The bridge of the submarine hummed with a low, constant thrum—the heartbeat of ancient machinery sleeping beneath steel and crystal. Condensation beaded on the curved walls, tracing slow paths down the black alloy. The air smelled of salt, old metal, and the faint sharpness of ozone's forbidden cousin—let's call it the tang of overheated circuits.
Marya stood at the center of the holographic display, her arms crossed tight over the Heart Pirates insignia stitched across her leather jacket. Her raven hair hung loose, brushing the collar of her casual shirt. Tall combat boots planted firm on the grated floor. Her golden eyes—her father's eyes, Mihawk's eyes—fixed on the shimmering map before her.
The hologram painted the Calm Belt and the North Blue in ghostly blues and greens. A single dot blinked on Tosu Island, marking their current position. Marya's gaze lingered there for a breath, then drifted east. Amiso Island sat in the Calm Belt's eerie stillness, a small speck ringed by the red of dead calm waters. Her eyes traced north to Kushi Island, just above the Calm Belt's border, then further north, closer to the Red Line's towering shadow.
Her lips pressed into a thin line.
Atlas Acuta leaned against the wall near the console, his rust-red fur muted in the hologram's light. His arms remained crossed, his blue sapphire eyes watching Marya with the patience of a predator waiting for orders. "What's the play, boss?"
Marya's eyes narrowed. Her mind churned through possibilities, routes, risks. Beckman stood near the viewport, a cigarette dangling from his lips. Smoke curled upward, twisting into a loose halo around his head before dissipating into the ventilation grates. Shanks stood beside him, hip cocked, one hand resting on Griffon's hilt. His red hair caught the glow of the hologram, and his eyes watched Marya with quiet interest.
Galit Varuna leaned against the console beside Aurélie, his long neck curved in that loose S-shape he favored. His emerald-green eyes flicked between Marya and the map. Aurélie's silver hair hung loose, her hand resting near Anathema's hilt at her hip. Her steel-gray eyes held no emotion, just watchful stillness.
Jannali Bandler stood next to Marya, her brown eyes scanning the hologram. Her headscarf covered her third eye, but her full afro pushed against the fabric. She shifted her weight, the golden hoop earrings gleaming.
Halia hovered near the holographic image, her silver-blue hair drifting as if underwater. Her ethereal tail faded in and out of visibility, and her eyes—whirlpools of deep blue—tracked the data streams flickering across her vision.
Marya opened her mouth to reply.
Then the pain hit.
A sharp pang drove into her chest, right behind her sternum, as if someone had shoved a hot knife between her ribs. She gripped her jacket, fingers digging into the leather. A voice—low, ancient, crawling with malice—murmured through her mind.
Do not test me! You have been warned!
Igutoshi. The Void Curse. The thing that marked her with black void veins crawling up her arms. Contained my Law's power that was beginning to wane.
Marya gritted her teeth. Her golden eyes flashed red—just a flicker, just a warning. The red bled across her irises like blood spilling into water, then vanished. She swallowed hard, forcing her breathing steady.
Shanks and Beckman noticed. Their eyes narrowed. They exchanged a look—one of those wordless communications that came from decades of sailing together. But neither said a word.
Marya took a breath. "Halia, has there been any chatter about any kind of activities or events?"
Halia's eyes filled with cascading code—ancient script, numbers, symbols that shifted too fast to follow. Her head tilted, hair drifting. After a moment, she spoke, her voice warm but formal.
"There is currently no communication about anything referencing or mentioning events or major activities in or around Amiso Island."
Marya's eyes shifted to Shanks. "And you don't know what this event could be either."
Shanks shrugged, his hand still resting on Griffon. "Could be anything. A festival. A meeting. A funeral. A sale on fish." He grinned, but the grin did not reach his eyes. "I couldn't even fathom a guess."
Marya's eyes narrowed. She knew that tone. He was holding something back. But she also knew pressing him would get her nowhere.
She sighed. "Since we have nothing to go on other than an island and a vague mention of an event, we shouldn't deviate."
She looked to Galit. "When is the next full moon?"
Galit turned, his long neck extending as he glanced over his shoulder. He punched a button on the console. A calendar flickered across a secondary screen. "Three weeks."
Marya nodded. "Okay, then. We can see where the power holders are then, and maybe we can make a detour."
Aurélie spoke, her voice flat and measured. "The Wani Wani no Mi, Model: Ginga has been stationary. It is the other two powers we are tracking that have been in motion. If they stay consistent, then traveling to Amiso Island would not be a major detour."
Marya nodded, about to reply—
"Tracking?"
Beckman's voice cut through the bridge like a blade. He blew out a plume of smoke, the gray cloud curling toward the ceiling. "How are you tracking Devil Fruits?"
Marya, Galit, Atlas, Jannali, and Aurélie exchanged glances. A silent conversation passed between them—quick, guarded, weighing trust against necessity.
Shanks chuckled, low and warm. "I get the feeling they don't trust us."
Marya made an audible sigh, the sound echoing off the metal walls. "What the hell. Go ahead and show them."
Galit nodded. He turned and pressed a sequence of buttons on the console. The holographic map flickered, then shifted. A second image layered over the first—a web of pulsing shapes, each one a different color, each one throbbing with a slow, rhythmic light. The image from the Celestial Tide Glass.
Halia announced, her voice carrying a note of authority, "That is the last scan from the Celestial Tide Glass."
Beckman and Shanks blinked. They stepped closer to the hologram, their shadows merging with the ghostly light. Beckman's cigarette trailed smoke across the image. Shanks's hand fell away from Griffon as he leaned in.
"What is this?" Shanks asked.
Halia answered before Marya could. "It is the most updated known locations of every power holder within my scanning range, based on the Celestial Tide Glass—"
Beckman held up a hand. "What is this Celestial Tide Glass?"
Marya smirked. "It's a compass that shows us the location of every power holder."
Shanks stared at her, disbelief flickering across his face. His eyes searched hers, looking for the lie.
Marya met his gaze. "How did you think I was finding them?"
Shanks's smirk returned, crooked and knowing. "That's a dangerous thing to have."
Marya held his eye. "Why do you think I didn't want to tell you?"
Beckman's gaze fixed on the hologram, his finger rising to point at a cluster of pulsing lights. "Hey, Chief. Look here."
Shanks moved to stand beside him, his eyes following Beckman's finger. Lights moving in the direction of Elbaf glowed brighter than the others—a dense knot of power signatures. Shanks's brow furrowed.
Then his eyes slid away, tracing across the hologram toward Pirate Island. His jaw tightened.
"How old is this information?" Shanks asked.
Galit answered, his voice casual but edged with caution. "The Celestial Tide Glass only works under a full moon. So it is as old as the last full moon. About a week."
Shanks nodded, rubbing his chin with his thumb. "I see."
The word hung in the air, heavy with unspoken thoughts.
---
The bridge door hissed open.
Bianca Yvonne Clark burst through, her grease-stained overalls flapping over a floral dress. Her waist-length black hair escaped its messy bun, pencils sticking out at odd angles. Large magnifying goggles sat on her forehead, and a smudge of something dark marked her cheek.
"Like, yo!"
Marya turned. "How are repairs?"
Bianca flopped into a chair near the console, the metal creaking under her weight. She waved a hand, her colorful nail polish catching the light. "Like, we are on track to like leave the day after tomorrow. I just need to like make one more adjustment, and—"
Marya raised a brow. "And?"
Bianca shrugged, her expression turning sheepish. "We just like need to like pay for stuff."
Jannali cursed, throwing her hands up. "Bloody hell. I just won all that berry. How much more you need?"
Bianca shrugged again, pulling a pencil from her hair and twirling it. "Like, we rented a truck and like had to get tools and like more stuff to reinforce that hull so we don't like sink and we can like travel under water or whatever."
Marya smirked, turning her attention to Jannali. "Settle up with whoever so we don't get stuck here after Vesta's debut."
Jannali crossed her arms and cocked her hip. "And what about Vesta's merch dilemma?"
Bianca blinked. "Merch?"
Jannali's shoulders rose and fell. "Yeah, mate. She says she needs merch for her concert or whatever."
Bianca nodded, her face brightening. "Like, cool. Well, like, I can probably like help with that. We can like use the ship to like make stuff."
Marya raised a brow. "We can?"
Bianca flicked a wrist as if the answer should have been obvious. "Like, yeah. Like no big deal. And we can like sell it and like make a profit or whatever."
Jannali grinned. "Bloody hell. You need to show me this."
Bianca stood, brushing off her overalls. "Like, cool. Come on. We should, like, probably get Vesta too."
They walked toward the door, their footsteps echoing. Jannali's voice trailed back into the bridge. "Yeah, mate. I think she is in the galley with Eliane and Charlie."
The door hissed shut behind them.
---
Aurélie pushed off from the console, her boots clicking on the grated floor. "We depart the day after tomorrow, then?"
Marya looked over her shoulder, her golden eyes meeting Aurélie's steel-gray. "Yes. I don't want to linger."
Aurélie nodded. "Understood. And the duel?"
Beckman blew out a plume of smoke. "In the morning."
Aurélie nodded again. "Understood."
She turned and walked toward the exit, her silver hair swaying.
Atlas watched her go, his rust-red fur bristling. "You have some place to be or something?"
Aurélie paused at the threshold, her hand on the door frame. She glanced over her shoulder, her expression unreadable.
"Something like that."
She stepped out, and the door hissed shut.
Beckman blew out another stream of smoke, a smirk of approval curling his lips. Shanks chuckled under his breath, low and amused.
---
Shanks pushed off from the wall and started toward the exit. Beckman fell into step beside him. At the door, Shanks glanced over his shoulder at Marya.
"Marya. Come to the Red Force later."
Marya's brow furrowed. "What? Why?"
Shanks did not answer. He just smiled—that infuriating, knowing smile—and walked out with Beckman. The door hissed shut, leaving Marya standing alone with Galit, Atlas, and the fading hologram.
Jannali had already left. Aurélie was gone. Halia hovered quietly, her eyes tracking data streams no one else could see.
Atlas, brow furrowed, shoulder leaning against the wall. "What's that all about?"
Marya sighed, running a hand through her raven hair. "I have no idea."
The bridge hummed around her, the ancient machinery whispering secrets she could not yet hear. The hologram flickered, casting ghostly light across her face. Her golden eyes lingered on the blinking dot marking Amiso Island.
Three weeks until the full moon.
Three weeks until she could scan again.
Three weeks until she found her brother.
She turned and walked toward the door, her boots steady on the metal floor. Behind her, the hologram faded to black.
-----
The hatch on the deck of the submarine hissed open, releasing a breath of cool, recycled air into the Tosu evening. Aurélie Nakano Takeko stepped through, her silver hair a flowing banner in the last of the orange light of sunset. Her steel-gray eyes swept the dock, the warehouses, the darkening sky.
Then her gaze lifted to the rooftops.
A silhouette stood against the fading glow—a slender figure leaning on a long spear, watching her with the patience of a man who had waited years for something and would wait more if needed. The figure raised a hand in greeting.
Aurélie smiled. Her lips barely moved, but the warmth reached her eyes.
Round wings unfolded from her back—shimmering, translucent wings of a desert locust, fracturing the light in iridescent fragments. She launched from the deck, her boots leaving the metal with a soft push, and soared across the gap between the submarine and the rooftop.
She landed without a sound.
Wahid-Ahmed bin Abdul leaned on his cheese-spreader spear, the absurd weapon planted against the rooftop tiles. His close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair shifted in the breeze. His dark eyes crinkled at the corners as he watched her approach.
"So that is them," he said, gesturing with his chin toward the submarine below.
Aurélie nodded. "It is."
Wahid-Ahmed's grin faded, replaced by something softer. "When is the fated day for the inevitable parting?"
Aurélie looked away, her jaw tightening. "The day after tomorrow."
She did not hide the disappointment in her voice. She never did with him.
Wahid-Ahmed grinned again, warm and knowing. He reached out and took her hand, his calloused fingers wrapping around hers.
"Plenty of time, then."
Aurélie looked at their joined hands, then back at his face. "What about the doctors?"
Wahid-Ahmed's thumb traced a small circle on the back of her hand. "They are in good hands." He tilted his head toward the distant glow of Port Lak-Sa's market lanterns. "Come on. Let's go."
He turned and walked across the rooftop, his spear tapping against the tiles. Aurélie followed, her wings folding back into her shoulders, her silver hair swaying.
---
The hatch hissed open again.
Shanks stepped onto the deck, his black cloak billowing in the evening breeze. Beckman followed, a fresh cigarette already burning between his fingers. Smoke trailed behind him like a second shadow.
Both men looked up at the rooftop.
The two silhouettes stood outlined against the twilight—one leaning on a spear, the other with silver hair flowing in the fading light. Then the figures turned and disappeared behind the roof's edge.
Shanks grinned.
Beckman blew out a plume of smoke, watching the empty rooftop. "I know what you are thinking."
Shanks's grin widened. "Do you?"
They walked toward the gangplank, their boots thudding against the submarine's deck. The wood of the dock creaked beneath their weight as they crossed onto it.
"Yeah," Beckman said, smoke curling from his nostrils. "And she isn't the type to follow anyone. She is too much like her old man in that regard."
Shanks smirked, his hand resting on Griffon's hilt. "I'm not worried about that."
Beckman gave him the side eye—the look that said I know exactly what you are planning and I am choosing not to argue because it won't matter anyway.
"Meaning you aren't going to give her a choice."
Shanks clapped him on the shoulder as they stepped onto the dock, the wood solid beneath their feet. The Red Force waited ahead, its dragon-headed prow a blazin beacon in the dusk.
"What are you implying?"
Beckman shook his head, strands of his silver breaking away from its restraint. He did not answer. He just followed Shanks down the dock, smoke trailing behind him, the evening wrapping around them like a warm blanket.
Behind them, the submarine sat black and patient, its hull reflecting the stars as they began to appear.
Somewhere in the distance, a satay vendor called out to passing customers, and the smell of grilled meat drifted through the air.
If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider giving Dracule Marya Zaleska a Power Stone! It helps the novel climb the rankings and get more eyes on our story!
Thank you for sailing with us! 🏴☠️ Your support means so much!
Want to see the Dreadnought Thalassa blueprints? Or unlock the true power of Goddess Achlys?
Join the Dracule Marya Zaleska crew on Patreon to get exclusive concept art, deep-dive lore notes, and access to our private Discord community! You make the New World adventure possible.
Become a Crewmate and Unlock the Lore:
https://patreon.com/An1m3N3rd?utm_medium=unknown&utm_source=join_link&utm_campaign=creatorshare_creator&utm_content=copyLink
Thanks so much for your support and loving this story as much as I do!