The rhythmic drip-drip-drip from the cavern ceiling was the only sound competing with Charlie's frantic muttering and the scrape of chalk on stone. He was a whirlwind of focused energy, completely absorbed in the newly revealed "stress lexemes," tracing connections between the containment cartouche and monstrous carvings with trembling hands. Sabo watched intently, while Aurélie sat nearby on a damp, flat rock. Her steel-grey eyes weren't on the glyphs, but focused inward, one hand absently tracing the worn leather of Anathema's sheath, the other holding a small, weathered notebook. She scribbled lines of flowing script, a low murmur escaping her lips – fragments of an old Wano poem about hidden currents and silent depths. It was a familiar ritual, a way to center herself amidst chaos.
The quiet concentration shattered when Souta materialized from the gloom near a tunnel entrance, his usual stillness replaced by sharp alertness. "Ember is gone."
Kuro, who had been observing Charlie's work while subtly scanning the Revolutionary Army members, snapped his head towards Souta. "Gone? How long?"
"Uncertain. Minutes. She was near the pool." Souta gestured towards a dark, still pool of water reflecting the torchlight near the cavern's edge. "She was fidgeting... whispering to the rabbit. Then she wasn't."
Kuro adjusted his cracked glasses, a flicker of genuine concern breaking through his usual composure. "Search the immediate tunnels. Quietly." He turned towards the nearest Revolutionary Army member, Heron. "Have you seen the girl? Pink hair? Carries a burnt toy?"
Heron shook his head grimly. Koala, overhearing, hurried over, her expression tight with alarm. "She wandered off? We can't afford a search party. There are over twelve hundred slaves working the upper levels right now, guarded by Marines. If she stumbles into an active work zone, or worse, a patrol route..." She didn't finish the thought. The consequence was clear: discovery, capture, interrogation. The entire hidden outpost, and their mission, jeopardized.
Aurélie closed her notebook with a soft snap, the poem forgotten. She stood, her movements fluid and silent. "Ember can be... unpredictable," she stated, her voice low but carrying clearly in the sudden tension. "Driven by internal currents often invisible to others. Finding her quickly is paramount."
Koala met Aurélie's gaze, seeing the shared understanding of the risk. "I know these tunnels better than anyone here. I'll help." She grabbed a spare lantern. "We need to split up. Check the side passages she might have been drawn to – places with unusual sounds, strange rock formations, vents with drafts..."
"Like, places a kid might think are 'fun' or 'sparkly'," Bianca piped up, already slinging her tool bag over her shoulder and adjusting her fogged-up goggles. She wiped them futilely on her sleeve. "Count me in. Two sets of eyes, or... well, kinda foggy eyes, but still!" Her practical engineer's mind was already assessing the tunnel network as a system with potential hazards and hiding spots.
Kuro gave a curt nod. "Souta, take the eastern fork. Koala, you know the western network. Bianca, with me, we'll check the northern fissures. Nakano..." He paused, acknowledging her presence.
"I will check the upper access near the sound sources," Aurélie said, her gaze drifting towards the cavern ceiling where the faint, rhythmic thud-thud-thud of distant hammering filtered down – the sound of slave labor on the bridge far above. It was a dangerous direction, closer to potential patrols, but Aurélie moved with the silent lethality of a predator stalking prey. Ember's chaotic energy might be drawn to the noise, the vibration, the sheer oppressive weight of the work above.
Koala lit her lantern. "Move fast. Stay low. Listen for anything – humming, giggling, arguing with herself. If you find her, get her back here immediately. Don't engage anyone." She glanced at Charlie, still utterly absorbed, then at the towering, ominous glyphs. "Seventy-two hours just got a lot tighter."
The cavern fragmented into shifting pools of torch and lantern light as the search parties plunged into different tunnel mouths. Aurélie vanished upwards like a silver ghost into a narrow, steep chimney passage, drawn towards the muffled thunder of suffering above. Kuro and Bianca headed into a jagged fissure where cold air whistled eerily, Bianca already muttering about structural stability and echo patterns. Souta flowed soundlessly down the eastern tunnel, his shadow merging with the deeper darkness. Koala took the western path, her lantern beam bobbing as she called softly, "Ember? It's Koala. Mr. Cinders might get cold out here alone..."
The dripping water seemed louder now, each drop a ticking second. The ancient prison-lock's secret weighed heavier as the hunt within the hunt began, the fragile alliance strained by the frantic search for a single, dangerously lost girl whose spark could ignite disaster. The poem in Aurélie's pocket felt like an unfinished warning.
*****
The path back from Grove 30 felt quieter, the raucous energy of the park fading into the humid Sabaody twilight. Mangrove roots cast long, skeletal shadows, and the air, still thick with the scent of salt and damp wood, now carried the fading sweetness of cotton candy and the greasy ghost of fried doughnuts clinging to their clothes. Geo dragged his slightly grubby stuffed starfish, its tentacles whispering against the packed earth path. Lulee was a dead weight on Fia's back, her coral-pink hair spilling over her mother's shoulder, breathing deep and even in exhausted sleep. Atlas walked with a contented swagger, occasionally shaking blue sparks from his fur like static. Jelly wobbled, humming a tuneless park melody, a smear of pink sugar crusting his side. Galit's long neck moved in a slow, observant arc, his slate tucked away, but his emerald eyes still cataloging the changing light. Shakky strolled beside Marya, whose guarded calm had returned, though a faint softness lingered around her eyes. Her hand rested protectively over the slight bulge in her jacket pocket – the ceramic kitten.
They rounded a bend thick with hanging vines and saw them: Rayleigh and Henrick waiting at the junction under a massive arching root. Henrick's broad face split into a grin as he took in the sight. He chuckled, a low rumble like distant waves crashing on rock. "Looks like the little tides finally wore themselves out," he observed, his voice warm. Fia smiled wearily, shifting Lulee's weight. Geo perked up slightly at his father's voice, blinking sleepily.
Rayleigh leaned against a mangrove trunk, his coating satchel at his feet, a wry smile on his weathered face. He gave a small wave. "Managed to escape without winning a whole menagerie, I see."
Shakky returned the smile. "Only a starfish and a kitten. Restrained ourselves admirably."
Henrick stepped forward, his massive frame surprisingly gentle as he scooped up Geo. The boy instantly flopped his head onto his father's broad shoulder, the starfish dangling limply from one hand. "C'mon, little minnow," Henrick murmured. "Time for proper sleep."
Rayleigh pushed off the trunk, his eyes twinkling. "No giant stuffed Sea Kings? I'm disappointed, Shakky. Lost your touch?"
Shakky opened her mouth, a retort ready on her lips, her cigarette halfway to her mouth.
KRA-BOOM!
The sound wasn't just loud; it was a physical punch to the chest, vibrating up through the soles of their boots. It came from the direction of Grove 4, deeper into the archipelago's tangled heart. A split second later, a geyser of earth, shattered mangrove roots, and superheated steam erupted skyward, visible even through the canopy. It roared like an angry leviathan, climbing hundreds of feet, illuminated from within by a fierce, unnatural orange glow that stained the twilight clouds. Debris rained down in a localized shower – clods of dirt, splinters of wood, hissing stones.
"What the hell?!" Atlas snarled, instantly alert, fur bristling and crackling with blue energy, his playful mood vaporized. His sharp teeth were bared, eyes narrowed towards the plume.
Marya didn't snarl. She went utterly still. Her golden eyes snapped towards Grove 4, pupils dilating. The air around her seemed to thicken, not with mist, but with intense, silent focus. Her head tilted fractionally, her entire being attuned to something unseen. Observation Haki. She took an instinctive half-step towards the disturbance, her hand dropping from her pocket to hover near the hilt of the kogatana at her neck. Her senses stretched out, probing the chaos – the raw panic blooming in Grove 4, the surge of aggressive, focused energies converging near the blast site, the unnatural heat signature of the geyser itself. Trouble. Deep, dangerous trouble.
"Stay put," Rayleigh's voice cut through the ringing aftermath of the blast. It wasn't a shout, but it carried the weight of command forged on the seas of the Grand Line. Calm, firm, leaving no room for argument.
Marya froze mid-step. Slowly, deliberately, she turned her head to look over her shoulder at the Dark King. Her gaze was sharp, questioning, a silent challenge in the set of her jaw. The residual warmth from the park was gone, replaced by the cool, assessing stare of the Mist Wielder.
Rayleigh met her look, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, a faint, knowing smirk touched his lips. His eyes flickered meaningfully towards Fia, the sleeping Lulee on her back, the drowsy Geo cradled in Henrick's massive arms, then back to Marya. The message was silent, clear, and undeniable: The vulnerable ones. Protect them first.
The tension in Marya's shoulders didn't vanish, but it shifted. The fierce curiosity, the urge to investigate the source of that explosive power, warred with the undeniable logic. Her gaze swept over the fishman family – Fia's wide, worried eyes fixed on the still-climbing geyser, Henrick's protective bulk shielding Geo, Lulee oblivious in exhausted sleep. Distractions, perhaps, but distractions carrying the weight of responsibility she'd tacitly accepted. Her glare at Rayleigh softened into a look of grim understanding. She gave a curt, almost imperceptible nod.
Turning fully away from the spectacle in Grove 4, she deliberately stepped back towards the group. "We move," she stated, her voice flat, all traces of earlier softness erased. "Now. Back to the bar." She fell into step beside Shakky, her posture radiating watchful tension, her senses still partly extended towards the distant chaos.
Galit moved swiftly to walk beside her, his long neck coiled tight, emerald eyes sharp. "That blast... the energy signature was immense. Localized but incredibly violent. What do you believe it signifies?" His voice was low, analytical, but edged with the same unease they all felt.
Marya kept her eyes forward, scanning the shadows deepening between the mangrove roots. The scent of the geyser – scorched earth, sulfur, and something acridly metallic – was beginning to drift towards them, mingling unpleasantly with the fading sugar. "Trouble," she replied, the single word heavy with implication. "The kind that doesn't announce itself with carnival music." She didn't elaborate on the aggressive Haki signatures she'd sensed converging, or the cold, structured presence that felt distinctly Marine amidst the panic. The walk back to Shakky's Rip-Off Bar was no longer a weary return from fun; it was a retreat through suddenly hostile twilight, the roar of the unnatural geyser a grim counterpoint to their hurried footsteps. The uncomplicated joy of the amusement park felt like a distant dream, shattered by the violent reality of Grove 4.
*****
The humid air of Grove 60 hung thick with the smell of brine, seaweed, and the oily tang of Marine warship engines. The Leviathan's Judgement, Vice Admiral Venus Harlow's imposing flagship, lay moored against the weathered mangrove docks, its cannons like sleeping beasts. Harlow descended the gangplank, her crisp white trench coat flaring despite the lack of wind. The rhythmic thump-clank of her Marine-issue prosthetic leg echoed sharply on the wooden planks, a counterpoint to the distant bustle of the grove. A thin stream of smoke curled from the cigar clenched between her teeth. Captain Nuri Evander followed, shaggy red hair escaping its usual messy containment, his fingers nervously tracing the engraved "MVP" on his custom steel bat slung over his shoulder. Captain Kai Sullivan brought up the rear, posture ramrod straight, his dark eyes scanning the dock through thin-rimmed glasses, one hand resting protectively on the violin case strapped to his back. His other hand adjusted his glasses with his middle finger – a subtle tell of underlying tension.
Sentomaru, the bulky commander clad in his standard sleeveless shirt and bandana, stood waiting, arms crossed over his broad chest, his expression as unreadable as weathered stone. "Vice Admiral," he greeted, his voice a low rumble.
Harlow stopped before him, exhaling a plume of smoke that momentarily obscured the scar on her cheek. "Sentomaru. Report. Where's Hawkeye's brat and the old relic?"
Sentomaru didn't flinch. "Targets tracked throughout the day. Spent significant time at Shakky's Rip-Off Bar in Grove 13. Later moved to the amusement park in Grove 30." He gestured vaguely northwest. "Large group. Included the fishman family, the Mink, the Long Neck, the anomalous jellyfish entity, Shakky, and Rayleigh. Currently en route back to Grove 13. Surveillance maintained at a distance. Rayleigh's presence demands extreme caution. The submersible vessel is docked in Grove 33, undergoing coating. Henrick, the hammerhead fishman, is assisting."
Nuri piped up, twirling his bat. "Amusement park? Did they ride the Sky Serpent? The Arambourgiania's wingspan, while impressive, wouldn't generate sufficient lift for a full-sized coaster without significant magical augmentation or–"
"Focus, Evander," Harlow snapped, adjusting her collar with a sharp tug, her irritation flaring. "The targets. Are they contained? Vulnerable?"
Sentomaru opened his mouth to continue his methodical briefing.
KRA-KOOOOOOM!
The sound wasn't just heard; it was felt. It punched through the grove, a deep, visceral detonation that vibrated the dock planks under their feet and made the water in the harbor slosh violently against the hulls of the ships. A fraction of a second later, a colossal geyser of superheated steam, earth, and shattered mangrove wood erupted skyward from the direction of Grove 4, miles away but terrifyingly visible. It tore through the canopy like a spear of angry clouds, illuminated from within by a fierce, unnatural orange glow that stained the twilight sky. The distant, discordant shrieks of panic, carried on the sudden wind shift, began to reach them.
Sentomaru moved. His hand shot to the Den Den Mushi secured at his belt, its shell already vibrating wildly. He snatched it up, the snail's face mirroring wide-eyed alarm. "Sentomaru! Report! What in the name of the Deep was that? Location!" he barked into the receiver.
Chaos erupted from the tiny speaker, drowning out any clear response initially – a cacophony of overlapping shouts, screams, and the unmistakable crunch of collapsing structures.
"...Grove Four! It just... blew!..."
"...evacuate! Evacuate the civilians! Sector Gamma is collapsing!"
"...unknown energy source... readings off the charts! We need backup! Heavy backup!"
"...evaluate structural integrity! The roots are cracking! Get those people OUT!"
The sheer panic in the disembodied Marine voices was chilling.
"Damn it all!" Sentomaru roared, his stoic facade cracking. He gripped the Den Den Mushi tighter. "Situation! Give me a clear–"
Harlow was beside him in two strides, the thump-clank of her leg sharp on the wood. Her cigar was forgotten, smoldering near her feet. Her eyes, usually sharp with calculating ambition, were wide with shock and burgeoning fury. "Sentomaru! Status! What is happening?" Her voice cut through the din from the snail and the rising panic echoing from Grove 4's direction.
Sentomaru tore his gaze from the horrific geyser painting the horizon. He met Harlow's furious stare, his own expression grim, etched with the weight of sudden, overwhelming disaster. "Grove Four, Vice Admiral," he stated, the words heavy as anchors. "Major structural detonation. Cause unknown. Energy signature... massive. Unstable. Civilians trapped. Infrastructure failing." He paused, the distant screams filtering through the snail underscoring his next words. "Marya Zaleska... Rayleigh... they'll have to wait."
He raised the Den Den Mushi again, his voice a command bellow that silenced the chaos on the other end for a crucial second. "All units! Priority shift! Grove Four is now primary! Evacuation and containment! Mobilize medical, engineering, everything! Secure the perimeter! I want reports every five minutes! Move!" He slammed the snail back onto his belt, its frantic eyes still wide.
Turning back to Harlow, Nuri, and Kai, Sentomaru's face was granite. "We have a catastrophe unfolding, Vice Admiral. Bigger problems. Much bigger." He gestured towards the towering, roaring geyser, the symbol of their suddenly upended priorities. The hunt for the Void Wielder was abruptly, violently, put on hold. The Leviathan's Claws would have to sheathe themselves, for now.