—Real World—
Impel Down – Level 6
Still Water Prison? The New Marine under future leadership was apparently constructing an entirely new maximum-security facility instead of continuing use of the original Impel Down?
The New Marine that knight girl Artoria Pendragon would lead in the future was genuinely, absurdly wealthy. The construction costs alone would require decades of traditional Marine budgets.
Director Magellan—who'd just finished another prolonged session of diarrhea—weakly held onto the private toilet's wall for support. His massive frame trembled slightly from physical exhaustion and digestive agony.
Having his stomach constantly upset by the Doku Doku no Mi (Venom-Venom Fruit) every single day was genuinely difficult to endure even for someone of extraordinary physical constitution. The fact that he hadn't died from chronic poisoning and malnutrition over all these years only demonstrated that the prison director's biological resilience differed dramatically from ordinary people.
Most humans would have succumbed to organ failure within months. Magellan had somehow survived years.
Not long after the director emerged from his private toilet—pale-faced, sweating, moving with obvious discomfort—he noticed his colleagues surrounding him with peculiar expressions. They were looking at him with strange scrutiny that made the massive man genuinely confused.
"Why is everyone staring at me like that?" Magellan asked weakly, still recovering from intestinal cramping. "Did something particularly significant happen on the Sky Screen during my... indisposition?"
Since he necessarily spent several hours daily confined to toilets—suffering from the Devil Fruit's horrific side effects—Magellan's Sky Screen viewing was always catastrophically interrupted by stomach emergencies. He couldn't maintain continuity with the intermittently broadcasted information.
Eventually he'd instructed subordinates to summarize Sky Screen contents comprehensively. The Director of Impel Down could simply listen to condensed reports during his brief periods of functional capacity between bathroom visits.
This represented unavoidable compromise. There existed no medical solution for the Venom-Venom Fruit's digestive side effects. There would always be significant window periods when Magellan was completely unavailable for duty at Impel Down.
"Director, you missed absolutely critical information this time," a sexy and striking beauty stated bluntly, her voice carrying professional concern mixed with exasperation.
Deputy Warden Domino wore her signature outfit: hat positioned over her right eye, long curly golden hair cascading past her shoulders, brown jacket and matching shorts paired with distinctive red high boots and red long gloves. Her appearance seemed designed to distract prisoners rather than intimidate them—though she was perfectly capable of both.
This woman was none other than Domino, the Deputy Warden of Impel Down—Magellan's most trusted subordinate and frequent critic.
She often complained that the Director spent excessive time in toilets when he should be managing the underwater prison's heavy administrative affairs. Valid criticism, perhaps, but not something Magellan could actually change without a Devil Fruit transplant.
Domino's next words fell like guillotine blade: "We won't even have a home in the future. Impel Down no longer exists in those broadcasts. It's been completely abandoned and replaced."
The Deputy Warden explained how future broadcasts showed Impel Down Prison being abandoned entirely. The Rome headquarters would establish Still Water Prison as replacement—a completely new facility built from scratch with superior security.
For jailer Marines like themselves—personnel who'd dedicated entire careers to Impel Down's operation—this news felt like the sky was literally collapsing.
Their institutional home. Their professional identity. Their life's work. All rendered obsolete and abandoned.
"I didn't expect circumstances would deteriorate to this catastrophic point," Magellan admitted heavily, his voice carrying profound guilt. "The prison riot shown in future broadcasts is apparently far more serious than I'd imagined possible. I, as the incumbent director, cannot escape ultimate responsibility for that failure."
Magellan was fundamentally an ambitious man—a dedicated warrior who could work tirelessly and remain stationed in this underwater prison without complaint despite horrific conditions.
There was no natural sunlight penetrating to these depths. Ever. The psychological isolation and loneliness here were absolutely off the charts. Most people would develop serious mental health issues within months.
Yet Magellan had served faithfully for years, maintaining security despite personal suffering.
That Shiryu of the Rain would rebel in the future represented an unprecedented catastrophe. He'd become the biggest traitor in Impel Down's entire operational history—a record of infamy that would never be erased.
Connecting this revelation with broader context, Magellan suddenly understood something critically important: Shiryu would definitely stab him in the back at the most crucial moment. During the prison break. When security was already compromised.
The man he'd trusted as Head Jailer would become his executioner.
If prisoners affected by the Paramecia-type Doku Doku no Mi didn't obtain corresponding antidotes within seconds, any pirate lacking advanced Haki would be completely overwhelmed by Magellan's poison almost immediately.
What he feared least was group combat. Numbers meant nothing against toxic gas.
But betrayal from within? That was different. That was fatal.
"Shiryu stays confined to Level 6 indefinitely," Magellan ordered grimly, making executive decision based on future knowledge. "Don't release him for any reason. We must maintain constant vigilance against such potential rebels even before they commit actual betrayal."
It wasn't too late implementing preventive measures before disasters occurred in the future. Magellan could only attempt remedying the situation with information available.
As long as Shiryu remained secured in critical positions—unable to access prisoners or security systems—Impel Down would still remain impregnable against internal threats.
"Actually, I want knowing if there's still any place for us in Still Water Prison," Deputy Warden Hannibal observed nervously, his distinctive beer belly preceding him as he approached. "I wonder whether we can successfully integrate with the New Marine's command structure. Will they even want us?"
What had happened in the underwater prison according to future broadcasts had already occurred in that timeline. It represented the biggest prison break in recorded history—an institutional failure of catastrophic proportions.
All Marines on duty shared responsibility. Blame would be distributed comprehensively.
It seemed entirely possible that their respective positions would be completely demoted as punishment. They might even face imprisonment themselves. There existed small but real probability they'd pay with their lives for such major operational failures.
Hannibal's longtime dream of eventually becoming Director appeared completely shattered in those future timelines. His ambitions had died before ever being realized.
Confined in Level 6's maximum-security cells, Shiryu of the Rain looked profoundly unhappy watching these broadcasts. The Marine's prison system had excluded him entirely in the future. His career had ended in disgrace and imprisonment.
If he genuinely wanted regaining freedom and killing people at will—indulging the bloodlust that defined his existence—his only remaining hope involved establishing connections with the Celestial Dragons.
"The conflict between the Celestial Dragons and Marine has become completely public," Shiryu muttered to himself, analyzing strategic opportunities. "They're probably in desperate need of expert combatants right now. Especially those willing to work outside Marine oversight."
This bloodthirsty swordsman who genuinely enjoyed reaping lives recognized that the path of joining the Marine organization was permanently foreclosed. Joining a large pirate crew wasn't realistic given his institutional history.
Perhaps the optimal strategy involved establishing direct relationships with Celestial Dragons. Offering his services to the Gods themselves rather than their military arm.
They'd need warriors who could operate independently. Who possessed no loyalty to Artoria's Marine. Who would follow orders without moral complications.
Shiryu fit that profile perfectly.
The legendary pirates imprisoned on Level 6 had witnessed the Five Elders being humiliated on the Sky Screen. They'd watched Saint Jaygarcia Saturn having no choice except giving face to the New Marine's demands.
The ancient Elder's expression had turned absolutely livid—the color of diseased liver—throughout those negotiations. He must have felt profoundly aggrieved accepting such terms.
The prisoners found this development absolutely delightful.
"The Celestial Dragons have finally experienced this kind of humiliation!" one pirate laughed with genuine joy. "I never thought I'd live to see it!"
"I'm definitely going to the holy land of Mary Geoise someday and causing maximum chaos," another promised with fervent conviction. "Before I die, I'll make those bastards suffer."
"There's no telling how much treasure exists in the Celestial Dragons' holy land," a third speculated greedily. "If we rush in and grab even a fraction, we'd be wealthy for multiple lifetimes. Generations could live off that score."
The pirates talked and cheered among themselves, their voices echoing through the massive prison level. The World Government agents stationed outside the cell railings were grinding their teeth with barely suppressed fury.
Some of the more impatient CP9 agents retrieved prepared weapons and began violently suppressing this group of extraordinarily evil criminals—beating them into silence, making them shut up and stop spewing verbal filth.
In the end, the government agents achieved somewhat hollow victory. Even though the pirates suffered physical injuries from beatings—bruises, broken bones, bleeding wounds—they remained extraordinarily happy mentally.
It turned out the Sky Screen could still bring them entertainment and psychological satisfaction. Watching their oppressors being humiliated was worth any amount of physical pain.
"Still Water Prison," legendary pirate Patrick Redfield—sometimes called "Red the Aloof" or "Baloric Redfield"—mused thoughtfully. "The name sounds remarkably ordinary and uninspired. No dramatic flair whatsoever."
His focus seemed strange to others. Impel Down was already the most heavily defended underwater prison in the entire world. It seemed genuinely tragic that such an institution would be abandoned so casually.
How catastrophically serious must the structural damage and security failures be for the underwater prison to warrant complete abandonment rather than repair?
Lone Red had been staying in this particular place for years now, developing some complicated emotional attachment despite being a prisoner. Having lost his idealistic goals and revolutionary fire, he'd become somewhat of a philosophical observer—a jerk in his own estimation.
"The World Government, the Celestial Dragons, the Five Elders—they're all ultimately just a pathetic group of weaklings hiding behind institutional power," Douglas Bullet declared with absolute conviction.
The knife wounds covering his massive body were still recovering slowly from recent interrogation sessions. But he remained extremely excited mentally, riding an adrenaline high from witnessing Celestial Dragon humiliation.
He knew with certainty that as long as he refused surrendering—as long as he maintained defiant resistance—he could preserve his life indefinitely. They needed something from him. That gave him leverage.
He'd obtained the Eternal Pose pointing toward Laugh Tale—the final island where One Piece supposedly waited—purely by chance during his time with the Roger Pirates.
If the Celestial Dragons wanted acquiring this navigational treasure, they probably wouldn't manage it in their remaining lifetimes. Roger's belongings could never be surrendered to the Gods. That would represent ultimate betrayal.
In this world where the strong absolutely preyed upon the weak—where might made right and weakness invited exploitation—if you couldn't win on the battlefield, your entire position equaled zero regardless of legal authority or institutional legitimacy.
The one with bigger fists possessed greater voice in determining outcomes. Simple brutal truth.
The New Marine could firmly suppress one entire World Government through demonstrated strength. The combat capabilities of Rome's twelve Marine Admirals must be genuinely terrifying to achieve such dominance.
Although Admiral Esdeath—sometimes called Shirousagi (White Rabbit)—hadn't displayed her complete combat capabilities during the Mary Geoise broadcasts, that terrifying aura of oppression was felt by everyone both inside and outside the Sky Screen's influence.
This represented the first time the concept of the "Three Royal Guards" had appeared in any context. An elite trio serving as the Fleet Admiral's personal defenders.
This female Admiral was clearly not only a supreme-grade swordswoman but could also display abilities functionally similar to ice manipulation—freezing effects rivaling Admiral Kuzan's Hie Hie no Mi.
She possessed some mysterious connection with Saint Jaygarcia Saturn. It remained genuinely questionable whether she was also a Devil Fruit user or if her ice powers originated from alternative sources.
Both the Marine and World Government intelligence agencies were actively searching for comprehensive biographical information on this woman named Esdeath. They wanted understanding her origins, training, previous affiliations, weaknesses.
But such a powerful combatant seemed to have appeared completely out of thin air. There existed absolutely no historical records of her activities across all the seas.
No childhood history. No training records. No previous employment. No family connections. Nothing.
She was a ghost who'd somehow manifested with Admiral-class capabilities.
Intelligence officers compiled this frustratingly useless information and handed reports to their supervisors, only receiving torrents of verbal abuse in response.
"Aramaki—the future Admiral known as Green Bull—already appeared on our radar before joining the Marine!" one supervisor shouted furiously at his cowering subordinates. "Why can't you locate Esdeath's background?! She didn't just spontaneously generate from nothing!"
The implication was clear: the intelligence officers weren't being sufficiently serious when conducting background investigations. They were failing at their fundamental duties.
After the Sky Screen's appearance, the first truly unlucky professionals were intelligence officers. Their entire field had been rendered partially obsolete by information freely broadcast to everyone.
What value did secret intelligence networks possess when critical information was displayed publicly?
The intelligence community was experiencing existential crisis across all organizations simultaneously.