The eastern cliffs of Dressrosa were still actively shedding massive sheets of stone into the foaming ocean below, a direct casualty of Saint Jaygarcia Saturn's apocalyptic tantrum. The air was thick with the stench of scorched limestone and boiling purple acid.
Saint Saturn stood at the absolute edge of the precipice, his massive, chitinous spider legs deeply embedded into the cracked bedrock. His glowing crimson eyes remained fixed on the horizon, where the silhouette of the ship was rapidly shrinking into the safe expanses of the New World sea. For the first time in centuries, the absolute, divine composure of the Elder Planet was utterly shattered.
Fifty yards behind him, Admiral Kizaru sat propped against a half-shattered stone pillar. His iconic yellow-pinstriped suit was torn to ribbons, exposing the deep, smoking puncture wound in his torso that Giovanni had carved with Ace. His light particles flickered erratically, struggling to maintain his physical form as he watched the back of the Elder.
"They have slipped completely through our fingers, Saturn-sei~," Kizaru drawled slowly, his tone carrying a rare, genuine register of exhaustion.
Saturn did not turn his head. His massive jaw tightened until the sound of grinding bone echoed across the isolated port. "I have eyes, Borsalino. I am well aware of what those insects have achieved." He slowly rotated one crimson eye back toward the injured Admiral, his voice dropping into a guttural register of absolute authority. "Stand up. Re-establish your light form and pursue them. They have exhausted their stamina. Cut off their retreat."
Kizaru let out a soft, lazy sigh, tilting his head back against the stone. "Oh, that is completely impossible. That brat put a rather nasty layer of Haki directly into my lung. My internal organs are currently performing a very uncomfortable dance. Even if I were to catch up to their ship... facing Red-Hair, Beckman, and those three powerhouse rookies simultaneously? In my current state, they would simply tear me to pieces. The Navy cannot afford to lose an Admiral over a missed deployment."
Saturn's spider legs flexed, shattering the rock beneath them. "Insolent fool. Then signal Marine Headquarters immediately. Order a full-scale tactical bombardment. I want this entire island, every structure, every historical record, and every living soul erased from the face of the maps. Dressrosa will become an empty mark on the ocean."
"Fuffuffu... Now hold on just a moment, Saint Saturn!"
A sharp, unhinged burst of high-pitched laughter echoed from the ruined archway behind them. Donquixote Doflamingo stepped smoothly into the clearing, his massive, pink-feathered coat fluttering in the sulfuric wind. Despite the absolute terror of the situation, a wide, predatory grin stretched across his face, his hidden eyes locked directly onto the monstrous form of the Elder.
"You cannot order a Buster Call on this territory," Doflamingo declared, his tone dripping with an absolute, arrogant confidence. "Dressrosa is the core foundation for all of my future operations. The underground factories, the trade routes... it is far too valuable to be turned into ash merely because you lost your temper over a handful of pirate rookies."
Saturn slowly turned his massive bulk around, his towering presence casting a suffocating, dark shadow completely over the blonde pirate. "You forget your place, Donquixote blood. You are nothing but a fallen celestial spark wallowing in the dirt of the lower world. What do the petty ambitions of a pirate have to do with the absolute decrees of the Five Elder Planets? If I wish for this island to burn, it will burn."
Doflamingo's grin didn't falter, but a heavy, purple vein violently bulged against his forehead. He took a single step forward, his voice dropping into a cold, razor-sharp whisper that sliced through the howling wind.
"It has everything to do with you, old man," Doflamingo hissed. "Because if you pull the trigger on this island, I will personally ensure that the secret of Mary Geoise. The sacred, rotting treasure that sits beneath your holy palace is broadcasted to every news coo from here to the Four Blues. I wonder how the world will react when they find out what the gods are truly hiding?"
The air instantly froze.
An oppressive, negative wave of black Conqueror's Haki erupted from Saturn's body, cracking the stone floor between them. His crimson eyes blazed with an ancient, murderous fury. "Do not overstep your boundaries, brat. A single word from my mouth could have you executed before the sun sets."
"Then do it," Doflamingo challenged, his teeth bared in a feral smile as he raised his hands loosely. "But you know exactly how many contingency plans I have set in motion. If my heart stops, the secret leaks. So... are we going to let Dressrosa stand, or are we going to play a game of absolute ruin?"
Saturn let out a low, terrifying growl that vibrated through the very foundations of the coast. For three agonizing seconds, the immortal god stared down the blackmailer. Finally, with a violent snap of his massive limbs, Saturn turned back toward the ocean, his aura slowly contracting. He had been forced to back down.
---
Three miles out at sea, the ship cut smoothly through the dark waves of the New World. The sails were fully billowed, and the ship was rapidly putting distance between itself and the cursed island.
Up on the quarterdeck, Building Snake let go of the heavy wooden wheel with a long, explosive sigh of relief. He wiped a thick layer of gray ash from his forehead, looking back at the distant, silent cliffs. "The waters are completely clear! No marine ships on the radar, and that monster's aura has vanished from the coast. It seems they won't be coming after us!"
The announcement should have brought a cheer. Instead, it triggered a catastrophe.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
In a horrifying, synchronized sequence, the five men who had consumed the sacred medicine of Zou collapsed entirely.
Shanks dropped to his knees first, Gryphon clattering loosely out of his hand as a thick, violent fountain of crimson blood erupted from his lips. Right beside him, Charlotte Katakuri's massive frame hit the wooden deck with a heavy, unceremonious crash, his metallic black Haki instantly unraveling as his body began to violently convulse. King the Wildfire fell face-first into the ash, the magma-flame on his back instantly extinguishing into a thin wisp of gray smoke. Marco the Phoenix curled into a tight fetal position, his blue flames flickering out completely as he gasped for air that refused to enter his lungs.
At the center of the deck, Giovanni was flat on his back. The thick white medical bandages wrapping his torso were instantly stained a deep, horrific purple as his cauterized chest wound tore completely open under the sheer internal pressure of his nervous system. His teeth grinded together so hard that a sharp crack echoed through his jaw, his fingers clawing desperately at the wooden deck planks.
"Giovanni!" Nico Robin shrieked, running forward and dropping to her knees beside his shaking body. Her face went completely pale, her small hands hovering over his chest as fresh blood began to pool around his shoulders. "Hongo! Help him! What is happening to them?!"
Hongo burst out of the medical cabin, his face masks and pristine white coat instantly discarded as he dropped a heavy crate of dampeners and stabilizing serums onto the deck. "Get back, Robin! Don't touch them!"
He quickly began jamming heavy, fluid-filled syringes directly into Shanks' and Giovanni's necks, his hands moving with a frantic, professional desperation. "The Mink medicine... the clock has finally run out! The drug never healed their cells; it merely forced their nervous systems to completely ignore death-level trauma. Now, the biological debt must be paid with interest! Every torn muscle, every shattered bone, and every drop of internal bleeding has just returned at 2x the intensity!"
Robin's eyes widened in absolute horror as she watched Giovanni vomit a dark clotted mass of blood, his eyes rolling back into his head. "Are they... are they going to die?!"
Yasopp walked over slowly, his face grim, but his movements remained entirely steady as he drew a clean cloth to wipe the barrel of his flintlock rifle. He looked down at the five convulsing powerhouses, then looked down at the terrified girl.
"Die?" Yasopp said, a confident, sharp grin breaking through the dirt on his face. "Little girl, look at who you're talking about. These are the monsters who just spat directly into the face of a World Government god and lived to tell the tale. The shock alone would kill a normal man from spinal failure... but these guys aren't that weak. Hold your ground. They'll survive."
---
Later that night, the ship was dead silent, rocking smoothly beneath the silver rays of the New World moon. The heavy scent of antiseptic and iron hung thick within the lower corridors.
Inside the dark sleeping cabin, Nico Robin sat perfectly upright on her small cot. She listened intently to the heavy, rhythmic breathing of the resting crew members before sliding her boots onto the wooden floor without making a single sound. Her small hands trembled as she gathered her meager belongings. A few spare clothes and her research notes and tied them tightly into a small fabric bundle.
Moving like a ghost, she crept out of the cabin and made her way down into the deep, pitch-black hold of the ship, where the wooden emergency dinghies were securely tied to the secondary launch ports. Her heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
She reached out, her small fingers wrapping around the heavy iron handle of the launch bay door.
"Going for a late-night row, Robin?"
A raspy, pain-filled voice suddenly sliced through the silence of the hold.
Robin violently flinched, spinning around with her back against the door. Standing in the shadows of the secondary bulkhead was Giovanni. He looked like an absolute ghost; his upper body was wrapped so tightly in fresh white linens that he resembled a mummy, and he was leaning his entire weight against a heavy wooden support beam just to stay upright. Cold sweat was dripping down his pale face, and his muscles were visibly trembling from the lingering shock of the 2x pain penalty, but his eyes remained completely level, locked onto her position.
Robin quickly swallowed the lump in her throat, shifting her fabric bundle behind her back. "I... I was just checking on the secondary supplies, Giovanni. Hongo said the medical bay needed more water rations."
Giovanni let out a weak, dry chuckle that instantly turned into a sharp wheeze, his hand pressing firmly against his bandaged ribs. "With a bundle of personal clothes in your hand? Try again, kid. You're a brilliant archaeologist, but your lying skills are absolutely pathetic."
The silence returned, heavy and suffocating. Robin looked down at the wooden deck, her fingers tightening around her fabric bundle until her knuckles turned white. Finally, the absolute weight of the past forty-eight hours broke through her defenses. A single, heavy tear spilled over her lashes, splashing onto the dark wood.
"I have to leave," Robin whispered, her voice cracking with a raw, suffocating sorrow. "Don't you see? That scary Admiral... that monstrous spider... they didn't come to Dressrosa for a random pirate crew. They came because of me! The World Government will never stop hunting the survivor of Ohara! If I stay on this ship... all of you will eventually die because of my existence! You almost died today! Shanks almost died! Just like Saul... just like my mother... everyone who stays near me gets destroyed!"
Giovanni stared at the sobbing girl for a long moment. Then, with a slow, agonizing effort, he dragged his broken feet across the deck, every single millimeter of movement causing his muscles to spasm in protest. He stopped right in front of her.
Flick.
"Ow!" Robin gasped, her hand instantly flying to her forehead where Giovanni had just delivered a firm, sharp finger-flick.
"Idiot," Giovanni rumbled, his voice soft but entirely stern. "Children shouldn't be wasting their time worrying about adult-level problems. Your life has been an absolute gauntlet up until now, hasn't it? Running from port to port, trusting no one, pretending to be an adult just to survive the night. But let me tell you something clear: you don't have to carry that burden alone anymore. We are pirates. We pick fights with gods and global superpowers for fun. It's literally in our job description."
He leaned his back against the launch door, letting out a weak, mocking laugh. "And besides... stop flattering yourself, little demonchild. Those men weren't even there for you."
Robin blinked through her tears, stunned. "What...?"
"The Navy was there because Shanks and I are naturally high-profile targets who interfere with their global balances," Giovanni explained with a weary grin. "And that spider monster was there to secure an ancient relic. You were just a footnote in their deployment ledger. So stop trying to play the tragic martyr and go back to bed. You're part of this crew now. If the World Government wants to drag you away, they have to go through our swords first."
The final wall of Robin's defense completely shattered. The heavy, protective armor she had built over years of running dissolved in a single instant. She dropped her bundle of clothes, lunged forward, and buried her face directly into Giovanni's bandaged chest, sobbing uncontrollably as the years of absolute isolation finally poured out of her soul.
Giovanni winced slightly as her weight pressed against his cracked ribs, but his expression softened into a genuine, protective smile. He raised his heavy, trembling hand and placed it gently on her dark hair, anchoring her to the ship.
---
The next morning, the golden light of the New World sun cut cleanly through the lingering sea fog, illuminating the main deck. The heavy, thick scent of sizzling pork belly, baked potatoes, and sea-salt broth completely erased the metallic smell of the previous night's medical emergency.
Lucky Roux was stationed at an improvised iron grill near the galley doors, his massive frame moving with surprising agility as he flipped giant joints of sea-king meat over the hot coals.
Sitting against the mainmast were Shanks and Giovanni, both looking like absolute mummies covered head-to-toe in Hongo's advanced medical dressings. Despite looking like they had just been run over by a Buster Call, both men were greedily stuffing their faces with massive chunks of meat, their monstrous pirate metabolisms working overtime to replenish their depleted Haki reserves.
Charlotte Katakuri stood leaning against the starboard railing, a thick layer of gauze wrapping his massive shoulder. His dark scarf was still missing, his sharp fangs and scarred jawline fully exposed to the morning light as his cold eyes scanned the horizon.
"Red-Hair," Katakuri broke the silence, his deep voice vibrating through the deck timbers. "Explain. What exactly was that entity we faced on that plateau? I have encountered the strongest monsters of the New World, but that presence... it was entirely detached from human limitations."
Shanks stopped chewing, his expression instantly dropping into a rare, grim solemnity as he lowered his meat bone. "That was one of the Gorosei. Saint Jaygarcia Saturn. An Elder Planet... one of the five individuals who sit at the absolute apex of the World Government's global hierarchy."
Marco the Phoenix, nursing a steaming mug of grog with his right arm securely in a medical sling, narrowed his lazy eyes. "An Elder Planet? But that completely defies the very foundation of the global alliance, yare yare. The twenty founding nations established the Empty Throne eight hundred years ago specifically to ensure that a single dictator could never rule the world."
Shanks took a deep, silent swig from a massive clay bottle of sake, his eyes reflecting the light of the waves. "Well... that is the story they sell to the public through the newspapers to keep the kingdoms compliant. But the reality of this world is far darker than the citizens care to admit. There is a throne... and it is far from empty."
King the Wildfire stood in the deep shadows of the rigging, his massive black wings folded tightly against his back, his arms crossed over his chest. He let out a cold, sharp scoff. "A fascinating history lesson. But it does not change the absolute failure of this deployment. We fought a living god, nearly destroyed our own bodies from spinal shock, and the target. The ancient Devil Fruit is entirely lost. This entire expedition was a complete waste of our time. Kaido-sama is not going to be pleased with this result."
Marco let out a long sigh, leaning back against a wooden crate. "I have to agree with the flame-brat. The fruit probably dissolved in that monster's toxic venom or was secured by Kizaru's vanguard during the chaos. A complete wash."
An hour later, the ship came to a smooth halt alongside the docks of a neutral, isolated New World harbor. The temporary alliance that had held them together during the Dressrosa crucible naturally fractured as the three powerhouse rookies prepared to return to their respective empires.
King, Katakuri, and Marco stepped down onto the wooden docks, their expressions guarded but carrying a mutual, unspoken respect for the crew that had dragged them out of the jaws of an Elder Planet.
Benn Beckman leaned against the ship's railing, lighting a fresh cigarette and letting the gray smoke drift into the morning air. He turned his eyes toward Shanks, who was stretching his bandaged arms. "Well, Captain. The temporary muscle is officially off the deck, and our pockets are completely empty. Where to next?"
Shanks tilted his iconic straw hat back, a carefree, easy smile returning to his face as he looked up at the open sky. "I don't know, Beckman. Wherever the sea takes us. That's the true beauty of being free." He paused, his sharp eyes suddenly narrowing as he spotted a shivering silhouette hiding beneath a heavy canvas tarp in the far corner of the mid-deck. "Though... before we set sail... who exactly is that?"
It was Caribou. The swamp-man was completely terrified, weeping silently as he tried to blend into a pile of discarded cargo nets and empty barrels.
Giovanni let out a weak, triumphant chuckle from his pile of pillows near the mainmast. "Ah. Don't mind him, Shanks. That right there is my personal carrier."
Giovanni dragged his aching, bandaged body across the deck, standing directly over the trembling pirate. He tapped the hilt of Ace against the floorboards. "Hey, Caribou. The coast is clear. The monsters are gone. Take it out."
Caribou yelped in fear, his body instantly melting into a disgusting, gurgling mud puddle. His chest cavity expanded as his Numa Numa no Mi powers unhinged, his throat stretching past its biological limits. With a loud, wet *schloop*, he regurgitated a beautifully preserved, dark wooden chest lined with gold filigree.
The entire deck went completely silent.
Giovanni bent down, unlatched the golden clasp, and threw the lid open. Resting perfectly intact on a bed of dark velvet was the legendary, swirl-patterned Devil Fruit they had all nearly died for.
Shanks' jaw dropped completely. Benn Beckman dropped his cigarette directly onto his boot. Lucky Roux stopped chewing mid-bite, his eyes widening to the size of saucers.
Giovanni picked up the exotic fruit, holding it up into the brilliant morning sunlight with a triumphant, flashing grin that completely erased his lingering pain. "Who said this trip was a wash?"
---
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