Just as Lucian Vale stepped into the exit tunnel, his eyes brightened.
Standing before him was a woman — strikingly beautiful and poised.
She wore a brown jacket and shorts over a crisp white shirt with a black tie, her dark-red high boots stretching up impossibly long legs. Matching gloves hugged her arms, and in one hand she held a coiled whip.
Two words from his past life instantly surfaced in Lucian's mind:
Queenly. Legs-for-years.
After decades surrounded by monsters, blood, and death, the sight felt almost divine — like a dream from a world long forgotten.
Of course, Lucian recognized her immediately.
Domino.
The Head Jailer of Impel Down.
A woman famed for her discipline — and her absolute hatred of pirates.
Which meant, unfortunately, that any… interesting developments were off the table.
"Even Magellan couldn't stop me," Lucian said calmly, his tone dry. "Do you plan to try?"
He wasn't the kind of man to let lust cloud his thoughts. Domino's beauty was refreshing — but not enough to make him foolish.
"Domino will never allow a single pirate to escape Impel Down," she declared firmly. "If you want to leave, you'll have to walk over my corpse."
Her voice didn't waver. The jailers behind her, though trembling, still stood their ground. They knew they were hopelessly outmatched — yet duty kept them there.
Lucian smirked slightly. "Heh… If I had someone like you around, maybe I'd consider staying a few more days."
After sixty-five years of solitude between two lifetimes, he figured he'd earned the right to joke — just once.
"Shameless! I knew it — there isn't a single good pirate alive!" Domino snapped, her whip cracking in anger.
The guards raised their weapons, but none dared attack. Their only mission was to stall him until reinforcements arrived.
Lucian chuckled. "What a pity, beautiful Head Jailer."
"I've waited long enough to breathe the air outside… So — until next time."
He vanished in a streak of blue light.
But in that instant, the expressions of Domino and the jailers froze.
Their eyes glazed, then twisted — wide, delirious, drooling with warped delight, as though seeing something beyond comprehension.
"In a world drowned in blood," Lucian said softly, "consider this dream my parting gift."
His voice echoed faintly — yet he didn't move forward.
Instead, he turned toward the shadows behind him.
"I thought you planned to keep hiding."
"Red Count — Baroric Ledfield."
Footsteps echoed slowly from the darkness.
A tall, pale man emerged, dressed in aristocratic finery — crimson cloak, sharp eyes, skin as pale as bone, carrying himself with the elegance of a vampire.
"'Illusionary Blade.' Still as sharp as ever," Ledfield said, his voice like silk and poison. "But tell me… after all these years, why do you still look exactly the same?"
Lucian smiled. "Hahahaha… Field, that's a secret. Even if you begged, I wouldn't tell you."
Before him stood a man who had once rivaled Roger and Whitebeard through sheer personal strength — the Red Count himself.
Lucian felt no fear, only familiarity.
Decades ago, their paths had crossed more than once. And Lucian knew Field's greatest obsession — eternal youth.
He didn't care for Logia powers. He sought something far rarer — the mythical Zoan: Bat-Bat Fruit, Model Vampire.
True immortality.
"Your answer puts me in a difficult position," Ledfield said quietly. "You know how many powerful men roam these seas — yet that fruit exists only once."
His gaze sharpened like a knife.
If Lucian had truly eaten the fruit… then even their history wouldn't stop him from striking now.
"Oh? You plan to attack me, Field?"
The words hadn't even finished leaving Lucian's lips before a crushing wave of pressure burst from him.
BOOM!!!
The blast was instantaneous.
Field was flung backward like a cannonball, smashing into the stone wall and embedding deep into it.
"So strong…" Ledfield gasped.
"This power… far beyond the man I once fought."
Time had weakened everyone — Roger, Whitebeard, Garp — all victims of age.
But Lucian Vale…
He had defied that law entirely. He was stronger than before.
He shattered every truth Field thought he understood about strength, time, and decline.
"Ding! Congratulations, Host — 388 reputation points gained."
Lucian exhaled softly. "Field… stop entertaining foolish ideas."
"If you truly seek death," his voice dropped, cold as steel, "then as an old friend, I'll be happy to grant it."
Without another glance, he turned and walked upward — retracing the path he had been dragged down decades ago, one slow, deliberate step at a time.
Field didn't move. He simply watched Lucian's back, his crimson eyes narrowing.
"…No. I'm not sure he even ate a Devil Fruit," he muttered. "If I attack blindly now… in my current state, I wouldn't survive it."
He clenched his fists, blood dripping from his palm.
Even for him — the Red Count — fear had returned.
…
Meanwhile, not far from Impel Down—
The colossal Gates of Justice creaked open.
Through the swirling mists emerged three Marine battleships.
At the bow of the lead ship stood a man in a yellow striped suit, his brown sunglasses reflecting the sea's dull gleam.
Admiral Kizaru — Borsalino.
He sighed heavily, adjusting his collar with an exaggerated drawl.
"Sigh… another overtime shift."
"What are those troublesome pirates doing now?"
Justice didn't drive him — his paycheck did.
As the Marines scrambled beneath him, Kizaru yawned. Then, his body dissolved into radiant light.
In a blinding flash, he shot into the sky like a golden comet — then descended toward Impel Down like a falling star.
"Full speed ahead!" shouted a Marine officer.
Cannons roared.
The seas thundered.
And the battle that followed… would make the entire world tremble.
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T/N:
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