Chapter 66: The Depth of Hell
Levi's arrival in the depths of Impel Down was not announced by sirens, but by a creeping, soul-deep dread that slithered down the corridors ahead of him. Prisoners in the upper levels cowered in their cells, clutching their heads as an invisible, freezing pressure washed over them. Guards froze at their posts, eyes wide with a terror they couldn't name, before snapping into stiff, silent salutes as the black-coated Admiral passed them by without a glance.
He moved with purpose, a shadow descending through the circles of hell. The cacophony of Level 6—the shouts, the taunts, the clanging of bars—reached a fever pitch as he approached. And then, as he stepped onto the infamous floor, it died into a watchful, tense silence.
The scene before him was one of controlled chaos. In a cleared space near the central corridor, two figures clashed. Magellan, the Warden, a titan of venom, commanded three undulating poison dragons that lashed out, filling the air with corrosive, purple mist. Facing him, moving with a speed and grace that belied his age, was Silvers Rayleigh. He wielded a standard-issue guard's cutlass, but in his hands, it was a blade of pure, refined will, deflecting poison and slicing through the gaseous dragons with precise bursts of Armament Haki.
"Rayleigh," Levi's voice cut through the hiss of poison and the clang of metal. It was calm, conversational, as if he were commenting on the weather.
Both combatants disengaged instantly, leaping back. Magellan's face, already stern, tightened further with a mix of relief and new anxiety. "Admiral Black Crow. Your timing is… opportune." He didn't question Levi's presence. The emergency protocols Sengoku had hinted at covered a multitude of irregularities.
Rayleigh wiped a bead of sweat—or was it diluted venom?—from his brow. His eyes, sharp and assessing, locked onto Levi. There was no fear there, only a deep, calculating wariness. "The babysitter returns. I thought you'd be busy with the main event."
"The main event has its intermissions," Levi replied, his gaze sweeping past Rayleigh to the rows of darkened cells. Behind the seastone bars, legendary monsters pressed against the doors. Crocodile's single visible eye gleamed with cold interest. Avalo Pizarro's massive form shifted in the shadows. The predatory aura of Douglas Bullet was a palpable force. They were all watching, sensing the shift in the prison's energy.
"The young ones got away," Rayleigh stated, not with pride, but with simple fact. "I held the door."
"I know," Levi said. He had felt it the moment he entered Impel Down—the absence of Luffy's uniquely frantic spiritual signature, and the fainter traces of his crew. Rayleigh's soul, however, burned brightly, a beacon he'd left behind. "A calculated sacrifice. You stall here, they make a run for it, hoping the war distracts everyone. A good plan."
"Then you won't mind if I finish my business with the Warden and take my leave as well?" Rayleigh grinned, though it didn't reach his eyes.
"Oh, I mind," Levi said, taking a step forward. The Reiatsu in the corridor thickened, becoming a tangible weight. The poison mist near Magellan seemed to sink toward the floor. "But not for the reason you think. The 'young ones'… they are a concern for another day. You, Dark King, are a prize already caught. And this place…" He gestured to the surrounding cells. "…is full of potential."
Rayleigh's grin vanished. He sensed the change in Levi's focus. This wasn't about recapturing escaped rookies. This was about something else entirely.
"Warden," Levi said, not looking away from Rayleigh. "The Red Hair Pirates are likely en route. Their target is him." He nodded toward Rayleigh. "Secure the upper levels. Reinforce the Gates of Justice. I will handle Level 6."
Magellan hesitated for only a second. Facing Rayleigh was one thing. Facing a Yonko crew was another. And facing the unsettling, absolute authority in Levi's tone was a third. He gave a sharp nod. "As you command, Admiral." With a final glare at Rayleigh, he recalled his poison and retreated, his footsteps echoing up the staircase.
Now, it was just Levi, Rayleigh, and the silent, watching legends of Level 6.
"What's your game, Admiral?" Rayleigh asked, lowering his borrowed sword slightly. "You let Luffy go. You could have stopped me the moment you arrived. Why clear the room?"
"Because the audience is different now," Levi said. He turned his back to Rayleigh, a move of supreme—or insane—confidence, and faced the cells. His Reiatsu, which had been a general pressure, now sharpened, needle-fine tendrils of spiritual energy probing toward each cell, not attacking, but analyzing.
"You," he said, his voice echoing in the stone hall. "Crocodile. Pizarro. Bullet. Wang Zhi. All of you. You sit here rotting, your wills festering in the dark. The world outside has forgotten you. The World Government uses you as a trophy, a warning."
He paused, letting his words sink into the silence. "The war above is deciding the fate of the era. Whitebeard fights his last battle. The Marines display their might. And you are here, irrelevant."
A low growl came from Bullet's cell. Crocodile's sand whispered against stone.
"I am offering a form of… relevance," Levi continued. "Not freedom as you know it. Not a pardon. But a purpose. A chance to be more than forgotten ghosts."
"You want to recruit us?" Crocodile's voice was a dry scrape of sandpaper. "How quaint. Another would-be king."
"No," Levi said, turning his head just enough to meet the gaze of the prisoners he could see. "I do not want subordinates with ambitions of their own. I want instruments. Your strength, your notoriety, your will—broken and remade into something useful. To me."
The admission was so blunt, so devoid of the usual grandstanding or manipulation, that it stunned even these hardened criminals. He wasn't promising them power or revenge. He was stating he would strip them of their very selves.
"You're madder than I thought," Rayleigh muttered, understanding dawning. The experiments, the soul-manipulation… this was the culmination.
"I am pragmatic," Levi corrected. "The World Government is built on a foundation of lies and genocide. They see me as a weapon. I intend to be the hand that holds the weapon. And for that, I need a force that answers to no one but me, hidden in plain sight."
He finally turned back to Rayleigh fully. "You asked for my game. It is survival. Ultimate survival. And you, Rayleigh, are the first key. Your soul is strong, seasoned. Resisting CP0's torture proved that. You will be the template, the proof of concept."
Before Rayleigh could move, Levi was upon him. Not with physical speed, but with spiritual intent. His hand did not touch Rayleigh's body; it passed through his chest as if it were mist.
Reiatsu Manipulation: Soul Thread.
Rayleigh gasped, a sound of pure, spiritual agony. He felt something fundamental being pulled, not ripped away, but unraveled. He saw, in a flash of terrible vision, not memories, but the very fabric of his willpower—his unwavering loyalty to Roger, his protective love for Luffy, his defiant pride—being examined, separated into strands.
Levi's eyes glowed with a faint, inner light as he worked. He wasn't erasing Rayleigh's will. That would make him a useless puppet. He was implanting a core directive, a spiritual geas woven directly into the soul's structure: Levi's survival is paramount. His enemies are your enemies. This directive supersedes all other loyalties, but does not erase them.
It was insidious. Rayleigh would still be Rayleigh. He would still care for Luffy, still hate the World Government. But if a choice ever presented itself—Luffy's life or Levi's survival—the implanted compulsion would twist his soul to choose Levi. It was a backdoor, a fail-safe.
The process took less than ten seconds. Levi withdrew his hand, the spiritual light fading from his eyes. Rayleigh stumbled back, crashing against the wall, breathing heavily. He felt… the same. And yet profoundly different. A new star had been added to his internal constellation of principles, one that burned with cold, imperative light.
"What… did you do?" Rayleigh rasped, his Haki flaring instinctively, trying to detect the change within himself. He could feel it, a foreign knot in the tapestry of his spirit, but he couldn't untie it.
"Insurance," Levi said simply. He then turned his gaze to the other cells. "Your turn will come. One by one. When the war above concludes and the world's eyes look away, I will return. You will submit your wills willingly, or I will break them and take what remains. The choice is an illusion, but I offer it nonetheless."
He looked back at Rayleigh. "As for you… when Shanks arrives, you will go with him. You will be the 'rescued' Dark King. You will return to the world. And you will wait for my call."
The horror of it settled on Rayleigh. He was to be a sleeper agent, a living monument to Levi's hidden reach, placed right in the heart of the pirate world.
A distant alarm blared from the upper levels—the alert for external assault. The Red Hair Pirates had arrived.
Levi's lips curved into a thin, cold smile. "Right on schedule. Time for me to make an appearance." He looked at the prisoners one last time. "Remember this moment. The day your irrelevance ended."
With a final, crushing pulse of Reiatsu that made every legendary inmate flinch, Levi turned and walked away, heading not toward the upper levels where Shanks would be attacking, but toward a hidden, direct exit he had scouted earlier. He had planted his seed. The afterimage at Marineford would be reaching its limit. It was time to return to the main stage, carrying with him the first, secret victory of the day.
The war for the soul of the era was being fought on the ice of Marineford. But the war for the soul's dominion had just begun in the depths of Impel Down.
(End of Chapter)
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