(06/02/24 - 08:15) (Saturday February 6, 1524)
The stagnant air inside the hold tasted of rust and death. Uma sat still against the splintered wood of the central mast. The rhythmic rocking of the galleon offered the only sense of time passing. His muscles ached with a deep, consuming fire. The raw wounds on his back wept a mixture of blood and clear fluid.
To his right, the third slave sat in the exact same position as the previous day. A fly crawled across the man's open eye. The man was dead.
To his left, Kael's breathing sounded like dry leaves crumbling in a fist. The skeletal man lay flat on the floorboards. His body possessed zero strength to curl into a ball.
Heavy footsteps echoed on the stairs. The iron-banded door swung open, flooding the dim space with harsh morning light. Two government guards marched down the steps. One of them pinched his nose in disgust.
"Get the corpse out," the first guard ordered, pointing a gloved hand at the dead slave. "Saint Charlos wants to enjoy the view from the upper deck. The smell is drifting up through the grates."
The second guard grabbed the dead man by the ankles. "We are only a few hours away from the Red Line elevator. You expect the nobles to tolerate a little stench until we reach Mary Geoise."
"Keep your voice down," the first guard hissed, unlocking the heavy iron cuff from the dead man's wrist. "Just throw the trash overboard."
Uma kept his head lowered. 'The Red Line. Mary Geoise.' The names triggered vague recollections from the web novels and summaries he used to read. The capital of the world government. A place located high above the clouds. He recognized that going there meant permanent, inescapable slavery.
The second guard dragged the corpse up the wooden stairs. The first guard turned to follow.
A deafening roar shattered the morning air.
The entire galleon lurched violently to the starboard side. The impact threw the remaining guard headfirst into the wooden wall. The sound of splintering timber and tearing canvas drowned out the screams echoing from the upper deck.
Uma slammed hard against the floorboards. The sudden movement yanked Kael sideways, drawing a weak groan from the dying man.
Another explosion rocked the vessel. A massive cannonball smashed directly through the hull just above the waterline. The heavy iron projectile tore through the cargo hold, completely obliterating the wooden wall and smashing into the central mast.
Wood shrapnel exploded outward in a deadly cloud. Dust and smoke filled the cramped space.
Uma coughed, waving his hands to clear his vision. The air smelled of sulfur and burning pitch. He looked toward the center of the room. The thick wooden mast had shattered completely. The iron ring securing his chains hung loosely from a jagged stump of wood.
He pulled his arms back. The rusted ring slid cleanly off the splintered wood with a heavy clank.
He was free from the mast. The iron cuffs remained tight around his wrists, and the explosive collar still weighed down his neck, but he could move his entire body.
He scrambled to his hands and knees. He looked over at Kael. The skeletal man lay completely still beneath a layer of dust, his chest barely rising. Kael possessed absolutely no energy to open his eyes or run.
Uma grabbed the loose chain trailing from his wrists. He crawled toward the stairs. The remaining guard lay unconscious on the floorboards, a massive bruise forming on his forehead.
Uma stepped over the guard. He pushed the iron-banded door open and rushed up the stairs.
The main deck was a portrait of absolute devastation. A dark, jagged pirate ship had rammed its reinforced bow directly into the pristine white side of the government galleon. The pirate flag bore a skull with three crossed swords. Dozens of pirates, armed with cutlasses and flintlock pistols, poured over the railing onto the white decks.
They screamed in sheer desperation. They were trapped between a massive Marine fleet behind them and the Red Line ahead of them. They chose to attack the Celestial Dragon's ship in a suicidal bid to steal a vessel capable of crossing the Calm Belt.
Government guards fired their rifles into the chaotic mass of pirates. Blood stained the polished white floorboards. In the center of the carnage, the CP0 agent moved like a blur of white death. The masked man drove a single finger through the chest of a pirate captain, pulling his hand back covered in crimson.
Saint Charlos stood near the rear of the ship, completely shielded by a wall of armored guards. The bulky noble looked absolutely furious behind his glass resin bubble.
Uma stayed low. He used the thick plumes of black smoke rolling across the deck as cover. He crawled behind a stack of shattered wooden crates. His bare feet slipped on patches of fresh blood. He kept his eyes fixed on the port-side railing. The ocean offered the only escape from the metal collar and the chains.
He pushed off the floorboards and sprinted for the edge. His emaciated legs burned with the effort. The heavy chain rattled loudly against the deck.
He reached the wooden railing. He placed his hands on the smooth white surface and vaulted his upper body forward.
"Shoot the rat!"
The nasally, grating voice cut through the sounds of battle.
Uma turned his head mid-vault. Saint Charlos had shoved past his guards. The noble held a long, ornate musket in his hands. He tracked Uma's movement with the barrel, his face twisted in a cruel, mocking grin.
Smoke plumed from the barrel of the musket.
A sledgehammer impact slammed directly into Uma's abdomen. The force of the bullet knocked the breath from his lungs and shoved his body violently backward over the railing.
The sky and the burning ships spun wildly in his vision.
He hit the surface of the ocean.
The impact drove the remaining oxygen from his chest. The cold, dark water swallowed him instantly. The heavy iron collar around his neck and the chains on his wrists acted as lead weights, dragging his weakened body straight down.
He opened his mouth in a silent scream. Saltwater flooded his throat. The raw gashes on his back and the fresh bullet wound in his stomach burned with the intensity of liquid fire.
He stared up at the surface. The distorted shapes of the two burning ships drifted further away. The sunlight filtering through the water grew dimmer with every passing second. The pressure in his ears built to a painful crescendo.
The cold seeped into his bones. His vision narrowed to a tiny, dark tunnel. The agonizing pain in his abdomen slowly faded into a terrifying, numb emptiness.
He closed his eyes and let the darkness take him.
While the iron collar dragged his broken body into the abyss, the rest of the world moved forward. Between February the fourth and the sixth, the Straw Hat Pirates had completely altered the political landscape ten thousand meters below the surface. They intervened in a massive coup orchestrated by Hody Jones and his New Fishman Pirates. The conflict nearly resulted in the destruction of Fishman Island by the falling Ark Noah, a catastrophe averted only by Princess Shirahoshi awakening her dormant power to command Sea Kings. Before leaving for the surface, the Straw Hat captain claimed the underwater territory as his own and declared open war on the Emperor Big Mom.
By the time the musket bullet pierced Uma's abdomen, the Straw Hats had already surfaced in the New World and answered a distress call leading them directly to the hazardous island of Punk Hazard. Simultaneously, on the wandering island of Zou, the Beast Pirate commander Jack grew tired of a five-day stalemate and unleashed a devastating gas weapon to paralyze the native Mink tribe.
The wheels of the Great Pirate Era turned rapidly, leaving the drowning slave behind in the cold, silent depths.