One Piece: Curse of Immortality

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In the dimly lit corridor, the flickering candlelight cast eerie shadows.

Shk!

Suddenly, the sound of a blade piercing flesh echoed, followed by the splatter of blood staining the stone floor. 

Heavy, laboured breathing resounded through the hall, and blood-red eyes lifted sharply. From between clenched teeth, a sinister laugh erupted.

"Jihaha!"

The next moment, the cell door was smashed open with a thunderous crash. 

A figure shot out, moving through the corridors with terrifying speed, heading toward the upper levels of Impel Down.

"Do you think I'm someone who would meekly stay trapped?"

Blood dripped from his legs, and the golden-haired man, his hair falling to his waist, grinned wildly. His crimson eyes were brimming with unrelenting killing intent.

"Arashi!"

"Just you wait!"

"When I get out of here, I'll settle everything with you!"

The crazed laughter echoed from Level Six of Impel Down but quickly travelled upward to Level Five and then Level Four.

"It's... it's the Golden Lion, Shiki!"

"Help! Somebody help us!"

"Shiki has escaped!"

"How did he get out of Level Six—the Eternal Hell?!"

"He cut off his legs!"

The panicked shouts of guards reverberated throughout Impel Down, spreading an unseen wave of terror.

Golden Lion Shiki.

One of the three legendary pirates of the world. Two years ago, he was personally captured by Marine Vice Admiral Arashi and thrown into prison.

No one could have predicted that a pirate sent to Level Six—where the conditions were designed to break even the strongest minds—would ever escape.

It was the first time in Impel Down's history that something like this had occurred, and when the news broke, many found it simply impossible to believe.

In the blink of an eye, however, the guards on the first level spotted him: a man in prison garb, hovering mid-air, flying at high speed toward the exit.

"It's him! It is him!"

The guards screamed in terror. Moments later, their corpses littered the hall.

Golden Lion Shiki perched on a ceiling beam, looking down at the trembling Hannyabal with a sadistic grin.

"Jihahaha!"

"Do you know where my two swords are?"

"They're famous blades, you know—Kogarashi and Oto."

Hannyabal, his entire body shaking, looked up at the fearsome figure, blood still dripping from Shiki's severed legs. Stammering, he finally managed to speak.

"Pro... promo... promotion! No, wait, I misspoke!"

"Shiki!"

Shiki sneered, his mocking gaze fixed on the terrified Hannyabal. When the trembling guard finally pointed in a direction, Shiki's eyes turned cold as he asked again.

"Where is Arashi now?"

Hannyabal flinched. "V-Vice Admiral Arashi? He's in the West Blue!"

Shiki's eyes narrowed, then widened in delight as he broke into loud laughter.

"Arashi!"

"We'll meet again soon!"

"This time, I won't lose to you!"

With a maniacal laugh, Shiki disappeared into the distance, leaving Hannyabal frozen in fear.

At Marine Headquarters in Marineford, Admiral Sengoku—his neck and body wrapped in bandages—was resting in a chair when he suddenly jumped to his feet.

"What did you say?!"

"Shiki has escaped?!"

"That's impossible!"

Such news was unthinkable for the Marines. Impel Down had never witnessed an event of this magnitude.

"Yes, Admiral. Golden Lion Shiki severed his season-shackled legs to escape and retrieved his dual swords." 

"He has also declared his intent to seek revenge against Vice Admiral Arashi," the Marine officer reported urgently.

"What an astoundingly ruthless man," Sengoku muttered grimly. His expression darkened further as his thoughts turned to Arashi.

"That boy…"

The mere mention of Arashi made Sengoku's injuries ache more. 

The battle two years ago had left a lasting impact on Marine Headquarters. Even now, they were unable to muster sufficient forces to pursue Shiki.

After a long silence, Sengoku sighed deeply, his expression complicated.

"That boy must already have the entire West Blue under his control by now, right?"

The officer hesitated before answering quietly.

"Yes, Admiral. Every Marine branch in the West Blue is now commanded by officers from Vice Admiral Arashi's G-18 Fortress."

Sengoku fell silent again. After a moment, he stood and walked to the office window, letting the sea breeze brush against his face.

"Creating his vision of a righteous army, is he?"

"Let's see how far he can take it."

The World Government has also made its decision.

For now, Marine Headquarters maintained an ambiguous stance toward the West Blue. 

They couldn't afford to sever ties completely, nor could they justify continuing to fund Arashi's growing autonomy.

In essence, the relationship between Headquarters and the West Blue was best described as a "cold war."

Each operated independently. The West Blue had become a de facto autonomous region under Arashi's rule, making him, in a sense, the most powerful warlord within the Marines.

"How are those three doing?" Sengoku asked, shifting the topic.

"Vice Admirals Kuzan and Borsalino are recovering well. Sakazuki, however, still can't move," the officer replied.

"They're promising. Maybe after this setback, they'll have a real chance of confronting Arashi in the future," Sengoku said softly.

Of course, that was assuming Arashi's strength didn't grow even further. If he became more powerful…

Ten or twenty years from now, who in the world would be able to stop him?

If Arashi remained steadfast in his beliefs and succeeded in creating his so-called righteous Marines, what kind of world would that lead to?

As Sengoku pondered, an inexplicable mix of anticipation and excitement began to rise within him.

"If it's that boy…"

"Perhaps, he truly can!"

In the Marine hospital, Room 306, a man wrapped head to toe in white bandages with his legs encased in plaster lay on the bed. 

Only his eyes were visible, filled with a mix of frustration and resolve as his teeth ground together.

"Arashi!"

"And Bullet!"

"Just you wait!"

"The next time we meet, I'll be far stronger!"

His low growl echoed through the hospital corridor, sending a chill through the staff and patients alike.

Meanwhile, outside in the hospital garden, two figures, both wrapped in bandages, sat quietly on a bench.

"Hey, Borsalino," one of them lazily spoke up.

"Hmm?"

Borsalino turned his head to look at Kuzan.

"What do you think? Was the Marine operation this time right or wrong?"

"And what about everything Arashi has done? Can that be considered justice?" 

Kuzan asked, his tone uncertain. He seemed to have an answer in his heart but couldn't shake the discomfort lingering in his mind.

"Well," Borsalino replied in his usual nonchalant manner, "seeking the answer to such a question, in my opinion, is a mistake in itself."

"But if you want my take, I'd say Arashi is in the right."

"Of course, we can't follow his lead. After all, that guy is a monster!"

Hearing this, Kuzan fell silent. After a long pause, he sighed deeply and muttered, "If I could, I'd like to live like that guy—doing whatever I believe is right, free of constraints."

Borsalino chuckled softly.

West Blue, Troia.

Fwoosh!

Inside a dimly lit room, a flame ignited, lighting a cigar as wisps of white smoke curled into the air.

"Oharra has been destroyed," a deep voice murmured.

"And yet, Troia, this so-called City of Art, remains prosperous."

From across the room, a cautious voice spoke up, trembling as it mentioned a certain rumour.

"Capone Boss... are the rumours true?"

"Does it matter whether they're true?" Capone Bege replied coldly.

"All you need to know is this: as long as that man remains in this sea, the underground forces of the West Blue won't survive without his approval."

He paused, casting a sharp glance at his subordinate before smirking.

"For two years, he stayed at G-18 Fortress without stirring."

"But that doesn't mean he's forgotten us."

"Especially now that we've heard the latest news—his officers have completely taken control of the West Blue's chain of command."

As Bege continued, his face grew serious, and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

"This can only mean one thing."

"He's preparing to act."

"And our informants inside the Marines have confirmed something crucial."

"The Marine Headquarters has cut off all resource supplies to the West Blue branches."

Licking his lips nervously, Bege's eyes flashed with a mix of fear and realization.

"This… speaks for itself!"

One of his subordinates, still confused, hesitated before asking, "Boss, what does it mean?"

"You fool!" Bege barked.

"It means he's about to make his move!"

"He's coming for us!"

The subordinate, visibly terrified, stammered, "What should we do, Boss?"

Since that man's arrival in the West Blue, even pirate activity had drastically decreased. The once-dominant Mafia families had been forced into quiet submission. 

Rumour had it that two years ago, Bege himself had sent a lavish gift to the man, but not only did he receive no response, he wasn't even granted a meeting.

Bege took a long drag from his cigar, his expression flickering with uncertainty.

What to do? He didn't know.

That man had personally captured Pirate King Roger, defeated Golden Lion Shiki, and recently routed two Marine Admirals along with a Buster Call fleet. 

To Bege, such a figure was akin to a god—utterly invincible. One of his subordinates hesitated, then cautiously asked, 

"I heard he's recently left G-18 Fortress. Could he be headed our way?"

Hearing this, Bege's body tensed, and his hand instinctively reached for the pistol at his waist.

In the next moment, he raised the gun and pulled the trigger without hesitation.

Bang!

Blood splattered as the subordinate collapsed to the floor, his expression frozen in confusion and disbelief.

"Watch your mouth!" Bege growled coldly.

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