The night on Sabaody was strangely still.
The bubbles floated gently through the air — silent, glowing, innocent — drifting above a street that hid everything but innocence. Beneath the soft light, laughter echoed from a massive dome of glass and gold. The Slave Auction House of Grove 1.
Men in fine coats clinked wine glasses while the auctioneer's voice carried over the crowd. Behind him, trembling figures stood in chains, branded and numbered.
Ada stood atop a high balcony, her crimson dress blending into the glow of the mangrove roots. The faint sea breeze brushed her hair, but her eyes stayed fixed on the building below — cold, sharp, calculating.
Then she sensed it — the faintest shift in the air. A quiet, controlled presence she recognized instantly.
She didn't turn when she spoke.
"Following me again?"
"You're the last person I expected to find here," she said coolly, though her fingers eased off the gun.
"Hardly," came a familiar calm voice behind her. "You're the one who wandered into my hunt."
Ada's lips curved slightly as she looked over her shoulder.
There he was — Dragon, hood drawn, the mark on his cheek catching the lantern light. The cloak that draped his shoulders billowed faintly with the wind, almost alive with his restrained power.
"You call this a hunt?" she said, arching a brow. "You're not exactly the type to go after bounties."
"And you're the last person I thought would come back to this cesspool," he replied. His eyes flicked to the slave auction banners fluttering above the rooftops.
Dragon stepped beside her, he glanced at the slave-auction banners fluttering above the street. His voice dropped, low and edged. "Not bounties. People. I came to burn that place to the ground."
Ada's eyes narrowed slightly. "Slavers?"
He nodded. "They sell children here. Women. Even fishmen — branded, beaten. All under the Celestial Dragons' blessing."
A muscle in Ada's jaw twitched. "And you came alone?"
"I didn't plan to leave survivors."
Ada let the silence stretch before replying, "Then you won't mind company."
Dragon turned to her, brow furrowed. "You'd help me?"
She smirked faintly. "Don't sound so surprised. I've killed worse men for less reason."
He studied her for a moment — the glint of her blade, the stillness in her stance, the dangerous calm that came before she struck. Then he nodded once.
"Then we burn it together."
They moved like shadows through the outer alleys — two ghosts slipping between light and laughter. Dragon's steps were soundless, his control over the air almost unnatural; Ada's movements were graceful, lethal, precise.
Guards posted at the door barely had time to react.
A flash of red — Ada's blade pierced the first man's throat.
A gust of wind — Dragon's palm swept forward, and another guard slammed into a wall, unconscious before hitting the ground.
Inside, music still played. No one noticed the silent deaths outside.
They pushed open a side door — entering a hallway lined with gold-trimmed portraits and muffled cries. The deeper they went, the louder the auctioneer's voice became.
"Now, ladies and gentlemen! The next one — a rare find! Strong body, no scars, trained for service!"
Ada's eyes darkened. Her hand tightened on her hilt.
Dragon glanced sideways at her. "You've seen worse."
"I have," she said quietly. "That's why I hate seeing it again."
They emerged into a balcony overlooking the main stage. Rows of nobles sat below, their faces gleaming under chandeliers, eyes hungry with greed. Onstage, a terrified young woman trembled under the bright lights, her wrists bound by seastone cuffs.
The auctioneer grinned. "Let's start at 700,000 beli!"
The crowd erupted in laughter and bids.
Ada's grip on her sword trembled — not from hesitation, but from restraint.
Dragon spoke softly beside her. "If you move now, they'll scatter before the fire takes."
Ada smirked faintly. "Then we start with the ones who run."
Dragon glanced at her, the corner of his mouth twitching. "I'd forgotten how ruthless you are."
She met his gaze. "Don't mistake control for mercy."
He raised an eyebrow. "Then go ahead, Crimson Shadow."
The chandelier fell first.
One flick of Ada's blade — barely visible — sliced through the chain, sending a rain of crystal and flame crashing onto the crowd below. Screams erupted instantly.
Dragon extended his arm, palm open, and the air around the auction house erupted — wind twisting violently, feeding oxygen into the flames. Tables flipped, gold scattered, and nobles tripped over one another in panic.
Guards rushed in.
Ada was faster.
She darted across the balcony railing, slicing through rifles and throats alike. Every strike landed with surgical precision — the hum of her Devil Fruit resonating with each cut, turning every motion into a piercing shockwave that shattered weapons and walls alike.
Dragon leapt down beside her, cloak billowing like a storm front. A single sweep of his arm sent a cyclone ripping through the center aisle, scattering nobles like leaves.
The air was chaos — smoke, flame, and panic.
Ada moved like liquid fire, her dress flaring with each turn, her blade catching the glow of burning chandeliers. She reached the stage, cutting down the chains that bound the captives.
"Go!" she barked. "Now!"
They stared for only a heartbeat before scrambling toward the exit, tears streaming down soot-streaked faces.
Dragon landed beside her, scanning the chaos. "That's most of them."
Ada wiped blood from her cheek. "Then we finish it."
They made their way to the basement — the true heart of the horror. Cages lined the walls, filled with the broken and the silent. Ada's hands clenched at her sides.
Dragon moved to one of the locked gates and pressed his palm against it. The air trembled — and the metal burst outward with a deafening crack.
"Free them," he said.
Ada didn't hesitate. She cut through locks, shackles, anything that held people in place. The captives stumbled out in disbelief, whispering their thanks, bowing, crying.
One child tugged at Ada's skirt — a girl no older than six. "T-thank you…"
Ada froze, then knelt slightly, her voice quieter. "Don't thank me yet. Run. Find the sea. Don't look back."
The child nodded and fled into the night.
Dragon watched her quietly. "You still have a heart, Ada."
"Don't tell anyone," she said dryly. "It'll ruin my reputation."
He almost smiled.
Then the sound of boots thundered above them.
"Marine reinforcements," Dragon muttered. "They're sealing the grove."
Ada looked up, her expression calm. "Then we burn faster."
They burst out of the basement just as a squad of Marines stormed in through the shattered main doors.
"Drop your weapons!" the commander shouted. "You're under arrest—"
A blast of compressed wind threw him backward into a pillar. Dragon stepped forward, his voice even.
"I said no survivors."
Ada's eyes gleamed. "Then let's make it quick."
The battle was brief — brutal and beautiful.
Ada's sword pierced through rifles, armor, and walls, her fruit-infused slashes cutting through solid stone. Dragon's control over the air was devastating — every movement a weapon, every breath a gale.
Within minutes, the Marines were down — scattered, groaning, or unconscious.
Flames began to climb the mangrove roots, spreading fast. The great dome of the auction house cracked, smoke curling toward the sky.
Ada sheathed her sword and looked up at the burning ruin.
"Guess you got your fire."
Dragon stood beside her, watching the flames reflect in his eyes. "Fire cleanses. But it never forgets."
Ada smirked faintly. "You always did sound like a poet when you were angry."
He turned to her. "And you always look at death like it's familiar."
She met his gaze, a flicker of something unreadable passing between them. "Maybe because it is."
By dawn, the auction house was nothing but ash. The sky above Sabaody glowed orange and gray as the mangrove smoke curled into the clouds.
Ada stood at the edge of the pier, watching the tide pull the soot away. Dragon approached quietly, his cloak torn, a streak of blood drying across his cheek.
"Not bad for two people who don't believe in miracles," he said.
Ada smirked. "Who said I don't?"
He looked at her — curious. "Then what do you believe in?"
She turned toward the sunrise. "Balance. The world gives, the world takes. I just make sure it doesn't take too much."
He nodded slowly. "Then maybe we're not so different."
She glanced back at him. "You're building something, aren't you?"
He didn't answer directly — just smiled faintly. "If the world won't fix itself, someone has to start the fire."
Ada stepped closer, the light catching in her crimson eyes. "Then keep your fire burning, Dragon. But remember — fire consumes everything, even the one who lights it."
Dragon met her gaze, steady. "Then I'll make sure it burns for the right reasons."
A faint wind swirled between them — carrying smoke, salt, and something unspoken.
Ada turned away first, stepping toward the waiting docked boat. "Good luck, revolutionary."
He smirked. "Safe travels, Crimson shadow."
As the boat drifted away, Dragon watched her go — the crimson figure fading into morning mist. The smoke of the destroyed auction still rose behind him, curling skyward like a warning.
For the first time, the wind carried both their names together —
The Crimson Shadow and the Man of the Storm —
two sparks that would one day set the world ablaze.