The silence that followed Dr. Kelpo's retreat was a thick, medicinal fog, broken only by the soft, wet sound of Jelly's anxious tremors. Henrick was the first to move, a low grunt rumbling in his chest as he turned toward the exit. The others fell into step behind him, a somber procession leaving the clinic's hushed, herbal embrace for the vibrant, indifferent life of Fish-Man Island's streets.
The transition was jarring. The cool, damp alley gave way to the warm, sun-dappled chaos of Copperfin Lane. The air, once smelling of ancient remedies, was now rich with the scent of sizzling deep-fry and the briny tang of the sea. The quiet was replaced by the cacophony of merchants hawking prismatic fish and the laughter of playing mer-children. The normalcy of it all felt like a personal affront.
Galit, his mind already whirring like a ship's propeller, broke the silence. His long neck uncoiled slightly as he looked at Marya. "The timetable is critically compressed. What is the operational sequence?"
Marya didn't look at him, her golden eyes scanning the crowds, already assessing routes and potential obstacles. "We leave when he is able. No delays. We need those antibiotics." Her voice was flat, a commander stating facts. "The window for this is tight."
"Understood," Galit replied, his fingers twitching as if already charting a course on an invisible slate. "I will begin calculating the most direct route to this Drum Island. The Grand Line's currents near the Red Line are notoriously fickle; it will require—"
His words were cut off as they rounded the corner onto the street housing Henrick's forge. A familiar, deep baritone voice, calm and measured as the deep ocean itself, called out.
"Henrick. The rumors racing through the Coral Marketplace do not do the reality justice. It is good to see you standing here, my friend."
Standing before the open doorway of the forge was Jinbe, the Knight of the Sea. He was an imposing figure, a whale shark fishman whose serene presence seemed to calm the very air around him. He wore a simple, open kimono, his arms crossed over his broad chest.
Henrick's grim expression finally cracked, a genuine, weary smile breaking through. "Jinbe! By the tides, it's good to see a friendly face. I feared the gossip-mongers would have me declared a ghost by now."
"I feared worse when the news of your family's disappearance first reached me," Jinbe said, his voice carrying the weight of true concern. The two large fishmen clasped forearms in a greeting that spoke of long history and mutual respect, a solid, powerful gesture. Henrick clapped a heavy hand on Jinbe's shoulder.
"It was a strange twist of fate, or perhaps the Sea Gods taking pity," Henrick rumbled. "What brings you to my humble forge? Not just to welcome back an old ghost, I'd wager."
"My vessel requires a custom-fitted coupling for its starboard steering mechanism," Jinbe explained. "The standard issue from the shipwrights is… lacking in durability. I knew no one else with the skill for such a task."
"A simple enough task for an old hand," Henrick said, gesturing for Jinbe to follow him inside. "Come in, come in. Let me see the schematics."
Marya, Galit, and Jelly followed, a silent shadow trailing the two giants. Marya kept her head down, the collar of her jacket pulled up, attempting to blend into the background of the forge's cluttered interior. The heat from the banked furnace was a physical wall, smelling of hot metal, coal dust, and the smolder of recent work.
Henrick began, "Allow me to introduce you to the ones we owe our return to. This is Galit Varuna, a tactician of some renown, and this… well, this is Jelly."
Jelly gave a cheerful, wobbly bounce. "Bloop!"
Jinbe's gaze, which had been kindly surveying the two strangers, suddenly sharpened. It swept past them, locking onto the figure trying to appear deeply interested in a rack of hammerheads. His eyes, wise and perceptive, widened a fraction.
"My word," Jinbe breathed, his deep voice softening in disbelief. "Can it be? Marya? Dracule Marya?"
Marya let out a long, exasperated sigh that was pure Mihawk. Her shoulders slumped in surrender before she straightened up and turned to face him, a wry, reluctant smirk touching her lips. "Hey, Jinbe. Been a while."
A booming laugh escaped Jinbe, a sound that seemed to vibrate through the stone floor. "It is you! By the depths, I almost didn't recognize you!" He strode forward, his immense form suddenly radiating a grandfatherly warmth that was utterly at odds with his fearsome reputation. Before Marya could offer a handshake, he enveloped her in a brief, crushing hug that lifted her boots clear off the ground. She stiffened for a second before patting his broad back awkwardly.
"You were only this tall the last time our paths crossed," Jinbe said, holding a hand at his waist level as he released her, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You have truly grown. I see much of your father in your bearing. And your eyes. What brings you to our island?"
Henrick, looking bemused by the entire exchange, answered for her. "They've expressed an interest in our history. They were just about to head to the museum, to learn about the legend of Kulakana."
"Oh?" Jinbe said, his interest visibly piqued. He looked from Marya to Henrick. "A fine piece of our heritage. Perhaps I shall join you. It has been too long since I paid my respects at the shrine."
Jelly bounced excitedly. "Adventure-bounce!"
At that exact moment, the front door burst open and a wave of youthful energy flooded the forge. Fia, Lulee, and Geo tumbled inside, school had clearly finished. "We're back! Are we ready to go?" Lulee chirped, her voice full of excitement.
Their entrance froze as they saw Jinbe. Their faces lit up with pure, unadulterated joy.
"Uncle Jinbe!" they shouted in unison, abandoning all pretense of museum decorum. They launched themselves at him. Lulee wrapped her arms around one of his massive legs while Geo, more daring, scrambled up his back with the agility of his hammerhead heritage, perching on his broad shoulders.
Jinbe's deep laughter filled the forge again, a rich, warm sound. He gently patted Lulee's head and reached up to steady Geo. "Fia! It gladdens my heart to see you all whole and safe," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Welcome home."
Fia beamed, her earlier worries soothed by the sight of the revered knight. "It's good to be home. And of course you can join us! The more the merrier!"
Lulee and Geo began jumping up and down, a coordinated campaign of excitement. "Can we go now? Can we, can we, can we?"
Galit looked to Marya, his expression a silent question mark amidst the sudden, overwhelming family reunion. This was a deviation from the mission. A distraction.
Marya watched the scene for a moment—the giant former Warlord being used as a climbing frame by two ecstatic children, the relieved smile on Fia's face, the proud stance of Henrick. She met Galit's look and gave a slight, almost imperceptible shake of her head. Leaning closer so only he could hear, her voice was a low murmur beneath the cheerful din. "We go. We investigate. Sitting here and worrying over something we can't control is a waste of resources. He's in the best place he can be right now. We have our own objective."
She turned back to the group, her stoic mask back in place, though a faint gleam of curiosity for the island's legendary heart had been lit behind her golden eyes. The path to the Devourer's heart, it seemed, would begin not in the depths of the ocean, but in the hallowed halls of a museum.
The forge's warmth was quickly exchanged for the cool, perpetually damp air of the island's main thoroughfare as the group fumbled out onto the street. The sheer number of them—a former Warlord, a hammerhead fishman's family, a long-necked tactician, a stoic swordswoman, and a wobbling blue jelly—created a logjam in the doorway.
Jinbe, with Geo still perched happily on his shoulders, glanced back at the forge. "Will you not be joining us, Henrick? The tale is best heard from one who has lived it."
Henrick waved a massive hand, already turning back to his anvil where a sketch of Jinbe's requested part was unfurled. "You go on. By the time you've walked the little ones through every shiny bauble in the place, I'll have this coupling forged and cooled. The legend's the same no matter how many times you hear it." He offered a gruff but genuine smile. "Enjoy the show."
Their procession reformed, now with Jinbe as its de facto leader, a beloved giant guiding them through the bustling lanes. The vibrant chaos of the market seemed to part respectfully for him, vendors nodding in deference and children staring in awe. Fia swam smoothly beside him, her expression softening from the earlier relief into a more settled contentment, though a shadow of concern soon returned to her features.
"Marya," she began, her voice gentle but carrying a mother's worry. "The large Mink, Atlas… he was not at the forge. Is everything alright?"
Before Marya could answer, Galit, walking just behind with his neck craned to avoid low-hanging signs of blown glass and carved shell, interjected with his typical analytical efficiency. "His condition is critical. A foreign toxin is systematically dismantling his autoimmune response. Dr. Kelpo is performing an emergency procedure to remove the source, but it is merely a stopgap measure. Our operational timeline has been compressed to a single day. We depart for Drum Island as soon as he is able to travel to seek a specialist." He delivered the news like a tactical briefing, all facts and grim prognosis.
Fia's hand went to her mouth, her fins giving a slight, distressed flutter. "Oh, seas above… that's terrible. The poor man."
"It is suboptimal," Galit agreed, his brow furrowed. "It will necessitate a significant adjustment in our timetable for our presence on Fisman Island."
Jinbe's low, rumbling voice cut through Galit's clinical assessment, offering a balm of seasoned confidence. "Do not let the urgency cloud your hopes. I have heard tales of this Doctor Kureha. Her name carries weight even in the deep seas. She is known for her… formidable nature, but also for a skill that borders on the miraculous. If anyone can counter a rare toxin, it is a woman who has made a life's work of defying the impossible." His certainty was a solid, reassuring thing, like the bedrock of the island itself.
Their destination soon rose before them, halting all further conversation. The Museum of the Deep wasn't a building so much as a captured piece of the ocean's history. It was constructed from the colossal, arching rib bones of some ancient, unfathomably large sea creature, curving over the street to form a vaulted entrance. The spaces between the bones were filled with panels of hardened, clear resin, offering glimpses of the exhibits within. The entire structure was overgrown with whispering moss and delicate, fan-like corals that pulsed with a soft, internal, lambent glow, making the museum look less like a constructed edifice and more like a living reef that had grown around a legendary skeleton.
The air around it was different. The salty tang of the market was replaced by a deeper, older smell—the scent of polished fossil, of cool stone, and the faint, almost imperceptible aroma of centuries-old brine preserved in sealed displays.
Just outside the main arch, the "show" was already beginning. A crowd had gathered around a mer-guide dressed in ceremonial kelp-weave robes. Before her, a complex contraption of blown glass tubes and bubbling tanks churned, manned by a grinning fishman. With a theatrical flourish, he squeezed a bulb, and a jet of inky liquid shot into a vat of sizzling oil. A moment later, he used a woven net to scoop out a dozen perfect, black dumplings, their surfaces shiny and dark as a midnight abyss.
"Devourer Dumplings!" the fishman bellowed, handing them out to eager children. "Get 'em while they're hot! Silence the Great Hunger with a snack!" The smell was enticing—savory squid ink and fried dough.
Lulee and Geo immediately chorused, "Can we get some? Pleeeease?"
Fia chuckled, procuring a few coins from a pouch at her waist. "One each. And don't make a mess."
Marya watched the spectacle, her head tilting slightly. The absurdity of commodifying a supposedly world-ending leviathan into a street food was not lost on her. A faint, almost invisible smirk touched her lips before she schooled her features back to neutrality. Her eyes, however, were actively scanning, absorbing everything—the structure's security, the flow of the crowd, the placement of alternative exits. For her, this was never just a tour; it was reconnaissance.
Jinbe led them under the great ribcage archway, and they passed from the lively street into the museum's hushed, hallowed interior. The light shifted to a deep, aqueous blue, filtered through the resin windows and the gently glowing corals. The sound of their footsteps was swallowed by the vast space, leaving only the distant, melodic drip of water and the low, resonant hum of a deep-sea choir recording that seemed to emanate from the walls themselves. The path to the Devourer's heart had begun.
*****
The voices calling her name were a distant, annoying buzz. Aurélie's cool command, Bianca's frantic pleading, Koala's firm shouts—they were just flies to be swatted away. All that mattered was the symphony of destruction tuning up in her head, conducted by Josiah's venomous whisper.
"They think they can cage us. Trap us. Just like before. Show them their cage is made of kindling."
Ember giggled, a wet, bubbling sound that echoed in the tight space. Her mismatched eyes, wide and unblinking, reflected the groaning wood of the massive support beam. Her fingers, twitching with manic energy, closed around a sparkler round from her belt. It wasn't enough. Not for this. She needed a bigger bang. A grander finale. She pressed both her small, bare hands flat against the splintered wood of the beam, her brow furrowed in concentration. A faint, heat-haze shimmer began to emanate from her palms, the air around them warping as she poured the strange energy of her Bang-Bang Fruit into the ancient timber.
"Yes… feed it… make it sing…" Josiah cooed.
With a final, shuddering gasp of effort, Ember released the built-up charge.
The world did not so much explode as unmake itself.
A deep, gut-wrenching CRUMP sound, more felt than heard, tore through the subterranean world. It was the sound of a mountain's bone breaking. The tremor that followed was not a shake but a violent lurch, throwing everyone in the tunnels off their feet. Dust and rock shards rained from the ceiling like a solid, choking waterfall.
In the glyph chamber, Charlie yelped as his precious slate clattered to the ground, shattering. "Ahem! This seismic event is—by no metric—ideal!" he shouted over the groaning earth, scrambling to grab his fluttering parchments. "I hypothesize Miss Ember may have—!"
Sabo wasn't listening. His eyes were locked on the cavern ceiling above them, where a wicked, spreading crack spiderwebbed through the rock with an sound like grinding teeth. "EVACUATE!" he roared, his voice cutting through the chaos. "NOW! EVERYONE OUT!"
On the surface of Tequila Wolf, the first tremor was met with confused pauses. A slave, his pickaxe frozen mid-swing, looked at the guard. The guard, bored expression momentarily shifting to puzzlement, steadied himself against a half-built parapet. Then the second, larger tremor hit. A section of the bridge the size of a galleon's deck simply sagged, its ancient stones groaning in protest before crumbling away, crashing into the churning sea hundreds of feet below. Panic, swift and absolute, erupted. Chains rattled as slaves stumbled, screaming. Guards yelled orders that were lost in the cacophony of collapsing rock and terrified cries. The world was coming apart beneath their feet.
Below, in the hell she had created, Ember danced. She spun and leaped through the raining debris, her laughter a sharp counterpoint to the roar of failing stone. Another beam received her touch and erupted, the concussive blast sending a shower of wooden shrapnel whistling through the air. "Look! Look how pretty!" she shrieked to no one, her eyes wild with ecstatic insanity. "It all falls down! Josiah says it's a party!"
Bianca found her like this, a small, chaotic sprite orchestrating the apocalypse. "EMBER!" she screamed, lunging forward and grabbing the girl's arm. "Like, for real, RIGHT NOW we have to get out of here!"
Ember turned, a blissful, unhinged smile on her face. "Bianca! You came to the party! Watch the lights!" She gestured grandly as another chunk of ceiling smashed nearby.
Bianca didn't argue. She tightened her grip on Ember's wrist and yanked, pulling her into a stumbling run back the way she'd come. They scrambled over shifting rock, ducking under falling debris. Ember, still giddy, pointed a finger at a tumbling rock and giggled as it burst into a thousand harmless, glittering pieces mid-fall.
They skidded into the junction where they'd last seen the others, only to see a solid wall of freshly collapsed rock and dirt where the exit had been. Aurélie, Souta, Koala, and Kuro stood on the other side of the new barrier, their faces illuminated by a lone lantern, etched with shock and frustration.
"We have to go. Now," Kuro stated, his voice remarkably level despite the world dissolving around them. "This entire sector is becoming unstable. Staying is suicide."
"We cannot leave them!" Aurélie snapped, her hand white-knuckled on Anathema's sheath.
"And we cannot search for them if we are dead," Kuro countered, his tone coldly pragmatic. "This is not a debate, Miss Nakano. It is structural reality."
Koala, her face pale but determined, grabbed Aurélie's arm. "He's right! This way! We have a planned rendezvous point for cave-ins! We'll regroup and—"
Her words were cut off as another massive shudder sent more rock sliding down, further sealing the divide. With a final, agonized look through the diminishing gap, Aurélie allowed herself to be pulled away, the Revolutionary and the Consortium agent united in desperate retreat.
On the other side, Bianca cursed, her heart hammering. "Like, just great! Just perfect!" She kept a viselike grip on Ember's wrist, dragging her away from the sealed exit, deeper into the unstable maze. "We gotta find another way! Come on!"
They ran, the tunnel shuddering around them like a dying animal. Ember seemed to be coming down from her high, the manic energy replaced by a dazed confusion, her giggles subsiding into whimpers. Then, a new sound cut through the chaos—a low, distant roar that grew rapidly in volume, a sound of immense power and rushing weight.
Bianca skidded to a halt, her engineer's mind trying to place it. It wasn't rock. It was... water.
She cursed again, a raw, helpless sound, as a wall of churning, foaming seawater exploded around a bend in the tunnel ahead, filling the passage from floor to ceiling with terrifying speed. The bridge wasn't just collapsing; the sea was reclaiming its guts. The wall of water rushed toward them, unstoppable and absolute.