Impel Down, Level 6: Eternal Hell.
Compared to the so-called "hells" on the upper floors, the environment here was actually quite decent. It looked like an ordinary prison, though it was shrouded in secrecy, virtually unknown to the outside world. Those confined within were the truly terrifying villains of the age.
Eternal Hell was eerily quiet. Most of the prisoners were incredibly haughty and disdained communication. Moreover, those who ended up here were essentially "losers." Some had been cast aside by the era for decades—what was there left to talk about?
The hum of the elevator broke the silence.
Shanks, who had been resting, opened his eyes. One of his arms had been severed by Diarmuid, and lacking the unique abilities of Charlotte Linlin to reattach it, he was now a bona fide one-armed swordsman. When he first arrived, Shanks had been quite active, but over time he had grown despondent, his personality becoming somber.
It was only when Rayleigh was captured and became his cellmate across the hall that he regained some of his old spark. However, they had long since exhausted every possible topic of conversation. Now, even though they saw each other every day, they often went without speaking a single word.
This was the true horror of Eternal Hell: the feeling of being forgotten by the world, isolated in absolute solitude. Over time, even the most arrogant soul would be ground down into a hollow shell of loneliness. This was why Shiki couldn't endure it for more than two years, choosing to cut off his own feet just to escape. He knew that staying meant rotting away into nothingness.
"Wasn't lunch just served? Why is the elevator coming down again? Don't tell me another big shot got caught? Hehehe..." Shanks rubbed his chin with his remaining arm, chuckling to himself.
As he spoke, Rayleigh emerged from the shadows of the opposite cell. He looked far more haggard than Shanks. While Shanks was still in his prime, Rayleigh was old. When he was first locked up, Rayleigh still had streaks of gold in his long hair, but now it was entirely white, and his face was etched with deep wrinkles.
Only his eyes remained as sharp and bright as ever.
They hadn't spoken for days, but this new development brought a flicker of life back to them. Rayleigh glanced at Shanks and grinned. "The cage next to yours is still empty. Maybe they'll put the newcomer there. That way, we'll have someone new to talk to, kill some time, and find out what's happening on the high seas."
Shanks nodded, then asked, "Vice Captain, who do you think it is?"
Rayleigh rolled his eyes. "Who knows? Based on what I knew before I came in, I wouldn't even be surprised if the Navy caught Whitebeard himself..."
Shanks had heard Rayleigh's accounts of the outside world. The news might be slightly outdated, but since Rayleigh had only been in for about two years, there shouldn't have been any massive upheavals, right?
"If it's Whitebeard, that would be interesting indeed," Shanks said with a grin.
The two shared a few more words until the sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the hall.
"It really sounds like they're heading for the cell next to mine," Shanks said, feeling a strange sense of luck.
"Wait... something's wrong. Listen closely. There's no sound of shackles," Rayleigh noted, his brow furrowing.
"Could it be some big shot bored enough to inspect this godforsaken place? Hahahaha!" Shanks laughed loudly.
Shortly after his laughter subsided, a voice that was both familiar and deeply loathed drifted from the distance.
"Oh? You can still laugh after being locked up for so long? Truly a member of Roger's crew, 'Straw Hat' Shanks... But you're right. A big shot has arrived. Namely, me."
Hearing that voice, Shanks' expression twisted into a dark scowl, his eyes burning with hatred. Who was responsible for his current plight? In his eyes, it was that bastard, Diarmuid!
He recognized the voice instantly. It belonged to that Navy scoundrel.
Rayleigh also recognized it. A flash of surprise crossed his eyes as he looked toward the source of the voice. Unlike Shanks, who had been cut down right as he was reaching the peak of his life and thus harbored a bitter, arrogant grudge, Rayleigh viewed things differently. Looking back, he felt his imprisonment was the result of his own meddling. Diarmuid hadn't even intended to target him; if he had stayed quietly on Sabaody Archipelago, none of this would have happened.
Moreover, Rayleigh was old and had already stood at the top of the world. He didn't have that same desperate ambition or indignation. He only felt a few regrets, mostly that he had let Shakky down.
"Diarmuid?" Rayleigh called out toward the end of the corridor.
The footsteps grew louder. From the shadows at the end of the hallway emerged Diarmuid, draped in his Marine Justice coat, a cigar clenched between his teeth, radiating an imposing aura. Magellan and Vergo followed close behind.
"Rayleigh..." Diarmuid murmured, his tone slightly surprised. He hadn't expected Rayleigh and Shanks to be cellmates across from each other.
"Oh, it really is you," Rayleigh said with a chuckle.
"You've certainly aged quite a bit," Diarmuid remarked with some sentiment.
Rayleigh remained nonchalant, waving a hand and causing his chains to rattle. "I was already old, and I'm not the type to deny it. Speaking of which, why not release a harmless old man like me? Keeping me here is just a waste of your rations..."
"Hahahaha! Don't worry about that. I can afford to feed you. Just make yourself comfortable," Diarmuid laughed.
Rayleigh really was a shameless old rogue to say something like that. But before Diarmuid's laughter could fade, he felt a sudden rush of air.
Before he could even turn, a massive hand shot out from a nearby cell, reaching for his throat. Magellan and Vergo reacted instantly, but Diarmuid was faster.
"Hmph!" Diarmuid snorted. An invisible repelling force erupted from his body, stopping the lunging arm dead in its tracks, exactly one foot away.
Blocked, the owner of the arm said nothing and quietly withdrew.
A cold smirk played on Diarmuid's lips. "I haven't even come looking for you yet, and you're already jumping out to meet me, Douglas Bullet."
Indeed, the one who had attempted the sneak attack was Douglas Bullet. He had thought that if he could get a grip on Diarmuid's throat, he could use the Admiral as a hostage to force Magellan to release him. It appeared he had been overly optimistic.
Having failed his one attempt, Bullet didn't persist. He knew that against someone like Diarmuid, there was only ever one opening. Once missed, there wouldn't be another. He retreated into the darkness of his cell, sat down, crossed his arms, and stared coldly at Diarmuid without saying a word.
Meanwhile, Shanks cursed angrily, "It's you, you damn bastard!"
"Sounds like life isn't treating you well..." Diarmuid said with a grin. He ignored the "loser's bark" from Shanks.
Seeing Shanks reduced to this state of impotent rage, Diarmuid lost even the slight inclination he'd had to kill him to eliminate a future threat. For a man as proud as Shanks, being rotting in Impel Down for life was a punishment far worse than death. It was pure torture.
With Teach unable to cause trouble and Luffy set on becoming a Marine, there would be no prison break from within. Furthermore, the cooperation between the G-7 and Impel Down had brought in a steady stream of funding, making the Great Prison even more formidable than it had been in the original story. From the outside, there was no one left to stage a rescue.
Wait... actually, there was Whitebeard. He likely knew by now that Teach was here. But considering his character and the reports from Smoker, Whitebeard was likely allied with Big Mom and Kaido. An alliance of three emperors wouldn't waste time on a prison break; it would be meaningless and cost them the element of surprise. Would they really start their war with a prison break? That would be insane. It was a question whether they could even break through the Navy's blockade to leave the New World.
Impel Down, Marineford, and Enies Lobby formed the "Three Fortresses of Justice." Tactically, they were a unified system. Unless a situation like the Paramount War erupted, they operated in tandem. Anyone trying to raid them would find it a one-way trip. As far as Diarmuid was concerned, Impel Down was currently as stable as a mountain.
Shanks would likely never get the chance to escape or be rescued. He could spend the rest of his life here in despair. That seemed fitting.
Diarmuid smirked, completely unbothered by the sight of Shanks gripping the bars, pressing his face against them as if trying to squeeze through, all while shouting profanities. In fact, Shanks' behavior made him seem rather pathetic. Diarmuid reflected that since Shanks had never reached the rank of Yonko in this timeline, he was essentially just an ordinary pirate; he hadn't developed the legendary poise and presence he had in the original story. He was naturally boisterous and unconventional, and so his current frantic, barking behavior was somewhat expected.
Ignoring Shanks and deciding not to bother with the "old fool" Rayleigh, Diarmuid turned his attention back to the silent, steady figure of Douglas Bullet.
For some reason, when Bullet met Diarmuid's gaze, his heart skipped a beat, a feeling of dread washing over him. He frowned, racking his brain to understand why. He hadn't personally offended Diarmuid, surely the Admiral hadn't come all this way just for him? Was it because of the sneak attack just now? Surely not.
As Bullet's brow furrowed, Diarmuid suddenly thrust his hand through the bars of the cell. Bullet's eyes widened as he saw a dark, swirling aura emanating from Diarmuid's palm.
"What is this...?!" Bullet spoke for the first time, his voice laced with shock.
Before he could finish, the dark power erupted with an irresistible gravitational pull. Despite his immense strength and frantic resistance, Bullet's massive frame was helpless against the darkness. To make matters worse, the Seastone shackles he wore already weakened his powers as an Ability User.
In an instant, Bullet was pinned by Diarmuid's dark aura, a single hand clamped firmly onto his neck.
"Farewell..." Diarmuid whispered, his eyes turning pitch black, his voice cold and final.