One Piece: From Marine to Legend

"Send Storm to the Freezing Hell!"

As the Director of Impel Down, Magellan had the fastest reaction time among those present.

"We must not let him and Shiryu clash again!"

However—

No matter how fast the Director spoke, it could not outpace the surge of fury that ignited in the mind of the Head Jailer.

"Yu waskard (You bastard)!"

A furious snarl erupted from Shiryu, his voice carrying a slight lisp due to his injuries.

With his cheek bruised and swollen, Shiryu pushed himself up from the wreckage of the office, his expression dark and livid. He had just finished his "vacation" in the Freezing Hell and hadn't even had time to retrieve his weapon before being summoned directly to Magellan's office.

Yet, even without his sword, Thunderstorm, Shiryu was still a formidable swordsman.

He didn't need a weapon to kill.

With nothing but bare fists, he charged forward, closing the distance between himself and Storm in the blink of an eye.

His right fist was raised high, coated in a deep black hue—

Armament Haki!

"Go to hell, kid!"

Fueled by rage, Shiryu exploded with astonishing speed, surging toward Storm like a lightning bolt.

Even Magellan found it difficult to react in time—

However, Storm, who had anticipated a counterattack, had already locked onto Shiryu's movements.

The moment Shiryu lunged, Storm responded.

His right fist swung forward, encased in white clay, the material twisting and condensing around his knuckles.

Armament Haki entwined with it.

Armed Giant Fist! (Armament-coated Giant Fist)

BOOM!

The two fists, one large and one small, collided head-on!

The moment their Haki-coated punches met, a shockwave burst outward.

It was as if a thunderclap had erupted within the Director's office.

The epicenter of their collision unleashed a violent blast of air, sending a shockwave that shattered furniture and uprooted everything in the room.

A miniature hurricane formed from the sheer force of their clash, hurling debris in all directions.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

The walls trembled.

The ceiling creaked.

The entire office seemed like it might collapse at any moment.

"S-So strong!"

"Both of them are insane!"

"Ahh—my Director's office!"

The spectators, Little Sadi, Domino, and Hannyabal, were forced to scramble backward, distancing themselves from the epicenter of the fight.

However, Magellan remained unmoved.

His face darkened, and a few drops of thick, dark purple venom began to leak from his forehead.

His patience had run out.

"Enough."

In the next second...

Magellan's entire body became engulfed in a toxic, bubbling mass of poison.

As the Director of Impel Down, his strength was undeniable—comparable to that of a Marine Admiral!

"Hydra!"

Without hesitation—

He unleashed a monstrous, dark purple hydra formed entirely of deadly venom.

The toxic beast surged forward with a terrifying hiss, its gigantic mouth yawning open as it swallowed both combatants in a single gulp.

This was different from before.

During their previous skirmish in the cafeteria, Magellan had used his poison as a warning—not to attack.

This time—

He was serious.

The venomous dragon roared, erupting with toxic fumes, its corrosive liquid dripping onto the floor, leaving behind pits of melted stone.

When the poisonous mist finally thinned, two figures reemerged from within.

One of them—

Shiryu.

His entire body was covered in oozing purple toxins, his face contorted in agony as he knelt on one knee, struggling to breathe.

His skin burned as if it were on fire.

His lips trembled.

His muscles spasmed.

He was severely poisoned.

The other figure—

Storm.

Encased in a protective suit of white clay, his entire body remained untouched by the venom.

As the last remnants of the dragon's poison faded, the clay peeled away, revealing Storm—completely unharmed.

A brief silence settled in the room.

Then, Magellan's gaze turned to Hannyabal.

"Hannyabal."

His voice was cold.

"Send Storm to the Freezing Hell."

His command echoed through the shattered office.

The Director's tone left no room for negotiation.

"Three days of confinement. No one is allowed to visit him—without my orders."

Hannyabal hesitated for a moment but nodded quickly, stepping forward.

Carefully avoiding the puddles of venom, he reached out and tugged on the sleeve of Storm's uniform.

Storm wordlessly complied, following Hannyabal out of the ruined office.

As they walked through the scorching heat of the Burning Hell, a long silence stretched between them.

Finally...

Hannyabal let out a deep sigh.

"Storm… you, ah…" He shook his head, looking both worried and exasperated.

"I told you not to provoke Shiryu. That guy is a lunatic."

Storm scoffed.

"I didn't provoke him. Have you forgotten?"

Hannyabal frowned.

"It was Shiryu who attacked me first—back in the cafeteria."

Storm's voice was calm, but his gaze darkened.

"I got stabbed. You expect me to just let that go?"

The memory of that moment flashed through Storm's mind.

If it weren't for his Clay-Clay Fruit, that wound could've been fatal.

How could he not take revenge?

Even now, he felt frustrated—

His punch wasn't strong enough.

He had wanted to knock Shiryu out in one hit.

If only that Workplace Assault: Face-Breaking Punch had been just a little stronger…

Then he might have taken Shiryu's trophy.

What a waste!

Hannyabal, unaware of Storm's inner disappointment, sighed again.

"I mean, yeah… indeed, Shiryu didn't win either time."

Thinking back—

In both of their encounters, Shiryu had ended up battered while Storm remained untouched.

If anything, the only thing dirtying Storm's clothes was Shiryu's blood.

Hannyabal shook his head again, choosing to drop the topic of Shiryu.

He was worried that Shiryu would seek revenge later—

But given Storm's strength, maybe there was no need to worry after all.

Instead, he turned his attention to another concern.

"Magellan was really mad this time," he muttered.

"The Fifth Level is not a place for humans."

Hannyabal sighed.

"After Magellan calms down, I'll see if I can transfer you somewhere else—"

"No need."

Storm cut him off instantly.

A glint of determination flashed in his eyes.

He wanted to go to the Freezing Hell.

Storm needed more gold trophies to continue improving his abilities. And what better place to find them than the Freezing Hell, where criminals with bounties exceeding 100 million berries were imprisoned?

For a long time, he'd wanted to hunt for trophies there.

So, what better way to ensure a direct trip than publicly beating Shiryu?

That was Storm's plan all along.

Hannyabal, however, had no idea.

He assumed Storm was simply trying to avoid further punishment from Magellan by refusing help.

"Storm!" Hannyabal's eyes welled with emotion. He sniffled before quickly composing himself. "Don't worry! I'll do my best to get your floor changed!"

Storm was momentarily touched, but he quickly waved off the offer.

"Hannyabal," he said, his tone serious, "you don't want Shiryu finding out that you tried to interfere with Magellan's orders, do you?"

At the mention of Shiryu's name, Hannyabal visibly stiffened.

"Sh-Shiryu?"

Hannyabal never minded openly displaying his ambitions to Magellan—because, deep down, Magellan was a fair and reasonable man.

But Shiryu?

That was a different story.

The Head Jailer had no hesitation when it came to cutting people down with his sword.

"I... I'm sorry, Storm," Hannyabal muttered, suddenly crestfallen. "I'm so useless..."

Storm sighed, feeling a pang of guilt. But for the sake of his trophy-hunting plan, he had to put Hannyabal in a difficult position once more.

Before he could even offer a word of comfort, Hannyabal suddenly clenched his fists and shouted with renewed determination.

"One day, I will become the Director of Impel Down!"

Storm gave him a pat on the shoulder.

"...Come on."

Since they had agreed to follow protocol, Hannyabal and Storm made their way to the Chief Guard's office on the first floor above sea level.

Upon arrival, Hannyabal pointed at the Blazing Saber strapped to Storm's waist and let out an exasperated sigh.

"Honestly, I think this is totally unnecessary," he muttered. "But fine, let's follow the rules."

As Storm removed the saber, Hannyabal's gaze lingered. "Now that I think about it... I've never actually seen you use that sword. Why do you carry it around?"

Storm smirked.

"Because it looks cool."

"...Huh?"

"Ahem," Storm coughed. "Actually, I used to be a swordsman in my early years."

"...Early years?" Hannibal stared at him blankly. "How old are you again? No, wait—why are we even talking about this?"

Ignoring the comment, Storm placed the Blazing Saber and his 

Seastone Baton on a designated shelf.

At that moment, a nearby Den Den Mushi suddenly rang.

Buru Buru Buru—

It wasn't the Impel Down Den Den Mushi.

It was Storm's personal Den Den Mushi.

Storm glanced at Hannyabal, then casually picked up the receiver.

"Ah la la—" a lethargic voice began on the other end.

Storm didn't even let him finish.

"Going to jail now. Don't bother me."

Click.

He hung up.

Hannyabal blinked. "...Who was that?"

Storm shrugged. "Not Magellan, that's for sure."

Tucking away his Den Den Mushi, Storm pushed Hannyabal toward the door.

"Let's go to Freezing Hell already!"

Hannyabal hesitated.

"I heard you once walked through the Freezing Hell without any protective gear. Is that true?"

Storm smirked.

"Why don't we find out?"

"Ahahaha..." Hannibal let out an awkward laugh. "After all, I am going to be the future Director of Impel Down..."

Somewhere on the Grand Line...

On a calm sea in Paradise, an Admiral rode leisurely across the water on his bicycle.

Aokiji had his Den Den Mushi pressed against his ear, listening to the disconnected tone.

'What... did I just hear?'

His half-lidded eyes blinked.

'Maybe I slept too long. My mind's a little fuzzy...'

He scratched his messy afro and muttered to himself, "I probably dialed the wrong number just now."

As if to prove him wrong, his personal Den Den Mushi began to ring again.

Buru Buru Buru—

This time, Aokiji carefully checked the number.

It was the same one.

BEEP.

His Den Den Mushi's expression wobbled its head in a clear confirmation.

The number was correct.

"...No way," Aokiji murmured.

Just to be sure, he tried calling back.

This time, all he got was a busy tone.

Storm had shut off his Den Den Mushi.

Aokiji sat there in silence, staring blankly at the sea.

"...Wait a second."

He rubbed his temple.

"Didn't Storm go to Impel Down as a jailer?"

The wind carried the sound of the Den Den Mushi's beeping across the empty sea.

"Who the hell put him in jail?!"