The next morning, just as a pale fish-belly white appeared along the horizon, the low, powerful roar of an engine echoed around the harbor, vibrating the water into rippling rings.
A specially modified high-speed skiff sat on the surface, ready to go.
On the pier, Smoker wore a thick leather jacket with the collar turned up against the chilly dawn wind. His short silver-white hair was a little tousled.
He stared at the skiff easing away from the berth and took a hard drag on his cigar.
"Vmmm—!!"
The engine bellowed. A white plume of wake exploded behind it as the skiff accelerated instantly—vanishing beyond the horizon in the blink of an eye.
Smoker was left alone, blowing smoke rings at an empty sea.
"What are you staring at?! Got nothing to do?!"
He whirled around and dumped all his pent-up frustration on the group behind him.
A bunch of soldiers had just assembled, still half-asleep and yawning.
"One by one you can't even stand properly! What kind of look is this?!"
Smoker roared. His signature smoke surged up behind him, forming several huge fists that swung menacingly.
"Since you don't have to go out to sea and die, then train like your lives depend on it! Fifty-kilometer weighted cross-country run—everyone! If anyone dares to slack off, I'll 'loosen their bones' myself! If you don't finish, you don't eat breakfast!!"
"Huh?! Fifty kilometers?!"
The soldiers let out a chorus of wails, but under Smoker's ferocious glare, no one dared argue. Grimacing, they shouldered their packs and began sprinting through the dawn.
…
Out on the open sea, the skiff tore southeast at an astonishing speed.
In the cockpit, Rain personally held the helm.
One hand on the wheel, he looked focused and calm. As they advanced, the sea grew steadily more complex and ominous. The once-placid surface began to churn with irregular undercurrents, and the skiff bucked hard—like it was riding along the rising spine of some enormous beast.
His Observation Haki spread soundlessly, like an invisible radar net covering several nautical miles. It tracked reefs and whirlpools with precision, allowing the skiff to weave through lethal traps with ease.
Gion stood on deck with both hands on the rail. The sea wind tangled her smooth hair; a few strands stuck to her pale cheek.
She hadn't gone below to rest—her eyes stayed sharp, watching the environment change.
The deeper they went, the sky overhead grew heavy and oppressive. The once-blue sea gradually turned into a dark, unsettling black, as if swallowing everything beneath the surface.
After an unknown stretch of time—
Ahead, a wall of gray-white fog appeared without warning, stretching from sea to sky.
It was so thick it looked solid—like a barrier splitting the world in two. Even the wind couldn't scatter it; it only made the fog boil and churn more eerily.
From somewhere deep inside it came a dull, thunderous rumble—like a low growl. It was impossible to tell if it was wind… or the breathing of something massive. A cold fear crawled up from the spine.
"So this is… the edge of the Calm Belt?" Gion narrowed her eyes, trying to pierce the fog, but even with her eyesight she saw only blank whiteness.
"Hold on."
Rain's voice came from the cockpit.
Before she could respond—
Boom!
The skiff surged forward and punched straight into the "god-forsaken" fog.
Light vanished instantly.
Everything turned into a gray-white haze. Visibility dropped to under ten meters. Aside from the skiff's wake, the world went unnaturally quiet—like nothing existed except this lone vessel.
"Bzzzt… bzzzt…"
The instrument panel began twitching wildly. The compass needle spun like a headless fly, then crack—the faceplate shattered from the violent magnetic disturbance.
"The magnetic field's completely wrecked," Rain glanced at the dead gauge without concern, still holding their course.
Then an odd scent rode the cold damp air into the cabin—and into Gion's nose.
A strange sweetness.
Not any flower she recognized. It was rich, cloying, almost fermented—like overripe fruit. It wasn't unpleasant; if anything, it tempted you to inhale more.
"What is that smell…?"
Gion frowned and instinctively breathed in twice.
The next second, her expression changed.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Her heart suddenly began hammering. Blood rushed fast. A strange heat rose from her abdomen straight into her head.
It felt like drunken exhilaration—and like the adrenaline spike right before lethal combat.
Her hand tightened on her sword hilt. A flicker of savage irritation—something she never normally let surface—flashed through her eyes. She actually wanted to draw her blade and carve the fog apart.
"Something's wrong!"
Her self-control snapped into place instantly. She recognized the abnormal reaction and started to steady her breathing—
"Don't inhale deeply."
Rain's voice cut in at the perfect time. Something dark arced through the air and landed neatly in Gion's hands.
She caught it and looked down.
A well-made gas mask.
"This is pollen from a plant on the island," Rain explained as he steered. "That old sea dog in the tavern mentioned it. The pollen contains a special alkaloid that directly stimulates the limbic system and adrenal response."
"For beasts, it accelerates gigantification and drives them berserk—turning them into nothing but killing machines."
"And for humans…" Rain paused. "Breathe too much, and you won't mutate—but you'll lose rationality and become a blade-swinging madman."
"From a tavern story?" Gion shot Rain's silhouette a suspicious look.
Just hearing a drunk's tale and you're this prepared—even with a mask ready? How meticulous was this man's thinking?
But her body's reaction didn't allow time for debate. She put the mask on immediately.
Filtered air filled her lungs, cutting off the sweet scent. After a few controlled breaths, the agitation eased and her eyes cleared again.
Her voice came out slightly muffled behind the mask. "Then what about you? You only brought one mask?"
She looked toward the cockpit, worried—Rain had no protection at all.
"I don't need it."
Rain glanced back. In the dim light, a thin blue arc danced at his fingertips, reflecting off his calm face. A faint smile lifted his mouth.
"Don't forget—I'm a Logia user."
"Toxins that target biological nerves don't work on me. If I want, the heat I generate inside my body can instantly purify anything I inhale."
A pulse of electricity ran over him; the air warped for an instant from the heat.
"…Logias really are convenient," Gion muttered, a trace of envy in her tone, and adjusted her mask.
The skiff pushed onward through the fog.
The sea grew more dangerous.
Suddenly—Rain yanked the wheel hard.
The skiff carved a sharp arc, nearly rolling onto its side at a terrifying angle, barely avoiding a massive black shape that thrust up from beneath the water.
"That was—an underwater reef?" Gion stared at the colossal shadow scraping past.
"No," Rain flicked his eyes toward it. "A wreck."
In the weak light, they could make it out: a huge three-masted ship, snapped clean in two. The break wasn't from impact—several claw marks, each meters deep, tore through the hull.
It looked like some beast the size of a warship had ripped it apart by hand.
Planks curled, the keel broken, rotting seaweed hanging off it like funeral shrouds.
"Looks like the intel was right," Rain said quietly. "This place really is dangerous."
As they advanced, more wreckage appeared—floating, half-sunk—every one destroyed with overwhelming violence. The sea felt like a graveyard for explorers who'd wandered in and never returned.
Finally, after roughly half an hour—
The fog thinned.
A huge, jagged island silhouette emerged in their view.
Black cliffs rose like natural fortress walls on three sides, barring entry. The interior was dense jungle—but the trees were impossibly tall, some hundreds of meters high, their canopies blotting out the sky.
In the dim gloom, twisted branches looked like clawed specters, rustling with a whispering "shhh, shhh" that sounded like mocking laughter.
"This is… Merveille."
Rain guided the skiff into a relatively gentle pebble shore and cut the engine.
They jumped down, boots slick against black stone.
The silence was terrifying. No waves. No seabirds.
Only that thick, sweet scent—now overwhelming—mixed with rotting leaves and the rancid musk of beasts.
"The ecology here…" Gion's grip tightened on her sword. "It's completely broken."
Her instincts screamed. Every inch of air felt watched—like thousands of hostile eyes were staring through the jungle.
White bones lay scattered along the shore. Some were so large it was hard to tell if they belonged to a human… or a monster.
"Gaaah—!!"
The moment they stepped into the jungle's edge, a shriek—sharp enough to pierce the skull—exploded from above.
Leaves showered down.
"Above!" Gion barked instantly, hand flashing to her hilt.
A gust of fetid wind hit—
A massive, iridescent shadow dropped from the canopy.
A giant bird—over ten meters long.
Its feathers were pitch-black like steel, each one sharp as a blade. Its eyes burned blood-red, filled with nothing but murderous frenzy—no caution, no hesitation.
Its hooked talons glowed with a cold blue sheen as they slashed down toward them with a scream of tearing air.
The speed and power of the strike were beyond an ordinary Navy captain—closer to a seasoned combat officer.
~~~
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