Robin hadn't slept. Not really.
Nyx had pushed her harder with every passing day—until Robin's muscles burned, until she couldn't feel her hands, until even breathing felt like dragging iron through her lungs.
And still, it wasn't enough.
Robin wanted to keep training. She needed to.
Because every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was Raven's face being swallowed by the shadows… again and again and again.
She had to be ready.
Nyx had told her they'd stay hidden for as long as it took. That patience was survival. But that changed the moment Robin overheard them whispering by the campfire.
"…Port market's moving tonight," Tallis muttered low, glancing toward the jungle. "They'll be setting sail by sunrise. Rumor is… destination's Mary Geoise."
Robin's breath caught in her throat. She pressed herself flatter against the stone ruins, listening harder.
"Too risky," the silver-haired woman whispered. "We barely got the kid out as it is. Going near that ship's suicide."
"I'm not going near the ship," Nyx said, quieter, sharper. "But I am pulling us out of Hotaru. We've pushed our luck too far already."
Robin's heart hammered in her chest.
They're leaving. They're giving up on her.
She stumbled back from the ruined wall, panic clawing up her throat. Without thinking, she bolted toward the camp. The firelight flickered against Nyx's face just as Robin stormed into view, breathless and shaking.
"No," Robin rasped, voice cracking. "You can't. You promised—"
Nyx stood slowly, jaw tight. "Robin—"
"You promised you'd help me get her back!" Robin shouted, hot tears blurring her vision. "You swore!"
Nyx flinched, shoulders tensing.
But Robin didn't stop. She couldn't.
"I heard you!" she choked. "You said you knew where they were going. You know they're taking her to Mary Geoise!"
Tallis swore under her breath, standing to block the camp's edge.
"Kid, you don't know what you're asking—"
"I do!" Robin screamed, fists trembling. "I've always known!"
Nyx stared at her, something dark flickering in her eyes—something that almost looked like regret. Like fear.
Robin swallowed hard, voice breaking on the words. "Please… don't leave her behind."
Nyx's jaw worked silently for a long moment, her hands curling into fists at her sides. The fire popped softly between them, its light flickering across her tense expression.
When she finally spoke, her voice wasn't sharp—not like Robin expected. It was tired. Like she'd already fought this fight a hundred times in her own head.
"You don't get it, Robin," Nyx rasped, stepping closer. "None of you ever get it."
Robin flinched but didn't back down.
Nyx pointed toward the jungle, toward the docks far beyond. "Mary Geoise isn't a market. It isn't a gang. It isn't a few scumbags with knives." Her voice dropped lower, heavier. "It's the throne of the World Government."
She took another step forward, voice tightening like she was choking on the truth. "You run there now, and you die before you even reach the gates. You all die. Me. Tallis. You. Everyone."
Robin bit her lip hard enough to taste blood. "But—"
Nyx grabbed her shoulders—not roughly, but with enough weight to make her feel the words.
"You have something they fear, Robin." She leaned in, locking eyes with her. "Your power."
Robin's breath hitched.
Nyx nodded toward Robin's hands—the ones that bloomed more arms when no one was watching.
"You've barely scratched the surface of what you are," Nyx whispered. "And there's something else inside you. I've felt it when you fight." She lifted a hand, curling her fingers in front of Robin's chest. "That pressure… that spark. You're close to awakening it. Haki."
Robin swallowed hard, trembling. "But… I don't know how."
"Not yet," Nyx pressed, her voice dark and steady. "But I can teach you. And when you master both—the fruit and the haki—you won't just survive, little shadow…"
Her mouth curled into something fierce, something dangerous.
"…You'll own that battlefield."
Robin's throat tightened. It sounded like a lie. Like comfort.
But when she looked into Nyx's eyes… She didn't see comfort. She saw strategy. And truth.
Robin bit down on a sob, clutching Nyx's coat again. "How long…?"
Nyx exhaled slowly, brushing Robin's hair back from her tear-streaked face.
"As long as it takes," she whispered. "But I swear… we'll get her back."
Robin swallowed again, shutting her eyes tight. "…Then teach me."
×~×~×~
I had stopped counting the days. The drugging. The beatings. The suffocating darkness of that cursed cargo hold.
But I felt the change in the air long before the guards said a word.
The ship had stilled. No more rocking. No more creaking timbers groaning beneath the waves.
The guards didn't drag me out immediately. They moved differently now—more controlled, more cautious. No mocking words. No taunts. Just grim silence as they checked chains and shackles, tightening restraints until my skin felt like it was tearing.
And then… the door creaked open.
Bright, blinding sunlight flooded the hold for the first time in what felt like a lifetime. I flinched, teeth gritting against the sting of it.
I heard them. The boots. Dozens of them. Sharp, disciplined, organized.
The Celestial Dragon's escort.
I forced my eyes open, blinking through the haze.
A man in white stood at the center of it all, his coat marked with the emblem of the World Government. His face was hidden behind a decorative mask shaped like some bird of prey—ornate and cruel.
He gestured toward the cages with gloved fingers.
"Bring her," he said flatly.
The guards didn't hesitate. They unlocked the chains from the pillar, but not from my body. They left my wrists and ankles bound, hoisting me to my feet like I weighed nothing.
My legs nearly gave out from the strain, but I locked my knees, forcing myself to stand, even if they had to drag me the rest of the way.
Mary Geoise.
I could feel it in the air now—
The pressure. The weight. The stench of power and blood money.
As they marched me up the ramp, past the cages, past the broken-eyed prisoners left behind, I raised my chin. Forced myself to look. To remember.
Because if I ever got out of this…They were all going to burn.
The sunlight burned my eyes as they dragged me up the ramp, but I didn't flinch again. Not when the guards yanked my arms. Not when the man in the bird-mask leaned in to inspect me like I was some piece of livestock.
He didn't speak to me. Didn't need to. His silence told me everything—
I was already claimed.
They led me past the main auction floor without stopping, moving through gilded halls lined with polished stone and silk-draped columns. Everything smelled of incense, perfume, and something far fouler underneath—old blood and fear barely masked by luxury.
The chains around my wrists rattled with every step.
The guards took me down another corridor, quieter, colder. The walls here were tighter, lower. Less polished. Less… public.
They stopped outside a heavy brass door. One of the men knocked twice, sharp and precise.
The door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit chamber. No windows. No mirrors. Just a metal-framed bed bolted to the floor, a basin of water, and a set of manacles hanging from the ceiling like butcher's hooks.
The masked man nodded once.
"Prepare her for private viewing."
My breath caught in my throat, cold fury crawling up my spine like ice.
The guards shoved me inside, slamming the door behind them.
Without ceremony, they forced me toward the wall. I fought them—I tried—but my body betrayed me, weak from days of drugging. It took three of them to bind my arms overhead again, locking me into position like an animal on display.
The masked man stepped inside last, slow and deliberate. He circled me once. Twice.
Finally, he stopped behind me.
"You've caused us quite the mess," he murmured, voice smooth but empty. "But don't worry…" He leaned in closer, his breath crawling along my skin. "…we'll break that spirit of yours soon enough."
The door shut behind him with a soft click.
I hung there in the dark, heart pounding. Not with fear. Not anymore. With hatred.
My arms screamed from the strain. My shoulders burned. My wrists bled. But I never lowered my head. Not once.
Even when the guards returned hours later with a bucket of cold water and rags to "clean me up," I met their eyes with the same defiant glare.
One of them sneered and grabbed me by the chin, tilting my head roughly. "Still got that fire, huh?"
I smiled, slow and sharp, teeth tinged pink from the blood in my mouth.
The guard's face darkened. He drove a fist into my ribs, making me choke on a ragged breath. I hung heavier in the chains, gasping softly—but the smile never fully left my lips.
He cursed and backed off, motioning to the others. They left me hanging there, wet and bruised, but breathing.
Still breathing.
More time passed—hours, maybe longer. There was no window, no clock, only the dull throb of my heartbeat in my ears.
And then the door creaked open again.
This time, the masked man didn't come alone.
A new figure entered the room. Tall. Draped in white. And wearing the mark of the Celestial Dragons—the twisted bubble helmet gleaming faintly under the lantern light.
My jaw clenched so tight my teeth ached.
The Celestial Dragon approached me without a word, circling like a shark. Every fiber of my being screamed to lash out, to fight, but I could barely move.
The man finally stopped in front of me. Leaning in close enough that I could hear his breath fogging the glass of that damned helmet.
He reached out, gloved fingers brushing my bruised cheek like I was a piece of artwork to be appraised.
"She'll do nicely," the Dragon rasped, his voice warped by the helmet's distortion.
My breath hitched. My blood boiled.
"I will kill you," I whispered, voice like broken glass. I swear it.
The Dragon paused…and laughed. Laughed like I was the punchline of a joke only he could hear.
"Break her," he ordered softly to the masked handler. "And have her ready."
And just like that, he turned and left—
As if I were nothing but property to him.
The masked man didn't move. Didn't speak. But I felt the air shift. I knew what was coming next.
And still… I didn't lower my head.
The door shut again with a final, locking clang.
I hung there, breathing hard, body shaking under the weight of my own rage.
The masked man took a step forward. Then another. His boots echoed softly in the small chamber as he circled me once again.
"I had hoped you'd understand your place by now," he said, voice eerily calm. "But it seems we'll have to… teach you."
I didn't flinch. Didn't speak. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
He gestured to the guards. And they started.
They worked methodically. Stripping me down to nothing but bruises and skin. Tearing away every shred of dignity they could reach. Those bastards.
Blades that didn't cut deep enough to scar—just enough to humiliate.
They whispered filth in my ears, testing every word for weakness. And when I bit back tears, they laughed. Mocked me. Struck me.
But still, I refused to scream. Refused to beg.
Even when they poured salt water over every open welt. Even when they left me trembling, bleeding, half-conscious.
I clenched my jaw and endured.
But when they reached for the collar—
That black iron band engraved with the seal of Mary Geoise—
The collar meant for slaves—
That's when I snapped.
A sound ripped from my throat—not a scream, not a cry—something feral and raw. My body surged forward in the chains with every last scrap of strength I had left.
My vision tunneled into red. Into rage. Into fire.
A crack split the air. Not from my chains. Not from the guard's baton. But from something else.
The masked man staggered back, clutching his head, gasping like the air had just turned to lead.
The guards dropped to their knees, choking, hands trembling as an invisible pressure pressed down on the entire room like a tidal wave.
My vision blurred at the edges. My ears rang. And through it all, a dark whisper curled in my mind like smoke.
Conqueror's Haki.
The collar slipped from the guard's shaking hands, clattering to the floor between my feet.
I swayed in the chains, the taste of blood thick on my tongue, my head spinning.
The pressure in the room cracked like lightning, weighing down on every breathing thing. The guards had dropped to their knees, clutching their throats, eyes wide with terror they couldn't explain. The masked man pressed himself to the far wall, breathing raggedly, stunned silent for the first time.
But I couldn't move. Couldn't stand. Could barely hold my head up.
My body had nothing left. I'd burned it all on instinct. On fury.
I let out a ragged breath, my vision swimming again—blurring between the faces of my tormentors and the dim flicker of light above.
My lips parted, barely a breath.
"…Robin…"
My chin dropped to my chest as my body sagged in the chains, consciousness slipping like water through cracked fingers.
The last thing I heard before the dark swallowed me was the frantic scuffle of boots… and the hollow clatter of that damned collar rolling across the floor, still unclaimed.