The lukewarm tea taste vanished, replaced by the metallic tang of blood, the suffocating stench of decay, and the roar of rushing water. One moment, Marya was seated in the sun-drenched sanctuary, the weight of cosmic purpose heavy on her shoulders. The next, she was airborne, suspended in the flooded laboratory's chaos, the cold grip of Eternal Eclipse already descending in a brutal overhead arc aimed at the mutated yellow serpent's thrashing neck.
WHOOSH-CRACK!
The air screamed as Armament Haki, dark as a starless void, surged around Eclipse's obsidian blade – far more than necessary. A fleeting vision flashed behind Marya's golden eyes: Nanã Buruquê's sad smile, the words "It is mercy." Gritting her teeth against a wave of disorientation that felt like spatial whiplash, Marya channeled the vision's weight into the blow.
SHHHHHHIIIIINK!
The cut wasn't clean; it was annihilation. Eclipse devoured light and resistance alike. The serpent's massive head, eyes still blazing with corrupted amber fury, sheared free from its monstrous body with a wet, tearing sound that echoed horribly in the cavernous lab. It hit the churning, mercury-tainted water with a colossal splash, rolling like a grotesque boulder before coming to rest, jaws slack, against a cracked console. The headless body convulsed violently, spewing thick, viscous sludge the color of rotten yolk before collapsing, sending a wave washing over Marya's boots.
She landed with a heavy splash, boots sinking slightly into the muck-covered floor. Water sluiced off her leather jacket, the Heart Pirate insignia stark against the dark material. Her breathing was steady, but her knuckles were bone-white on Eclipse's hilt, the void veins on her arms pulsing with the fading Haki surge.
"Little overkill, don't you think?" Rayleigh's voice cut through the groaning metal and rushing water. He stood nearby, soaked but unruffled, wiping grime from his face with the back of his hand. His usual smirk was present, but his eyes held a flicker of assessment.
Marya didn't turn. She stared at the severed head, the serpent's vacant eyes reflecting the flickering emergency lights. The disorientation lingered – the scent of cedar and tea clashing violently with the lab's rot. Mercy. Balance. The words echoed, feeling alien amidst the carnage.
"Marya." Rayleigh's voice sharpened slightly. "Hey, kid."
She blinked, forcefully pushing the lingering sensory ghosts of Nanã's grove aside. The present snapped back into brutal focus: the groans of stressed metal, the rising water now laced with serpent blood and yellow ooze, the stench of ozone and decay. Before she could respond, a high-pitched shriek of tearing metal erupted from the wall behind her.
KABOOM!
A high-pressure pipe, severed by the sheer force of her Haki-augmented swing, exploded. A geyser of freezing, algae-choked seawater blasted into the lab with the force of a cannon, hammering the already damaged machinery and sending shrapnel whizzing past. Rayleigh was instantly drenched anew.
He chuckled, a low rumble barely audible over the deluge, shaking water from his grey hair. "And you thought I was being reckless." He gestured at the new torrent rapidly filling the space. "Seems we've upgraded from flooding to drowning."
Marya narrowed her eyes at the dead serpent, then at the raging geyser. Nanã's words – "Cut away the infection" – felt less like guidance and more like a cruel joke in this drowning tomb. Her focus snapped away as splashing footsteps approached.
"Whoa, easy there, Spaghetti Neck! Almost took a header!" Galit Varuna's voice, tense but carrying its usual rapid-fire cadence, preceded him. He was half-supporting, half-dragging Atlas Acuta. The massive Mink warrior, his rust-red fur matted with blood and grime, leaned heavily on Galit, one leg clearly injured. Atlas's usual arrogant sneer was replaced by a pained grimace, his blue eyes narrowed against the spray.
Galit's own long neck was held taut, his emerald eyes scanning the collapsing lab with frantic intensity. "We should probably get out of here, like, yesterday," Galit yelled over the din, his gaze locking onto Marya and Rayleigh. "This whole place is singing its swan song, and it's off-key!"
KR-R-R-UMPH!
A tremor, deeper and more violent than any before, rocked the laboratory. Steel supports groaned like dying giants. Sections of the ceiling, already weakened, rained down chunks of concrete and twisted rebar. The double blast doors, warped and scarred from the earlier battle, finally gave way with a shriek of tortured metal, flying inwards to slam against the flooded floor.
Framed in the jagged doorway, backlit by the flickering red emergency lights of the corridor beyond, stood two figures. Dr. Lysandra, her indigo-and-gold lab coat plastered to her frame, wild mercury-streaked curls escaping their Sican pins, grinned maniacally behind her brass monocle. She waved a bejeweled hand holding a steaming clay mug that suspiciously smelled of rum. Beside her, vibrating with chaotic energy, was Proto-Mono. Her electric-blue and pink hair stuck out in wild tufts, her mismatched eyes wide with excitement. She bounced on her mismatched legs, her cobbled-together mechanical arm whirring as she waved frantically with a bubble wand that emitted shimmering, rainbow-hued orbs.
"Exit stage left, darlings!" Lysandra bellowed, her voice cutting through the chaos with theatrical flair. "This experiment is officially… terminated! With extreme prejudice!" She took a swig from her mug.
"Glitchy fixy, make it spiffy!" Proto-Mono chirped, blowing a stream of iridescent bubbles that floated incongruously through the destruction. "Oops, was that supposed to explode?" She giggled as one bubble popped near a sparking console, causing a small, colorful flare.
Just then, a wobbly, translucent blue form zipped past Marya's shoulder. Jelly Squish, his azure body shimmering with internal light, beamed his permanent toothy grin. "Weeee… Bouncy escape time!" he chimed, morphing mid-air into a gelatinous trampoline shape hovering near the blasted doorway. "Hop on! Probably safe! Bloop!"
Rayleigh didn't hesitate. He shot Marya a look that blended exasperation and urgency. "Alright," he barked, his voice cutting through the collapsing world, "Enough sightseeing! Time to go!" He surged towards the doorway, moving with the deceptive speed of a veteran warrior.
Marya took one last look at the decapitated serpent, Nanã's final whisper – "Walk the path" – echoing in her mind. The infection was cut. The balance… remained to be seen. With a final flex of her hand on Eclipse's hilt, she turned her back on the drowning ruin and sprinted after Rayleigh, boots splashing through the rising, contaminated water, towards the chaotic promise of escape held by a mad scientist, a living glitch, and a sentient trampoline. The path forward was less a walk and more a desperate dash through a collapsing hell.
The thunderous roar of the pursuing water was a physical force at their backs, a churning, debris-filled wall swallowing the steel corridor whole. Rayleigh led the charge, his coat streaming behind him, boots pounding the vibrating floor. Marya sprinted beside him, leather jacket flapping, her face a mask of focused intensity, the weight of Eternal Eclipse a familiar counterpoint to her stride. Galit Varuna, his long neck craned anxiously, practically dragged Atlas Acuta. The massive Mink warrior gritted his teeth against the agony radiating from his leg, each step a lurching stumble, his rust-red fur darkened by water and blood. Jelly Squish bounced erratically alongside, a wobbly blue blur shouting "Wheee! Faster splashy-time!" while morphing parts of himself into temporary steps or cushions for Atlas's faltering steps.
Behind them, Dr. Lysandra ran with surprising agility, her indigo coat soaked, monocle flashing, cackling madly as she dodged falling ceiling tiles. Proto-Mono zipped past in a burst of static, giggling, "Glitchy speedy! No drown-y!" leaving rainbow sparkles in her wake.
A crackling intercom speaker overhead blared: "Rayleigh! State your status and intent!" Sentomaru's gruff voice echoed through the flooding chaos.
Galit, gasping for breath but voice sharp, yelled towards the nearest comm panel as they rounded a corner. "Threat eliminated! Serpent down! But we've got a new problem barreling down corridor seven!" He jerked his head back towards the deafening roar gaining on them.
Sentomaru's image flickered on a cracked wall monitor ahead. "New problem? Clarify! What kind of—" His digital face vanished in a spray of static as the surging wall of water slammed into the camera housing further back, the screen going dark.
"Seal Bulkhead Gamma-Nine!" Sentomaru's voice barked, now only audible through the intercom. "Contain that water! Get back to Central Control now!"
Atlas, pain etching lines around his muzzle, managed a pained growl. "What does he think... we're doing? Sightseeing?"
CRUNCH-SHUNK! Ahead, a massive steel door slammed down with finality, cutting off their previous path. The wall of water hit it seconds later with the force of a Sea King's charge. The door groaned, rivets straining, but held – for now. Spray geysered through the seams, showering them in freezing, metallic-tasting brine.
"Control room! This way!" Lysandra pointed down a side passage, her usual manic grin replaced by urgent focus. They burst through the heavy blast doors into the relative sanctuary of Central Control.
The room was a scene of organized chaos. Banks of flickering monitors showed various angles of the collapsing lab and the nightmare unfolding topside on Sabaody – burning groves, shambling figures, Pacifista units marching. Sentomaru stood at the central console, his massive frame tense, fingers flying over controls. Marines scrambled at secondary stations, faces pale with stress.
Galit immediately guided Atlas towards a heavy-duty swivel chair. "Easy, Spaghetti Neck," he muttered, lowering the Mink with surprising care despite his own exhaustion. Atlas slumped into it with a groan, clutching his injured leg, his blue eyes clouded with pain.
"He needs a medic, now," Galit insisted, his voice tight, looking directly at Sentomaru.
Sentomaru didn't turn from the main viewscreen showing the flooded corridor they'd just escaped. "That can wait. Report. Now. Topside is a warzone and—"
"The immediate threat below is neutralized," Dr. Lysandra cut in, stepping forward, pushing wet strands of mercury-streaked hair from her face. Her brass monocle gleamed. "The source entity, the serpent tethering the taint to the mangroves, has been severed. The resin's spread should begin receding." She sounded confident, but a flicker of scientific doubt crossed her features.
"Should?" Galit snapped, gesturing at Atlas. "My partner's bleeding out! Priorities!"
Marya, however, hadn't moved from the doorway. Water dripped from her denim shorts and boots onto the clean floor. Her golden eyes were fixed not on Atlas, not on Sentomaru, but on one specific monitor. It displayed a magnified view of the giant mangrove roots deep beneath Sabaody, thick as ancient oaks, coated in the sickly yellow resin that pulsed like a diseased heart. Yet… something was different. Her brow furrowed, the stoic mask cracking with intense focus.
Rayleigh watched her, leaning casually against a console, seemingly unfazed by their narrow escape. "What's on your mind, kid?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.
"The roots," Marya murmured, almost to herself. She walked forward, ignoring the wet trail she left.
Sentomaru started to protest – "Don't touch anything!" – but she paid him no heed, her eyes glued to the screen. She reached the console and manipulated the controls with surprising familiarity, zooming in further on the root structure.
Rayleigh moved to stand beside her, peering at the monitor. "Yeah," he said slowly, a spark of understanding dawning. "What about them?"
Galit, still hovering near Atlas, frowned. "See what? All I see is more of that nasty gunk."
Dr. Lysandra bustled over, curiosity overriding her usual theatrics. She shouldered next to Marya, squinting at the high-resolution image. "Roots. Infected roots. What am I missing?"
Marya pointed a finger, tracing a line on the screen. "Exactly. They are roots. Covered in resin. But look." She tapped the image where the resin met the actual wood of the root. "The wood itself. See the grain? The color? It's… clean. Untainted. The resin is just a coating. A parasite."
Lysandra's visible eye widened behind her monocle. She leaned closer. "By the Primordial Current… you're right. The cellular structure beneath… it's healthy." She whirled to Marya, a manic energy returning. "What is your hypothesized vector for the resin's buoyancy?"
Marya met her gaze, the pieces clicking into place with Nanã's words echoing: "Cut away the infection." "Devil Fruits," she stated flatly. "The resin shares properties. That's why the mangroves float – the resin makes them buoyant. But the roots… the roots are just wood."
Lysandra's jaw dropped. "Right! The resin is the Devil Fruit analogue! The wood isn't infected! It's just… carrying the sickness!" Her mind raced. "Sea water… natural Devil Fruit weakness…"
Marya nodded, a grim certainty settling over her. "Maybe that's what she meant," she mumbled, almost inaudible.
Rayleigh caught it. "Meant? What who meant?"
Marya turned to him, her golden eyes sharp, focused. The guardedness was still there, but overlaid with fierce purpose. "You game to trim some hedges, gramps?"
Rayleigh raised a single, skeptical eyebrow. A slow, dangerous smirk spread across his face. "Hedges need pruning."
Lysandra whirled, understanding dawning. "You mean to sever the infected roots? But won't that destabilize the entire Archipelago? Cause catastrophic collapse?"
"Not," Marya said, her voice cutting through the control room's din, "if they fall into the ocean. The sea water will purge the resin. The wood will sink. The healthy roots will remain."
Sentomaru slammed a meaty fist on the console, frustration boiling over. "Clarify! Sullivan! Evander! Are you hearing this madness?!"
Galit, seeing the resolve on Marya and Rayleigh's faces, stepped forward. "They think seawater will kill the taint. They plan to cut the infected mangrove trunks – the ones oozing that yellow crap – and let the severed sections drop straight to the seafloor. The saltwater should neutralize the resin."
Sentomaru stared at the monitor showing the resin-coated roots, then at Marya's determined face, then at Lysandra. "Doctor? Will that work?"
Lysandra pushed her monocle firmly onto the bridge of her nose, a wild grin spreading beneath it. "Theoretically? Beautifully! Practically? Utterly suicidal and potentially archipelago-shattering! There's only one way to find out!" She spun towards Sentomaru. "Tell Vice Admiral Harlow! Topside strategy shift! Swap rifles for water cannons! Target the resin directly! Buy the hedge-trimmers time!" She turned back to Rayleigh and Marya, giving them a flamboyant, slightly shaky salute. "Good luck, darlings! Try not to get squished!"
Marya and Rayleigh exchanged a single, silent nod. No words were needed. The path was clear, terrifying, and theirs to walk.
Sentomaru grabbed a dedicated comm line, barking into it. "Harlow! Priority update! Lab threat confirmed terminated. New solution proposed: seawater directly on resin. Sullivan, Evander – divert Pacifista units! Configure for high-pressure seawater dispersal! Target the resin deposits on mangrove trunks! I repeat, water cannons, now!"
Galit was already moving back to Atlas. "I'm finding him a medic now," he stated, his tone leaving no room for argument, his long neck held rigid with determination as he assessed the best way to move his injured comrade. The control room buzzed with frantic energy, the desperate gamble set in motion. Above, Sabaody burned. Below, two figures prepared to cut its sickness away, one swing at a time.