The Celestial Dragon's vessel arrived at Mary Geoise under urgent clearance, its sails lowered before it had fully settled at port. Servants rushed forward, but their master did not wait for them. Saint Virello Donquar ran ahead, ignoring protocol, his silk robes dragging across sacred marble.
He was a high-ranking Celestial Dragon, accustomed to obedience with a glance. Tonight, however, pride had been replaced by fury. His swollen face and trembling hands told a story he could not tolerate existing.
Inside the sacred halls of Pangaea Castle, the Five Elders sat in their chamber of authority. The vast room was silent, illuminated by filtered light through towering windows. Ancient power lingered in the air like a permanent presence.
A robed attendant bowed low before them.
"Sir Gorosei, Saint Virello Donquar requests an immediate audience. He claims he was assaulted on Sabaody Archipelago. He also states the Marines refused to dispatch an Admiral."
The room grew colder.
One of the Gorosei adjusted his glasses slowly.
"The Marines refused?" he asked.
Another elder, bald and scarred, tapped his cane lightly against the floor.
"Is Kong thinking of rebelling?"
The name lingered heavily in the chamber. Fleet Admiral Kong was not a man prone to defiance, but neither was he weak.
"Let us wait and hear from Saint Virello," said the elder with the long beard, voice calm but edged.
"Agreed. Let him in."
The massive doors opened with deliberate slowness.
Saint Virello stumbled inside. His face was swollen nearly beyond recognition. One eye was bruised shut. His white attire, once pristine, hung torn and stained. Even his breathing sounded labored.
The Gorosei did not show shock.
They showed interest.
"The matter seems more complicated," one murmured quietly.
Saint Virello fell to his knees.
"Sir Gorosei… I was attacked and beaten on Sabaody," he said through clenched teeth. "When I asked for Admirals to be sent, the Marines hung up on me."
The bald elder's cane struck the marble sharply.
"Who dares hit a Celestial Dragon?"
Saint Virello's jaw tightened.
"Sir… it was Rocks."
The temperature seemed to drop.
"And a shadowed figure," he continued, voice shaking now. "Tall. With a crown upon his head. Red eyes. He called himself Im—"
Before the final syllable left his mouth, a massive pressure descended upon him.
It was invisible.
But it crushed the air itself.
Saint Virello gasped, hands clawing at the floor. His body trembled uncontrollably as if submerged beneath an ocean of weight. The Gorosei did not move, yet their presence felt infinitely heavier.
Their eyes were cold.
Filled with killing intent that eclipsed battlefields.
"Leave," one elder said quietly.
"None of this shall be mentioned."
Saint Virello's voice cracked.
"Y-Yes! Of course! I would never—"
"Leave."
He scrambled up and ran, dignity forgotten. The doors slammed shut behind him, echoing through the sacred chamber.
Silence reclaimed the room.
For several long moments, no one spoke.
Finally, the elder with the scar spoke first.
"Send the Holy Knights."
The decision carried no hesitation.
"He does not need to be alive."
"Agreed."
Another elder folded his hands calmly.
"And as for what he saw… it must be an illusion-type ability. Trauma-induced hallucination or a Devil Fruit."
The bald elder's gaze sharpened.
"Find out who it was."
A pause followed.
"And send CP to handle him."
"Agreed."
Their words sealed fate without trial.
Far below the Red Line, the sea remained unaware that judgment had already begun.
---
Deep beneath the surface, a coated ship descended steadily toward Fish-Man Island. The massive mangrove roots above filtered faint light through the water, illuminating drifting particles like distant stars.
Ren stood at the helm.
The vessel moved smoothly without visible effort. His telekinesis adjusted its course with precision, invisible force guiding the wheel and stabilizing its descent.
Shakky leaned against the railing, watching him with faint amusement.
"You're handling it well," she said. "Most rookies panic under this pressure."
Ren didn't look back.
"It's quieter underwater."
She exhaled smoke slowly.
"Quiet doesn't mean safe."
He nodded slightly.
"I know."
For a while, only the sound of water currents brushing the coating filled the space between them.
Shakky broke the silence.
"You don't care what's happening up there, do you?"
Ren's eyes remained forward.
"No."
"Not even a little?"
"No."
She studied him carefully.
"You punched a Celestial Dragon."
"He deserved it."
"That wasn't my question."
Ren adjusted the ship's angle gently with a flick of thought.
"What happens in the Holy Land doesn't concern me," he said evenly.
"You're confident."
"No one knows it was me."
Shakky's gaze sharpened slightly.
"I was there."
"And you won't talk."
She smiled faintly.
"Correct."
Ren closed his eyes briefly.
His Observation Haki spread outward, flowing through the ocean like a silent pulse. He could sense movements miles away—currents shifting, schools of fish scattering, massive shapes in the deep remaining distant.
He had awakened it recently, and it still felt raw.
"You sensing anything?" Shakky asked.
"Sea Kings are far off," Ren replied calmly. "They won't approach."
"You're using Conqueror's?"
"A little."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Careful. Too much and they'll notice."
"I'm not provoking them."
The pressure of his Conqueror's Haki was subtle. It didn't explode outward. It simply existed—an unspoken declaration that this territory was claimed.
The sea responded.
Creatures avoided them instinctively.
Shakky flicked ash aside.
"You're improving fast."
Ren opened his eyes.
"I need to."
"For what?"
He didn't answer immediately.
"For freedom."
Shakky watched him closely.
"That's not how most people say it."
"Most people don't understand power."
"And you do?"
"I understand that without it, you kneel."
Her smile faded slightly.
"You sound older than you are."
Ren's voice remained steady.
"I learned quickly."
They continued descending.
Gradually, a glow appeared in the distance. A massive sphere of light surrounded by coral structures and vibrant architecture emerged from the darkness.
Fish-Man Island.
Even from afar, its beauty was undeniable. Bioluminescent plants shimmered in soft blues and pinks. Elegant towers rose like living sculptures carved from the sea itself.
Shakky gave a low whistle.
"Still breathtaking."
Ren observed silently.
"Yeah."
As they approached the entry checkpoint, armed Fish-Man guards moved to intercept. Their expressions were cautious but disciplined.
"Halt! State your purpose!"
Shakky stepped forward casually.
"Travelers," she said. "Passing through."
One guard narrowed his eyes at Ren.
"You're human."
Ren met his gaze evenly.
"Yes."
A tense silence lingered.
Finally, the lead guard spoke.
"Cause no disturbance."
"We won't," Ren replied.
The ship passed through.
As they entered fully, the sounds of the island reached them—laughter, distant chatter, the hum of daily life. Merfolk swam gracefully through open canals, and children darted between coral pillars.
Shakky leaned against the rail again.
"Different world down here."
Ren nodded.
"They built this under pressure."
She glanced at him.
"You relate to that?"
"Yes."
There was no hesitation in his answer.
Shakky studied him quietly.
"You're thinking ahead."
"I always am."
"To what?"
Ren looked upward, toward where the Red Line stood unseen above layers of ocean and stone.
"To the people who think they're untouchable."
Shakky's eyes narrowed slightly.
"You planning something?"
"Not yet."
He stepped off the ship onto the coral dock.
"But I will."
Above the sea, decisions had already been made.
Holy Knights had received quiet orders.
Cipher Pol had begun silent inquiries.
And Fleet Admiral Kong, seated in Marine Headquarters, read the report of a disconnected transmission from Sabaody without expression.
The world was shifting.
Ren simply walked forward, unaware that currents far greater than the ocean were beginning to move.
The sea remained calm.
But calm seas never lasted forever.