The clearing buzzed with the frantic energy of a war zone. Smoke curled from distant fires, and the sharp crack of rifle fire echoed across the plains. The Navy had descended on Amiso like a plague, their white uniforms stark against the green grass and red earth. Native warriors darted between trees, their faces painted with defiance and desperation, while Marines herded them like cattle toward the waiting cages.
Artie Grimly burst through the underbrush, his plum-colored velvet tailcoat snagging on branches. His massive, feathered tricorn hat was askew, and his gold-plated den den mushi megaphone swung wildly from its strap. His face was flushed, his eyes wilder than usual, and his breath came in ragged gasps as he stumbled toward Vice Admiral Auricha Uzumati.
The Vice Admiral stood at the center of a makeshift command post, his thick braid of jet-black hair whipping in the wind. His scarred Marine coat hung loosely over his shoulders, and his dark brown eyes swept across the chaos with the quiet sorrow of a man who had seen too much. The eagle feather tucked behind his left ear swayed with each turn of his head. He was speaking with Rear Admiral Goma Maddon and Rear Admiral Jethro Cain, their voices low and urgent.
"The light," Goma was saying, his sharp, analytical eyes fixed on Auricha. "What was it? A weapon? A Devil Fruit awakening?"
Jethro Cain adjusted his round spectacles, his thin mustache twitching with irritation. His voice was flat, toneless. "The timing suggests a coordinated attack. Someone is attempting to destabilize the operation."
Auricha nodded slowly, his hand resting on Mato's Claw. "I have been in contact with Vice Admiral Casimir. He is going to question the Dual Flame Council. If anyone knows what happened—"
Artie's panicked, energetic voice cut through the hum of chaos like a blade through silk. "Vice Admiral! Vice Admiral!"
Auricha looked up, his dark brown eyes narrowing as the flamboyant director skidded to a halt before him. Artie doubled over, his hands on his knees, his chest heaving. His feathered hat slipped further down his forehead, and he made no move to correct it.
"What is it?" Auricha asked, his voice calm but carrying an edge of urgency.
Goma Maddon stepped forward, his patience fraying. His pale face was set in a mask of barely concealed irritation, his dark eyes sharp. "Spit it out already. We do not have time for your theatrics."
Artie straightened with dramatic flair, cocking a hip and planting a hand on it. His voice rose to an operatic pitch, his words tumbling out in a manic rush. "I was filming the God's Knights! The hunt was going perfectly! The lighting was divine, the composition was flawless, and then—" He threw his arms wide, his voice cracking with theatrical anguish. "A double plot twist! The long lost sister of Dracule Micah appeared out of nowhere! She just materialized, darling! Like a ghost! Like a—"
Rear Admiral Jethro Cain's hand shot up, cutting him off. His round spectacles glinted in the harsh light, and his thin mustache twitched with barely contained frustration. "Did you say Dracule?"
Artie blinked, his manic energy momentarily deflated. "Yes! That is the impact I was going for! The drama! The tension! The—"
Cain's voice was flat, cutting. "What happened next?"
Artie's face fell, his shoulders slumping in a theatrical display of disappointment. "Before we could even get to the good part, there was a flash of light. And everyone disappeared. The God's Knights. The sister. All of them. Gone."
Auricha's jaw tightened. "Disappeared?"
Artie nodded, flipping a wrist with dramatic flair. "Yes! One minute they were there, blades drawn, ready for the climactic confrontation. The next—poof! Nothing! Just empty grass and a lingering sense of narrative dissatisfaction!"
Auricha rubbed his chin, his fingers tracing the scarred skin of his jaw. His dark brown eyes were distant, calculating. Goma Maddon stepped forward, his voice sharp and decisive.
"Vice Admiral, give me permission to investigate. I will take a team and assess the situation."
Auricha nodded slowly, his voice heavy with resignation. "Take a team and report in if you find anything."
---
Above the forest, Bō-Zak Kaminosukei soared in his beast form, his massive condor wings slicing through the air with silent power. His obsidian feathers gleamed in the afternoon sun, and his gold-flecked eyes swept across the landscape below. The forest sprawled beneath him, a patchwork of green and brown, dotted with the white uniforms of Marines and the darker shapes of fleeing natives.
He watched as a group of natives broke from cover, their faces painted with desperation. Marines gave chase, their boots pounding against the earth. Bō-Zak's lips curled into a smirk. He banked sharply, his wings fluttering in the wind as he circled back toward his companions.
Below, Aurélie Nakano Takeko crouched behind a massive tree trunk, her silver hair spilling loose over her shoulders. Her steel-gray eyes were fixed on the clearing ahead, where a group of Marines were herding natives into a makeshift pen. Anathema rested against her hip, its black blade humming with a faint, malevolent energy. Her poetry notebook was tucked into her waistband, the pages visible and slightly worn.
Atlas Acuta moved through the trees above, his rust-red fur with leopard-like black spots blending with the bark. His blue sapphire eyes scanned the terrain, cataloging threats with predatory precision. His claws dug into the wood as he leaped from branch to branch, his movements fluid and silent.
Sanza Kaplan Figarland kept pace beside Atlas in his beast form, a majestic white tiger with three flowing tails and golden horns. His bamboo practice sword was strapped to his back, a weapon he wielded with far more confidence than skill.
Kaburo Gusaki crouched behind a tree on the ground, his dark gray sleeveless kimono top revealing the scars that crisscrossed his arms. His long dark hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, and Kalamaru rested on his hip, the cursed Ōdachi humming with a faint, malevolent energy. His sharp, intelligent eyes studied the clearing with the cold detachment of a man who had seen empires rise and fall.
He glanced at Aurélie, his voice a dry monotone. "Marya told me something."
Aurélie's eyes shifted, her head cocking slightly as if listening for something in the distance. Her voice was flat. "Oh?"
Kaburo nodded. "She said you mentored her."
Aurélie's lips pressed together. "I did. For a time. Her talents mirror her father's now. I am more of a confidant than a mentor."
Kaburo's eyes narrowed. "I asked if she would be willing to assist me with improving my skill. She said you would be a better match."
Aurélie raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing at her lips. "Did she?"
Kaburo nodded, his voice carrying a note of grim determination. "Yes. I need to get stronger. There is someone I must defeat." His expression darkened, his hand drifting toward Kalamaru's hilt. "My honor demands it. I cannot stay as I am."
Aurélie's brow furrowed, her steel-gray eyes studying him with quiet intensity. Her voice was measured. "I cannot make you stronger."
Kaburo's head snapped up, his eyes flashing with frustration. "Then what can you—"
Aurélie cut him off, her voice calm but firm. "I can assist you with technique and focus so that your blade will bend to your will and you will not be subject to its whims."
Kaburo's eyes shifted to Kalamaru, his jaw tightening. "The blade's whims?"
Aurélie nodded. "Yes. Your blade is temperamental and overconsumes. You are strong. You have to be in order to be able to wield it as you do. I will assist you."
Kaburo's shoulders relaxed slightly, a flicker of gratitude passing across his features. "Thank you."
Atlas, Sanza, and Bō-Zak landed beside them in a rustle of leaves and a soft thud of paws. Atlas's blue sapphire eyes swept the group, his voice carrying a note of satisfaction. "The forest is clear for now."
Bō-Zak shifted back into his human form, his tattered dark woven shawl draping over one shoulder. He took a long drag from his wooden pipe, the fragrant smoke curling around his head. "Yeah, but it won't be for much longer. The natives are starting to move this way to get away from the Navy."
Sanza stood confused, his red hair falling across his forehead. His voice carried that affected posh accent, his words clipped and precise. "I do not understand what this is."
Atlas looked down at him, his blue eyes narrowing. "What do you mean, kid?"
Sanza's brow furrowed. "All of this. The Navy rounding up the natives. The hunting. To what end?"
Bō-Zak smirked, his gold-flecked eyes sparkling with dark amusement. "Because they think it is fun."
Sanza's face wrinkled in bafflement, his voice rising with genuine confusion. "How is this fun? It is inefficient. It is cruel. It is—"
A locus drifted through the air, landing softly on Aurélie's shoulder. Her steel-gray eyes flickered, her head tilting as if listening to a distant whisper. Her voice cut through the conversation like a blade.
"There is a group headed this way."
Without a word, Aurélie, Atlas, Sanza, Bō-Zak, and Kaburo leaped into the trees, their forms disappearing into the foliage. They settled on random branches, their bodies concealed by leaves and shadows, their eyes fixed on the clearing below.
The underbrush exploded.
Enan Naiporo burst through the trees, his dark-indigo canvas vest flapping behind him. His obsidian eyes were wide with urgency, and his long, slender braids whipped through the air as he sprinted. His Great Ridge Bow was slung across his back, and his steel-feather arrows rattled in their quiver.
Nadina Chiriki followed close behind, her dark hazel eyes scanning the terrain with predatory focus. Her form-fitting vest of oil-treated hide hugged her lean frame, and her dual Canyon Bowie knives gleamed at her hips. She moved with the fluid grace of a mountain cat, her steps silent despite the chaos.
Tanaka Arikushi brought up the rear, his massive frame crashing through the underbrush like a battering ram. His bull-hide shield was strapped to his left arm, and his iron-headed club was gripped in his right hand. His dark charcoal-brown eyes were fixed on the path ahead, his jaw set with grim determination.
Behind them, Captain Sane Galedo and Captain Joy Jenebe closed in.
Sane was in his full beast form, his saiga antelope body streaking through the forest with terrifying speed. His amber horns gleamed, and his drooping proboscis flared as he inhaled the scent of his prey. His hooves barely touched the ground as he ran.
Joy was in her hybrid form, her jerboa legs propelling her through the trees with explosive power. Her massive, tufted ears swiveled, tracking the sounds of her quarry. Her prehensile tail lashed behind her, and her digitigrade legs carried her with lethal grace.
They cornered the three natives in a small clearing, their bodies blocking the only escape routes. Sane pawed the ground, his nasal roars rumbling through the air. Joy cracked her knuckles, her warm brown eyes glinting with predatory excitement.
Aurélie, Atlas, Sanza, Bō-Zak, and Kaburo dropped from the trees, their forms landing in a perfect semicircle around the group. The Marines spun around, their eyes widening at the sudden arrival.
Joy pointed at them, her voice sharp with recognition. "What are you doing here?"
Enan, Nadina, and Tanaka exchanged confused looks.
Bō-Zak stepped forward, his smirk widening. "Oh look, they remember us."
Sane pawed the ground again, his voice a low rumble. "You will not get away this time."
Aurélie drew Anathema, the black blade humming with malevolent energy. Her steel-gray eyes were cold, her voice flat. "This is your only chance to leave."
Joy thumped the ground, cracking her knuckles. Her voice carried a note of playful defiance. "I was going to say this is your only opportunity to come along peacefully..."
Atlas crackled with electricity, his blue sapphire eyes blazing with excitement. His voice was a low growl. "I love it when they want to fight!"
The clearing fell silent, the tension coiling like a spring. The wind rustled through the leaves, carrying the distant crack of rifle fire and the cries of the hunted. Everyone stood poised, their weapons drawn, their eyes locked on their opponents.
The hunt had become something else entirely.
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