Fisher Tiger was not a fool. His plan was sound: scale the Red Line under cover of darkness, hit the barracks, and create enough carnage to spark a riot among the slaves. His mission was to send a message of defiance.
But as the Sun Pirates quietly navigated their ship toward the base of the Red Line, the Holy Land of Mariejoa began to scream.
It wasn't the sound of an ambush. It was the sound of systemic failure.
Lights, which should have been burning brightly on the massive cliff, flickered and died, only to flare up again in erratic, chaotic bursts. The massive, heavy artillery batteries meant to guard the sea emitted deep, sickening metallic groans before several columns of smoke erupted from them simultaneously, signaling catastrophic, internal failure.
"What in the hell is that?" exclaimed Jinbe, Tiger's first mate, his massive brow furrowed in confusion.
Tiger, his body scarred from years of servitude, stared up at the impossible chaos. This wasn't a pirate attack; it was a ghost storm. He reached up and felt the distinct chill of the brine that was inexplicably streaming down parts of the Red Line's façade, bubbling up from the heights.
"An anomaly," Tiger whispered, a faint, disbelieving smile touching his lips. "An impossible gift."
His stealth operation had just become a full-scale invasion opportunity. The World Government wasn't prepared for an attack; they were prepared for a disaster.
Tiger raised his sword high, the chaos fueling a defiant roar that echoed up the Red Line. "The gods themselves have opened the path for us! We move now! Not for a few, but for every soul trapped in that fortress!"
The Sun Pirates scaled the Red Line, moving through corridors where Marine soldiers were running blindly, desperately trying to fix communication gear fused into useless metal, or battling noxious gas erupting from broken sewage lines. The path to the slave quarters was wide open.
Benjamin, now shadowed in the upper atmosphere, used his Limited Chronal Awareness to follow Tiger's rapid, successful trajectory. The Marine forces were too scattered, too confused.
But history still held a trap.
Benjamin watched a critical segment of the future: Tiger, in the heat of battle, taking a bullet from a hidden CP agent—a wound that would lead to his eventual martyrdom.
The Chronos-Child knew this was his moment. He deconstructed his body, using his power to instantly appear beside the battle, unnoticed. The bullet was already airborne.
Benjamin raised his hand. The projectile instantly disintegrated into fine dust before it could graze Tiger's scales. The CP agent, confused, was about to fire again when Benjamin subtly used Psionic Influence to flood the agent's mind with an irresistible urge to panic and retreat.
Fisher Tiger, stunned by the bullet's impossible disappearance, paused, looking around wildly. He saw only a small child standing still in the chaos, his eyes unnaturally blue.
Benjamin offered no explanation. He simply executed his most critical function: he touched Tiger's armored arm and used Advanced Self-Manipulation to pour healing energy into the Fish-Man, knitting together the internal stress and old, unhealed wounds that would have weakened him later.
He vanished before Tiger could speak.
[Task Complete. The future trajectory has been significantly altered. Template Progress: 3%.]
Benjamin was now stronger. Fisher Tiger was alive and leading a full-scale revolt fueled by an impossible, beautiful chaos. The Chronos-Child's war had begun.