The Grand Line, Whiskey Peak.
In the early days of the Great Pirate Era, this had been the first island the Straw Hat Pirates set foot on after entering the Grand Line. On the surface, it was a town that warmly welcomed pirates. In truth, it was a nest of bounty hunters.
The more pirates who arrived, the livelier and richer the town became.
As dusk settled, Whiskey Peak came alive. Bonfires were lit across plazas, fireworks bloomed in the sky, and music thundered through the streets. Dancers in revealing outfits swayed under lantern light, laughter and drunken cheers echoing between buildings carved from towering cacti shaped like mountains.
Amid the crimson glow of sunset, a streak of golden lightning cut across the horizon.
Lucien hovered high above the island, looking down with cold indifference. His amethyst eyes reflected the celebration below, yet there was no warmth in them. He placed a cigarette between his lips and lit it, exhaling a thin stream of smoke before descending slowly toward the town.
He had come for one man.
A legend.
A pirate once spoken of in the same breath as Gol D. Roger, Whitebeard, and the Golden Lion.
Redfield.
Lucien passed over the lively streets, ignoring the music and bodies pressed together in drunken excitement. His information network now spread across the seas. The Yonko, the former Seven Warlords, the underground brokers, all were riddled with informants loyal to the Savior Group.
He landed lightly atop an open air tavern.
There, seated calmly at a table with a glass of red wine in hand, was Redfield.
The pirate had already sensed him the moment he entered the island.
"Isn't this the so called Savior stirring up the seas lately?" Redfield swirled the wine in his glass, emerald red eyes calm and unreadable. "The era Roger began truly does produce interesting monsters."
Lucien pulled out a chair and sat opposite him without asking permission.
"Waiter, a coffee."
He snapped his fingers casually, not even acknowledging Redfield's words at first.
Then he studied the man before him.
Tall and thin. White hair braided into two long strands resting over his shoulders. A plum red shirt tucked into blood red trousers. Black leather shoes trimmed in gold. Draped over him was a wide crimson cloak. A blue rose rested against his chest. A slender black umbrella with a bat shaped handle leaned against his chair.
His crimson eyebrows gave him a sinister elegance.
At his feet, a small tanuki calmly ate ice cream, completely unfazed.
Lucien turned his gaze toward the fireworks bursting over the town.
"Are you interested in working for me?"
The question was simple.
Redfield laughed softly.
"Roger invited me. Whitebeard invited me. Even Shiki did. None of them were qualified." His eyes sharpened. "Do you believe you are?"
Boom.
The tavern exploded.
The shockwave obliterated the rooftop and tore through the entire building. Patrons were thrown screaming into the night sky as the blast expanded down the street, shattering windows and collapsing walls.
Lucien's crystal hardened leg was blocked by Redfield's elbow. A fan shaped shockwave erupted behind Redfield, his cloak whipping violently.
The sky detonated as both figures shot upward like colliding meteors.
Redfield gripped his black umbrella tightly. Veins bulged along his arm as blood vessels throbbed beneath the skin. Lucien's solid crystal fist, wrapped in intense heat and steam, met the umbrella head on.
The impact generated a mushroom shaped shockwave that rolled across the island.
Whiskey Peak began to crumble.
They did not test each other.
They fought at full strength from the start.
The air between them fractured as Haoshoku Haki crackled outward in black red lightning, splitting clouds and stirring the sea into towering waves.
Redfield twisted his body and drove a side kick into Lucien's torso while still locking his fist in place.
Another explosion.
Both vanished from above the island, tearing across the sky so fast the sea below split open into deep trenches wherever their pressure passed.
They crashed down upon a cluster of barren islands far from civilization.
The ground shattered instantly.
Afterimages clashed at the center of continuous explosions. Air pressure rings expanded outward in violent pulses. Black red lightning spread like a web, pulverizing hills and carving canyons in seconds.
Lucien did not summon his wolf tooth club.
He did not take out his frying pan.
He relied purely on his body.
Flames burned along his limbs, golden lightning weaving through the fire.
After several brutal exchanges, Lucien understood Redfield's level.
Comparable to Whitebeard in raw combat.
If Redfield had already consumed the Mythical Zoan Vampire Fruit as rumored, his speed and recovery might even surpass Whitebeard's.
"It seems," Lucien said flatly, flames curling around his shoulders, "you cannot push me to the edge of death."
There was faint disappointment in his tone.
Redfield smiled thinly.
"Interesting."
He raised his umbrella and unleashed a colossal slash that split the heavens, then vanished like a phantom.
Lucien's amethyst eyes glowed faintly red.
Future Sight activated.
He sidestepped the slash with minimal movement and disappeared as well.
A thousand meters away, their auras collided again. Fist met umbrella in a burst of destructive force.
They reappeared on the ground, knees smashing together like colliding comets. The impact uprooted the earth's crust, triggering an overwhelming natural disaster.
Mountains collapsed. The land split open.
Redfield's umbrella turned purplish red under heavy Armament Haki. He brought it down in a devastating arc. Lucien shifted slightly, allowing the ten thousand meter slash to graze past him.
Everything behind him was cut in half.
The sea in the distance parted briefly before swallowing the damage.
Redfield's left hand, coated in hardened Haki, formed a piercing strike aimed at Lucien's head.
Lucien raised his solid crystal arm as a shield.
Thunder roared.
Massive chunks of earth were blasted into the sky like artillery shells.
They reappeared mid air.
Lucien's kick tore through the atmosphere, but Redfield had already shifted position. In response, Lucien vanished preemptively.
A horizontal slash sliced through the battlefield, flattening what remained of the mountains and cutting the sky itself before fading into the horizon.
Lucien appeared behind Redfield and drove a punch forward.
The pale red afterimage vanished, replaced by cascading destruction as the ground imploded.
They moved at extreme speed, every collision reshaping the landscape. Thousand meter slashes carved through smoke filled skies. Lightning and flame consumed everything they touched.
Lucien stomped downward.
The force resembled a falling mountain.
A shockwave ripped through the island, forming a bottomless abyss that extended all the way to the sea. Seawater surged inward, filling the crater and forming a massive lake in seconds.
Redfield landed roughly, breathing heavily. He wiped blood from the corner of his mouth. Broken ribs shifted audibly back into place.
He had taken a direct kick earlier. Without it, he might not have landed even a single clean strike.
The longer the battle continued, the clearer it became.
Lucien was reading him.
Every movement. Every weakness.
Redfield felt stripped bare.
His ghostlike speed, once enough to overwhelm most opponents, barely allowed him to land blows. Worse, Lucien had opportunities to counter decisively and end the fight.
He chose not to.
He was using him.
As a whetstone.
Redfield's eyes darkened with fury.
Not Roger.
Not Whitebeard.
Not even Shiki had ever humiliated him like this.
At first he dismissed the feeling.
Now it was undeniable.
Lucien had too much room to maneuver, too much control.
This was not an even battle.
It was a calculated test.
For a man as proud as Redfield, that realization burned more than any wound.