"Ice Age—!"
Kuzan spoke the words softly, his voice a calm whisper that somehow cut through the howling wind and the distant, sizzling crackle of Akainu's magma.
Before the words even faded, an asphyxiating, absolute-zero wave of cold erupted from him.
It was not a gradual chill; it was an instantaneous, violent theft of all heat, a tangible presence that dragged the entire chaotic, churning patch of ocean into a frozen, silent hell.
The sea surface, still bubbling and steaming from the magma fists, froze at a visible speed.
A thin, glassy layer formed first, followed by a cacophony of deep CRACK-CRACK-CROOOOOM sounds, as if countless invisible, giant hands were frantically stitching the very ocean together.
In the blink of an eye, the turbulent sea transformed into an endless, solid ice field, hard and thick as a glacier.
The shattered remnants of the Blackbeard Pirates' raft were encased instantly, frozen in place like flies in amber, a grotesque ice sculpture marking their final, arrogant resting place.
Even Teach and his crew, floundering in the water, were frozen solid in their last, desperate postures of panic and confusion, their pained, shocked expressions preserved for eternity.
"Yooo~" Kizaru, hands stuffed deep in his pockets, strolled casually across the newly formed ice, his polished shoes making no sound.
He peered down at the frozen, wide-eyed face of Blackbeard, trapped just below the surface.
"Kuzan-kun, you're quite terrifying when you finally decide to get serious~"
"You're no slouch either, Borsalino," Kuzan replied, his breath pluming in the artic air he had created.
"Even I couldn't fully track your light-speed movements just now. That was… impressive."
"Can't be helped," Kizaru shrugged, a lazy grin returning to his face.
"Mike put a three-star bounty on this guy! 3 billion Belly! How could I possibly let such easy money slip away?"
"A three-star bounty… 3 billion… No wonder," Kuzan nodded, a flash of understanding in his eyes.
"Yep."
"Hey, you two!" Akainu's voice, a furious, impatient roar, boomed from the warship.
"Quit dawdling! We're heading back to Headquarters!"
Ace, standing a safe distance behind Akainu, his sea-prism chains feeling strangely light, had witnessed the entire, terrifyingly swift execution.
His heart was a chaotic mess of unsettled emotions.
He had seen Teach's fate.
The man who had betrayed his family, the man who had caused all of this, was now a permanent, frozen statue at the bottom of the Grand Line.
In his heart, Ace had always, always believed that his Pops, Whitebeard, was the strongest man in the world.
But the power he had just witnessed… the casual, overwhelming, absolute power displayed by these three men…
'Is this the real strength of the Marine?'
According to what his Pops had said on the Den Den Mushi, he… he was going to become one of them? The thought was both terrifying and, in a strange, unwelcome way, exhilarating.
Hearing Akainu's complaint, Kuzan and Kizaru exchanged a rare, knowing smile.
Since the three of them had truly, finally begun working together, their old rivalries had faded, replaced by a surprisingly effective, if begrudging, camaraderie.
The two admirals flashed back to the warship, which soon turned its bow, leaving the newly formed iceberg—and the frozen ambitions of the Blackbeard Pirates—behind as it set sail for Marineford.
....
New Marine Headquarters—Mike's Office.
"'Golden Lion'—Shiki?"
Issho's calloused fingers lightly, almost reverently, traced the name on the document.
His Observation Haki read the report, but his mind filled in the legends.
He didn't need to see the photo to know the man. Shiki.
A legendary pirate on par with the Pirate King Roger and Whitebeard Newgate.
He was the man who, unable to accept Roger's capture, had stormed Marineford by himself, laying waste to half the base before it took the combined might of both Garp and Sengoku to finally subdue him.
He was the man who, in order to escape Impel Down, had done the unthinkable: he'd severed his own legs, still shackled in Sea-Prism Stone, and replaced them with his two famed swords, "Oto" and "Kogarashi."
A man of inherent cruelty, boundless arrogance, and terrifying power.
The number of innocent civilians who had died in his rampages was beyond counting.
"That's right. It's him," Mike's voice cut through Issho's thoughts.
"Shiki vanished after his escape. According to our latest intel, he's been hiding in the East Blue of all places. But thanks to his Float-Float Fruit, his entire island base remains concealed high in the sky, making it impossible to pinpoint."
Mike leaned forward, his gaze intensified.
"Issho, your Observation Haki has an exceptionally wide range. You're the best person, possibly the only person, who can find him."
"Mm. Mike-kun," Issho said, his voice calm and firm. "Leave it to me."
He didn't need to be convinced.
His Observation Haki spanned an immense, almost unbelievable area.
He could feel the movement of individual clouds, the whisper of the wind, and, yes, even the silent drift of meteors in the upper atmosphere.
Finding a few suspicious, non-cloud-like islands in the skies of the East Blue would be no trouble at all.
"Then I'll leave it to you, Issho!" Mike nodded.
"But, I have full faith in your abilities. However, this military parade is our debut. It must proceed flawlessly. We have to capture Shiki alive and bring him back for the public execution. So…" Mike grinned.
"Mihawk will accompany you. He's also… very keen to witness the prowess of a legendary swordsman from the old era."
"Understood," Issho agreed firmly.
He was no fool.
Shiki was a legend for a reason.
Taking the world's current strongest swordsman as backup was a logical, not insulting, precaution.
The New Marine couldn't afford a single mistake.
....
After bidding farewell, Issho turned and walked toward the harbor, his cane sword tapping out a steady rhythm on the floor.
As he walked, scenes from his brief but world-changing time at Marineford played through his mind.
The leader of this global revolution, a young man who shared his love for the simple, pure thrill of a gamble.
The Deep-Sea Gold Rush Project.
The five new departments, each led by a legend, all working in perfect harmony.
And that simple, yet earth-shattering declaration…
"We simply wish to restore this world to what it was meant to be."
Those words had struck him like a bolt of lightning, cutting through the fog of cynicism that had clouded his heart for decades.
Yes, he thought. This world has been distorted.
The Celestial Dragons, sitting high above, treating life as a plaything.
The pirates, spreading chaos and suffering.
The World Government, painting a false picture of peace while turning a blind eye to the true rot within.
And the defenseless civilians? Left to struggle and drown in despair, with no one to turn to, no glimpse of hope.
Was this really how the world was meant to be?
"No, it isn't!" Issho gripped his cane sword, his knuckles white.
He had once blinded himself, declaring that 'humanity is filled with too much filth to bear witness to.'
"But now…"
A faint, almost imperceptible focus entered his milky-white eyes, as if his blind gaze had, for the first time, caught a glimmer of a light worth seeing.
"…I truly wish to see with my own eyes what the future will become."
A small smile curled his lips.
Though his eyes were sightless, a flame had ignited in his heart.
That flame was called hope.
"Shiki, is it… I won't be holding back."
...
Back in the office, Mike watched Issho's purposeful, striding figure disappear down the hall.
He stretched his arms high above his head with a satisfying crack of his joints, feeling utterly, completely relaxed.
He walked to the enormous floor-to-ceiling window, basking in the warm sunlight, a lazy, contented smile on his face.
"Ah, it's been a while since I've been this busy!" he sighed. "Once this is all over, I can finally indulge in some endless, well-deserved leisure time."
He rubbed his chin, already fantasizing about his idyllic future: waking up naturally every day (around noon), sunbathing, fishing, enjoying a full-body essential oil spa from a team of skilled masseuses, and then… well, hehehe.
"Hmm?"
His pleasant daydream was interrupted.
His attention was drawn to a new ship, a massive, familiar, whale-shaped ship, slowly and cautiously approaching the docks.
Kuro appeared like a ghost at his shoulder and whispered.
"Mike-san. They've arrived."
"Yes, I see them." Mike's smile widened.
"Call Whitebeard and the others over. It's time for the family reunion."
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