A desolate stretch of water, not far from the path to Punk Hazard.
The sea here was still—unnervingly so. No gulls, no waves, just a low haze crawling across the surface like a dying breath. It was a dead zone, somewhere between volcanic rage and glacial silence. And in the middle of it floated a black ship with shredded sails shaped like wings—the Carrion Crow.
Tattered and worn from countless battles, the Carrion Crow looked more like a ghost ship than a pirate vessel. But its fury was very much alive.
"GRIZ! Show your face, you coward!!" roared a man from the crow's nest, his voice splitting the quiet like a gunshot. "This haze trick won't save you forever!"
He wasn't entirely human now. Sharp talons dug into the mast, his feathered arms spread wide as his wings trembled with fury. His beaked face twisted into a snarl.
This was Vane the Vulture, captain of the Carrion Crow, a veteran of the First Grand Line who had only recently clawed his way into the New World. He had eaten the Tori Tori no Mi, Model: Vulture—a Zoan devil fruit that allowed him to shift between man, beast, and hybrid human and beast. His current bounty: 284 million berries.
Circling him were five ships, sleek and identical, forming a slow, tight ring around the Carrion Crow. Each ship cut silently through the mist. On the deck of each stood a man, calm and smiling, arms folded like he was watching a game unfold exactly as planned.
Griz.
Possessor of the Moya Moya no Mi—the Haze-Haze Fruit. With it, he could create and control a thick, glowing mist of luminous vapor. His "clones" were phantoms, immune to attack but capable of distraction and disorientation. His bounty sat at 245 million.
"It's not a trick, Vane," said the five identical Griz in perfect unison, their voices echoing through the mist like a choir of smug ghosts. "It's an art form."
Vane let out a furious shriek and shot upward into the sky. He banked hard, then dove toward the nearest ship, wings slicing through the air like blades. His talons gleamed as he struck the figure of Griz perched on the deck.
Shhhk—!
The Griz he hit dissolved instantly into a swirling mist, leaving no resistance. No body. Just glowing fog that clung to Vane's feathers like oil.
"Dammit!" Vane growled, beating his wings as the mist tried to weigh him down. "It's just mist again!"
"Correct," came the real Griz's voice, amused and invisible within the cloud. "And while you're busy chasing ghosts, my crew is—"
He stopped.
Something was… off.
The haze he took such pride in—the luminous vapor that had turned entire skirmishes in his favor—was shifting. But not dispersing from wind or heat. It was being pushed aside. No… crushed.
From beyond the edge of the fog, a white glow emerged.
It wasn't sunlight.
Cutting cleanly through Griz's illusion came a solid, shimmering prow, gleaming like a living gemstone. It slid into view silently—sleek, gleaming, and impossibly massive.
A crocodilian shape, plated in glistening translucent diamond scales.
The Great White.
Zino's new ship.
The monstrous vessel cleaved through the haze as if it didn't exist, the vapor vanishing wherever the diamond cloud hull passed. The elemental density of the ship was enough to nullify the haze. The Haze-clones shattered without a sound, unable to maintain form near the vessel's pressure.
The water churned gently around it, but not from turbulence. It was more like the sea moved aside to make room.
Griz took an instinctive step back on his real ship, his confident smirk now gone.
In the air, Vane stopped flapping. His wings trembled—not from exhaustion, but from the barely audible hum coming from the ship's body. It wasn't an engine… it was the sound of compressed lightning running through diamond.
Neither pirates spoke.
No cannon fired. No order was given.
They simply watched, speechless, as the Great White glided silently past them—like a phantom predator that didn't even consider them prey.
It was heading straight for the distant silhouette of Punk Hazard a ruined island still bleeding smoke and frost into the air.
And the moment it passed… both pirates exhaled, realizing they hadn't breathed the entire time.
While the two pirates lingered in shock outside, inside the Great White, Zino stood near the forward viewing deck, his eyes locked on the island ahead.
He had sensed Vane and Griz the moment their ship entered proximity. Their auras were like static on a channel he didn't care to tune into—chaotic, small-time, noisy. He felt no need to engage with them.
On the other hand, his true attention was fixed on Punk Hazard, the scarred and smoking landmass looming in the distance.
Zino already felt the sharp irregularity in the atmosphere since a while ago. It wasn't the usual static hum of the chaotic weather. Even from afar, the contrast was striking—a chilling aura against a boiling presence. It was a disturbance in the "voices" of the elements themselves.
That imbalance was the exact reason he had turned the ship and headed toward this desolate stretch of sea.
He watched the approaching coastline through the bridge windows. "The island's already turned into a smoking and frozen ruin," Zino muttered to himself, his Observation Haki sensing the dual environmental signatures. "That can only mean one thing... the Admirals have fought."
There was no mistaking the power at play. No pirate or Sea King could cause this kind of localized devastation and elemental imbalance. This was the work of two titans: Sakazuki and Kuzan, the users of magma and ice abilities. The cataclysmic battle between these two Admirals had left the island permanently scarred beyond recognition.
As the Great White glided closer, Zino narrowed his eyes. He extended his Observation Haki outward like a wave, scanning the terrain of the island in a sweep. It didn't take long. Amid the chaos and elemental destruction, he sensed one aura—alone, weak, but still burning with unmistakable will.
He recognized it instantly.
"…Aokiji." he murmured.
Zino then turned slightly to Kruz, who had been handling the helm, and said, "Open the scutes."
Kruz gave a quick nod and reached for the lever beside him. With a mechanical hiss, the diamond cloud scales—the scutes—along the ship's back split open and slid to both sides, revealing the flat interior deck. Sunlight streamed in through the refracted diamond canopy, scattering brilliant white patterns across the ship's polished surface.
"I'm heading to the island," Zino said without turning around. "Someone I know is there. I'll speak with him first."
And without another word, he vanished—his body disintegrating into a streak of crackling lightning that shot forward like a spear, arcing through the sky and landing in the heart of Punk Hazard.
The crew left behind blinked in surprise.
"He said someone familiar?" Moris asked, scratching his chin.
"Who could it be?" Chloris echoed, her leafy hair shifting with a breeze.
At the moment, Moris, Chloris, and Cora are on the ship. The people of Arboria had hoped that they could remain behind, especially for Chloris and Cora to take up roles as Root Mothers. However, they had stubbornly refused. They were Orcas. Their loyalty to the crew was unshakable.
"Maybe he sensed his brother," Zoro said, gazing towards the side of the island which was releasing smoke and fire. "That looks like Ace's kind of battlefield."
"Wait," Galdino chimed in. "Isn't Ace still with Whitebeard? He wouldn't just be here, would he?"
"Then who do you think it would be?" Zoro countered.
Alvida on the side spoke up. "Rather than guessing, let's just land and see for ourselves. If Zino's already there, it's safer for us to follow."
There were murmurs of agreement.
The crew adjusted the ship's path, steering it closer to the ice-covered shore. The crocodile vessel, massive and quiet, approached the frigid bank and anchored with a low mechanical whir. Its limbs adjusted, claws shifting into stabilizers as the Great White settled smoothly onto the frozen coastline.
...
At the center of Punk Hazard, where the smoldering ash of the New World sky met a horizon of jagged, unnatural ice, Kuzan sat there alone. He was a ruin of a man. His left leg was a jagged stump of ice that hissed against the heated earth, and his body was a map of deep burns and frostbite.
In his hand, he held a small Den Den Mushi. The snail looked as exhausted as he was, its eyes weary.
"I told you... I'm done," Kuzan rasped into the receiver, his voice like grinding stones. "Tell the Elders... tell Sakazuki... I won't serve under his justice that burns everything it touches. Effective immediately... I'm out."
A frantic voice crackled from the snail, pleading with the former Admiral to reconsider the balance of the world.
Kuzan didn't listen. He reached out with a finger and clicked the receiver shut. The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the distant roar of a volcano. He leaned his head back against a pillar of rime and closed his eyes.
"Finally... some peace."
That peace only lasted for exactly three seconds.
The air suddenly hummed with static. The smell of ozone overpowered the sulfur. Kuzan's Observation Haki flared, sensing a "voice" moving at a speed that defied the laws of the sea.
CRACKLE!
A bolt of blue-white lightning struck the crater just ten paces away, shattering a frozen spire into diamonds of ice. As the blinding light faded, the static settled into a solid form.
Zino stood there, his presence radiating the calm, crushing power of a natural disaster. He looked around the wasteland, then turned his gaze toward the man on the ground.
Kuzan didn't reach for his power. He didn't even flinch. He just looked at the Den Den Mushi in his lap, then up at Zino.
"Arara..." Kuzan sighed, a weak, ironic smile touching his scarred lips. "I just told the Marines I was quitting... and the world already sends the man who humiliated them to check on me?"
He looked at the distant, sensing the arrival of Zino's ship, the Great White, on the shore of the Punk Hazard. "You've got quite the timing, Zino. Or was that 'Radar' of yours just waiting for me to hang up the phone?"
Zino stood his ground, electricity still crackling softly between his fingers. "I felt a voice go silent, Aokiji. Or should I call you Kuzan now?"
"Arara... even someone like you is poking fun at me now?" Kuzan gave him a side glance, his eyes calm but tired.
Zino walked forward, then sat a short distance away, resting against a chunk of half-melted ice. Reaching into his system storage, he pulled out a small metal canteen and tossed it gently toward Kuzan.
The former Admiral caught it with a hand that trembled slightly, the surface frosting over the moment it touched his skin. He took a long, slow drink.
"Water..." Kuzan murmured. "You're either a saint, Zino... or a very clever little devil."
Zino just smiled, letting the comment pass.
"Where will you go now?"
Kuzan leaned back against the ice pillar, his eyes drifting toward the ash-choked sky.
"Maybe I'll wander. Take the old bike for a spin, see the sea without looking through the lens of 'Absolute Justice.'"
His gaze dropped to the space where his leg used to be. He gave a dry, humorless chuckle.
"Though I might need a tricycle now."
Zino watched him quietly for a few moments. Then, without fanfare, he said,
"Join me. Join my crew."
Silence followed.
Kuzan stared down at the canteen in his hands, then slowly turned to look at Zino.
"...You're a strange one," he said quietly, struggling to sit up straighter. "Most pirates would've taken my head while I was down. But you..."
Kuzan paused, his eyes on Zino.
"You want me to join your crew?"