The Directors felt their blood surge at the thought of bringing back authentic and objective news to the people.
They rose from the sea of amateur reporters to showcase quality content that allowed them to reach the very top of the news food chain. Such a development was not luck, rather it was from their united deep-seated desire to share truth to the seas.
Alas, greed consumed them, the abyssal hunger to have more was exploited by the Government, turning them into corrupt politicians.
Yet by God's grace, they had the chance to turn over a new leaf; with all those negative emotions deprived of them, they can now truly fulfill their long-lost goals.
…
[Three Days Later]
[Sabaody Archipelago]
It was a normal morning for the people of Sabaody. They did their early morning rituals and walked out to a beautiful day.
A routine followed by most was picking up the morning paper by eight in the morning.
Such a thing was done by Jenga, a blue-haired youth who had come on an internship to work at a shipping factory in the Archipelago.
*Crinkle* The black-and-white paper was opened up, leaving the headline within eyesight.
Jenga, who had a granola bar in his mouth, couldn't help but spit it out due to his disbelief, "Oye, Oye, this is a pretty big thing!"
The bolded words read:
{A THIRTEENTH SUPREME BLADE HAS BEEN BORN?}
His colleague, Leone, was also blown away.
"No way! The Twelve Supreme Grade Blades have always been tied to legend, unable to be forged for centuries, and only wielded by the strongest the seas could offer!"
Jenga shook his head and pointed his finger at a row of text.
"Look, one of the Top Threats on the World Threat Index known to wield a Supreme Sword also corroborated the news!"
He read through another passage of text and commented, "Even the Land of Blades has confirmed it!"
Leone gulped, "Supreme Blades go for billions of berries! If a thirteenth one was forged, just who has it?"
An older man who heard their thoughts could not help but pitch in, "Brats! You forgot the real question: if the original twelve stayed supreme for centuries, just who out there can forge them!?"
…
Such a news, though not 100% certain, did bring in quite a storm.
Swordsmen from all over the seas felt a prayer being answered. After all, who would not want to have their own weapon forged, let alone at the level of a Supreme Grade Blade?
Thousands of such men set out trying to trace any leads or news about its possible wielder, hoping to get a quick buck. Meanwhile, the smart folk looked for the person responsible for crafting the weapon in the first place!
.
"Hmph, these idiots think that those Famed Swords can be used by anyone? Don't make me laugh! If anything, they should hope not to come across anyone who wields such blades!"
These words came from a sword enthusiast missing an arm.
Such thoughts were shared across the top pirate crews and even Marines who practiced the blade. It even reached the ears of a reclusive man in a small village of the East Blue!
People, boys in general, found swords to be quite cool. Such news would surely bring that man's romance to light! It was not enough to rouse much chaos, but it did go a long way to add some spice to the seas.
----------------------------------------------
[Fooljack Peaks]
[Cipher Pol 10, Main Base]
A man sat in a simple room, donning a black and white attire. He was in talks with a transponder snail.
"Ikras, I hope you know that this is your final chance. For the sake of us both, go and cleanse the World News Agency."
"The Reverie has passed and opened up our resources, those Four Directors have exceeded their worth by constantly publishing articles without consulting the Government—it's time they pass away from natural causes."
The seated man nodded to the snail which had a wild appearance with a golden mane of hair, sporting large scars and a missing eye.
"Yes, Lord Xerxes. I will do it right away."
"Katcha~!"
The Chief of CP-10 Ikras stood up and walked out of his office hurriedly.
"Commander!" Dozens of agents dressed in black and white also appeared, each standing in salute.
"It's time to cleanse the Agency HQ; contact our people inside and find the location of the Directors."
Though before he could move further, a fellow agent interrupted him.
"Sir, today is the semi-annual blizzard, all our comms have been down since morning time."
Ikras narrowed his eyes, "That blizzard happened to take place today…" He then looked at the agent reporting the weather, "You! Did the Directors happen to hold a meeting recently?"
"Yes," came a quick reply, "all Four Directors came together for an hour-long discussion just three days ago, the same time they commissioned the news for today."
.
Ikras felt a foreboding feeling, "Has there been any activity near the docks of the island?"
"We cannot say, sir. The snow is more brutal than usual, all our scanners and cameras have been compromised."
.
At that moment, another man showed up. It was the ex-CEO and CP-10 agent, Ardemi!
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"Commander, I say we go in blind; I have a bad feeling about this."
Ikras thought for a second, "What is the outside temperature?"
Ardemi examined some numbers and answered, "It's -111 degrees Celsius (-168 °F) with three percent visibility."
Ikras heaved an annoyed sigh, "Bring all our members that have mastered Haki, the rest will wait till the storm lifts."
Dozens of men soon rushed out from the base, nearing the Agency HQ. Due to the horrid storm, it was nigh-impossible to navigate without sufficient Observation Haki.
…
[Half-Hour Later]
The agents soon entered the staircase leading to the main floor of the News Agency HQ.
Though they could not help but freeze in a stupor—the usual noise and clutter was nil. The overpopulated zones were void of people; it was dead quiet.
Ikras' face grew livid, "Cover every floor, I want to know where they went!"
…
"Commander, it's not good. They're gone, all of them!" Ardemi reported with a mix of shock and fear.
Ikras rubbed his forehead and cursed, "I don't get paid enough for this…"
"Huh!?"
His eyes which were once droopy in grim thought soon turned sharp.
He looked at the center of the room where a young woman had arrived, seemingly out of nowhere.
"You ar-"
.
"Nihility Storm."
.
Boom!
What followed was a flash of purple as all types of forces were thrown out from her body.
Compression, tension, torsion and shear forces all befell the room, spanning throughout the entire base.
The agents could not even utter anything but growls and groans as their bodies were subjected to all the stresses.
Some twirled into spaghetti, some were crushing into pieces while others stretched to the point where their bones shattered and muscles ripped.
Blood splattered everywhere the very base began to collapse, inviting the blizzard in.
"Augh!" Ikras cried out as his limbs were obliterated, leaving behind a slowly-stretching torso. His ribs were under opposite pulling forces that were slowly opening up his very core!
His desperate eyes looked at the girl standing over his broken body.
"You'll pay for thi– Euugh!"
Copious amounts of blood exploded in all directions. Some shot toward the attacker, though oddly enough, each droplet simply passed through her body and became a mass of purple energy.
Bodies littered the floor as the storm soon arrived, burying the massacre in a blanket of white.
…
[At the Docks]
It was the location where the supplies for the two bases came through. Though it is usually empty, there happened to be one magnificent ship here.
Clamouring to the ship were dozens of people with thick jackets, some laced with ambivalence and trepidation.
They had travelled down a pre-determined path laid with a special type of mineral that lit up during heavy snowfall, allowing them ease of passage.
"Looks like our Star Reporter came through; I don't even feel the cold with this jacket!" a refined man exclaimed.
It was Marcus Goji.
"I just hope we can outrun CP-10."
The worries were shared by not just the Four Directors, but all of their attendants and subordinates who were also present.
.
Though in their moment of apprehension came a casual reply from the ship in front of them, "Don't worry, you'll be fine."
The Directors looked up simultaneously and saw the towering silhouette aboard the ship.
"Are you young Morgans' aide…?"
They could not see the person's face as it was concealed with a hood and further masked by the storm. However, the tall body, dominant stature and imposing presence easily attributed him to some kind of powerful person.
"Well, something like that. Get on board, I'll take you to your new headquarters."
The Directors did not ask any more questions; scrambling onto the ship.
.
Meanwhile, the unknown helper suddenly burst out with an indomitable spirit. *Boom!* There were waves upon waves of sheer weight and dominance pulsing out.
It lasted but a moment, but to the ones affected, it was an eternity as their mind clogged, their knees buckled, and their very conscience shattered.
*Thud* Around twenty or so personnel fell unconscious, their mouths foaming.
"This!?"
The Directors quaked in some confusion and fear at the display, opting to ask for an explanation.
"They were spies from the Government."
The hooded figure waved his hand, gesturing to the others to get on board.
.
Damien, who was naturally the one at the docks, glanced at a tall mountain in the distance.
*Rumble*
It was very slight but the ground below seemed to tremble and an avalanche was born; under the storm and now the tsunami of snow, there would be no survivors.
A natural disaster at face value, nothing unusual considering the circumstances.
"Looks like this CP-10 wasn't much of a threat, probably a bit stronger than the CP-9 of the future," he concluded.
And the thought seemed to hold as his own shadow warped. Seconds ticked on as a dark figure jumped out from the darkness, bathed in swirling, alien-like energy.
----------------------------------------------
[Marineford]
[Fleet Admiral's Office]
Kong, the Fleet Admiral, had a few good days in the past little while.
The Reverie went as planned. The Five Elders had calmed down due to the deal with Fulcrum, allowing a reliable route to deliver much-needed resources and supplies to the branches in the New World.
After a gruelling few years, the Fleet Admiral could finally have a seat and drink some tea in peace.
*Slurp* Kong's favourite green tea.
"Puru," "Puru," "Puru."
Kong's tranquil expression warped into annoyance. He gazed at the ringing snail and heaved a hopeful sigh, "It could be good news…"
"Katcha~!" "This is Kong."
The snail's face turned into the beast-like appearance of a man whom the Fleet Admiral was not a great fan of.
The voice of the marine turned plain and monotone as he followed with a: "What do you want, Xerxes?"
"Kong! I need you to dispatch an Admiral immediately!"
The dominant marine narrowed his eyes and chose to overlook the demanding tone, opting for caution.
"What happened?"
The snail seemed equally annoyed, though with added gloominess, "It's Fooljack Peaks, just moments ago all the Vivre Cards of CP-10 burned up; no one remains!"
"What!?" Kong shot up from his seat, his eyes carrying a look of surprise, "how could that happen!"
The snail shook its head, expressing Xerxes' thoughts.
"I have no clue but we both know how bad this could be. For the both of our sakes, send someone right away!"
Kong hung up the snail, dialling another number.
"Basara, you have Raito with you, go to Fooljack Peaks posthaste!"
…
The response of the Marines and even Cipher Pol was immediate.
They used the newly attained Styx Passage to move an entire fleet headed by an Admiral.
Their haste was justified, after all, he who controlled the news controlled the people! In this era of untold chaos and unprecedented violence, the one thing the Government could not afford to lose was the faith of its people.
And the first wave of Marines arrived soon.
…
"How long has it been since their cards burned out?"
The question came from the ever-stern and solemn Admiral of the Navy Headquarters—Basara!
Even under the unforgiving blizzard, the man's dominant brown attire was void of any precipitation.
He gazed at the tiny attendant in front of him as their fleet landed on the snowy island.
"B-Basara-sama, it's been seven hours now!"
The Admiral huffed a dull breath, feeling unease.
"S-Such a response is quite fast!" the attendant spoke out, hoping to calm the air. "We've already surrounded the island, I'm sure whoever is responsible will be cau–"
"Fool!" Basara spat out. "For someone to overpower an entire Agency in mere moments, seven hours is far too late."
The grim truth fueled the rage in the Admiral as he mobilized his Mountain-Mountain Fruit to span the entire island.
*Rumble*
The jaws of the marines nearby dropped simultaneously as they saw the once jagged and brutally cold landscape of never-ending mountains begin to churn like liquid.
It took at most five seconds before the island was transformed into a flat and level plane; the entire mountainous Fooljack Peaks was terraformed by the wave of a hand!
Not only was it flat but the compression of mountains upon mountains of snow and ice had tattooed itself to the ground, leaving behind a disastrous beauty of unnatural proportions.
image [https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/1228133235611930736/1233875779016851487/Fooljack_Peaks.jpg?ex=662eafde&is=662d5e5e&hm=0e46cdcba569caa516366c0c3bbfb644e946cf5a06ad695fc1408e526d536235&=&format=webp&width=1362&height=1362] image [https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/1228133235611930736/1233875779331293264/Fooljack_Peaks_after.jpg?ex=662eafde&is=662d5e5e&hm=f3244ae4f4732df5033303691c78107505634181aab6037ec6f1c5a0ce2556f5&=&format=webp&width=1362&height=1362]
[A/N: Before and After Basara.]
Consequently saving weeks upon weeks of investigation.
.
A dull sigh interrupted the silence, heaved from Admiral himself.
"Put the island under strict quarantine, shoot down any ships that dare to enter," he ordered. "Have the Global Health Department send personnel to eradicate any prehistoric viruses released from icy mountains that I flattened."
Basara then slowly began to walk away to his ship.
"..."
Meanwhile, the dust and snow thrown up had begun to settle, and in the flat and now endless plain left behind was nothing but a few dozen pieces of human remains, marking the end of CP-10 by unnatural causes.
"I will report the failure of the mission to the Fleet Admiral myself."
The soldiers nearby could only quickly salute, still lost in the fear of power, scrambling to complete their newfound mission.
To Be Continued…