The west wing of Gecko Moria's gothic palace was quiet, a stark contrast to the lively dance party that had occurred earlier in the dining hall. Dr. Hogback, sweating nervously under his white lab coat, led the male members of the Straw Hat crew down a dimly lit, cobweb-draped corridor.
"Right this way," Hogback muttered, opening a set of heavy wooden double doors. "The master's largest guest quarters."
Luffy, Ace, Zoro, Sanji, Franky, Usopp, Chopper, Ben, and Sunny walked in. Behind them ducked the four human-sized giants: Dory, Brogy, Oimo, and Kashii.
The room was certainly large for a standard castle bedroom, featuring velvet curtains, a roaring fireplace, and dark mahogany floors. However, for a group of thirteen heavily muscled pirates—four of whom were shrunken giants—it was little more than a closet. There were only four king-sized beds available.
"We can't fit in here," Franky noted, tapping the wooden doorframe. "My shoulders alone take up half a bed."
"I call top bunk!" Luffy yelled, already running toward the nearest bed.
"There are no bunk beds, idiot," Sanji sighed, pulling at his tie. "I guess some of us are sleeping on the floor."
Dr. Hogback dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief. "Fosfosfos... If it is too cramped for the Giants and the cyborg, there are a few other rooms down the hall. You may have as many as you want. I can have my zombie servants prepare them immediately."
"That is unnecessary, Dr. Hogback," Ben said smoothly, stepping into the center of the room. "We will all be staying in the same room. It is much safer that way."
Hogback blinked, looking at the cramped space. "As you wish. Have a... pleasant night." He quickly shut the heavy wooden doors behind him, eager to get away from the pirates.
Once the door clicked shut, Ben raised his right hand and waved it.
"Capacious Extremis."
The walls of the gothic bedroom rippled. The stone pushed outward, expanding the room silently and seamlessly. The ceiling vaulted higher, and the floor stretched until the room was the size of a grand gymnasium.
Ben then flicked his wrist.
Rows of plush, king-sized beds materialized out of thin air, lining the walls. Mountains of pristine white pillows and thick, down comforters appeared perfectly folded on each mattress.
"Whoa," Usopp adjusted his goggles. "You made a luxury hotel in two seconds."
"Take a bed," Ben offered, unbuttoning his vest. "Get some rest. We leave tomorrow."
Luffy immediately threw himself onto the nearest bed. "So soft!"
Usopp walked past him, holding his sniper goggles. As he passed, a mischievous idea crossed his mind. He grabbed one of the conjured, feather-stuffed pillows, wound his arm back, and hurled it directly at Luffy's head.
Whack!
The pillow hit Luffy square in the face.
Luffy sat up slowly. The pillow fell to his lap. He looked at Usopp. A wide, dangerous grin spread across his face.
"Oh, it is on," Luffy grabbed the pillow and threw it back with the force of a rubber slingshot. "Gomu Gomu no... Pillow Pistol!"
The pillow flew at blinding speed, missing Usopp but hitting Sanji directly in the back of the head just as the cook was taking off his jacket.
Sanji froze. He slowly turned around, his visible eye twitching. "Who threw that?"
"He did!" Usopp pointed at Luffy.
"Hey!" Ace laughed from the next bed, throwing two pillows at Sanji and Usopp. "Don't leave me out!"
Within thirty seconds, the quiet bedroom devolved into an absolute warzone.
"Take cover!" Usopp yelled, hiding behind a flipped mattress with Chopper and Sunny. "We need more ammo! They're pinning us down!"
"Gebababa!" Dory laughed, picking up a mattress-sized pillow and hurling it across the room. It collided with Brogy, sending the red-bearded warrior tumbling over a chair.
"A challenge, brother?!" Brogy grabbed two pillows, dual-wielding them like axes. "Have at you!"
Feathers began to fill the air like a snowstorm.
Ben, sitting comfortably on a high-backed chair near the fireplace, chuckled. With a wave of his hand, dozens of freshly conjured pillows rained down into Luffy's base. He then waved his hand at the other side of the room, dropping a pile of pillows behind Sanji's barricade to keep the game fair. He had essentially become a magical arms dealer.
"Sunny!" Usopp barked, wearing a pillowcase on his head like a helmet. "What's the radar say?!"
Sunny, currently sitting on top of a wardrobe with his glowing blue eyes scanning the room, provided tactical callouts. "Incoming flank! The cook is rotating to the left! The moss-head is sleeping through the crossfire! Giant targets incoming at three o'clock!"
"Fire in the hole!" Ace yelled, throwing a barrage of pillows that rained down on the center of the room.
Suddenly, a loud, mechanical whirring sound echoed from the back corner.
"SUUUUUUPER PILLOW BARRAGE!"
Franky stepped out from behind a pile of flipped beds. He didn't just have a pillow in his hand. Using his newly installed Vibranium nanites, Franky had rapidly constructed a highly advanced, automated Pillow-Gatling Gun that strapped directly to his forearm.
THWUMP-THWUMP-THWUMP-THWUMP!
Franky began rapid-firing feather pillows at 300 rounds-per-minute. A relentless storm of white cotton and goose feathers blasted across the room, pinning Luffy, Ace, and Usopp to the wall.
"Ahhhh! It's too fast!" Chopper screamed, taking a rapid succession of pillows to the face.
Sanji's visible eye twitched violently. He watched a pristine, high-quality goose feather pillow explode against the wall.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING, YOU CYBORG MANIAC?!" Sanji roared, launching himself into the air. His leg blurred as he flawlessly kicked a dozen flying pillows out of the air, intercepting Franky's barrage.
"It's a war, cook!" Franky laughed, revving the gatling gun. "Collateral damage is inevitable!"
The pillow fight raged for an hour. Alliances were formed and betrayed. Forts were built and destroyed. By the time they finally collapsed from sheer exhaustion, the massive room was coated in a two-inch-thick layer of white goose feathers.
Luffy, panting and covered in feathers, gave a thumbs-up from the floor. "Best... sleepover... ever."
The Girls' Quarters
Down the hall, in a distinctly cozier and significantly cleaner room, the atmosphere was much quieter.
Nami, Vivi, Robin, and Merry were lounging in comfortable pajamas Ben had conjured for them. Caroo the duck was nesting comfortably on a large circular rug by the fireplace, his beak tucked under his wing.
Nami was brushing her hair at the vanity, while Vivi poured a round of warm chamomile tea. Robin was sitting in a plush armchair, reading a book by the light of the fire.
"This castle gives me the creeps," Nami admitted, looking out the dark window at the dense fog. "Zombies, ghosts, giant moving ships. I can't wait to see the sun again."
Merry, sitting cross-legged on her bed. "It's a high-tier spooky environment. Perfect for a raid. But since we're just chilling..." She looked over at the archaeologist. "Auntie Robin. Tell us a ghost story. Give us some lore."
"A ghost story?" Vivi smiled, handing Merry a cup of tea. "That sounds fun."
Robin closed her book. A serene, polite smile graced her lips. The shadows from the fireplace flickered across her face, giving her blue eyes an eerie glow.
"A ghost story," Robin mused softly. "Very well. I know a tale. It is an old legend whispered among the sailors of the West Blue. They say it is based on a true logbook found on an abandoned merchant ship."
Nami pulled her knees to her chest on the bed, already looking slightly nervous. Caroo opened one eye, listening intently.
"The story goes," Robin began, her voice smooth, rhythmic, and perfectly paced for maximum suspense, "that a galleon was sailing through a dense, unmoving fog, much like the one outside our window. The crew had been lost for days. The wind had died, and the compass spun aimlessly."
The room grew very quiet.
"One night, the captain stood at the helm. Through the thick mist, he saw a light. A lantern, swinging back and forth in the fog. Thinking it was a rescue vessel, he ordered his men to row a small boat out toward the light."
Robin took a slow sip of her tea, letting the silence stretch.
"When the men reached the light, they found a small, wooden dinghy. Sitting inside it was a woman. She was shivering, wrapped in a torn cloak, her face hidden. They brought her aboard the galleon and took her to the captain's cabin to warm her by the fire."
"That was nice of them," Merry noted analytically. "Good maritime protocol."
"The captain asked her name," Robin continued, her voice dropping to a whisper. "But the woman didn't answer. She simply stared into the fire. The captain walked over to the cabin mirror to pour her a drink. But when he looked into the glass... he saw his own reflection. He saw the fire. But the chair where the woman sat... was empty in the mirror."
Vivi gasped softly, her grip tightening on her teacup.
"He turned around slowly," Robin said, her eyes locking onto Nami's. "The woman slowly lowered her hood. But she had no face. Just a smooth, pale expanse of skin. And from that blank face, a voice spoke. It wasn't her voice. It was the exact voice of the captain's first mate."
Robin perfectly mimicked a gruff, panicked sailor's voice. "'Captain, help me! It's so cold in the water!'"
Nami shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself.
"The captain ran out of the cabin, screaming for his crew," Robin's voice returned to its chilling, quiet cadence. "But the deck was empty. The entire crew was gone. The only sound was the dripping of seawater from the rigging. He realized then... the creature didn't need a reflection. It simply wore the voices of the people it had already dragged to the bottom of the sea."
Robin paused.
"They say the creature still drifts in the fog. If you ever hear the voice of a friend calling for help in the mist... do not answer. Because if you do, it takes your voice next."
Robin smiled her usual, polite smile. "The end."
For ten seconds, nobody moved.
"QUACK!" Caroo shrieked, instantly diving completely under the bed, leaving only his tail feathers sticking out.
"That's not a fun story!" Nami wailed, throwing a pillow over her head. "That's terrifying! Why would you tell us that in a haunted castle?!"
"It was very suspenseful," Vivi admitted, rubbing her arms to ward off the goosebumps. "You are an excellent storyteller, Robin."
Merry analyzing the data. "Entity utilizes psychological warfare and voice mimicry to isolate targets. Highly effective. I will add audio-authentication protocols to the ship's comms tomorrow. Just in case."
Robin chuckled softly, picking her book back up. "Sleep well, everyone."
The Castle Corridors
In the middle of the night, the grand, expanded boys' bedroom was filled with a chorus of loud, rhythmic snoring. Feathers were scattered everywhere from the earlier war.
Zoro shifted in his sleep. His lone eye opened.
He sat up silently, scratching his chest. He looked toward the door.
"Need to take a leak," Zoro muttered to himself.
He grabbed his three swords purely out of habit, securing them to his hip. He quietly opened the heavy wooden door and stepped out into the dark, stone corridor of the palace.
He looked left. He looked right.
"Bathroom should be this way," Zoro decided confidently, turning left.
He walked down the corridor. He went up a flight of stairs. He took a right turn. He walked across an indoor balcony. He went down a spiral staircase. He crossed an open, fog-filled courtyard. He entered a different building entirely.
Fifteen minutes later, Zoro was standing in a large, ruined laboratory situated on a stone bridge connecting two towers. Moonlight filtered in through a massive hole in the wall.
"This is a weird bathroom," Zoro grunted, looking around at the dusty medical equipment and broken tables.
"Who goes there?"
The voice was raspy, dry, and echoed with an ancient cadence.
Zoro turned around.
Standing in the center of the laboratory was a figure wrapped in a tattered, traditional samurai kimono. The man's face was covered in bandages, his skin pallid and rotting. He was a zombie. But unlike the mindless corpses shuffling outside, this one radiated a sharp, focused, and incredibly deadly aura.
Resting on his shoulder was a black-bladed katana with a red, jagged hamon pattern.
It was Ryuma, the legendary samurai of Wano.
Ryuma turned his single visible eye toward Zoro. He looked at the three swords resting on Zoro's hip. He recognized the white hilt of the Wado Ichimonji.
"A swordsman," Ryuma noted, his voice carrying the stolen tone of Brook, whose shadow currently animated the corpse. "It has been a long time since a true swordsman crossed my path. The skeleton was amusing, but he lacked the weight of a warrior."
Zoro's eye narrowed. He didn't know who this mummy was, but his gaze was immediately drawn to the katana resting on the zombie's shoulder. The black blade with the red, jagged hamon pattern. Even from a distance, Zoro could feel the heavy, bloodthirsty weight of the weapon. A Black Blade. And an absolute masterpiece at that.
"That's a hell of a sword," Zoro said, his voice low. "Too good to be rotting away in the hands of a walking corpse in a foggy graveyard."
"This is Shusui," the samurai lowered the blade, pointing the tip at Zoro. "And I am Ryuma. This blade is my soul. Do you wish to test your steel against it?"
Zoro didn't hesitate. He drew Sandai Kitetsu with his left hand and Yubashiri with his right. He placed the hilt of the Wado Ichimonji in his mouth.
Zoro looked at the zombie. He knew he could end this in one strike if he used the Advanced Armament Haki he had forged in the Time Chamber. A Haki-coated slash would shatter the zombie's defense instantly.
But Zoro stopped. He looked at Ryuma's stance. It was flawless. The footwork, the grip, the center of gravity—it was the stance of a grandmaster. Even in death, the samurai's muscle memory was absolute.
Zoro let his Haki recede. He didn't coat his blades in the black armor.
"I won't use Haki," Zoro declared around his sword.
Ryuma tilted his head. "You hold back against an opponent?"
"I'm not holding back," Zoro grinned, a fierce, bloodthirsty thrill rushing through his veins. "I want to feel the edge of that blade. I want to test my raw skill against you. If I use Haki, I won't know whose technique is truly sharper."
Ryuma let out a low, echoing laugh. "Yohoho. A man of honor. Very well. Let us dance, swordsman!"
Ryuma lunged. He didn't run; he glided across the stone floor.
"Prelude Au Fer!"
Ryuma thrust Shusui forward. The sheer speed of the strike created a vacuum, generating a shockwave that tore through the stone floor.
Zoro parried with Yubashiri, twisting his wrist to deflect the heavy thrust. The impact sent a jolt of pain up Zoro's arm. The blade is incredibly heavy. The legends were true.
Zoro retaliated immediately. "Nigiri: Tourou!" (Two Slash: Climbing Tower).
He swung both swords upward in a twin, arcing slash. Ryuma leaped backward, the blades cutting the air inches from his bandages.
"Aubade Coup Droit!" Ryuma fired a concentrated air bullet from the tip of his blade.
Zoro deflected it with the flat of his sword, spinning into a low sweep. Sparks flew as Shusui met Sandai Kitetsu in a shower of sparks. The laboratory shook with the force of their clash.
It was a beautiful, deadly dance. Without Haki to reinforce their weapons, every block, every parry required absolute, perfect precision. One wrong angle, and a sword would shatter.
Ryuma was fast, possessing Brook's fencing speed combined with a samurai's devastating physical strength. Zoro was relentless, his three-sword style overwhelming Ryuma's guard from impossible angles.
"You are strong," Ryuma grunted, locking blades with Zoro in a fierce test of strength. "Your swords carry heavy burdens."
"They carry my promises," Zoro pushed back, breaking the lock.
The two swordsmen backed away, panting lightly. The laboratory was in ruins around them.
"Let us end this," Ryuma said, raising Shusui above his head, gripping it with both hands. The air around the blade seemed to distort. "I shall wager my soul on this final strike."
Zoro nodded. He sheathed Sandai and Yubashiri. He took Wado Ichimonji from his mouth and held it in his right hand. He lowered his stance, his hand resting on the hilt of the sheathed Sandai Kitetsu at his hip.
"A one-sword strike," Zoro said. "Fitting."
The silence in the room was absolute. Only the moonlight illuminated the dust motes floating in the air.
Whoosh.
They moved simultaneously.
Ryuma swung down with everything he had.
Zoro drew his sword from the scabbard with explosive, blinding speed.
"Ittoryu Iai: Shishi Sonson!" (One Sword Style Draw: Lion's Song).
The two swordsmen crossed paths, ending up on opposite sides of the room.
For a long moment, neither moved. The metallic ring of the clash echoed and faded.
Slowly, Zoro stood up straight. He slid his sword back into its scabbard with a sharp click.
Behind him, a clean, perfect line appeared across the bandages on Ryuma's chest. The zombie didn't bleed, but the wound was deep and absolute.
Ryuma let out a long, ragged sigh. His body ignited in a brief, blue, ethereal flame as the shadow animating him realized its defeat.
"A magnificent strike," Ryuma whispered, falling to his knees. He looked at the black blade in his hand, then held it out toward Zoro. "This sword... it brings me shame to see it wielded by a corpse. Take it. I believe... it will be satisfied in your hands."
Zoro turned around. He looked at the samurai, offering a respectful nod. He walked over and gently took Shusui from Ryuma's fading grasp.
"I accept it," Zoro said quietly. "I'll pretend this duel never happened. A swordsman of your caliber shouldn't be remembered as someone else's puppet. Your spirit remains undefeated in my eyes."
Ryuma smiled behind his bandages. A black, elongated shadow detached from the corpse, shooting out the window and flying away into the night sky, returning to its rightful owner.
Zoro stood alone in the laboratory. He looked at the heavy black blade in his hand, admiring the beautiful, jagged hamon pattern.
He didn't just leave the body. Zoro walked outside to a small patch of dirt near the bridge. Using a broken stone pillar, he dug a respectful grave. He placed the body of the samurai inside, covering it with earth, and bowed his head for a brief moment of absolute, honorable silence.
Zoro secured Shusui to his hip, completing his three-sword set once again. He took a deep breath, the cool night air washing over him. The epic duel of legendary swordsmen was complete.
Then, Zoro crossed his legs tightly and let out a strained groan.
He looked around the foggy, unfamiliar courtyard. He realized he had spent twenty minutes fighting an intense, high-stakes battle while his bladder was completely full.
"Right," Zoro grunted, losing all of his cool samurai dignity in a fraction of a second. He started to speed-walk awkwardly down the stone path, his knees knocking together slightly. "Honor later. Toilet now."
He disappeared into the fog, heading in completely the wrong direction.
The Next Morning - The Coast of Thriller Bark
The eternal fog of the Florian Triangle rarely lifted, but as morning broke, a strange, suffocating heat began to burn away the mist along the eastern coastline of Thriller Bark.
The water boiled slightly against the hulls of the approaching fleet. It wasn't just one ship. Six heavily armed Marine galleons surrounded the eastern side of the island in a crescent formation, cutting off any route of escape.
Standing at the bow of the massive lead battleship in the center, his arms crossed over his crimson suit, was Admiral Sakazuki. Akainu. Magma dripped from his clenched fist, sizzling as it hit the wooden deck. His eyes were locked onto the gothic gates of Thriller Bark with absolute, unyielding hatred. Two Vice-Admirals stood tense and ready behind him.
Flanking the lead ship to the right was another massive galleon. Leaning casually against its railing, wearing a white suit and a sleep mask pushed up onto his forehead, was Admiral Kuzan. Aokiji. He exhaled a long breath that instantly turned into frost in the morning air, freezing the sea spray before it touched the deck.
On the port-side galleon stood a massive, silent figure holding a Bible. Bartholomew Kuma, the Warlord of the Sea. Behind him, lined up in terrifying, synchronized rows across his deck and the adjacent ships, were twenty identical cyborgs. The Pacifistas.
And commanding the rear vessel, wearing pristine white suits and strange, unsettling masks, were three agents of CP0, observing the formation coldly.
A golden Den Den Mushi in Sakazuki's hand crackled to life, connecting the fleet commanders.
"The Five Elders themselves have given the order," Sakazuki growled into the receiver, smoke rising from his shoulders. "The Straw Hats have made a mockery of Absolute Justice by burning The World Government flag and destroying Enies Lobby. We are to eradicate every pirate on this island."
"Arara," Kuzan's lazy sigh echoed through the speaker from the starboard ship. "To send two Admirals, a Warlord, and CP0 for one rookie crew... the old men at the top are really panicking, aren't they?"
Sakazuki's magma flared hotter, turning his wooden railing black in response to his colleague's nonchalance.
"Kill them all," Sakazuki ordered sharply over the comms, ignoring Kuzan. "But capture Straw Hat Luffy and Nico Robin alive. Leave no other survivors."
The Western Wall
On the exact opposite side of the massive island-ship, the thick stone wall surrounding Thriller Bark suddenly imploded.
KRA-KOOOOOOM!
A massive, metallic fist made entirely of scrap iron, swords, and cannons smashed through the gothic stone, creating a massive, gaping entrance.
Standing on the prow of his ship, laughing maniacally with a magnetic aura sparking around his red hair, was Eustass "Captain" Kid.
"Why use the gate when you can make your own door?!" Kid roared, his metal arm flexing. "I heard a Warlord lives here! We're gonna crush Gecko Moria and take his head to make a name for ourselves in this sea surpassing that Strawhat!"
Kid wasn't alone. Moored nearby were the ships of the Worst Generation, who made an alliance to takedown Warlord's treasure and power.
X Drake stood on his deck, his hand on his cutlass. Trafalgar Law leaned against the railing of the Polar Tang, a smirk on his face, resting his nodachi on his shoulder. Jewelry Bonney was aggressively eating a slice of pizza on her rigging. Scratchmen Apoo was playing a tune on his teeth, while Capone Gang Bege smoked a cigar, surrounded by his men.
On his own ship, Basil Hawkins sat quietly at a table, shuffling a deck of tarot cards. He flipped three cards over. He stared at the results.
"A fifty percent chance of death today," Hawkins murmured, his face impassive. "But... a fifty percent chance of unimaginable glory. The cards do not lie. The center of a great storm is here."
The Northern Wall
On the northern edge of Thriller Bark, another section of the wall was violently shattered, not by metal, but by a crushing, overwhelming wave of pure darkness.
The heavy stone collapsed, sucked into a localized black hole before being expelled into the ocean.
Stepping through the rubble onto the island was Marshall D. Teach. Blackbeard.
His eyes burned with greedy, unhinged ambition. Behind him walked Jesus Burgess, Van Augur, Doc Q riding his sick horse Stronger, and Lafitte. They, too, had no idea the Straw Hats were currently sleeping in the castle.
"Zehahaha!" Teach laughed, the dark aura of the Yami Yami no Mi swirling around his hands. "Since that Fire Fist brat slipped through my fingers, my plan to become a Warlord is ruined! But Moria's Shadow-Shadow fruit will make a fine addition to my crew's power and also open up another position in Warlord's!"
Teach looked up at the towering castle of Thriller Bark.
"Let's go hunt a Warlord, boys!"
Three massive factions. Admirals, Supernovas, and a traitorous pirate captain.
They had all converged on Thriller Bark at the exact same time. And sleeping blissfully inside the castle, completely unaware of the apocalyptic war waiting for them outside, were the Straw Hat Pirates.