Ain gasped in delight, rubbed her eyes in disbelief, and then hurled herself into Creed's arms.
"You're a candidate for admiral now—try to act with a little poise," Creed said, half helpless as she clung to him and refused to let go.
"It's been so long. Let me hold you a little more," she murmured, breathing in his scent with greedy relief. Only she knew how the days had swollen with longing until they flooded every thought.
Any Marine who knew the "Blue Fox" for her ice-cold image would've dropped their jaw at the sight.
Creed chuckled and let her be.
"Ying-ying-ying!"
At that moment, Falkor hopped from Creed's shoulder to Ain's, patting her cheeks with tiny paws in a comically "shy" gesture. Ain's face went crimson. She shot the little rascal a secret glare.
Once she finally loosened her embrace, Creed knelt and unlocked the seastone shackles at her ankles. His gaze slid to the table in the open-air kitchen. "So Big Mom grabbed you because she wanted vanilla cake, huh? If I'd known that, I wouldn't have rushed like a madman."
On the table sat a heaping tray of vanilla cake, sweet aroma flooding the courtyard.
Creed often fed Falkor vanilla cake; he knew that taste well.
Hearing he'd come all this way just to save her, Ain couldn't hold back. She latched onto him again, tears pricking. "I knew it—Creed-nii still worries about me."
Creed patted her head. "Silly girl. You're an admiral-candidate now—be strong, be cool. Hey, if you hug me any longer, Falkor's going to polish off your cake."
"Ah!"
Ain jumped back with a soft squeak. Sure enough, Falkor had armed itself with knife and fork and was carving out generous slabs, muzzle smeared mint-green. It had even tucked a napkin under its chin, eating like some tiny gourmand at a western bistro.
"Pfft—!"
Ain couldn't help laughing. She let the little glutton feast, then cut a neat slice for Creed. "Try it. I tweaked the recipe—Charlotte Linlin herself praised it."
Back on Vanilla Island, Creed had scoured the place for cakes, while Ain quietly finagled the actual recipe—and then upgraded it.
Creed took a bite and brightened. "You added nuts and a few other layers. Better texture. Richer finish."
A thunderous boom split the air.
This time it was close—so close a section of the courtyard wall blew apart, a deep trench gouged across the stone as razor-edged sword aura scythed past.
Creed recognized it instantly: Napoleon, Big Mom's horn-hat blade, had just fired.
"All right. Time to settle accounts with Charlotte Linlin."
He took Ain's hand, whistled for Falkor, and stepped into the air. Redfield, standing guard outside, saw them rise and fell in behind at once.
…
High on a balcony within Ryugu Palace, Neptune stared toward the battleground, panic rising in his chest.
As he'd feared: Admiral Aokiji had come for Charlotte Linlin—and the moment they met, they'd skipped straight past words to blows. As one of the "Ten Kingdoms" kings, he couldn't even get close enough to plead.
With the power those two wielded, another few exchanges and Ryugu would be rubble—Fish-Man Island itself might crack.
"So this is the strength of a Yonko and a Marine admiral… Forget it. I need to get Shirahoshi and the others out. Now."
He made his decision in an instant: retreat.
But as he turned, a golden figure rose from the guest quarters—the Golden Lion, Shiki, drifting toward the clash.
"By the tides… another calamity."
Neptune clutched his head and bolted. If he didn't move now, there'd be no time at all.
"If only I hadn't courted Shiki… Fish-Man Island wouldn't be here." Regret and self-reproach tore at him. "Sound the nationwide alarm. Evacuate everyone!"
He hurried inside to give the order—just as the outer detonations abruptly stopped.
…
On the northwest side of Ryugu's guest quarter, the once-luxurious towers lay in ruins.
Big Mom stood amid drifting dust, Napoleon gripped like a longsword, her dress whipping in wind that wasn't there. She stared down the man of frozen mist before her. "Kuzan. That day I gave you plenty of face—let you escort the Celestial Dragons to safety. You come knocking anyway? Don't blame me for tearing up Marine 'face'!"
"Charlotte Linlin, don't flatter yourself," Aokiji said, voice even. "Admiral Fujitora was there that day. However strong you are, even you don't blot out the sun alone. I'll repeat myself: hand over Ain, and it ends here."
Big Mom laughed, low and savage. "And I'll repeat myself: take her if you can."
Their auras flared again—ice and sword-pressure slashing outward, making the entire palace shudder.
Then both paused, eyes narrowing.
Three figures—and a pet—strode calmly from the far corner of Ryugu, unbowed by their clashing pressure. All familiar faces.
Creed. Ain. Falkor. And Redfield.
"So you chased us all the way here. Guess that means you really do care about this girl," Big Mom said, eyes half-lidded. Her tone was mild, but killing intent bled from every word.
Vanilla Island's destruction. Her near-loss of control. The public hit to her reputation—and Kaido's mockery afterward.
Stacked together, they made her grind her teeth whenever she thought of Creed.
Since she'd first ruled the New World, who had ever handed her such a hidden loss?
"Mama."
From the shadows, Katakuri stepped out to stand at her side. He'd already gauged Redfield's threat—and with Creed and Aokiji both present, he wasn't about to let his guard drop.
"BIG MOM—looks like the other side brought friends." A lazy voice drifted in, followed by a streak of cutting gold that fell like a world-sundering blade.
Shiki the Golden Lion arrived.
(End of Chapter)
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