Consciousness didn't return all at once.
It seeped back in fragments—like rain leaking through a cracked roof, slow and relentless. Pain came first. Not sharp, not screaming—just there, constant and suffocating. Then the emptiness followed, heavier than the pain itself.
Ash's vision swam, colors bleeding together into a nauseating blur. The world felt distant, unreal, as if he were looking at it through cracked glass. Slowly, painfully, the blur sharpened.
Above him, a single point of light shimmered.
A star?
No.
The star moved.
Dread crawled up his spine as memory slammed back into place—the battlefield, the loss, the sound of something tearing that should never have torn.
"…Kizaru?"
A shadow fell over him. Warm. Blinding. Terrifyingly casual.
"Ohhh?"
Kizaru stood there with his hands tucked into his pockets, golden light lazily dancing around his silhouette. "You're awake already? Huh.."
Ash tried to speak again. Nothing came out.
His right shoulder felt wrong—empty. Not numb. Not asleep. Just… gone. Like something vital had been erased rather than removed.
Gritting his teeth, Ash forced himself onto one knee. His breath tore in and out of his chest as he ripped a strip from his ruined sleeve and wrapped it tightly around the stump with his remaining hand. The cloth soaked red almost instantly.
He reached inward.
For the fire.
But—
There was nothing.
Silence.
The fire was gone. Burned out. Overheated beyond recovery.
Ash's chest tightened.
Then he looked to the side.
Spruce was still there—bloodied, shaking, barely holding himself upright. Fear was written all over his face, raw and unfiltered.
Something flickered inside Ash.
Not fire.
Resolve.
"I'm still here, Spruce," he rasped, his voice barely holding together.
Then he turned his head toward the Admiral.
"I know…" he said quietly, honestly. "I can't beat an Admiral."
Kizaru raised a brow, amused.
Ash wasn't finished.
For a fraction of a second—barely long enough to notice—his eyes drifted to the dark horizon of the sea. Something unreadable passed through his gaze. A calculation. A decision already made.
"…But I can run."
With his flame extinguished, his Lunarian body shifted. Fire gone. Defense lowered.
Speed—maximized.
Ash vanished.
The pier cracked beneath his feet as he became a blur of friction and desperation, rushing straight at Kizaru—not to kill, not to win, but to pull his attention. He danced across the pier, changing directions mid-step, forcing the Admiral to follow, dragging him farther from Spruce and Ripple.
Flash—
A kick slammed into Ash's skull. Blood sprayed across the white pavement.
He hit the ground.
He stood up.
Another flash.
Another impact.
Again, he rose.
"Why won't you stay down?" Kizaru asked, the humor draining from his voice.
This time, the kick came straight down.
The blow sent Ash skidding across the pier, his body tearing through the ground until he slammed into the very edge. The impact ripped away the cloth mask covering his face.
Ash looked up.
His black hair was matted with blood. His face was bruised and split. His breath came ragged—but his eyes burned with defiance.
The world froze.
Kizaru's glowing finger flickered.
Then died.
On the monitors inside the Labophase, Vegapunk let out a strangled, horrified gasp.
"That face…" Kizaru whispered.
"…Portgas D. Ace?"
The resemblance was impossible to deny.
The freckles.
The sharp eyes.
The reckless, defiant smirk of a man who had died at Marineford.
"Impossible," Kizaru muttered, his Unclear Justice wavering for the first time in decades. He snapped his head toward the lab.
"Stella! Did you do this?! Did you clone the son of Roger?!"
"No!" Vegapunk screamed through the speakers. "I only worked on the arm! I didn't see his face—I didn't know! How does he carry that Lineage Factor?!"
Ash didn't give them time to think.
This was the opening he had paid for in blood.
"Spruce!" Ash roared. "NOW!"
He lunged, grabbed his crewmates, and dove toward the Ripple. As they hit the deck, Ash turned toward the churning ocean beyond Egghead.
"Handle them," Ash whispered. "NOWWW."
___
Twenty-four hours ago, he had spoken into the deep.
Not with commands.
With respect.
Using the Voice of All Things, he had spoken a language older than history—the tongue of the Great Kings. He hadn't asked for salvation.
He had asked for a favor.
And now—
The ocean answered.
The sea didn't surge.
It erupted.
The water beneath the Marine fleet vanished as colossal shapes broke the surface, mountains of ancient flesh rising into the sky. Ripple froze, his oars slipping from his hands as the horizon disappeared behind living walls.
Kizaru leapt into the air, eyes wide.
Sentomaru collapsed to his knees.
Birdy and Topknot—the Sovereigns—rose first, their roars shattering the laboratory windows. Each was miles of sentient muscle and ancient will.
Behind them came the rest.
Two of the Eight Colossals from the Calm Belt.
Fifty standard Sea Kings forming a ring of teeth around the island.
Hundreds of Sea Beasts surging beneath them.
Vegapunk tried to activate the mechanical Sea Beast Weapons.
Too late.
They were already crushed—caught in the jaws of their living counterparts.
A pressure filled Ash's skull.
Not sound.
Thought.
"So this is the child who summoned us," Topknot's voice echoed. "Interesting… can you sense it, Birdy?"
Ash looked up, blood blurring his vision.
"Thank you," he said. "For accepting my request."
Birdy inclined his massive head.
"We have captured the metal beasts. The island is surrounded. What is your will, Messenger?"
Ash pointed weakly toward the sky.
"Don't destroy the island," he said. "Just make sure the yellow man, who is shining doesn't follow us."
Topknot snorted, the sound creating a tidal wave.
"A waste of time. But… we have seen the Messenger. The time has not yet come."
Ash didn't wait.
Spruce had already fainted. He lifted him with his left arm, pain screaming through his body.
"Ripple!" Ash shouted. "Full speed! North-east! To Elbaf!"
As the Sea Cat fled, Kizaru hovered in the sky—motionless.
Behind him, the Sovereigns rose higher, their shadows swallowing the sun.
For the first time in history, the Navy's one of the greatest weapon was stopped—not by a pirate—
—but by the sea itself.
"Bruhh..?"