Chapter 50: Unwelcome Guests
A few days had passed since the rooftop farce. The sea remained deceptively calm, but the world was a coiled spring. Ten days. Only ten days remained until the public execution of Portgas D. Ace at Marineford.
Across the oceans, the gears of the Marine war machine were grinding into motion. Responding to the global summons, warships—newer models equipped with seastone-lined hulls—braved the Calm Belt, cutting directly towards the Grand Line and Marineford. The journey was still perilous, requiring strong escorts to fend off or deter the colossal Sea Kings, but it was faster than the old routes.
From every major port, vessels bearing officers of renown set sail. Vice Admirals, Rear Admirals, Commodores—hundreds of faces, some grim, some confident, all united by the call. Morale was curiously high. The birth of the fourth Admiral, and his stunning debut capturing the legendary Dark King, had injected a powerful serum of confidence into the ranks. In their minds, if Pluton Rayleigh could be taken, then Whitebeard, while formidable, was not an invincible god. With four Admirals, victory seemed not just possible, but probable.
On one such ship, cutting through the early morning mist, Lieutenant Commander Tashigi fumbled with her glasses, her voice full of youthful awe. "Smoker-san! Is it really true? The fourth Admiral is only a few years older than me? How is that possible?"
The real Smoker stood by the railing, ignoring the imposter made of his own smoke on the mast. He grunted. "We'll see when we get there. More importantly… the Straw Hats were captured too." His brow was furrowed. It was justice served, yet it sat uneasily in his gut.
Elsewhere, on a heavily fortified Marine science vessel, the former Admiral "Black Arm" Zephyr watched the horizon, his protégé Ain by his side. "Teacher, it seems war is inevitable."
"Sengoku and Garp will handle the front," Zephyr replied, his voice a gravelly rumble of experience. "Our duty is to guard the rear. The foundations of justice must remain unshaken." Not all power was being drawn to Marineford. Key installations and territories still needed guardians.
The world held its breath. Civilians prayed the execution would pass without incident, dreading the tsunami a war would bring. The powerful knew better. Conflict was baked into the announcement. The sea was not calm; it was the dead stillness before the hurricane's eye passed over.
In Impel Down, Levi awoke to an unusual absence. There was no tray of meticulously prepared pastries, no pot of perfectly brewed coffee steaming by his bedside. Gion, mortified beyond recovery, had used the flimsiest of pretexts—'handling headquarters paperwork'—to flee the scene of her social annihilation the day prior. Levi had been ready to dismiss the whole misunderstanding, but the sheer, volcanic intensity of her glare had given him pause. Human emotional responses were bafflingly disproportionate.
Annoying, he thought, feeling the minor inconvenience of having to procure his own breakfast. He made a mental note to have Domino assign a temporary adjutant. Efficiency demanded it.
After a perfunctory meal, he took the elevator down, his mind focused on refining his new skills. The goal was speed and precision in soul manipulation. The theoretical applications were vast. If he could instantly restructure his own soul to mirror a "healthy" state, could he force his body to regenerate wounds at an accelerated rate? It would be akin to a Quincy's Blut or a Hollow's high-speed regeneration. The power was there, in the soul; it was just a matter of accessing and directing it.
Such a shame Gion reacted so irrationally, he mused, the elevator humming as it descended. Her suggestion of using Reiatsu to stimulate latent potential was conceptually sound. A direct, concentrated application could have been illuminating. Pity.
The doors opened to the oppressive gloom of Level 6. But today, the atmosphere was different. Blocking the entrance were two figures who radiated an aura of cold, superior authority. They wore the distinctive white suits and featureless masks of Cipher Pol's highest order.
"Admiral Black Crow," one of them stated, his voice a flat, emotionless monotone from behind his mask. "Halt. Our commander is currently interrogating the prisoner Silvers Rayleigh. No one is permitted to pass."
Levi recognized them instantly. CP0. Magellan had mentioned they were coming. This was expected.
The second agent spoke, his tone laced with a dismissive arrogance that seemed baked into his posture. "CP0 is conducting official business. You will wait here."
The implication—that an Admiral of the Marines should cool his heels on their command—was clear. Levi's eyes, already accustomed to the dim light, narrowed just a fraction. He looked from one blank mask to the other.
"If you are capable of speech," Levi said, his voice deceptively mild, "you would do well to learn from your more… diplomatic colleagues. Your delivery is lacking."
The air in the corridor grew several degrees colder. The first CP0 agent remained a statue. The second took a half-step forward, his masked head tilting in a gesture of pure condescension. "Our authority in this matter comes directly from the Celestial Dragons and the Five Elders. Your rank is irrelevant here, Admiral. You will wait."
Levi didn't move. He simply held the man's gaze—or where he assumed the man's eyes were behind the mask—and let a sliver of his Reiatsu leak out. Not the crushing wave from the riot, but a fine, needle-thin point of pressure that drilled directly at the arrogant agent's spiritual center.
The agent stiffened. He didn't gasp or stumble, but his hands, which had been clasped loosely behind his back, clenched into fists. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor ran through his tailored suit. The silent message was received: I am not one of your subordinates to be ordered about. Remember your place.
The stand-off lasted three heartbeats. Then, from deeper within Level 6, a calm, cultured voice called out, cutting through the tension.
"That's quite enough. Allow Admiral Black Crow to pass. I was hoping to speak with him."
The voice belonged to the CP0 commander. The two guards, chastened, stepped aside without another word, though the second one's posture remained rigid with suppressed fury.
Levi walked past them without a second glance, his footsteps echoing in the stone hall. The commander wanted to see him. This, too, was expected. The World Government had come to take the measure of its new, unpredictable weapon. Levi's research would have to wait. A different kind of test had just begun.
(End of Chapter)
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