Four years later
The sea above near Fish-Man Island was eerily quiet, its surface like a mirror reflecting the ominous grey sky, as if the world were holding its breath before chaos erupted. Three imposing World Government warships hung on the edge of tension, their steel hulls reinforced to withstand the ocean's relentless pressure. Lanterns, struggling against the dense gloom, flickered feebly, casting jagged shadows that danced menacingly across the wooden decks. The Marines aboard moved with a nervous energy, their faces taut with unspoken dread. It wasn't the threat of pirates that unsettled them; it was the eerie fate that had claimed similar convoys. These ships weren't simply attacked or plundered; they were utterly annihilated.
Standing at the helm of the lead ship, Vice Admiral Rusk gripped the wheel with white-knuckled intensity, his jaw clenched as if molded from granite. "Stay vigilant. We're entering the Deep Veil. If she's going to strike, it'll be here," he commanded his voice a low rumble that barely masked his anxiety.
A marine tugged at the fingers of his gloves, ensuring they fit snugly, and muttered under his breath, "This route was supposed to be secure." His voice carried a tone of overconfidence, as if he were trying to convince himself of their safety. Beside him, another marine nodded, scanning the horizon with a casual air. "No one's foolish enough to target a government convoy out here in the New World," he said, his words laced with a dismissive certainty.
Below deck, in the dim, cramped quarters, Cipher Pol agents stood like statues around a sealed steel container marked with bold letters: CLASSIFIED. Inside was a rare treasure of mysterious origins, retrieved from the shattered remains of a Celestial Dragon's ship. Nearby, prisoners were shackled together—Fish-Men with their powerful limbs restrained, revolutionaries with fire in their eyes, and a young girl, no older than ten, her gills bruised and purple, a silent testament to the violence she had endured.
Agent Kuro, his expression stern beneath his brimmed hat, adjusted his leather gloves with a deliberate snap, the sound echoing in the confined space. "This cargo is invaluable. If we lose it, the Celestial Dragons will have our heads on pikes," he said, his voice edged with the gravity of their mission.
Suddenly, the sea began to vibrate with a foreboding hum, a deep, resonant sound that seemed to come from the very bones of the earth. The current twisted violently, then roared with the ferocity of a world being torn asunder. A vortex of raw, elemental power tore through the ocean, a divine blade of destruction that slammed into the lead ship with a silent, cataclysmic force. The mast snapped, splintering like a fragile twig. The hull groaned under the immense pressure, and Marines were flung into the watery abyss, their screams swallowed by the churning depths.
The second ship fought to stay afloat, its movements sluggish and futile against the relentless assault. A deadly stream of compressed air sliced through its keel, dismembering the vessel with ruthless accuracy. The third ship fired its cannons into the chaotic void, but the cannonballs disappeared into the swirling tempest, rendered useless and forgotten.
From the center of the maelstrom, a figure emerged—not descending from the skies, but rising from the ocean's dark embrace. She was barefoot, shrouded in shadows, her eyes burning with a sinister black glow.
Monkey D. Lila had arrived.
She moved like a specter — a swirling tempest of chaos and destruction. Bullets tore through her as if she were made of white smoke, while blades cracked and splintered against her skin, seemingly sculpted from the very gales themselves. Silence was her chosen tongue, for words were unnecessary in her storm. With a mere flick of her wrist, she unleashed a vicious, slicing gale that ripped the deck to shreds. Chains snapped like brittle bones, and prisoners, their eyes wide with disbelief, gasped for the sweet taste of liberation. She descended beside them, her voice as icy and sharp as the cutting wind. "Run. You're free."
One Marine captain, his hands shaking violently, dared to raise his sword. "You… you're the Wind Demon!" he stammered, his voice a quiver of fear.
Lila turned to face him, her expression an enigma carved in stone. "What a tasteless nickname," she mused, her voice dripping with disdain. Her hand rose in contempt, and the wind, her loyal servant, responded with a ferocious howl, ready to rend flesh from bone at her command.
When the storm finally subsided, the convoy had vanished, leaving only driftwood and an eerie silence behind. Survivors clung to the debris, murmuring her name as if it were a curse.
"Monkey D. Lila... the daughter of Dragon..."
***
The news of the attack exploded across the globe like wildfire. Wanted posters plastered on every surface across the oceans were urgently updated, and bounties skyrocketed to unprecedented heights. Cipher Pol spiraled into chaos, their usual composure shattered. Even the mighty Admirals were jolted into attention.
In a dimly lit, clandestine chamber within the heart of Mariejois, a Celestial Dragon fixated on a scar etched into his arm—a haunting reminder inflicted by a girl with fiercely piercing black eyes. He whispered with a mixture of fear and awe, "She's back..."
***
Far from the chaotic remnants, on the sleek, wind-driven machine christened the Tenshū, Lila stood defiantly at its prow. Her cloak snapped sharply in the tempestuous breeze, like a rebellious flag refusing to surrender. The vessel sliced through the waves with a determined grace, cutting into the darkening horizon. Behind her, the enigmatic Driftborn crew watched in a charged silence, their eyes reflecting an unspoken allegiance to their captain. Lila gripped the ornate box tightly, its surface intricately engraved with symbols of a long-forgotten lineage. She took a deep breath and, with a powerful swing, released the box into the ocean's embrace. It splashed into the churning waters, disappearing beneath the surface. There, it would sink slowly, descending into the cold abyss where lost wrecks lay scattered like forgotten memories on the ocean floor. Sea creatures, with their curious and ancient eyes, would soon claim the treasure as their own, adding it to the hidden mysteries of the deep. If the government wants it, then she wants it more. Lila is very much petty, and that's her right to be so.
Far above the wreckage, on the surface of the sea, the Tenshū, a sleek, wind-powered ship, sliced through the waves with a smooth elegance. The vessel bore no sails, relying instead on the mysterious force that allowed the wind to obey its master's command.
Lila stood at the bow, her long cloak fluttering dramatically in the brisk sea breeze. Her eyes were fixed on the horizon, her posture a picture of unwavering determination. Behind her, her crew, known as the Driftborn, stood in a watchful silence, their faces a mix of admiration and unease.
Buzz (Ashbrand) leaned against the railing, his fingers deftly sparking a small flame to light his cigarette. "That was loud, even for you," he said, exhaling a cloud of smoke that quickly dissipated into the salty air.
Without turning, Lila responded, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I was experimenting with a new approach. You know, being adventurous." This dry wit was a rare glimpse into her personality, one that only those close to her, like her crew, had the privilege to witness.
Vexa (Pulse)stood with her arms crossed, her expression a blend of concern and skepticism. "You know they'll come for us now. Harder than ever."
Lila's tone shifted to match the seriousness of the situation. She nodded, acknowledging Harmony's point. "Let them."
Milo (Smokepot), emerging from the kitchen, called out with a mixture of excitement and trepidation, "You think they'll send an Admiral?!"
Lila's gaze sharpened, the corners of her lips curving into a slight, defiant smile. "I hope so."
"Don't be scared now. Milo." Verya (Frostbite) smirked.
Lila's eyes returned to the sweeping expanse of the horizon, not seeking refuge, but hunting for her next challenge. "The world took everything from us. It's time we take it back." Her words were resolute, a declaration of war against the injustices they had suffered. The wind roared in agreement, swirling around the ship as if echoing her rebellious spirit.