The Ark of Raijin cut through the frigid waters, its hull groaning under the relentless cold winds. Sails billowed and cracked sharply, and frost began clinging to the railings as the temperature dropped with every nautical mile. Tatsumaki, her emerald hair fluttering like a banner in the breeze, stood near the bow with a small, smug smile. She held the newly acquired log pose in one gloved hand, flicking it casually as if it were no more important than a toy.
Drum Island. Their next stop.
The ship needed a doctor. Not just someone who could patch up a wound and prescribe rest — no, Enel's standards were… different.
In his mind, the healer was to be as much a weapon as the warrior.
Medical knowledge is just the start, he thought as he leaned against the mast, hands in his pockets. If they can't survive in the frontlines and deal damage, they'll be a burden.
He didn't voice this openly; to the crew, his reasoning was simply that the Grand Line was dangerous, and a weak doctor wouldn't last long. But inwardly, he wondered if such a person even existed here. If they did, Enel intended to find them.
And he had no idea just how perfectly Drum Island would answer his unspoken request.
Three days passed at sea before the icy mountains of Drum came into view. The sun hung low, painting the snowcapped peaks in streaks of orange and crimson. The sight would have been beautiful if not for the bone-piercing wind that whipped across the deck.
"Sun's nearly down," Escanor rumbled, his massive frame a wall against the cold as he adjusted the golden armour he seemed to wear everywhere. "We'll need shelter."
"We can camp here, or remain aboard," Enel replied evenly, his tone allowing for freedom. "As long as the ship's defended."
His crew understood the unspoken rules — islands that didn't require immediate combat were moments of reprieve. The main crew could explore, relax, or stay aboard, but someone would always watch over the Ark.
When they finally docked, however, their welcome was… nonexistent.
Not a single soul waited at the port. Snow piled high in silent drifts against abandoned carts and empty barrels. The buildings were dark, windows shuttered, and the streets utterly still. The only movement was the flicker of faint candlelight in the distance.
"They saw us coming," Hinata murmured from behind her scarf, her pale eyes scanning the quiet port. "Drum Island's people are cautious by nature… and the Ark isn't exactly a small ship."
"They're scared," Erza said bluntly, her red hair catching stray snowflakes as she rested her hand near her sword. "Something's wrong."
"It's not fear of us," Hinata continued, her voice thoughtful, "but of what pirates mean here. Drum Island's situation is… complicated. It's technically a member nation of the World Government, which means they have to pay the Heavenly Tribute." She glanced at Enel. "Three billion berries annually. For a nation of healers, that's… crippling."
Escanor frowned. "Three billion?"
"Doctors travel worldwide to earn that money, taking a cut to send back here as tax," Hinata explained. "Even then, they barely make it each year. A crew like ours arriving… it's natural they'd think we might interfere with that balance."
Enel said nothing at first, but his gaze lingered on the snow-swept rooftops. Inside, a quiet thought gnawed at him. He remembered another version of this world — one where Drum Island was no longer a member nation, vulnerable enough for Blackbeard to sack it without consequence. But here, in this reality, the island had held onto its status. A small but significant shift.
He didn't speak of it.
The crew trudged inland, boots crunching in the snow, their breath steaming in the cold air. Tatsumaki floated lazily above the group, more to avoid trudging through snow than to scout ahead. They were halfway up the road to the main town when they saw him.
A lone figure.
He stood in the middle of the path, snow swirling around him, utterly still save for the slow shift of his coat in the wind. Black and red — long, flowing, and tailored in a style none of them had seen before. A wide-brimmed hat shadowed his face, though a sharp grin was visible even in the fading light.
In each hand, a weapon gleamed.
The pistol in his left was massive — absurdly so — easily 390 millimeters in length, with a barrel almost comically long by normal gunsmith standards. Something was engraved along its side, curling letters in a language foreign to most eyes.
The gun in his right was shorter but heavier, an altered semi-automatic magnum pistol, barrel length nearly matching its twin. Both weapons were immaculate, steel catching the last rays of sunset like mirrors.
Erza's eyes narrowed. "Custom-made."
Escanor grunted. "Looks like trouble."
Hinata stepped forward slightly, her Byakugan veins faintly visible as she scanned the stranger. "His heartbeat is steady… unnervingly so."
The man's grin widened. "So, you've finally arrived."
His voice was deep, almost amused, as though he'd been expecting them all along.
"Move," Erza said coldly, hand still on her sword.
Instead, the man twirled both pistols with casual precision before aiming them — not at the crew's heads, but low, as if inviting them to test him.
No one recognized him. No one except Enel.
The captain's golden eyes narrowed, lightning faintly crackling at his fingertips. His expression betrayed no familiarity to his crew, but deep within, he knew exactly who stood before them. The black and red coat. The wide hat. The eyes that seemed ancient and unblinking.
The vampire gunslinger.
The one called The Immortal. Alucard.
And judging by the grin, he wasn't here by accident.