The Scorching Passage of Level 4 still reeked of gunpowder, with embers crackling on the rocky walls, casting eerie reflections on the bloodstains below.
The last prison guard collapsed, clutching his bleeding throat, twitching twice before falling silent.
A few ragged prisoners kicked the corpse, their faces alight with the thrill of survival, yet their eyes still burned with unspent malice.
"These weaklings couldn't even put up a fight!" A burly man covered in scars spat blood and cracked his sore shoulders, his knuckles popping. "If Magellan were here, we wouldn't have gotten this far. Normally, we wouldn't even make it past Level 4!"
"Exactly. We should get out while we can!" chimed in a one-eyed prisoner, twirling a set of keys looted from a guard. "Red Count, Byrnndi, and Bullet are long gone. If we dawdle, the guards will regroup, and we'll be finished!"
Just then, a figure materialized out of thin air, the ripples of torn space still fading as he landed firmly in the center of the passage.
The prisoners turned in shock. The newcomer stood tall, a figure wrapped tightly in a black coat slung over his shoulder. A glimpse of pale, bloodstained ankles peeked from beneath the coat, swaying slightly with his steps.
Recognition dawned on one of the prisoners, who sucked in a sharp breath. "Isn't that Sadi? The Warden Chief of Impel Down?"
"Damn it! This bitch tortured us plenty in Level 6!" The scarred man punched the scorched wall, his fist leaving a dent. "Her whip burned like fire—I still have the scars!"
The one-eyed prisoner narrowed his eye, sizing up Bahr. "You took her down, huh? Brutal. Looks like you made her suffer."
Bahr ignored them, his gaze briefly sweeping over the group.
Hearing "Level 6," he understood—no wonder they reeked of desperation. These were the worst of the worst.
He must have taken too long in Level 5.5. Blackbeard had already picked his crew.
But it couldn't be helped. His endurance meant subduing Sadi had taken extra effort—enough to leave her half-dead.
"Hey!" The scarred man stepped forward, greed flashing in his eyes. "Since you've got Sadi, how about letting us have a turn? She was so high and mighty with that whip—I'll make her scream today!"
Laughter spread among the prisoners, their eyes raking over the curves hidden beneath the coat like vultures circling carrion.
Sadi had been awake for a while, bound tightly like a fish on a chopping block. Their vile words were like poisoned needles, making her break out in a cold sweat, her nails digging into her palms.
"See how hated you are?" Bahr patted the coat draped over his shoulder, his tone almost playful. "Should I hand you over? You like being toyed with, don't you?"
"N-no… please…" Sadi's muffled voice trembled with fear, a far cry from her usual arrogance.
She could imagine what awaited her if she fell into their hands—every lash she'd dealt would be repaid tenfold.
"Oi, you ignoring us?" The one-eyed prisoner drew a dagger from his boot, its edge glinting coldly. "Think we're pushovers? Hand her over, or you're leaving here in a body bag!"
The scarred man cracked his knuckles, his scars twisting into a grotesque grin. "Don't push your luck! Plenty of us want payback—why should you keep her all to yourself?"
Bahr chuckled darkly, giving the coat another light pat before his gaze turned glacial. "What's mine stays mine. I don't share."
Sadi stiffened beneath the coat.
Mine?
The word sent strange ripples through her turmoil.
Humiliation still burned, but something else flickered beneath—something disturbingly like relief.
She should hate him. Hate being trussed up like cargo, hate the shame he'd forced on her. Yet his possessive declaration inexplicably eased the tension coiled in her chest.
Bahr had no interest in deciphering her thoughts.
Sadi was his—a tool for his wrath. He wasn't the type to share.
"Bastard!" The scarred man lunged, swinging a steel pipe with a murderous whistle.
Silver light flashed—not from a blade, but from the cold edge of torn space.
Bahr flicked his fingers. The air rippled, and the man's chest exploded in a fountain of blood. He collapsed without a sound, the pipe clattering to the ground.
"Shit!" The one-eyed prisoner's grip on his dagger turned white-knuckled. "His ability's freaky! Rush him!"
The remaining prisoners, enraged by their comrade's death, charged with chains and broken blades, unfazed by the bizarre killing method.
After years in Impel Down, they'd seen stranger Devil Fruit abilities.
"Annoying," Bahr muttered.
His fingers moved.
Silver streaks tore through the air—too fast to track. Fabric ripped, bones snapped, and the prisoners fell, clutching their throats, blood snaking across the scorched floor.
None even had time to scream.
Though Level 6 housed the "most vicious" criminals, "strength" was relative.
Years of confinement had weakened them, and Blackbeard had already taken the strongest. To Bahr, these were little more than pests.
With the trash cleared, Bahr stepped forward, his fingers tracing a line in the air. A Space Barrier formed like an invisible staircase.
He ascended, vanishing into the passage between Levels 4 and 3, reappearing moments later on the next floor.
Repeating the process, he traversed the levels with his Space Fruit ability, soon arriving at Level 2.
But as he landed, the scene ahead made him pause.
At the end of the corridor, a group of black-coated pirates surrounded a battered figure. The once-pristine Warden Uniform hung in tatters, stained with grime and blood.
Magellan knelt on one knee, one hand braced against the ground, the other clutching his bleeding abdomen. Black poison mixed with blood seeped between his fingers, sizzling as it hit the floor.
He looked utterly defeated.
"Hahaha! Never thought I'd see the day, Magellan!" A towering figure in a captain's hat laughed—Marshall D. Teach, Blackbeard.
Dead guards littered the ground around him, his crew aiming guns at Magellan with mocking glee.