Guts, his Berserker Armor already beginning to recede as the immediate, overwhelming threat passed, leaving him utterly spent and battered beneath the dark metal.
The demonic helmet dissolved back into his exhausted face. He was still immense, still radiating raw power, but the otherworldly frenzy had begun to ebb, replaced by profound weariness and the throbbing agony of the Brand.
He didn't bother with the handle. With a grunt, Guts simply kicked the door in, sending it splintering inward with a crash.
He stumbled through the frame, followed closely by Robin, into the smoky, dimly lit interior of the bar.
The air inside was thick with cigarette smoke and the clinking of glasses. Behind the counter, a deceptively calm woman with dark hair and a permanent cigarette dangling from her lips looked up, her eyes narrowing in irritation.
This was Shakky.
"Honestly, what is it with you pirates and kicking my door in?"
Shakky drawled, her voice dry as dust. Without missing a beat, her hand moved with blinding speed.
She snatched a heavy, ceramic ashtray from the counter, and coated it in a subtle, almost invisible sheen of Armament Haki.
THWACK!
The ashtray flew across the room like a projectile, hitting Guts directly on the forehead with a sickening thud. The impact made a sound like concrete cracking.
A deep gash immediately opened on Guts's brow, and a thick stream of dark blood welled forth.
"Guts!"
Robin cried out, shocked, taking a protective step forward.
"What was that for?!"
But before the blood could even drip, a horrifying sight occurred.
The crimson liquid didn't fall; instead, it began to steam, then evaporate into a fine, crimson mist, vanishing before it could stain his skin. The gash itself, impossibly, began to knit and close over with grotesque speed, leaving behind only damp, raw flesh that rapidly smoothed over.
Guts merely grunted, a fresh wave of pain from the hit, compounded by his prior injuries and the Berserker Armor's recoil, washing over him.
His head snapped forward slightly, then he recovered, his gaze fixed on Shakky.
Shakky simply took a drag from her cigarette, a wisp of smoke escaping her lips as she coolly observed the impossible healing.
"Hmph!"
She scoffed, unimpressed.
"Hard-headed, aren't you? What a mess. Next time, use the knob."
The door that Guts had just obliterated creaked slowly open. Standing in the entrance, looking utterly unruffled by the recent devastation, was Silvers Rayleigh.
He stepped inside, brushing a speck of dust from his pristine white shirt.
Shakky's cool demeanor instantly shattered.
Her face, in a comical and terrifying transformation, twisted into a demonic scowl, her eyes bulging.
"RAYLEIGH!"
She bellowed, a vein throbbing on her forehead.
"Where have you been?! Don't think I haven't noticed you spending all your time at the gambling den instead of working! The bar doesn't run itself, you know!"
Rayleigh flinched, visibly flustered by the sudden, intense verbal assault. He actually took a half-step back.
"Now, now, Shakky, my dear,"
He stammered, raising a placating hand.
"I was... I was just securing some new clients! Yes, these two!"
He gestured vaguely at Guts and Robin, a bead of sweat forming on his temple.
"They need a ship coated. Urgent business, you see!"
He grabbed Guts's arm, then Robin's, practically yanking them towards the back exit that led to the docks, eager to escape Shakky's wrath.
"Clients?! Don't you try to-" Shakky's scolding followed them, her voice rising in pitch, but Rayleigh was already half-dragging them out the back door.
They run towards the dock where Guts and Robin's own ship, remarkably intact, bobbed gently on the bubble-covered water.
Rayleigh released them, moving with surprising urgency for an old man.
"We need to do this immediately."
He stated, his voice now entirely serious, the humor of Shakky's scolding gone.
He began to examine the ship's hull, searching for the correct spot to begin the bubble coating process.
He then looked at Robin, his gaze holding that same profound understanding.
"Nico Robin."
He said, his voice soft but firm. "The path to the truth is fraught with peril. If, after you complete... your business on the other side... and you still choose to continue this journey... you must find me again. I will be here."
It was a promise, and a weighty task, placed upon her.
Then, his gaze shifted to Guts, his expression solemn.
"And you, young man."
Rayleigh's voice was gravely, acknowledging the immense power he had just witnessed in action.
"You are strong. Without a doubt, one of the most formidable individuals I have ever encountered. But hear this, and hear it well."
His eyes, ancient and wise, met Guts's unseen gaze, conveying a truth both brutal and essential.
"To protect someone as important as her... against the true might of this world... you are strong, yes. But you are not enough. Once you back, I'll train you."
He commanded, not accepting any refusal.
Tsk. Guts can only tsk-ed.
With practiced ease and astonishing speed, Silvers Rayleigh began the intricate process of coating their vessel.
His hands, though aged, moved with the precision of a master craftsman, swiftly applying the rare Yarukiman resin that would allow their ship to withstand the immense pressures of the deep sea.
Within what felt like mere minutes, the ship's hull was encased in a thick, iridescent bubble, shimmering faintly in the filtered daylight.
"There," Rayleigh announced, stepping back, a wisp of resin clinging to his finger.
"It will last you to the deepest reaches of the ocean. Beyond that, the future is yours to navigate."
He gave them a final, knowing nod. "May your journey be... enlightening."
Guts, his face still grim and pale beneath his dark hair, moved to the helm, his movements stiff with exhaustion. Robin, clutching her satchel, stood beside him, watching as the vast, murky expanse of the ocean swallowed the dock.
With a deep shudder, the ship began its descent, the light from the surface quickly fading, replaced by a deep, aqueous twilight.
As they plunged deeper, the pressure intensified, though the bubble held firm. The surrounding waters grew steadily colder, a creeping chill seeping into the ship's cabin despite the protective coating. Robin shivered, pulling her cloak tighter around her.
Guts, his senses always attuned to her, noticed immediately.
Without a word, he moved away from the helm, rummaging through a supply crate. He returned with a thick, rough blanket, then another, and another.
Robin tried to protest, a small "Guts, I'm fine-" but he paid her no mind, his scarred hands efficiently, if somewhat awkwardly, bundling her up like a reluctant snowman.
He wrapped her head, her shoulders, tucking the blankets tightly around her until she was a small, cocooned mound on the navigation table, only her eyes and the top of her head peeking out.
She let out a frustrated sigh, but a tiny, almost imperceptible warmth spread through her at his stubborn, overwhelming care.
The ship continued its silent, inexorable plunge into the abyssal gloom.
The world above became a distant, shimmering memory.
In the profound silence of the deep, broken only by the creaks of the ship and the distant echoes of sea currents, a different kind of quiet settled between them.
The external chaos of Sabaody, the constant threat of the World Government, and Rayleigh's weighty words, had momentarily receded.
Robin gazed out at the inky blackness beyond the bubble, the strange, bioluminescent creatures that occasionally drifted past like distant stars.
The cold, the isolation, the sheer vastness of the ocean, all conspired to bring back a profound, chilling memory.
After so long, after so many years of silence, of burying it, something within her finally cracked.
Her voice was a soft, fragile whisper in the vast, enveloping silence, almost lost in the creaking of the deep-diving vessel.
"It was... a bright day," she began, her eyes distant, reliving the moment.
"The sun was warm on the island. Everyone was busy. The scholars... they were so excited. They had finally found something... something big. Something that would change the world."
Her voice trembled slightly. "That's when it all started. Before you arrived, Guts. Before the sky turned black..."
Her voice was a soft, fragile whisper in the vast, enveloping silence, almost lost in the creaking of the deep-diving vessel.
"Ohara was... beautiful," Robin continued, her voice gaining a wistful, child-like cadence, eyes fixated on the inky blackness outside the bubble, as if watching the ghosts of her past.
"Everyone was kind. Professor Clover, the Elders... they were like family. I wasn't like other children, I spent most of my days in the Tree of Knowledge, listening to the history, reading the books, and stealing apples yes before you said anything." she chuckled then continued.
"It was my world. And they were so close to understanding everything... the truth of the Blank Century. The great secret."
A faint, bitter tremor went through her. "Then... the ships came. So many of them. Marines. And the Buster Call. It was... chaos. Explosions. Fire. My mother... Olvia... she had just returned. She told me to run. To live."
A tear traced a path down her ash-smudged cheek.
"I saw so much... people running, screaming, the Tree of Knowledge burning. I tried to find my way out, but the island was being destroyed around me."
"And then... a giant." A faint, desperate smile touched her lips at the memory of Saul.
"He saved me. He was so kind, even though he was a Marine. He told me to laugh, to keep laughing. He pushed me towards the sea, towards a little boat. He said... he said you would protect me."
Her voice faltered, then strengthened, filled with the raw emotion of the memory.
"The sky was filled with smoke and fire, and cannons were roaring... and then, from the very heart of the destruction... you appeared."
The long, agonizing tale finally ended. The only sound in the ship's cabin was the deep creaking of the vessel and the soft whir of the bubble coating.
Robin, her face pale, her eyes now brimming with unshed tears, looked at Guts. The light filtering through the bubble coating reflected faintly in her wide, haunted gaze.
Guts, remained utterly still. His eyes, usually fierce and haunted, were fixed on Robin, absorbing every nuance of her confession.
He didn't speak.
Words were not his language, especially not for such raw, profound pain.
Instead, he removed his gauntlet, slowly, ponderously, he raised his massive, scarred hand, still raw from the earlier regeneration, and gently, almost clumsily, laid it on the top of Robin's blanket-wrapped head.
It was a silent, solemn pressure, a physical anchor in the vast, terrifying silence of the deep. It was his way of saying: I understand. I was there.
And I am here now.
Robin felt the rough, calloused warmth of his palm, heavy with unspoken understanding.
A single tear, the first she had allowed herself, escaped and traced a path down her cheek.
It was an acknowledgement of her pain, and a silent promise of continued protection.
In that dark, submerged cabin, far beneath the world that had sought to erase them both, their shared trauma and their intertwined destinies solidified into an undeniable, powerful bond.
The ship continued its descent, deeper and deeper, into the silent, ancient realm beneath the waves, carrying its two burdened passengers towards an uncertain future, bound by the fires of Ohara and the will of a tired, distant God.