took a lonely breath, but he couldn't hide the smile on his face. "I'm not surprised she never told you. Simply put, she was not native to Renaissance."
The son slowly nodded in agreement. "That makes sense. She even knew about Devil Fruits, while the other villagers thought it was some kind of relic that protected them from bad times."
"You can't help but love ignorant peoples' thoughts," Ares rolled his eyes. "Your mother, however, was endlessly satisfied living on that small island."
He looked to Damien and revealed the little he knew, "Nadia's full name is Luciano Valora Nadia, born to Luciano Enzo Vittorio." Ares saw the glint in his son's eyes and nodded, "Yes, Luciano of the Five Mafia Families of the West Blue."
"Mafia…" Damien's distaste for the scummy ilk was evident in his tone, but there was also confusion.
"Heh. She had the same scowl on her face when she told me about it."
Ares crossed his arms, continuing the story, "Nadia, with her Virtue Sense, was brought up with nothing but the scum of Luciano around her. Vittorio was also a tyrant in his own right. She sought distance from such a lifestyle… the simplicity and peacefulness of Renaissance was like a magnet, and she never looked back."
Damien couldn't help but understand. He knew how unnecessarily kind his mother was. "That explains her spearmanship and inheriting Haki… but there's no way they'd let her just leave…"
Ares picked up on the fire in his son's eyes and shook his head, "No. Vittorio did not attack Renaissance, and I know that for sure… because I'm the one who killed him and every single brat in his line."
"The Luciano of today is ruled by some miserable bastard I found begging on the streets… uhh, right! Demalo Brown was his name."
The Sin Incarnate sighed, rubbing his forehead in irritation—another dead end.
"Well. At least she escaped them for some years of peace… No wonder such a fruit found its way to her."
Now, it was Ares' turn to stammer. "What!? Nadia ate a Devil Fruit. Which one!?" he hastily questioned.
Damien found the man's reaction amusing but answered anyway: "Human-Human Fruit – Mythical Model: Dryad."
Ares' mouth went dry as he took a gulp.
The image of the beautiful, white-haired woman came to mind, now further sanctified as a herald of nature. "Dryad… a fitting fruit for her kind soul. I guess the legend of Zoan fruits finding their own wielder has some merit after all."
The man's single eye became rather spirited as he tried to imagine the woman: "I bet she looked even more beautiful in her form. Oh, what I'd do to see her in it!"
Damien rolled his eyes. Although he still felt ambivalent about the past, he was glad to have some more context. However, the dark hand behind the curtain remained mysterious...
Thinking about the imminent future, he looked at his father, suddenly crouching down.
He unloaded a series of coughs, followed by annoyed groans.
"Maybe you should go on ice."
"Ice!?" Spitting out a wad of blood, Ares grinned at Damien, "I have no reason to keep turning myself into a popsicle anymore... I'll die happily ever after once I've taught you what I know."
With a slam of a foot, the God of War stood tall. He tossed aside his shroud, unveiling a chest fraught with scars. "Ruhahaha! Let's pick up where we left off, kiddo!"
To Be Continued…