One Piece: From Marine to Legend

In the Newkama Paradise, Ivankov pressed the Den Den Mushi closer and asked urgently,

"Where is Teach?"

The prison was in complete chaos, yet Edward Teach was nowhere to be seen.

"A huge incident like this is happening, yet I haven't seen a single trace of Teach!"

In Ivankov's mind, Teach, the man who had inherited Whitebeard's strength and will, should be a force to be reckoned with during this crisis. 

But now, he was missing.

He wasn't in Crimson Hell.

He wasn't in Infinite Hell either.

"There's no way that guy is hiding at a time like this… right?"

It just didn't make sense. At such a crucial moment, Whitebeard III should have made a move. Yet, no matter where Ivankov looked, he was nowhere to be found.

Ivankov furrowed his brows in confusion. But before he could continue questioning, the Den Den Mushi crackled with static. There was no response from Storm.

Instead, the only thing Ivankov could hear was a series of explosions echoing from the other end of the line.

With a heavy heart, Ivankov turned his gaze to the monitoring system, watching the chaos unfold within Infinite Hell.

From the depths of the shattered ground, enormous white dragon heads erupted, their gaping jaws unleashing an indiscriminate bombardment of destruction upon the prisoners.

"Storm! You bastard!" Ivankov clenched his fists, his face twisting into an expression of deep concern.

"This is NOT the plan you mentioned at the beginning!"

Storm had claimed that he was selecting the most powerful subordinates from the Infinite Hell criminals.

But this?

This wasn't recruitment.

This was mass execution.

The brutal scene before him made it clear, Storm wasn't looking for allies—he was wiping them out!

Ivankov's lips curled into a frown. Storm wanted to kill every last criminal inside Infinite Hell.

As tension filled the air, Inazuma, who had been standing beside him, finally spoke in a quiet, measured tone.

"Your Majesty... do we really have to obey the orders of the Chief Guard?"

Ivankov let out a long sigh, shaking his head.

"It's not about whether I want to listen to him. It's that I have to listen to him."

His large hands moved as he gestured toward the Den Den Mushi monitor, showing the devastation inside Infinite Hell.

"If I don't intercept Magellan and Shiryu, the entire 5.5th floor will collapse to Infinite Hell!"

Storm's Clay-Clay Fruit had awakened.

If anyone could sink the 5.5th floor into the depths of hell, it was him.

If that happened… the Newkama Paradise would be completely wiped out.

"It's either me or everyone."

Ivankov exhaled, his decision already made.

It was better to sacrifice himself than to watch everyone die.

Inazuma clenched his fists. His heart burned with anger and guilt.

He felt powerless against Storm's tyranny.

At the same time, he was furious that they had been manipulated so easily.

Despite his frustration, Inazuma forced himself to stay rational and asked,

"Should we take this chance to escape Impel Down?"

Ivankov hesitated. His eyes gleamed with a brief spark of interest.

But then, he shook his head.

"The timing isn't right. Dragon hasn't made his move yet. There's no point in escaping now."

Taking a deep breath, he straightened up.

"Alright, Inazuma. I've made up my mind!"

"I'll go intercept those two bastards, Magellan and Shiryu!"

Ivankov spoke with confidence. But a sly grin crept onto his face as he muttered,

"But I'm nowhere near as strong as that bastard Storm... so who knows how long I can hold them off?"

Just as he was about to act, one of the Newkama monitoring the surveillance feeds called out.

"Your Majesty! Magellan and Shiryu have split up!"

Ivankov's eyes widened.

"Split up?!"

He rushed toward the monitoring screen, his sharp gaze locked onto the footage.

Shiryu remained in Crimson Hell, while Magellan was making his way down alone!

"Hah! This is good news!"

Storm had sealed the elevator with his clay, forcing Magellan to take the long way down.

"One less enemy to fight. I'll take it!"

Meanwhile, in Crimson Hell, Magellan gritted his teeth in frustration.

The elevator leading to Infinite Hell was completely blocked by Storm's clay barriers.

That meant he had no choice but to use the stairs.

A wave of purple venom bubbled from his skin, coating the staircase.

"Venom Road!"

Magellan slid across the venom tube, dramatically increasing his speed as he descended.

With this toxic propulsion, he quickly reached Freezing Hell.

Just one more level to go.

But as he reached the entrance to Infinite Hell, his path was blocked.

A massive figure stood in his way.

Magellan narrowed his eyes, his instincts flaring.

"A prisoner?"

No.

This person wasn't just a normal prisoner.

Magellan's pupils shrunk slightly as he recognized the figure.

"Emporio Ivankov?! How are you here?!"

According to Impel Down's records, Ivankov should have died in Freezing Hell long ago!

Ivankov placed his hands on his hips, grinning.

"Magellan, Magellan~! As director of this prison, you don't even know whether the prisoners are dead or alive?"

He winked dramatically before declaring,

"That's what I call… NEGLIGENCE OF DUTY!"

The moment his words fell—

BOOM!

Ivankov blinked sharply.

A powerful shockwave blasted through the air, tearing through the tubes coated in venom.

"DEATH WINK!"

Magellan barely flinched.

A thick, monstrous poison dragon coiled behind him, its toxic fangs gleaming ominously.

His eyes burned with determination.

"Even if you delay me here, Storm will NEVER escape from Infinite Hell!"

He was certain.

No matter how Storm had managed to dodge the prison's surveillance…

No matter how many tricks he pulled…

There was NO ESCAPE!

His voice rang out in an unwavering decree.

"ALL those who stand in my way… are his ACCOMPLICES!"

With an unyielding glare, Magellan roared his next attack.

"POISON DRAGON!"

It happened in the blink of an eye.

Magellan controlled the Poison Dragon and launched a roaring attack on the Okama King.

The massive, twisting dragon made of thick, purple venom surged forward, its fanged maw opening wide as it struck with unstoppable force.

The Okama King had no time to dodge. The Poison Dragon crashed directly into his massive face.

A blinding puff of smoke erupted on impact, accompanied by a sharp, crackling sound of corrosion.

"AAAAAAAHHH!!!"

Ivankov fell to his knees, his voice filled with a heart-wrenching wail. His trembling hands hovered over his face, hesitating, unwilling to touch it for fear of spreading the venom further.

"My face! My face is going to be melted by the venom!! My face—"

Magellan remained still, his deep-set eyes watching without a hint of mercy. The director of Impel Down knew the terrifying effects of his own venom. Even if someone had strong endurance, once struck by a Poison Dragon, they would be unable to escape the agonizing fate of severe poisoning.

Yet, before he could assess the battle's conclusion, something unexpected happened.

Ivankov reached up—and with one sharp tug—ripped his face off.

The grotesque sight of his still-smoking flesh—now looking like a terrifying venom mask—hung loosely in his grip.

"Haha! It's impossible to melt me!" Ivankov's bright, cheerful laugh echoed through the air.

Magellan's eyes narrowed.

"What…?"

The massive figure before him twirled the melted "face" in his fingers before tossing it away carelessly. Ivankov then grinned, flashing a set of gleaming teeth.

"Because I was wearing a lot of makeup! You were fooled!"

"…"

Magellan's expression darkened. More venom began to drip from his body like cold sweat.

"What a stupid trick."

With a single thought, the number of Poison Dragons behind him increased.

One turned into three.

Each venomous dragon writhed in the air, its fanged maw snapping open and shut, exuding a deadly poison that could corrode everything it touched.

"I don't have the extra time to stay here and play with you!" Magellan growled.

With a swift movement of his arms, the three Poison Dragons surged forward, attacking Ivankov from three different angles.

The Okama King's eyes widened in mock panic.

"Aaahhh! Oh no, so scary!!"

The words barely left his mouth before the Poison Dragons lunged—biting down on his body.

Purple poison spots quickly spread across his skin, wriggling like a deathly plague.

Ivankov collapsed.

His limbs twitched. His body convulsed violently.

And this time—he did not stand up.

There was no theatrical "face-changing" performance. No last-minute escape tricks.

Magellan stopped in front of Ivankov's fallen body, towering over him.

"This is the punishment you deserve."

His tone was cold, final.

"In the next 24 hours, you will continue to be corroded by the venom… and then you will be detained in the sixth floor."

To Magellan, the battle was over.

Anyone struck by the Poison Dragon was as good as dead.

Without hesitation, he stepped over Ivankov's twitching body and continued his charge toward Infinite Hell.

The closer he got, the clearer the deafening roars of explosions became.

The heavy scent of destruction filled the air.

Finally, Magellan entered Infinite Hell—and froze at the sight before him.

The prison was unrecognizable.

What should have been a vast, dark cell filled with the world's most dangerous criminals had turned into something closer to a slaughterhouse.

The ground was covered in giant dragon-head turrets, emerging like monstrous constructs of death.

They continuously fired, bombarding everything in their range.

Most of the prisoners lay motionless—whether from injury, unconsciousness, or death, Magellan couldn't tell.

Only a handful of the strongest criminals remained standing, struggling to resist.

And in the midst of it all—

Only one person was standing freely.

The cause of this massacre.

Magellan's blood boiled with fury.

"Storm!"

His voice echoed like a thunderclap, venom gushing out of his body like a burst dam.

Storm—the new Chief Guard—turned around at the sound of his name.

Despite the chaos, his face remained calm, indifferent.

"Director."

The younger man took a single step forward, his hands still half-raised from controlling the Clay-Clay Fruit's devastating bombardment.

"You finally made it."

Magellan's breath came heavy, his rage barely contained.

"What do you think you're doing!?"

His booming voice carried the weight of his authority.

So many criminals lay dead.

So many more lay dying.

And this man—this supposed "jailer"—stood among them, unaffected, unmoved.

Storm's expression remained unreadable.

Slowly, he lowered his hands, the barrage of attacks ceasing.

Then, he tilted his head.

"I'm just cleaning up the garbage," he replied flatly.

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