Vice Admiral Sakazuki stood over the strategic map, his expression carved from volcanic rock.
"This is no longer a containment operation," he declared.
"Onigumo, Momonga, Doberman— you will each command a battleship.Prepare your divisions at Marineford's eastern harbor."
The three Vice Admirals saluted sharply, steel in their eyes, before departing without hesitation.
Each of them was among the Navy's most seasoned commanders, hardened by blood and fire.
This was no standard manhunt.This was an extermination directive.
Sakazuki planned to erase Shun Kaien and Douglas Bullet from history before the world dared to idolize them.
And the Navy would make sure the world watched.
Beyond the ivory walls of the Navy, the world's undercurrents roared louder than ever.
In the palatial office of the World Economy News Paper, the avian form of Morgans shuffled frantically among his staff, wings fluttering as he scanned the raw footage smuggled from Impel Down.
"Magnificent..."His voice trembled with excitement.
He had bribed dozens of desperate, injured guards fleeing the chaos, acquiring the raw footage they had recorded with Surveillance Den Den Mushi.
What he saw was not merely a prison break.
It was a theater of chaos and rebellion, a story that would sell more papers than the Pirate King's death.
Morgans inhaled sharply, his journalist instincts flaring.
"This isn't just news.This is a new era in motion."
Without waiting, he dictated the headline himself.
"A New Emperor Rises—An Era Shifts!"
The headline screamed across the front page, accompanied by carefully edited, dramatized images of Shun Kaien rampaging through Impel Down, framed in flames, shadow, and myth.
In the article, Morgans spun the tale skillfully:
How Shun Kaien, a nameless prisoner from Level 1, shattered the iron fortress.
How he defied the World Government, humiliated the Navy, and escaped under their noses with Douglas Bullet at his side.
How the world now had a new monster to fear.
Morgans exaggerated, of course.He always did.
But the footage alone was enough to shake the world.
The story spread like wildfire, crossing oceans, kingdoms, and empires.
For the common people, Shun Kaien became a whispered legend.For pirates, a new name to fear—or follow.For the underworld, he became a variable that shattered the delicate balances of power.
Unaware of the chaos he had unleashed, Shun Kaien and Douglas Bullet arrived in East Blue, aboard their stolen Navy vessel.
Their path took them to a remote harbor town—Borg Town.
Shun stepped onto the pier, his body still aching from the residual damage of the Gates, though he masked it behind a calm, unreadable expression.
He paused, eyeing the flag fluttering on the town's main street.
It was no seagull.
Two crossed skulls, a red shark emblem splitting them.
"Pirate flag," Shun muttered coldly.
He studied it with faint recognition but could not immediately recall its name.
Bullet stepped up beside him, his gaze sweeping the town's battered streets.
"Even East Blue has places like this," he said flatly.
"The Navy's stretched too thin.They can't police every island.Wherever they retreat, scavengers fill the vacuum."
Shun nodded.
"They've lost control of their own backyard.Pathetic."
"It's the price of the Pirate King's last words," Bullet remarked, crossing his arms.
"They shattered the old world's order.Everyone and their mother thinks they can be the next king now.The sea is lawless because the world let it be."
Shun said nothing.
His eyes drifted over the civilians—timid, gaunt, resigned.
In this town, pirates ruled.
And the Navy, as always, was nowhere.
Bullet's nose twitched as they passed a shabby tavern.
"Drink?"
He didn't wait for Shun's reply.
For Bullet, twenty years in a prison where watered gruel passed for food had left him craving the raw sting of alcohol.
Shun followed without argument, curious to experience this world's liquor himself.
But the moment they pushed open the tavern's door, both men froze.
Every table was filled.
Not by men.
But by fishmen.
The bar fell silent the instant they entered.
Shun scanned the room.
Fishmen—part man, part fish.Capable of breathing underwater, stronger than humans, often mistrusted and hated above the sea's surface.
Seeing so many in the East Blue, clustered on a human island, was unusual.
"They're staring," Bullet murmured with mild amusement.
"They're wondering if we taste better raw or fried."
Shun's lips twitched faintly.
"Don't bother.They're not worth the effort."
Bullet chuckled but didn't press.
They approached the bar, sitting quietly as the bartender approached.
"What'll it be?"The bartender's politeness did little to hide the tension in his posture.
"Rum," Bullet ordered simply.
Shun, unfamiliar with the brands, nodded.
But as the bartender turned to pour their drinks, a fishman with a long, narrow beak stood from a corner table and swaggered toward them.
His steps were heavy with arrogance.
He towered over Shun, his gaze filled with condescension.
"Human scum.You picked the wrong place to drink."
Shun didn't blink.
He simply looked at the fishman's hand resting on the hilt of his crude cutlass.
"I wonder," Shun said quietly,"Do you feel braver when the Navy's nowhere in sight?Or is it that you think numbers make you invincible?"
The fishman sneered.
"I don't need numbers to gut you, human."
Shun's eyes didn't waver.
"But you do need to breathe."
His fingers tapped the bar once.
The air in the tavern thickened.
Every fishman froze.
They hadn't realized it yet.
But the two men seated at the bar weren't ordinary prey.
They were the apex predators.
And the scent of blood had only just begun to fill the room.