Chapter V
I didn't choose the path of adventure. It was fate that chose it for me."
(Pounce D Leon)
Impel Down, twelve years earlier...
Very few places are there where order and chaos coexist without clashing, and even fewer where succumbing to darkness is the only way to keep one's sanity intact, if one hasn't lost it yet.
One of the most inhospitable places on Earth, that it strikes fear into the hearts of anyone who hears its name. Mothers use it as a bogeyman for their unruly offspring, and even the most heinous criminals fear it, so much so that they prefer hell to it.
Impel Down encapsulated all of this: a huge prison built right in the middle of the Calm Belt and surrounded by towering, ravenous Sea Kings. A place where the most unwieldy rejects of society and the worst scum that infested the seas were locked up there to then suffer the worst sentences imaginable, or as Chief Warden Cortés used to say, to be 're-educated.'
A mournful phrase hovered over this place straight out of the most anguished abysses of the human psyche, a warning that bounced from the farthest corner of the world to the next, from one thug to the next, 'If it catches you, then it's impossible to escape it'
That was what was buzzing in one man's mind as he was escorted by guards down that dreary stone corridor. It was quite noisy down there. Hundreds of hands jutted out of the bars, shouting at the top of their lungs at the prisoner who was advancing impassively, by now ascertained how inauspicious his fate had been, and the hellish heat that enveloped every corner of that floor only added to that unrelenting agony.
Arms and torso were covered with numerous burns that seemed to be no less than a few hours old, probably a side effect of the 'baptism of fire.' This was the name the inmates had given to the huge cauldron filled with a red-hot, reddish liquid that screeched ominously once they crossed the threshold of the fourth level.
And it was here that they were thrown in, cleansing them of all external agents before being sent to the place of torture best suited to their needs.
For that man corresponded to the top floor of the facility, commonly referred to as the sixth level or 'Eternal Hell,' a legend even among the inhabitants of the Blue Sea themselves and where the worst individuals ever to appear on the face of the planet were rumored to be locked up, either responsible for heinous deeds or simply delinquents deemed too powerful to let them roam free undisturbed.
«A rather quiet place, don't you think?» asked someone at his side. He was a tall, thin man with thick, wavy medium-length blackish hair and a semi-open red shirt, which highlighted his toned, defined chest. Judging by the white jacket he wore like a cape, he must have been some Marine bigwig.
The prisoner didn't respond, continuing to walk while keeping his head bowed toward the floor. Probably, the torture he had undergone just now had severely debilitated him, preventing even the use of speech, or perhaps, he simply didn't want to waste precious breath, least of all in a place where screeching or kicking served absolutely no purpose except to make you come wearily to your death.
«I like you, guy,» affirmed the man, slipping both hands into the pockets of his white pants «I particularly appreciate guys of few words, they are always good company. It is a great pity that the government immediately decided on your imprisonment once in its clutches.»
A sinister grin appeared on his face, almost as sinister as the scar that furrowed his right eye «A few more days with yours truly, and I would have even taught you how to howl at the moon, if you know what I mean.»
One of the guards pulled the chain tied to the inmate's wrists, causing him to shiver. They had almost reached the end of the corridor, as they began to catch a glimpse of the huge elevator that insiders used to move between floors of the facility.
«Well, well,» commented the man, pointing his own gaze ahead of them.
Next to the elevator, about to wait for them, was a mammoth, almost demonic-looking individual, whose head was fitted with two menacing horns pointing downward «It seems that even Director Cortés himself wants to welcome you to his enchanting abode,» he concluded by placing a hand on his shoulder.
«Vice Admiral Hunterson, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?» asked the chief warden once they reached his presence. He looked even more gargantuan when viewed up close, so much so that even an extremely tall man like the Vice Admiral looked like a child in his eyes, «So what sea refuse have you decided to bring me today?»
«Rotter Ganakas,» explained Hunterson, pointing with his thumb to the prisoner on his right. Cortés lowered his head, observing the young man for a few seconds: He was tall, though not as tall as Hunterson or the other guards dragging him, let alone the size of the chief warden. He had dark skin and a slender physique. But the feature that stood out most was his hair, with his head shaved at the sides and thick cerulean hair that unraveled in every direction like the stormy waters of the sea.
«I have heard of him, yes,» said the chief warden, continuing to keep his gaze fixed on the young man who didn't hint at retorting or taking any other action. He looked like a genuine automaton «A scoundrel of the highest order, who has caused considerable damage to the population and given the government several headaches, am I right?»
Vice Admiral nodded «And now that he has been captured, we entrust him to your loving care so that he may be given the treatment he deserves.»
After Cortés had waved, the guardsmen pulled the man by the chains, pushing him along with them into the elevator.
«Once again, Vice Admiral, you have proven that your reputation is well deserved,» Cortés affirmed as he stroked his thick brown beard.«It is also because of the exceptional flair you possess in tracking down and hounding criminals that you have become one of the most important resources at the World Government's disposal, so much so that you have been given the epithet 'Relentless Tracker' And today is further proof of that.»
Hunterson sighed, then shook his head «As much as I hate the idea of someone else snatching my prey, I have to admit that this time the credit for his capture doesn't go to me."
«Oh, no?» the man asked in surprise, arching an eyebrow. He couldn't believe that someone else had beaten the man who had the reputation of being an efficient and tenacious pirate hunter to the punch «Then whose right is it to boast of such a feat?»
«Normally it isn't our practice, to divulge this kind of information,» the Vice-admiral resumed speaking with a tone of superiority, «And if for some unfortunate reason, this were to happen, the higher-ups would immediately put a lid on it by requesting the immediate elimination of whoever is the originator and those around them, just to avoid unpleasant side effects,» He sneered for a moment, probably convinced that this was all funny.
«Oh, I know very well what you mean,» asserted the Chief Warden. As much as the purpose of that all too explicit allusion was to make him desist, he wasn't the type to back down, even though he knew what fate befell those who dared to ask too much «And if you think these ridiculous threats are going to frighten someone like me, you are sorely mistaken,» he replied not at all intimidated
«It was just to be clear» Hunterson smiled again shrugging «Anyway, given your extensive experience in this matter, I think it is incumbent in this case that I make an exception by not following protocol.»
«Come on, Vice Admiral,» the man urged him, «Spit it out.»
«Very well,» Hunterson retorted, «As I mentioned to you earlier, it was neither the Marine nor the Cipher Pol who captured Ganakas. He was found three days ago near the G-8 base, dying and nailed to the top of a pole. The same fate befell those tasked with manning that same area, as they were found about a hundred meters to the south, although unlike him, they weren't so lucky.»
«This is terrible »commented the Chief Warden, «Who on earth could be so bold and reckless as to commit such an act. Pirates, perhaps?»
The man shook his head «So, the revolutionaries?» asked Cortés again.
«There weren't any witnesses, and he himself doesn't remember what actually happened, nor does he recall the identity of his tormentors,» replied the other
«Who was stationed on the Verudia Island?»
«Vice Admiral Chase has command of the base,» Hunterson explained, «But he left more than a week ago for the West Blue for the purpose of capturing a very dangerous wanted man. So, in his absence, deputizing for him was Rear Admiral Dekker.»
«Was?» Cortés raised an eyebrow, although he didn't take long to realize what the vice-admiral meant «Don't tell me that...»
Hunterson nodded «Those bastards tortured and slaughtered him» A certain vein of anger and regret could be detected in his words.
«I'm very sorry,» whispered Cortés, lowering his head briefly as a sign of respect, while the other was now pacing back and forth as if he were a general planning a battle or an investigator outlining the circumstances of a murder.
«Still, you seemed pretty sure about it,» Cortés added, «As if you actually found out something about what happened or who might be responsible for it.»
He had probably already made various hypotheses and assumptions, however, what he had said just a few minutes ago seemed to reveal how he himself knew more than he wanted to imply.
«As you said yourself earlier,» Hunterson continued, «I possess an exceptional intuition for this kind of thing; I can even spot details that no one would otherwise notice. And that's what led me to this.»
He paused for a moment and rummaged through his pockets, removing a small object that seemed finely crafted. He tossed it toward the Chief Warden, who caught it on the fly «Do you recognize it?» he then asked.
«It can't be,» the man exclaimed immediately afterward, his eyes wide with surprise, «Where did you find it?»
On closer inspection it was a kind of symbol: a long black cross superimposed on a circle, also of the same hue.
«I snatched it from the cold, cadaverous hands of some guys about two days ago,» the vice-admiral explained, «On the Roabonne Island, ten miles south of Verudia. Those idiots didn't expect to be discovered at all, and after having some fun, I extorted the information I needed from them.»
A sadistic smile painted itself on his face.
«Get to the point, Vice Admiral,» the chief warden urged him.
«Contrary to what we believed so far, it seems that the Order of the White Cross is back in action. So from now on, you and your staff had better watch your backs,» the man said before turning on his heel and walking away, leaving the Chief Warden at the mercy of his thoughts.
A serious and troubled shadow towered over him, as if he was recalling something unpleasant that had happened in the past or simply what Hunterson had reported had put him on alert.
«"The Order of the White Cross. A name I haven't heard in a long time."» If even a man as resolute as Cortés was mulling it over, it had to be a real and fearsome threat with which the entire World Government would have to deal sooner or later.
***
The sixth level looked like an even longer corridor, with a dust-covered floor and God only knows what those peeling crimson stains were that alternated in front of every cell that faced it.
A semi-darkness reigned supreme there, coupled with a tomb-like silence that ill matched the heartrending cries of the previous floors.
The guards yanked Rotter, forcing him to walk toward his assigned cell.
«Rotter 'The Cerulean Scourge' Ganakas. It's really him...» whispered a man to his fellow inmates, who immediately stood up to watch his advance.
«They finally got you too, huh?» asked another
«A brat playing pirate. Any lower than that,» commented yet another, lying on a rather shabby bunk
«Scourge, my ass,» said an inmate with thick blond hair and an expression that bordered on utter madness «Look at him, he looks like a sweet and tender little lamb.»
The other prisoners burst into thunderous laughter. Rotter continued to shoot straight, not giving them a glance.
He knew very well how in there were only the most deranged and frightening elements that ever existed; therefore, he might as well ignore them completely and hope that in the long run they would get tired.
«Be quiet, you useless parasites of society!»
Suddenly, a voice seemed to shake the air, immediately calming the spirits. Heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor, enough to bring to a halt the newcomer and his captors, who had now turned their heads southward.
A tall, thin man made his entrance. Despite the poor visibility, Rotter could see that this individual had short, curly hair that blended perfectly with his bronze complexion. He wore a semi-open blue shirt, which hinted at tribal tattoos that extended from his chest to occupy most of the right side of his neck, and a white-colored vest with gold buttons, on the right side of which appeared the stylized symbol of a bird that resembled in every way the Marine emblem.
As he passed, the inmates immediately recoiled, intimidated. «It's Vice Warden Francisco,» declared one of them.
«Well, well,» exclaimed the man with a half-smile as he stopped before the young man, «How does your new palace look so far, Mr. Ganakas?»
But the one really seemed to be unwilling to answer him; rather, he simply shifted his gaze to his surroundings: animalistic guards armed with spiked clubs patrolled the entire floor, the steep, damp walls, whose plaster had certainly seen better days, imprisoning the cells below in a tight grip, and mysterious creatures lurking in every crevice.
He also managed to avoid meeting her gaze, which was probably devoid of the most basic shred of humanity, given his position.
«Oh, oh, we have another tough guy here,» continued the Vice Warden, raising his voice so that everyone present could hear him, «I know what is needed in cases like this.»
In a few moments, something solid impacted against the surface of his stomach, causing him to slump to the cold floor. The Vice Warden had delivered a punch of such violence that it generated a small displacement of air, but in spite of this, the fellow made no sound, not even a faint moan. Nor did he make any sign that he wanted to get up.
«That was just a taste of what's in store for you, brat,» the man said, putting him back on his feet and grabbing him by the lapels as a knee hit him squarely in the chest. «I've never been fond of guys like you, who want to look badass at all costs when we know full well they're crying on the inside like a wimp would» He laughed, even though he knew the situation was anything but cheerful.
The guy continued to stand still and motionless as a stream of blood trickled from his mouth, soaking his tattered robes. Indeed, a cheeky smile painted itself on his face, which seemed to draw the wrath of the man in front of him.
«Does this amuse you?» the deputy director asked him, hitting him with a second hook in the face «I am Vice Warden Francisco, you bastard! You'd better keep that in mind if you care about your skin.»
The other inmates watched helplessly as Rotter was brutally beaten. They probably didn't want to risk taking his place if they said anything about it. Others simply didn't care; Impel Down was a place that consumed you to the core, making you cynical and disillusioned about what was happening around you or outside.
A familiar buzzing sound, coming from his right jacket pocket, forced him to interrupt that game of massacre. The man pulled out a white transponder with bluish outlines, pushing the young man to the ground and answering the call.
«Francisco!» someone from the other end called him, someone the young man recognized as the prison chief warden, Cortés «Suspend whatever activities you are practicing and come to my office immediately, we have more urgent business to attend to.»
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«Roger that, Chief Warden,» replied the young man almost annoyed, «I'm on my way.»
He stowed the den den mushi in his pocket, then pulled out a half-splattered pack of cigarettes. He pulled one out and brought it to his mouth «It seems that from time to time even garbage is allowed to enjoy a little good fortune,» he commented, lighting it up «But know that I don't intend to dismiss our little talk so quickly and that I will be watching you with much interest from now on.»
Immediately he sent a puff of smoke into the air that quickly dissipated behind him at the same instant as the vice warden made his way to the opposite entrance «Anyway, Impel Down welcomes you, you insulting cockroach,»he concluded before disappearing into the half-light, leaving those ferocious beasts, who were now malevolently eyeing him, to deal with the prisoner.
***
«"Where the hell am I?"» the young inmate wondered a few hours later, tossing and turning on a cold, damp floor. He sensed in the air an acrid smell of blood and putridity that caused him to retch. «"Am I in Hades yet?"» he asked himself again, trying to put his thoughts in order. The last thing he remembered was a woman's voice, the horrible din of his own bones being shattered by those bloodthirsty beasts, then, a violent blow to the back, and the world had disappeared, swallowed by darkness. However, he was now sure that he was still alive.
With each breath, his side threw twinges of pain. His own heartbeat was fast and labored. Death should not have been so painful.
He laboriously opened his eyes, swollen and crusted with his own blood, carefully examining the place where he was confined. It was a somewhat larger cell than those he had seen on the way, not as large as the one at the end of the corridor, in which the number of occupants was certainly greater than that allowed in any other prison.
He heard squeaks prowling in the darkness, probably belonging to hordes of rats crowding the walls and feasting festively on the rotting remains of what appeared to be corpses, probably the previous tenants.
A strange feeling of despondency and exhaustion had invaded every fiber of his body, preventing him from lifting himself up on his lower limbs or performing any other function.
And that nefarious rattling of the chains secured to his wrists and ankles had made him discover the reason for it.
«Bad idea, man,» someone told him as with great effort he tried to shake them, however, proving to be a futile attempt.
Gradually his eyes became accustomed to the dim light coming from a small slit, and turning his head in the direction of the voice he had just heard, he was able to catch a glimpse of someone on the other side of the cell: She was crouched in a corner, shackled with handcuffs that seemed thicker than his own. Her appearance completely clashed with that of any other inmate. Her skin was rosy and not at all pale, her long blond hair fell softly over her shoulders, her physique lean and not at all emaciated.
This was a woman of extraordinary and rare beauty, who was now aiming her ice-blue eyes at Ganakas' figure, as if she wanted to peer into his soul.
«This is Sea-Stone,» explained the woman as she lifted her right hand and pointed with the other to the handcuff that encircled her wrist, «An exceptionally durable and compact stone, as well as almost impossible to scratch or destroy, which exudes the same energy as the sea. But it isn't only because of these characteristics that the Marine or Pirates around the world use it among their arsenals.»
Rotter swallowed; he knew perfectly well what this woman was about to reveal to him. The aura she herself exuded was enough for him to look away and nail his gaze to the top of the rough stone wall, observing the eerie lines that ran longilinear toward the edge, almost as if they had been carved over it by someone being forcibly dragged away.
«In capable hands it is a weapon capable of inhibiting the powers of those who have fed on the devil's fruits. And since you, as well as yours truly, have also been assigned a pair,» the woman continued, referring again to the scrap metal that adorned their hands and feet, «I should infer that you have also fed on them.»
Rotter decided not to counter or reply. The woman seemed almost like intimidating him, so much so that he remained silent and listened to what had all the air of being a profound monologue, or perhaps it was just the ramblings of someone who had now lost his sanity.
«Well, these are but another method that the enemies of freedom use to crush and subdue those who still believe in dreams, those who follow their desires with ardent passion, who fight and die for an ideal, for the realization of a purpose or cause far greater than themselves.»
«I know who you are...» the young man found himself saying with difficulty and with an edge to his voice «...You are Thalia Lindsey, one of the worst elements of the 'Storm Pirates,' known...also known as the 'Necromancer'...» So he coughed, and with each blow his chest ached as if someone was pressing his foot on his sternum.
«You are wittier than I thought, Mr. Ganakas,» stated the woman with an almost wry smile, more like a sneer. The other gave her an astonished look.
«I take it from your expression that you didn't expect me to be aware of your identity either,» said the pirateess, hinting at another of those smirks, «Yet it couldn't be otherwise. In a world like ours, where despots and the corrupt have sufficient means to influence the masses and manipulate events in their favor, information constitutes the purest form of power. With it one can even decide the fate of many, for better or worse. Besides, having heard of your feats, I wished to meet you in person, just to understand what kind of man you were.»
«What the hell are you babbling about, witch...?» growled the young man, as another coughing fit ripped through him.
«Oh, oh, a temperament worthy of a lord,» retorted the woman wryly, «Now you are a respectable buccaneer, sir.»
«Presumptuous bitch,» mumbled Rotter, spitting at his feet a lump of blood and saliva, which mingled with the piles of gray, sandy dust piled on the floor «Anyway,» he added again, «I didn't think I'd find you here rotting away like some criminal. I was convinced that 'Ice Heart' had prevailed in what is remembered as 'The Battle of the Poles,' sending you into the murky depths of the North Blue.»
«And here the concept of information makes a comeback,» she replied as if resenting that statement, «The fact that it was then totally wrong should give you sufficient indication of what people are willing or unwilling to believe. However, I have a strong sense that my presence in this godforsaken place is only momentary.»
«What do you mean?» asked Rotter, increasingly confused.
«I suppose that right now the top leadership of the World Government is shouting orders and unanimously deciding on the date and place of my public execution,» retorted the former archaeologist as if this were something of little consequence
«Why are you so convinced?» asked Rotter again, raising an eyebrow «I mean...Wouldn't it be easier for them to kill you quietly and away from prying eyes, letting your memory be permanently erased from memory and history. A good and substantial portion of the population of the Blue Sea, including me, was sure that you had lost your life in the bloody conflict against Aoshika.»
«Yet here I am,» she declared wryly, «Recluded in the cell of one of the filthiest and lowest sewers that can exist in this world and tortured by ungodly and repulsive murderers, while my comrades are out there who knows where, forced to flee and hide as if they were vulgar unclean beasts, for the World Government hunts them relentlessly.»
«I...» the young man replied hesitantly, but was again interrupted by the pirate, «You would think this is due to their innate sense of justice, patriotism, or the courage with which they face adversity and safeguard citizens. You would be led to believe that with my departure there would be one less scoundrel and that the world would become a little more quiet and peaceful place. All nonsense!»
Rotter saw a contemptuous grin darting at the corners of her mouth: «Truly, what those honorless carrion are aiming for is nothing but to give a just demonstration of their strength and influence, consolidating the façade image which they have so skilfully managed to forge and using my death as a warning and pretext to discourage anyone who dares to stand against the Government, the Marine and the authority they represent»
«I find it hard to believe that one of your mold can surrender so easily and give up freedom, without even trying to fight for it!»
Those words escaped him without even thinking about it, pouring into the air like a river in flood. His tone was full of disappointment, probably he found it extremely difficult to reconcile the identity of the woman whose deeds had inspired legends and stories of all sorts, with the one in front of him, almost resigned to fate.
The woman gave him a sardonic smile, as if amused by his naivety: «Do you think I gave up? Do you think I gave up my freedom? Poor fool,» she said, shaking her head slightly, «I fought with everything I had and with every fiber of my being. I fought until I no longer had the strength to go further. And in the end they got me. But that doesn't mean I've submitted or thrown away every chance.»
She spat words like poison and in them the anger was palpable. Rotter looked down, probably realizing that he had been too rash.
«I could quibble for endless hours about topics you mightn't understand in a lifetime, but they would be meaningless words, at least to you. You aren't the person Captain Leon was waiting for with trepidation, nor the one I await with the same intensity.» Thalia paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before continuing. «Although I am trapped in this hell, my spirit is as free as the currents that cross the Grand Line. They can imprison and torture me as much as they wish, but they can never rob me of my will or my dreams, because the dreams of us pirates can never end or be restrained. And my comrades out there are still fighting to assert their dreams, to make the world a better place than it is, even if the circumstances aren't entirely favorable to them.»
«What makes you so optimistic about what's to come? Aren't you afraid of what the future might hold for you? Or to die for something simply unattainable and crazy?»
She smiled wryly, peering at the young man with fierce determination, «I don't know what fate has in store for me, nor should it interest me, but I know one thing. I will face it head on, with courage and conviction. And when I go up to the scaffold and the rope will tighten around my neck» her voice seemed rather firm and not at all hesitant «my last thought will go not only to an extraordinary man, to thank him for having made me who I am today, but also to those who will be witnesses, so that my death may act as a catalyst and inspire others to fight and open wide the doors of the new era, so that a brighter future is within their reach. And if with my sacrifice, the time of tyrants and their lackeys comes to a long-awaited sunset, then it will be worth it.»
The young man nodded, he could not even tell if he was intimidated by the noble ideals of that woman or if it was just reverence for her «If I ever manage to escape from this shit hole, I will do everything in my power to make sure that your sacrifice or that of others who face obstacles and bad weather every day isn't in vain»
Thalia smiled. A small glimmer of pride mixed with confidence sparkled in the cerulean irises as if they were fragments of pure crystal.
«Good guy,» she finally said.
Two hours later, Marineford...
They call it 'The Impregnable Fortress', an immense city located on an island with a singular shape and protected by a myriad of fortified bastions, double enclosure walls composed of an ultra-resistant material and manned by over one hundred specialized departments of the Marine.
But it isn't to this that it owes its nickname, but to the fact that since its construction until today, it has never been stormed by pirates or other troublemakers, not even by the fearsome Four Emperors or the Revolutionary Army, which represented a considerable achievement in the eyes of the population or the World Government.
It was also the place used by the Government itself for events of global importance such as hangings, executions and to a much lesser extent, beheadings.
Overlooking a balcony adorned with two marble eagles at the ends, a tall man with a massive physique observed with a rather serious expression the gray sky thickened with caliginous and looming clouds. The icy wind coming from the sea, which began to ripple with foamy waves, lashed his face, waving more and more intensely the Marine uniform that draped his shoulders.
Under it he wore a purple shirt, a band of a softer purple girded his waist, accompanied by hakama pants, black as a moonless night. The grizzled and military-cut hair seemed the only thing not to be pushed by the impetuous whirlwind, remaining firm and steadfast, as was the man who wore it. That man was none other than Kosaiusagi, one of the Marine's fearsome admirals.
Suddenly, a voice behind him interrupted his thoughts, «It looks like a terrible storm is coming, Admiral,» said a man flanking him. He was a tall and slender man, although of smaller stature than the other, with long and wild dirty blond hair, almost devoid of light. He wore a black vest with a light blue button, a handkerchief of the same color around his neck and gold-colored trousers. The classic Marine jacket was resting on his shoulders, although unlike that of the Admiral it seemed more white.
Kosaiusagi turned to him, nodding in assent «So it would seem» His voice was deep, slightly hoarse but clear and powerful, controlled and not at all frightening. It was a voice that spread tranquility and at the same time instilled fear and aroused respect. «Are you already back, Vice Admiral Dupont?» he asked, scanning the horizon again.
The man yawned loudly, bringing his hand in front of his mouth in a blatant manner and squinting, «Well, you know me, Admiral. If the task is tedious, it is almost obligatory for me that it be completed as smoothly and quickly as possible. I was about to go take a nap, but I thought before I went to greet you,» he spoke slowly, as if that conversation was starting to bore him.
The admiral nodded, «Excellent. Should I trust then that everything has been properly settled and the matter resolved?»
Dupont shrugged, «As far as it may be called such, given the circumstances. But I wouldn't worry about it, at least not now. And the time that will decide whether to do it or not»
«You're the usual slacker,» Kosaiusagi told him.
Dupont raised an eyebrow, observing the man with a certain degree of curiosity «I guess you could say that» he replied scratching his head «You are always so serious and somber, Admiral. Do you ever find time to relax?» he asked him
«I have my moments,» the man admitted.
As if hypnotized by it, he followed with his eyes the movement of the waves that vehemently crashed against the metal walls of the bay, hearing in the distance a dull rumble, like the roll of a hundred chariots that were dragged along the boundaries of the sky
«Is anything troubling you, Admiral?» asked the man, «Today, you seem more brooding than usual.»
«A man's worth is revealed in the instant when life confronts death.»
An answer that seemed somewhat cryptic, as if the Admiral was quoting someone.
«Sir?» repeated Dupont, confused by the words he had just heard. He knew well how mysterious and indecipherable the man was, but today he undoubtedly seemed more distant than he was, as if his mind were elsewhere.
«Old memories, Dupont,» Kosaiusagi hastened to say, «Of a day not so long ago when a storm such as this raged. On that day these exact words were addressed to me.»
A flash of curiosity flashed in his eyes «Are you perhaps referring to what we know today as the 'Battle of Cataclysms'? To the day you faced Captain Pounce D Leon ?»
Kosaiusagi nodded gravely, «Exactly. That was the day I faced one of the toughest challenges I've ever encountered. Leon was a formidable and relentless adversary, whose courage and willpower were second only to his unspeakable cruelty. That battle tested not only my strength and resolve, but also my tenacity and sense of duty to my men and what I swore to protect and serve. I still carry the aftermath of it,» he concluded, running a hand over his chest.
Dupont seemed quite impressed: «I have heard different versions of the story and from quite disparate sources, but never at your hands Admiral, the only one who knows how things actually went. Would you like to share it with me?»
Kosaiusagi nodded, continuing to stare intently at the horizon, while his mind returned for a moment to that fateful day.
Three Marine warships sailed the stretch of sea preceding Diatidur Island. On the deck of one of them, there was Kosaiusagi, a couple of years younger, peering undaunted ahead, waiting to land on the island where it was rumored that Leon had found a treasure capable of shaking the world.
Soon, the ship was shaken by shocks and violent tremors that tore creaks and moans from every framework. Dark clouds gathered above their heads, covering much of the sky and with the first drops of rain, the wind suddenly rose and began to blow in gusts.
The surface of the sea rippled, then became black as darkness and becoming one with the sky, and the rain instantly turned into a hurricane of gigantic proportions. The wind howled so loudly that you couldn't hear the cries of the sailors who were swept away by it.
Kosaiusagi turned his gaze to own left, observing how a huge breaker swept over the other ship, swallowing it through its coils like a snake and dragging it into the dark depths.
«Come on, men!» the Admiral tried to incite them, «Try not to be intimidated by the stormy sea, are you or not sailors?»
«Yessss!» they exclaimed in chorus, raising their arms to the sky.
«So put your backs into it! Batten down the hatches and lower the sails!»
A reddish-black lightning struck the side of the boat, and that's when he saw him:
Honey blond hair gathered in a ponytail, on top of which there was a tricorn ending with a feather, thick mustache of a lighter shade and dressed in sumptuous silk clothes to envy the richest of sovereigns.
This was the infamous Pounce D Leon , the one who had conquered the Grand Line in no time and who had ended up on everyone's lips, boasting a high-sounding but never more suitable title, 'King of Explorers'.
He stood on the shore, posing like a proud warrior. In his hands he vigorously clutched the weapon with which he had conquered the summit and which was probably partly responsible for the devastation that was taking place, the Stormlure, a saber whose silver blade was strewn with strange symbols and whose golden hilt somehow recalled the shape of a tornado.
«"There you scoundrel!"» thought the Admiral taking a step forward «At last the Marine's number one enemy has appeared before us, Pounce D Leon!" he exclaimed «Keep your concentration firm and remain at your posts as you await further instructions!" he continued before rushing to the edge and stretching his arm forward, generating a kind of ovoid-shaped portal that glowed with a purple, almost otherworldly light «And now to the two of us. Backdoor!» he said before reaching it like a rocket and passing through it, under the astonished and intimidated gaze of his own men.
But Leon seemed not to have been caught off guard, so much so that he imbued his own weapon with blackish electrical discharges and made an upward leap to the very spot where Kosaiusagi had immediately appeared.
«Perpetual Overture!» «Sharpdoor!» they both shouted in unison before a violent wave of light made them disappear from view.
«In the ten days that followed that incredible battle. many valiant men perished,» the Admiral continued to narrate, «It was an unparalleled clash, the sky was dyed red, and the wind carried the whiff of tragedy to distant shores,» he stopped abruptly, as if somehow feeling the weight of those deaths on himself as well.
«Go on, continue, Admiral,» said Dupont, fascinated as never before by the tale.
Kosaiusagi nodded, his eyes still fixed on the horizon «In the midst of our bloody battle, something happened that even today I struggle to understand.»
«What was that all about?» asked the other curious.
«We were so focused and enervated by the battle that we neglected what was happening around us. At first I didn't feel anything, then, it was as if it pounced on me all at once. The world exploded around me, and for an instant, I felt incorporeal, feeble, drifting in a sea of pure energy. It was...indescribable.»
Dupont squared him strangely, scratching his head as if trying to come to grips with words that made little or no sense to him «Rather cryptic, explain yourself better.»
Kosaiusagi smiled faintly, a rather rare thing since he was accustomed to wearing with great dexterity the mask of austerity and strictness he had managed to construct for himself over the years «It seems that the overlapping of our Haki generated a massive, uncontrolled explosion, which engulfed the entire island at once, causing destruction everywhere.»
Dupont opened his eyes wide, «It must have been terrible. What happened next?»
«I was catapulted directly into the sea, and Leon and his cursed island were inevitably lost. However, until some time ago, rumors were circulating about it and that it had reappeared almost by magic, but these were only unfounded rumors and the result of tavern or drunken gossip. No one except Leon and his crew ever managed to explore the island and find the fearsome secret it held.»
«And how did you survive?» asked the Vice Admiral «Having ingested a devil fruit and thus lost the ability to swim, you would have drowned instantly. So what trick did you use to have saved your life? Perhaps, it might come in handy.»
Kosaiusagi was silent for a moment, «That's a whole other story, and maybe someday I'll tell it to you.»
Dupont snorted boredly, but then clenched his fists as if in the throes of strong excitement «At any rate, having helped take out a freebooter of the worst kind, you have earned the nickname 'Stormbreaker', that is quite a tale worthy of your exploits. You're incredible, Admiral, a true legend»
«I'm just a man» he replied in a low voice «A man who has seen too much and would never back down, even knowing that storms more violent than this loom on the horizon" then turned a grave expression on the man next to him «Remember that, Vice Admiral. No matter how calm the waters may appear, for somewhere, there is always an impending storm, ready to pour its irrepressible fury upon the world.»
Dupont nodded, before taking his leave with a nod and beginning to walk in the direction of the imposing carved wooden door.
«"We have no idea what awaits us out there"»