The air itself whined. Not wind, but the sound of immense pressure squeezing the atmosphere, making Sentomaru's ears pop with each step deeper into Grove 13. The humid mangrove air, usually thick with the scent of salt and damp wood, now tasted metallic, like licking a battery. The packed earth beneath his sandals was no longer firm; it felt spongy, unsettled, vibrating with each distant CRACK-BOOM that echoed through the root-tunnels. Ahead, the path was a mess of destruction. Thick mangrove roots, wood dense enough to turn cannonballs, were split like kindling, showing raw, pale innards. Deep, jagged cracks spiderwebbed the ground, radiating outwards from an unseen epicenter. Overhead, branches groaned and swayed violently, not from wind, but from invisible waves of force battering them. Leaves rained down like confetti caught in a hurricane.
"Tch. Makin' a real mess," Sentomaru grunted, his knuckles white on Masakari's haft. The focused hum of the Pacifista beside him suddenly stuttered, the smooth hydraulic whine turning jerky. Its glowing red eye flickered erratically. "Oi! Big Guy! Hold it together!" Sentomaru snapped, nudging the colossal machine. "Scan! What in the five seas is causin' this?" The Pacifista emitted a series of rapid, high-pitched electronic chirps, its head swiveling with uncharacteristic sluggishness towards the source of the pressure. The sheer, raw will saturating the air seemed to interfere with its systems.
Rounding a final, colossal root, Sentomaru stepped into the clearing – or what was left of it. It looked like a Sea King had thrown a tantrum. The ground was cratered and scarred. Roots were sheared clean or bore deep, smoking gashes. Stray arcs of unseen force still occasionally lashed out, slicing through stray bubbles or gouging fresh wounds in the ancient wood high above.
And in the center, locked in a whirlwind of steel and darkness, were two figures.
Sentomaru's jaw literally dropped. His eyes widened, disbelief warring with dawning horror. The silver-haired man flowing like water, his simple blade meeting the obsidian nightmare wielded by the young woman in the leather jacket and denim shorts… He knew them. Everyone knew them.
"Kuso!" Sentomaru hissed, the curse ripped from him. "Rayleigh! And... her? Mihawk's brat?" His voice, usually a commanding rumble, came out tight with shock. He pointed Masakari, the massive axe trembling slightly in his grip, not from fear, but from the sheer, overwhelming pressure beating against him. "Oi! YOU!"
Neither combatant spared him a glance. Their world had narrowed to the space between their blades. Rayleigh parried a devouring sweep from Eternal Eclipse, the impact sending another visible shockwave rippling outwards, making Sentomaru brace his feet. Marya flowed into a counter, her golden eyes fixed solely on the Dark King, her movements a lethal dance of economy and contained fury.
"HEY!" Sentomaru bellowed, taking a step forward. The pressure intensified, pushing him back half a step. It felt like wading through molten lead. "DON'T IGNORE ME, DAMMIT! I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!" Annoyance flared hot in his chest, burning away the initial awe. Being disregarded, especially by pirates, especially here, especially now… it stung his Marine pride. His orders were clear: find the disturbance. Well, he'd found it.
Rage and duty fused. He slammed Masakari's haft onto the fractured ground. "PACIFISTA! TARGETS: SILVERS RAYLEIGH AND DRACULE MARYA! ENGAGE! NEUTRALIZE!" His voice was raw, cutting through the buzzing air.
The Pacifista's red eye pulsed, locking onto the two figures. Its system whined, struggling against the Haki interference, but the command was absolute. Its massive palms lifted, the telltale yellow glow beginning to build within them. Simultaneously, Sentomaru roared, channeling his own formidable Armament Haki into Masakari. The axe-head gleamed with a sudden, dark, metallic sheen. He charged, not with Rayleigh's liquid grace, but with the unstoppable momentum of a battering ram, axe held high overhead, aimed to split the space between the two dueling legends.
"ENOUGH PLAYING AROUND!" he thundered, a bull charging into a hurricane.
On the root-bench sidelines, Atlas's fur crackled wildly. "Oh, hells yeah! Marine moron incoming!" Galit's long neck snapped towards the new threat, emerald eyes calculating trajectories instantly. Fia gasped, pulling Geo and Lulee tighter. Henrick shifted his massive frame, ready to shield them. Shakky just sighed, a plume of smoke drifting upwards. "Sentomaru, boy... you always did lack subtlety."
Marya, mid-pivot to block a lunge from Rayleigh, didn't turn her head, but her lips curled in the faintest, driest smirk. "Marine etiquette," she muttered, her voice barely audible over the clash of steel and the building whine of the Pacifista's lasers. "So... loud."
Rayleigh, effortlessly deflecting her blade while keeping half an eye on the charging Marine, chuckled. It was a sound rich with dark amusement. "Seems your little test just got an unexpected variable, girl. Try not to break the expensive hardware." He shifted his stance, subtly positioning himself to face both threats – the inheritor of Mihawk's will and the enraged, axe-wielding juggernaut bearing down on them. The trap Sentomaru thought he was springing had just become infinitely more complex.
A flicker of understanding passed between Rayleigh and Marya – a shared smirk as thin as a knife's edge. Sentomaru's roar and the thunderous crash of Masakari cleaving the space they'd occupied a split-second before were met only with the whisper of displaced air. Rayleigh flowed sideways like smoke, his sandals barely skimming the cracked earth. Marya pivoted on the ball of her boot, Eternal Eclipse already singing towards Rayleigh's flank as if the charging Marine were nothing more than an inconvenient breeze. Their blades met again in a screaming kiss of steel and obsidian, the force of the impact sending dust devils swirling around Sentomaru's boots.
"DON'T UNDERESTIMATE ME!" Sentomaru bellowed, wrenching his axe from the crater it had made, his face flushed with fury. Being ignored was worse than being struck.
On the root-bench, Atlas doubled over, howling with laughter, blue sparks zapping erratically from his fur. "Hahaha! Look at his face! Like a kid who dropped his candy in the sea!"
Beside him, Jelly wobbled in glee. "Bloop! Angry friend dance!" he chirped, utterly oblivious to the reason for the mink's mirth.
Fia's grip tightened on Henrick's forearm, her knuckles white. "Henrick…?" she whispered, her gaze darting between the duelists and the enraged Marine. Henrick placed his massive hand over hers, his hammerhead features set in grim focus, but his body subtly shifted to better shield Lulee and Geo. The children pressed close, Geo peeking out with wide eyes.
Shakky exhaled a slow plume of smoke, her expression one of weary amusement. "Easy, goldfish. Sentomaru and his tin men are about as threatening to those two as a guppy to a Sea King." Her voice was calm, cutting through Fia's anxiety.
Galit's emerald eyes tracked Sentomaru's sputtering rage, his long neck coiled thoughtfully. "Fascinating," he murmured, more to himself. "He appears to have wandered in solely to provide comic relief."
Sentomaru, veins bulging at his temples, scrambled to his feet. Humiliation burned hotter than the Haki pressure. "PACIFISTAS! FIRE! FULL BARRAGE! NOW!" he roared, pointing Masakari at the oblivious duelists.
The two Pacifistas, their red eyes pulsing, raised their massive palms. The air hummed with building energy as twin beams of searing yellow light lanced out – one aimed squarely at Marya's back, the other at the space between her and Rayleigh.
Rayleigh, parrying a lightning-fast thrust from Eternal Eclipse, didn't even turn his head. Marya, mid-step in her own attack, didn't flinch. The first beam struck her center mass… and passed through her like she was made of smoke. It hit a mangrove root behind her, exploding wood into splinters and charred pulp. The second beam sizzled harmlessly through the space she'd occupied a heartbeat earlier.
Rayleigh's bushy silver eyebrow shot up. He disengaged for a fraction of a second, his weathered face showing genuine surprise. "Power holder?" he asked, his voice carrying over the fading whine of the lasers and Sentomaru's sputtering.
Marya didn't pause. The air where the beam had passed through her shimmered faintly, like heat haze over a desert, before solidifying instantly. She shrugged, a single, fluid motion as she flowed back into her attack stance, golden eyes fixed on Rayleigh. "Yeah," she said, her voice flat, almost bored. "Something like that." Then she charged, Eternal Eclipse a blur of devouring night aimed at his throat.
Rayleigh met the charge, his simple blade a silver streak intercepting the obsidian fury. The force of their clash sent another shockwave rippling outwards. But now, a new light danced in Rayleigh's eyes – pure, unadulterated curiosity. He deflected a series of vicious cuts, his movements economical, his gaze locked on hers. "Now I'm really intrigued, girl," he admitted, a grin spreading across his face. "Feel like demonstrating? Give an old man a proper thrill?"
Marya spun away from a low sweep, her boots kicking up dust. She fixed him with a look that was part challenge, part exasperated smirk. "Greedy old man," she retorted, the faintest trace of dry humor in her voice. "Always wanting more."
Rayleigh's grin widened, teeth flashing. "So many compliments today! My heart can barely take it."
A rare, genuine chuckle escaped Marya, a low, warm sound utterly at odds with the fierce duel. "Fine," she said, stopping her advance and lowering Eternal Eclipse slightly. Her golden eyes met Rayleigh's, holding a spark of something ancient and deep. "You asked for it. Try not to blink, Gramps." The air around her began to stir, not with wind, but with a gathering, impossible cold. The promise of the Abyss was about to be kept.
The humid air shattered. Not with sound, but with cold. One moment Sentomaru was roaring, charging with Masakari gleaming under Armament Haki, the next, the very moisture in the mangrove clearing froze solid. A wave of glacial air slammed outwards, frosting roots, turning falling leaves into brittle ice chips, and coating the ground in a skin of rime. Sentomaru skidded, his furious charge broken, boots slipping on the sudden ice, a choked gasp escaping him as the cold punched the air from his lungs.
Rayleigh and Marya hadn't moved. They stood facing each other, blades locked, but the world around them had transformed.
Marya… changed.
Her long raven hair dissolved, not into mist, but into a living nebula: strands became streams of liquid starlight flecked with gold, tendrils of swirling ash-gray, and wisps of soul-smoke that whispered silent screams. Above her, a halo fractured into three distinct rings – solid gold etched with intricate tree patterns, shimmering silver like a frozen bridge, and jagged obsidian carved with infernal sigils. Her skin cracked like ancient porcelain, revealing veins that pulsed with rivers of impossible hues: Styx-blue, Phlegethon-red, and Lethe-black, mapping her arms and neck. Her familiar leather jacket and shorts vanished, replaced by robes woven from what looked like countless, stitched-together funeral shrouds – Christian linen fused with Sumerian weaves, edged with Mihawk's signature feather motifs. At her chest, his pendant glowed like a captured star.
Eternal Eclipse reshaped itself in her grip. The Key of Thresholds: a tri-split blade – one edge radiant light, one mirrored steel reflecting fractured scenes, the last a row of decaying, jagged teeth.
Her eyes were the most terrifying. The left pupil held a vision of Elysian Fields – rolling golden hills under a gentle sun, drifting, peaceful souls. The right pupil was a window into Naraka – a desolate wasteland of perpetual fire, burning figures writhing in silent agony.
Sentomaru stumbled back, hitting the frozen ground hard. "W-What…?" he choked, the sheer, annihilating presence pressing him down. His Pacifista, its lasers half-charged, emitted a static-filled whine, its red eye flickering wildly, unable to process the entity before it.
Marya's gaze, those impossible dual eyes, locked onto Sentomaru. Her voice echoed, layered with whispers like dry leaves scraping stone and distant, mournful horns. "Remove the distractions."
Nine figures manifested from the swirling starlight, ash, and smoke around her. Nine Grim Reapers.
Three Heaven's Heralds: Ten feet tall, robes of woven nebulae shifting with constellations. Faceless gold masks. Starlight scythes humming with cosmic power. Three Purgatory's Arbiters: Half-rotted flesh clinging to skeletal frames. Floating, unbalanced scales hovered beside each. Mirror-polished blades reflected not images, but the sins of those they faced. Three Hell's Executioners: Horned skeletons wreathed in shadow. Lava dripped from their joints, sizzling on the frost. Heavy, clanking chains pooled at their feet, hooks gleaming.
Marya didn't gesture. She simply willed it. "Destroy them."
The Heralds became streaks of light. The Arbiters blurred, mirror-blades flashing. The Executioners lunged, chains whipping out like striking serpents. They moved faster than sight, faster than the Pacifista's targeting systems could track.
CRUNCH-SHATTER-IMPLOSION!
The sounds came from the edge of the clearing, near the root tunnel Sentomaru had emerged from. Not explosions, but sounds of utter unmaking. The Pacifista didn't explode; it seemed to collapse inwards, its gleaming metal frame crumpled like paper by an unseen fist, then engulfed in chains that glowed red-hot before shattering it into molten slag. Starlight scythes passed through its companion like it wasn't there, leaving fissures that wept dark energy before the machine simply ceased to function, toppling like a felled tree. Mirror-blades reflected the machines' own systems back at them in twisted, malfunctioning echoes, causing them to spasm and detonate their own power cores in showers of sparks.
Sentomaru stared, paralyzed, at the smoking ruins where his elite weapons had stood seconds before. "NO!" The raw denial tore from his throat.
Rayleigh chuckled, a warm, human sound amidst the frozen, spectral nightmare. He hadn't flinched, his weathered face alight with pure fascination. "Show off," he remarked, his breath frosting in the air.
Marya turned her terrifying gaze back to him, the ghost of her familiar smirk touching lips now tinged blue-black. "You asked, Gramps." The layered voices held a thread of dry amusement.
On the root benches, shock held everyone rigid. Henrick's massive hand tightened on Fia's shoulder, his hammerhead features slack with disbelief. Fia had both arms wrapped around Geo and Lulee, who stared with wide, unblinking eyes. Geo whispered, "Papa… the scary angels…"
Galit's analytical mind finally stuttered. He stared at the dissipating smoke where the Pacifistas had been, then at Marya's transformed figure. "Atlas… did you… know?"
The lynx mink's fur stood completely on end, blue sparks fizzling out weakly. He shook his head, a rare, genuine awe replacing his usual cocky grin. "Hell no. Not… not like that."
"Bloop!" Jelly wobbled happily, completely unfazed by the cosmic horror. "More dead friends! Bye-bye, clanky friends!"
Shakky took a long, slow drag from her cigarette, the smoke curling lazily through the unnatural, frozen stillness. She watched Marya, the Key of Thresholds still held lightly in her grip, the nine Reapers fading back into the swirling nebula of her hair and robes. A slow, knowing smile touched Shakky's lips. "Told you she was full of surprises, Ray. Seems Hawkeye's little shadow… casts quite a long one."
The frozen mist began to slowly retreat, the impossible cold lessening its grip. But the image of the Daughter of Mihawk, robed in funeral shrouds and wielding the Key to Heaven, Purgatory, and Hell, was seared into the memory of everyone present. The spar was forgotten. They had witnessed something far older, far deeper, than a simple test of swords. They had seen the Abyss awaken.
The unnatural cold receded like a withdrawing tide, leaving the mangrove clearing scarred and trembling. Frost still clung to shattered roots and crackled underfoot, the air tasting like iron and winter mornings. Sentomaru staggered back, sandals slipping on the icy patches, his face pale beneath the sheen of sweat rapidly chilling on his skin. He stared, not at the ruins of his Pacifistas – smoking heaps of scrap metal already being reclaimed by the whispering roots – but at the young woman who had summoned the Reapers.
Marya stood beside Rayleigh, the terrifying spectral form gone as if it had never been. She was just herself again: raven hair long and loose, familiar leather jacket zipped over her casual shirt, denim shorts, tall boots planted firmly on the frost-rimed earth. Only Eternal Eclipse remained in her hand, its obsidian blade seeming darker, hungrier, against the stark white surroundings. She slid it smoothly into its sheath with a soft click that echoed in the sudden, brittle silence. Rayleigh followed suit, his weathered hand resting easily on his simpler sword's hilt.
Marya turned her golden eyes, calm and utterly focused, onto Sentomaru. "Hey, big guy," she said, her voice back to its usual flat tone, cutting through his daze. "I have a question."
Sentomaru flinched as if struck. He straightened, forcing his shoulders back, gripping Masakari so tightly the knuckles turned bone-white against the axe's dark wood. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding. "I am not telling you anything," he spat, the words thick with defiance and the lingering tremor of fear. "I am the most secretive man in the Navy! And you… you…!" He gestured wildly at her, at the destruction, words failing him.
Marya raised a single, dark eyebrow, unimpressed. "I know who I am." She tilted her head slightly, her gaze shifting past Sentomaru, towards the dense tangle of mangroves leading deeper inland. "Something's off that way," she stated, her voice casual but carrying an undeniable weight. She gestured with her chin towards the shadowed path leading towards Grove 4. "Feels… heavy. Wrong."
Sentomaru went rigid as a statue. He puffed out his chest, a desperate attempt at bravado. "That?" he barked, too loud, too fast. "That is none of your concern! You should stay far away! I am not going to be the one to divulge the Celestial Vanguard's secrets!" The name slipped out, fueled by panic and bluster.
Marya's other eyebrow joined the first. "The Vanguard," she repeated, the word hanging in the frosty air. Her gaze flicked to Rayleigh.
The Dark King stroked his chin, a thoughtful hum rumbling in his chest. "Heard whispers. Nasty bunch. Like cockroaches in the World Government's pantry. You know them, girl?"
Marya nodded once, her expression unchanging. "My father's had dealings. We've… crossed paths." A flicker of something cold, colder than the retreating frost, passed through her golden eyes. "Unpleasant."
Rayleigh's lips curved into a knowing smirk. "I see."
Sentomaru bristled, the color rising back into his face, this time with fury at his own slip. "What are you doing here, Mihawk's brat?" he demanded, hefting Masakari, though the threat felt hollow after what he'd witnessed. "Planning more chaos? More destruction?"
Marya and Rayleigh simply turned their backs on him, walking towards their group huddled on the root-benches. Atlas was still wide-eyed, fur sparking sporadically. Galit watched Sentomaru with analytical intensity. Fia held Geo and Lulee close, Henrick a solid, protective wall beside them. Shakky watched, smoke curling placidly from her cigarette. Jelly wobbled, whispering "Bloop? Clanky friends gone?"
As she reached the edge of the frost-scorched circle, Marya paused. She looked over her shoulder, her golden eyes meeting Sentomaru's glare. "Just passing through," she said, her voice utterly matter-of-fact. "Need my sub coated. Try not to get in the way again, big guy. Your toys are expensive." She turned fully and rejoined the others, leaving Sentomaru standing alone amidst the ruins of his pride and his machines.
Humiliation and rage warred within him, hotter than the fading cold. He glared at their retreating backs, then down at the mangled remains of the Pacifistas. With a growl that started deep in his chest, he fumbled at his belt, yanking free a large, agitated Den Den Mushi. Its shell morphed instantly into the stern, scarred visage of Vice Admiral Venus Harlow.
"Sentomaru!" Harlow's voice crackled through, sharp with impatience. "Report! Have you contained the disturbance? Located the fugitives?"
Sentomaru took a deep, steadying breath, his knuckles white on the snail's shell. "Vice Admiral," he began, his voice tight but controlled. "Primary disturbance source identified and… engaged. Silvers Rayleigh was present, engaged in combat. Additionally…" He paused, the words tasting like ash. "Dracule Marya Zaleska is confirmed on Sabaody."
The snail's projection of Harlow's face froze for a split second. Then it contorted. "What?!" The screech was distorted, metallic, tearing through the quiet grove. "Mihawk's brat?! Detain her, Sentomaru! Detain her by any means necessary! Is that clear?!"
Sentomaru winced at the volume. "Understood, Vice Admiral. However…" He glanced at the smoldering Pacifista wreckage. "Initial engagement… unsuccessful. She possesses… unexpected capabilities. Significant force required. I require immediate additional support to contain her and prevent departure."
Harlow's image seemed to vibrate with fury. Smoke curled violently from the phantom cigarette. "Keep her on that island, Sentomaru! Do not let her slip away! I am en route, pushing engines to their limit! Full speed!" The order was a whip-crack. Before Sentomaru could respond, the connection died with a sharp click, the snail's features melting back into its dopey expression, leaving only the echo of Harlow's screech and the ominous promise of her arrival hanging over the frostbitten clearing. Sentomaru clipped the snail back onto his belt, his gaze fixed grimly on the path Marya and the others had taken. The hunt had just become infinitely more personal, and infinitely more dangerous.