Chapter 7: The Unwilling Guardian
The crimson platform of solidified blood was silent. Kelean's question about his great-grandsons hung in the air, a direct appeal to Garp's ancestral loyalty.
Garp, however, was still the Hero of the Marines. He looked away, his eyes scanning the horizon where his ruined ship had once been. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Ancestor. The Marines track countless pirates. Ace and Luffy… they are nothing more than names on a bounty list."
The deflection was heavy, thick with the weight of Garp's double life. He wouldn't directly defy the Founder, but he would not betray his grandsons to a being whose destructive power was barely measurable.
Kelean watched him, his amber eyes unblinking. He saw the flicker of pride, the unshakeable family bond that ran through the D. bloodline—the same fierce, stubborn trait that had led the ancient civilization to its doom.
"You lie well, descendant," Kelean stated, his voice devoid of accusation, only observation. "The loyalty in your heart for your progeny is immense. It is a predictable flaw. The blood of the Founder flows strongly, but it is constantly being distracted by the small-scale battles you call 'family.' I respect the shield you hold, but I require the weapon you refuse to wield."
He did not press further. The information Garp had provided—the existence of the Four Emperors, the scattered nature of the D.s, the true meaning of the Void Century's suppression—was enough.
"If the descendants of D. are scattered amongst the chaos you call the New World," Kelean deduced, rising slowly to his full, immense height, "then the place of greatest turmoil is where they will eventually converge."
He pointed a finger not at the Red Line, which housed the ancient enemy, but toward the West, the tumultuous stretch of ocean known only for its unpredictable violence.
"The World Government's great advantage is its defense: the Red Line is a physical fortress, and Mariejois is a cultural fortress of lies," Kelean summarized. "A frontal assault now would merely turn me into a localized legend, distracting the world while the true power hides."
He looked back at the remains of the Calm Belt, the place that had been his coffin for eight centuries. "Before I shatter the lie, I must first shatter the distractions."
Kelean extended both hands, palms facing the ocean. He didn't draw more blood from Garp, who watched nervously. Instead, he began to command the salt and iron already present in the vast, still body of water. The ocean around their small raft began to churn, not from wind, but from a terrifying, unseen internal force.
The water itself turned cloudy, then rapidly darkened to a deep, ferrous red. Kelean was calling upon the trace minerals of the ocean—the microscopic particles of iron, sulfur, and trace lifeblood from eight hundred years of endless conflict—and converting them into his own domain.
A colossal, swirling vortex of deep crimson began to form beneath them. It was a massive, living whirlpool, kilometers wide, that ignored the laws of the Calm Belt and began to rotate with the gravitational force of a dying star.
"I need a vessel," Kelean announced. "The slow current of your age will not suffice."
With a sudden, crushing downward motion of his hands, Kelean plunged the gigantic vortex into the deep sea. The motion did not cause a wave; it caused a tectonic shift. The ocean floor trembled, and a roar louder than a hundred thunderclaps echoed across the world, confirming to every sentient being that the new power was not bound by the rules of nature.
From the swirling crimson pit, a gargantuan, streamlined ship of solidified, dark iron and compressed salt water rose—a vessel that dwarfed any battle fleet or Yonko ship. It was a silent, black monolith with masts that reached toward the stratosphere, entirely formed from the sea itself, held together by the raw power of the Blood-Blood Fruit's Awakening.
Kelean stepped onto the deck, which felt like polished obsidian.
"Garp," he commanded, looking down at his defeated descendant still floating on the small piece of wreckage. "You will return to your masters. Tell them the truth: the Founder has awoken. Tell them that their 'gods' are nothing more than usurpers who broke the world's true contract."
"Where are you going?" Garp shouted, struggling against the massive pressure radiating from the colossal vessel.
Kelean simply stared out toward the New World, a flicker of ancestral fire in his eyes.
"To find the strongest. To find the source of the chaos. And to find which of my grandsons has the steel to finally finish the Dawn."
With that, the monolithic ship began to move, propelled by a silent, controlled torrent of crimson water, leaving Garp adrift, forced to wait for a Marine patrol to stumble across the only man on Earth who could truly understand the meaning of the word power.
Kelean has set his course for the New World, now traveling in a devastating, self-made flagship. The stage is set for a clash with the strongest pirates alive.