Infinite Hell.
Shiryu carried an enormous ice sculpture several people tall, and casually walked it over to one of the cells.
With a dull thud, he tossed the frozen statue inside—then raised his foot and gave it a kick.
Crack—!
Just like people frozen by Aokiji's Ice-Ice Fruit, Vasco Shot—frozen by Rosen's Sode no Shirayuki ability—had become incredibly brittle. The ice would have shattered with just the slightest tap.
And so, the frozen barrel of wine splintered apart across the cell floor, shards scattering in every direction.
But despite how rough it looked, Shiryu's kick was executed with a frighteningly delicate application of Haki.
The moment the sole of his foot made contact with the ice, Armament Haki flowed out—channeling through the outer shell of ice, bypassing the surface, slipping into the interior—and then violently burst outward from within.
Not only did it leave Vasco Shot completely unharmed, but it shattered all the ice that had encased him.
Cough, cough… cough!
Vasco Shot collapsed to the cold stone floor of the cell, coughing violently, his face pale, his limbs trembling, and his breath cold and ragged.
"I… I'm still alive?"
"You saved me?"
"…Shiryu."
At first, he was stunned to realize he was still breathing. Then he turned his eyes toward the towering man outside the bars.
"You overestimate me."
"I don't have the power to save you from that man."
"You're alive right now—and maybe even tomorrow—only because he doesn't want you dead."
Shiryu sneered and tossed something into the cell.
Clink—
"A bottle of wine?"
When Vasco Shot saw what it was, a flicker of joy flashed in his eyes.
Of course, part of that was because of his obsession with alcohol.
But there was another reason far more important than mere craving.
For those who had eaten the Glug-Glug Fruit, alcohol wasn't just a drink—it was a panacea, a miracle cure, a source of recovery.
"He left it for you."
Seeing the look on Vasco Shot's face, Shiryu grinned—a hint of ridicule playing across his lips.
"Him?"
Vasco Shot blinked.
Then, his smile froze.
He didn't need to ask who Shiryu meant.
Of course he knew.
Rosen.
Rosen had left the wine for him.
But what was this supposed to be?
A reward for surviving?
Yet Shiryu had already made it clear—he hadn't survived through his own strength.
He lived because Rosen allowed it.
At that moment, the joy in his chest turned into a sharp stab of humiliation. Just like Catarina Devon, he felt a bitter shame penetrate to his very soul.
"What's with that expression?"
"Feeling humiliated?"
"Hah. Then you're still better off than Catarina Devon—at least you didn't walk yourself back into your own cage."
Shiryu's grin widened.
"What…?"
"She… went back to her cell… on her own?"
Vasco Shot's face twisted in disbelief.
As one of the strongest women ever imprisoned in Infinite Hell, he knew full well how wild and prideful Catarina Devon was. That kind of pirate—she wouldn't kneel even if you chopped off her legs.
And yet now—
She had been defeated so completely, so shatteringly, that all she could do was turn around and walk back into her cell.
He could only imagine the humiliation she must've endured.
Compared to that, at least he hadn't walked back on his own legs.
At least Shiryu had carried him back.
At least he got a bottle of wine.
With that thought… the shame weighing down in his chest seemed to lift slightly.
Suddenly, the wine in his hand didn't taste quite so bitter.
In fact… it even seemed a little fragrant.
Sure enough—
Humiliation and pain don't disappear.
They just transfer from one person to another.
"You can go ask her."
"You two aren't that far apart."
Shiryu chomped on the end of his cigar and turned to leave.
He had done what Rosen instructed—nothing more, nothing less. Naturally, he had no interest in staying in Infinite Hell any longer.
The environment here—the heat, the humidity, the air, the stench—was beyond horrible.
Anyone who could endure such conditions for more than a few days?
Wasn't human.
They were monsters.
"Ask her?"
Vasco Shot chuckled to himself, bitter and dry.
He had no intention of getting anywhere near Catarina Devon.
Rosen might have had the power to beat that woman into submission—but that didn't mean he could.
As Shiryu's footsteps faded into silence, the sixth floor of Impel Down returned to its usual state—still, dark, oppressive.
It was as if the silence and blackness had become the sound of the prison itself.
No one knew how long that silence lasted.
But eventually—
It was broken by a voice.
It came from the deepest depths of Infinite Hell.
"…Aren't you afraid, Bullet?"
From the shadows of the deepest cell, a voice drifted out—cold and hoarse.
"What do you mean… Redfield?"
In a cell directly across from the voice, Douglas Bullet slowly lifted his head and glanced toward the man opposite him.
A hooked nose. A face weathered with age and heavy wrinkles—etched deep by time.
At first glance, he looked like just another aging relic of a bygone era.
But in his eyes—
A sharpness, more piercing than any sword ever forged, still burned.
If anyone else had spoken, Bullet wouldn't have spared them a glance—let alone a reply.
But this man was different.
This man was worthy of acknowledgement.
He was a legend of old age.
Patrick Redfield.
A man who had once been rumored to stand shoulder to shoulder with the Pirate King, Gol D. Roger, and Whitebeard himself—on strength alone.
Of course, Douglas Bullet knew those rumors were garbage.
At best, Redfield had only reached the level of an Admiral.
He had personally witnessed it—how Redfield had once stared at Roger and Whitebeard's power in their primes… and given up his dream of becoming Pirate King.
So no—he wasn't as fearsome as the stories claimed.
But even so—
Douglas Bullet admitted one thing:
Redfield… was worthy of conversation.
"He's grown again."
Redfield's eyes narrowed, a slight smirk playing across his face.
"Facing Catarina Devon and Vasco Shot at the same time, his growth rate—slowing down the last few days—has suddenly accelerated again today."
"Such absurd, irrational speed… even you didn't have that when you were under Roger."
Redfield's voice was calm, but there was something gleaming behind his words.
He wasn't as powerful as the myths made him out to be.
But there was one thing he possessed, even above the likes of Whitebeard, Roger… and Bullet.
Observation Haki.
And not just the kind that saw a few seconds into the future.
No—his Observation Haki had been awakened from birth.
He could peer directly into the hearts and minds of those around him.
He could see memories.
That's right—
All the prisoners in Infinite Hell.
Even Bullet, the so-called Demon's Heir.
So long as they were within range of his perception—Redfield knew exactly what they were thinking.
"Try reading my mind again…"
"…and I'll kill you."
Bullet didn't need to be told what had happened.
He knew Redfield had poked around inside his memories once more.
"Kill me?"
"Do you think you can?"
"If you have that kind of free time—maybe you should think about how you're going to handle him."
Redfield didn't flinch.
He simply looked at Bullet, that sly smile still on his face.
"There's no stopping it now."
"Rosen's climbing the mountain—and he's climbing it faster than ever."
"I imagine he'll be standing in front of you… very soon."
"So tell me…"
"How do you plan to face him?"
"…Demon's Heir."
Redfield's smile deepened.
In his eyes—
An interest that ran bone-deep.
A predator's curiosity.
...
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