At Marineford, the Navy headquarters was tense with unease. Fleet Admiral Kong remained stationed there instead of entering the New World himself, having dispatched two newly promoted admirals to lead the campaign against the Rocks Pirates.
"Weimark, any new information on the Hell Pirates?" Kong demanded, his brows furrowed deeply. The loss of Admiral Kukulkan had forced him to take command earlier than expected, and the weight of responsibility was still unfamiliar on his shoulders. His ability to manage the grand strategy of the seas was being tested harder than ever.
Weimark exhaled wearily. "Calm yourself, Kong. Agitation won't help. Brook and his crew vanished after abducting the Portgas family from Dawn Island in the South Blue. Even Saul has gone silent in Elbaf. From what we've gathered, Brook seems to be seeking out members of the D clan across the world. Lately, he's been moving through the Four Seas in secret."
He rubbed his temples. "Right now, our priority is to give the Celestial Dragons and the Five Elders an explanation they'll accept."
Weimark looked older than before—his face drawn with fatigue and grief. Kukulkan's death had hit him hard. The two had been comrades for decades. He was just one year from retirement, yet he'd fallen fighting pirates to his last breath.
"We hardly know how many D clan members exist," Kong muttered bitterly. "The records of the World Government and Navy list only a handful of families. I've already stationed men in Garp's hometown to protect his relatives. As for Roger's family, they've disappeared completely since leaving Loguetown. This is turning into a nightmare."
The realization unsettled him: every D still known to the government was slipping through their fingers. Jagurar D. Saul, once a trusted officer, was now unreachable—and likely in Brook's hands.
Could it be that every person Brook had abducted from the North and South Blue was a D? That he had an intelligence network rivaling the World Government's own?
Brook had struck three families in the North Blue alone, plundering the treasure temple on minion Island before vanishing. The Celestial Dragons were in uproar, ordering the Navy to halt his recruitment of D clan members at any cost. Their fear was tangible.
Brook's possession of Pluton had shaken them deeply. With Pluton ship under his command, the deterrent power of their own "national treasure" had diminished. To defeat him now would require an all-out war—one the pampered Celestial Dragons had no stomach for.
In the Holy Land of Mary Geoise, silence filled the grand marble hall of Pangaea Castle. The clan heads of the Celestial Dragons sat beneath chandeliers of gold, their jeweled robes glinting in the dim light. For the first time in centuries, their arrogance faltered.
They had already sacrificed countless descendants of the Nefertari line in their previous ritual to eliminate Brook and Rocks, yet both pirates still lived. Now, with Pluton's reappearance, another demand for blood loomed.
If Lord Imu decided to activate the "national treasure" again, each family would need to offer five or six of its own. Nineteen families in total—it was unthinkable.
An elderly noble broke the quiet first. "What if we negotiate? Let Brook have the New World, as long as he promises not to expand further. In exchange, he must hand over all the pure gold to us." His wrinkled lips curled into a greedy smile. "We don't need those distant kingdoms. What matters is immortality."
Across the table, a middle-aged noble slammed his fist on the armrest. "Are you senile? Brook, Rocks, and Pluton must all be erased—no matter the cost! The D clan, the ancient weapons, all of it. Only by purging them can we preserve the rule of the Celestial Dragons."
A third, younger lord leaned forward, eyes sharp with calculation. "I agree with the purge. The D clan must be wiped out entirely. They've been a hidden threat since the Void Century. Garp is the only one left in the Navy, and even the giant from that bloodline has vanished. We eliminate the rest, and the danger ends."
Another elder raised his hand in caution. "Garp's popularity within the Navy is too high. If we move against him now, it could spark rebellion among the ranks. Let's deal with Brook and Rocks first. Garp can wait."
The chamber erupted into argument once again. Voices clashed—greed, fear, pride, and desperation intertwining.
Yet one consensus was clear: Brook had crossed a line. His possession of Pluton had made him an existential threat. He would die, or the Celestial Dragons' eight-hundred-year reign would.
But far from Mary Geoise, Brook couldn't care less about their panic. The Hell Pirates were already descending upon Impel Down.
"Antonio," Brook said, his grin widening, "send out the seagulls. Cut Impel Down's communications. No messages leave the prison."
Antonio nodded with confidence. "Understood, Captain Brook." He was becoming adept at severing the World Government's lines of contact—buying the crew precious time for each strike.
"Jihahaha! Brother Brook," Shiki bellowed, "why don't we take the whole prison? The place already looks like it belongs to us!"
Brook's eyes gleamed with amusement. "Yohohoho! If it can float, then take it. I won't stop you."
To him, the risk meant nothing. Ever since he'd unearthed Pluton, he and Imu were locked in a death struggle. One side would fall. Uranus and Pluton could not coexist forever.
Unless Brook bent the knee and became Imu's dog, neither the Celestial Dragons nor their god-king would ever submit to him.
And Brook had never once bowed to anyone.
-------------
At the surface levels of Impel Down, the guards and government officials stationed within the fortress prison were working through another quiet day. The massive facility, known as the world's most secure prison, housed countless pirates, revolutionaries, and criminals beneath the sea's surface.
Suddenly, the peace shattered.
"Special situation report! Our connection with Judicial Island's Den Den Mushi has been severed!" a communicator shouted. Just moments earlier, he'd been speaking with a staff member from Enies Lobby when the signal abruptly died. Attempts to reconnect failed completely. His heart pounded as he rushed to report to the prison director.
"Director! Communication with Marine Headquarters has been cut off too! Please advise!"
Director Manuel, located on the fourth level—the Blazing Hell—froze mid-step. "What? Cut off?" He immediately grabbed a special copper-colored Den Den Mushi and attempted to contact Fleet Admiral Kong directly at Marineford. The line didn't connect.
The internal network still worked, but nothing outside the prison could be reached. Someone had jammed their entire signal system.
Manuel's expression darkened. "Sound the alarm! Full alert! All guards—assemble on the surface level!"
His mind raced. Few forces in the world could block the Den Den Mushi signals across the Calm Belt. The realization struck him like ice.
"The Hell Pirates…" he whispered, sweat beading on his brow.
He grabbed another line. "Almeida! Report to the surface! Enemy invasion likely!"
In the deepest level of Infinite Hell, Chief Warden Almeida had just finished torturing a pirate for information about hidden treasure when the emergency call came through. "What? An invasion? You've lost your mind! This is the Calm Belt! What could even get here—a Sea King?"
"The signals are jammed, Almeida! I repeat, Impel Down's communications have been cut! I suspect the Hell Pirates. Prepare for immediate defense!"
The warden's face hardened. "Understood."
Alarms began to wail. Cannons along the circular outer walls rotated into position. Guards poured from the lower levels toward the surface.
Moments later, the sky darkened.
The officials and guards looked up, their faces drained of color as an island—larger than Impel Down itself—hovered above them, blotting out the sun. A chilling laugh echoed through the air, deep and melodic.
"Yohohohohoho!"
It was him. The ruler of the New World. The captain of the Hell Pirates—Brook.
"Seal the prison! Hold the line!" Director Manuel roared. "For the safety of the world, no prisoner escapes! Not one!"
His heart sank even as he gave the order. Their communications were dead, and the Calm Belt's natural barrier meant no reinforcements could arrive. Trapped under the shadow of Brook's flying island, they were cornered rats. Still, Manuel would not run. He'd defend the prison or die on its walls.
Almeida arrived at the surface, grim-faced. "Director, what are your orders?"
"If the situation worsens," Manuel said coldly, "you're to return below and execute all prisoners in Infinite Hell. Then fight your way back up. Leave no one alive."
"Yes, sir." Almeida's eyes glinted with deadly resolve. "Even if I die, I'll die cutting down pirates."
Massive iron gates slammed shut as Impel Down sealed itself completely. For the first time since its founding, the fortress prepared for total war.
Above, on ship, the Hell Pirates were already mobilizing.
"Brother Brook! Are we launching the attack?" Shiki called, excitement bursting from his grin. The idea of leveling Impel Down thrilled him. "I can already see that fortress in flames!"
Brook's laugh rolled through the air. "Yohoho! What did I always tell you, Shiki? Clear out the guards first. Otherwise, what good is our Conqueror's Haki?"
Brook stepped forward, his frame straightening as his aura exploded outward. The sky split with invisible pressure.
Redfield, Newgate, Shiki, Charlotte Linlin, Kaido, and Kozuki Oden all followed, unleashing their own overwhelming waves of Conqueror's Haki.
The sheer force cracked the stone walls and shattered glass towers. Many guards collapsed instantly, unconscious before they even saw their attackers.
Shakky and Fisher Tiger exchanged glances from the deck, watching the display in awe. They longed to awaken their own Conqueror's Haki someday—to stand shoulder to shoulder with such giants.
Inside the prison, chaos erupted.
"Hold the line!" Director Manuel yelled as the walls trembled under the pressure. "Almeida! Follow orders! Do not let a single pirate live! I'll hold them off here!"
"Director, I swear I'll complete the mission!" Almeida saluted once more before turning back toward the descending levels. Today, he would carry out his duty, even if it meant pushing Impel Down itself into the abyss.
The Conqueror's Haki swept through the prison floors like a hurricane. Dozens of weak-willed inmates on the first, second, and third levels fainted instantly, their screams cut short.
"Conqueror's Haki…?" murmured a voice deep in the sixth level. Ibadombo, the bare-handed skull-splitter, lifted his bloodied head. "Someone here just awakened it? No… that's impossible. This presence—it's too strong!"
He felt it again, another crushing wave of pressure. His eyes widened. "This feels like Rocks' aura! Has he come to free us himself?"
His heart raced. "Two Conquerors? No… six… seven?! Two of the world's strongest pirate crews attacking Impel Down together?"
For the first time in months, hope flickered in his chest. "I can still escape. I can still live!"
But the next instant, his hope shattered.
From above came the faint echo of screams—then silence. The air filled with the metallic scent of blood.
Chief Warden Almeida had begun the purge. Cell by cell, he was executing prisoners like a reaper, cutting them down before they could flee. Seastone shackles rattled uselessly against the floor as inmates begged, starved and powerless.
Ibadombo's eyes went hollow. "No… not like this…"
To see the gates of freedom open, only for them to close again—that pain was worse than death.
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