Varin was dragged out of his cell sometime near noon the next morning by one of CP9's agents. The man was large, muscled in a way that came from years of deliberate training. He didn't bother with words, just seized Varin by the collar and hauled him down the corridor.
"Move it," the agent said. "Spandam wants you topside before the pirates get further."
Varin didn't resist. The corridor opened into stairs that descended and twisted, passages he'd never seen. The fortress was larger than he'd realized, designed so prisoners never learned the layout. They emerged onto a rampart that stretched wide to open sky, and the moment salt air hit his face, Varin understood the situation had changed.
The fortress was under assault. Cannon fire echoed across the water. Smoke rose from multiple sections of Enies Lobby's outer defenses. The Straw Hats had arrived with firepower that didn't care about subtlety.
CP9 members were positioned around the rampart with clear tactical spacing. Other agents Varin didn't recognize were scattered across the rampart, each one carrying the bearing of someone trained to kill.
"What's the status on the south tower?" a woman asked. Her accent was precise and clipped, different from the other agents. She didn't wait for the answer before continuing. "Kumadori's handling it, I assume?"
"Enjoying himself," another agent replied. He was tall, his hair standing up in an unusual pattern. "Says the pirates are entertaining."
"Of course he is," the woman said. "Jabra's supposed to coordinate the east side, but he's probably still playing around with whoever showed up first."
Varin was forced to his knees at the rampart's edge. The drop was directly below him. Around them, the sounds of the Straw Hats' assault grew louder. Someone was shouting from below, words barely audible over the distance and chaos.
"We're coming up the east tower!"
"That's Franky," someone muttered. "That cyborg's more trouble than the captain."
An execution platform had been arranged. An older CP9 agent stepped forward with a sword. No ceremony. Just the mechanics of putting a prisoner to death.
Varin heard footsteps thundering across stone before the blade could move.
"VARIN!!! ROBIN!!!" Luffy's voice cut through everything. Somewhere on the island below, the Straw Hats were fighting their way up.
"Get those explosives into position," the woman with the clipped accent said. "If they reach the upper levels, we collapse the structure. Spandam wants them killed. Starting with the blood traitor right here."
The executioner raised his sword just as Luffy came into view.
The Straw Hat captain's eyes went wide. He was moving before conscious thought caught up, his body already accelerating toward the rampart with the kind of speed that only came from a captain who'd just located a missing crew member about to be executed. His arm was already extending, already reaching, already trying to span a distance that was too far to cross in time.
"VARIN!" Luffy roared.
The executioner's blade came up higher, angling downward toward Varin's neck with the precision of someone who'd done this countless times before. Varin didn't flinch. Didn't resist. Just knelt there at the edge of the rampart with the ocean far below him, waiting for the blade to fall.
Luffy's hand was still three feet short of reaching him. The distance was impossible. The timing was impossible.
Then another voice cut across the rampart. "That's enough." Leif stepped forward. His blade intercepted the executioner's strike with perfect timing. Steel sang against steel. The other CP9 agents froze.
"Commander Leif—" the executioner began.
"Stand down," Leif said. "A Styrnvald is not to be executed without family consent. That's standing law. Older than any World Government decree."
Spandam's voice came from somewhere behind them, shrill and indignant. "Now listen here, Commander, I'm in charge of this operation, and I've ordered—"
"You've ordered something outside your authority," Leif interrupted flatly. "You can discuss it after this prisoner is secured. Or you can take it up with Astrid when she arrives."
The mention of Astrid's made Spandam step back; he sputtered a few times before falling silent.
"Take him to the arena near the docks," Leif ordered. "I'll handle him myself from here."
Two Marines hauled Varin up from where he knelt at the rampart's edge. They gripped his arms with the kind of casual brutality that came from handling prisoners daily. The seastone cuffs remained heavy on his wrists as they began leading him away from the rampart and toward the interior passages.
Leif stopped for a moment. He turned back toward his fellow CP9 agents, his expression completely neutral.
"I trust you won't need me to handle some pirate rabble," Leif said. His voice was flat, devoid of inflection or humor. "Even if they are the ones who convinced my brother to turn from his punishment and Marines."
One nodded. "We can manage the assault. Your presence isn't required for routine defense."
"Good," Leif said simply. He didn't wait for further confirmation. He just turned and followed after Varin and the Marines who were pulling him deeper into the fortress.
The descent through the passages was silent except for the sound of boots on stone. The Marines moved with practiced efficiency, clearly knowing the route to the arena without needing direction. Leif followed behind them at a distance that suggested he wasn't interested in conversation or explanation. Behind them, the sounds of the battle raged on. Explosions echoed through the fortress periodically, and at one point the entire structure shook hard enough that dust rained down from the ceiling.
"Damn pirates," one of the Marines muttered. "They're hitting harder than expected."
"Commander Spandam said they'd be contained," the other Marine replied. His voice carried doubt. "I mean, who would be stupid enough to attack a Cipher Pol base?"
"Morons with hearts bigger than fists," Varin muttered.
The Marines exchanged glances. One of them opened his mouth as if to say something, then apparently decided against it. They hauled Varin to his feet and continued their escort through the passages, moving toward a different route than Varin had anticipated. The fortress seemed to shift around them, the corridors widening as they moved toward what felt like a different section entirely.
When they emerged, it was into open air.
The arena sat on a platform jutting out from the back end of Enies Lobby, overlooking the ocean and the docks far below. It wasn't a massive structure as Varin had expected. It was carved into the stone of the cliff face itself, a flat expanse of rock marked by combat. The sky was visible above, the fortress walls rising behind and to the sides, but the arena itself was open to the elements. The wind carried salt spray and the sounds of the assault happening on the other side of the fortress.
Leif followed them out onto the platform, his expression unchanged by the shift from interior passages to open air. He gestured for the Marines to release Varin, and they complied without question, stepping back toward the passage they'd emerged from.
The Marines went to stand at the wall that formed the barrier between the arena platform and the passage entrance. That was when Varin noticed Freyida.
The small girl was huddled against the stone wall, her silver hair catching the wind. She was clearly shaken, her eyes red from crying, her entire frame tense with the kind of fear that came from not understanding what was about to happen but understanding enough to know it wasn't good. She clutched something in her small hands, a doll or a toy of some kind, and she watched Varin with an expression that was caught between terror and fascination.
Varin stood up slowly, the seastone cuffs rattling against each other as he straightened to his full height. He looked at Leif, then at Freyida, then back at Leif again.
"Bringing a girl to an execution?" Varin laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Not that it's odd for us, but here I was thinking this was a private affair."
"She needs to see it," Leif said with a shallow laugh that matched the flatness of his tone.
"Not denying the execution bit, though, aye?" Varin said. His voice was quiet now, all the earlier bitterness stripped away. He was looking at Freyida as he spoke. "Just making sure I understand what's happening here."
Leif moved closer to his daughter and placed a hand on her head, his touch gentle despite the gravity of the moment. "This is part of being a Styrnvald," he said to her quietly. "Watching. Understanding. Learning what family means when it comes down to the fundamental things."
Freyida's lower lip trembled. "Daddy, is Uncle Varin going to die?"
The question hung in the air between them all. Leif didn't answer immediately. He just looked at his brother, and in that look was everything that didn't need to be said out loud.
Varin turned away from them both and looked out toward the ocean. The wind was strong here, carrying the salt spray up from the water far below. Behind them, the fortress continued to shake from the Straw Hats' assault. Somewhere in those passages they'd just come from, his crew was fighting their way through Marines and CP9 agents, pushing forward with the kind of relentless determination that only came when you were trying to save someone.
"Aye," Varin said finally, his voice barely audible over the wind. "That's the shape of it, isn't it? Come all this way, through all of this, and it ends the same way it was always going to end."
"With your death," Leif finished. His eyes were fixed on his brother's profile as Varin stared out at the ocean. "I didn't take you for a poet, brother, but I suppose I don't exactly know who you are anymore. We've spent quite a few years apart."
Varin turned back to face him. There was nothing in his expression now except acceptance. "No," he said simply. "You don't. And I don't know who you became either. Suppose we're both strangers now."
Leif moved toward the center of the arena platform. He planted his feet firmly on the stone, claiming the space with an almost eerie calm. "Then we do this the old way," he said. His voice carried across the platform, addressing not just Varin but the Marines and his daughter as well. "A holmgang. Family settles what needs settling. No government authority, no Marine protocol. Just the old law, our law."
He gestured toward the two Marines who'd escorted Varin. They straightened slightly, clearly uncertain about what was being asked of them but willing to comply.
"You two will witness," Leif said flatly. "You'll observe, and you'll report to Spandam that a family matter was concluded according to standing law. You'll tell him that Marine protocol was suspended for the duration of this duel, and that if he has any issues with my actions, he may take it up with my grandfather…of course, that's if he gets that far ."
The Marines exchanged a glance but nodded. One of them stepped forward slightly, positioning himself where he could see both combatants clearly. The other remained closer to the passage, ready to leave but waiting for further instruction.
Leif looked down at his daughter as he knelt beside her and met her eyes directly. "Freyida," he said quietly, "you're going to watch this. This is what it means to be a Styrnvald. This is what family law looks like when everything else falls away."
Freyida's hands gripped her toy tighter. Tears were still streaming down her face, but she nodded slowly, clearly not understanding fully but understanding enough to know her father needed her to be present for this.
Leif straightened and moved back to the center of the platform. He drew his sword with a smooth motion, the steel catching the light of the afternoon sun. Behind him, the fortress continued to shake as the Straw Hats' assault intensified. The sounds of cannon fire and explosions were constant now, a background rhythm to everything happening on this open platform.
"Before we begin," Leif said, "do you have anything you want to say? Any words?"
"Aye," Varin laughed even as he straightened. His voice carried across the platform with surprising clarity. "We die as we lived. Even if the family hates me, I hope the Allfather still accepts me."
Leif was quiet for a moment. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a key and tossed it to him without ceremony. "Take them off. A Styrnvald faces death as they lived, not bound by chains."
Varin picked up the key and worked at the seastone cuffs methodically, listening to the click of each lock releasing. The weight lifted from his wrists as the final cuff fell away, and for the first time in days, he felt the full return of his Devil Fruit power flowing back through his body. It was intoxicating and terrifying in equal measure, that surge of strength after forced powerlessness.
He set the cuffs on the ground, shifted to his wolf form, and lunged without delay. His body responded to the return of his power with eagerness that made his blood pump.
Leif closed the distance between them with measured steps, meeting Varin's lunge head-on. Varin's claws aimed at his brother's chest. It was a direct strike, relying on speed that came with his Zoan form. His claws cut through the air with precision, and for a moment it looked like he'd found an opening.
Only for Leif to sidestep, barely more than a shift of his weight if Varin was honest, and Varin's claws passed harmlessly through space. His brother responded immediately, using the momentum of Varin's missed strike to position himself for a counterattack. His blade came up, aiming for Varin's midsection as he moved past.
Varin twisted, using his greater flexibility to avoid the worst of the strike. The blade caught his back leg, tearing through muscle and drawing blood. The wound burned, but it was far from what it could have been
They exchanged positions, Varin moving to maintain distance while Leif advanced steadily. The wind continued to whip around them, carrying the salt spray higher now as if the ocean itself was responding to the violence unfolding on the platform. Behind them, the fortress continued to shake as the Straw Hats' assault intensified somewhere deeper within Enies Lobby's structure.
Varin attacked again, this time from a different angle. He swept low, trying to take Leif's legs out from under him. But his brother simply stepped back, maintaining the distance between them, and Varin could see the calculation happening behind Leif's eyes. His brother was reading him, learning his patterns, understanding how he moved and where he was likely to strike next.
Then Leif's body began to shift. In a manner all too similar to Varin's own transformation. His skin began to gray and wither, until he looked downright ancient. "Draugr," Varin muttered to himself, an annoying fruit to fight, though one could argue any devil fruit was annoying to fight.
Leif didn't respond with words, instead choosing to move next; he was faster. That was the first thing Varin realized, as his brother's blade came around in a strike that Varin barely managed to block with his claws, an awkward move in his wolf form. The force behind it sent him backward across the stone before he twisted and landed midair.
The Marines watching shifted slightly, clearly seeing the tide of the battle turning. Freyida's grip on her toy tightened until her small knuckles went white.
Leif pressed forward, not giving Varin time to recover or reposition properly. The blade came down in a vertical strike aimed at Varin's shoulder, and he twisted away from it, using his agility to avoid the worst of the impact. But Leif was learning his patterns already, having already planned a follow-up that shaved off more of Varin's fur.
Varin launched a counterattack, driving his claws toward Leif's midsection. For a moment, he thought he'd found an opening; his claws bit into flesh, driving deep into muscle and tissue with enough force that should have caused significant damage.
Very little happened. The wound didn't bleed, nor did it seem to register as an injury at all. Varin's claws ripped into his brother's flesh, but it didn't bleed, nor did the flesh part like it should have. The only indication he had actually done damage was his brother's grimace.
Varin growled in annoyance as the memories returned to him. The Draugr fruit may not seem as special as something like his own, or the Fafnir fruit, but it was still unique in its own sense. It only had one transformation, or at least only one Varin knew of, but its one transformation made it undead, or nearly undead. It didn't bleed much, and it could sustain a level of damage that was unheard of, even for Zoans. On top of the added fact that it could increase its size at will.
Leif used that moment to prove Varin's thoughts, his frame expanding as he grew taller, his presence becoming more imposing. The arena seemed to shrink around him as he approached fifteen feet tall.
Leif used that moment to prove Varin's thoughts, his frame expanding as he grew taller, his presence becoming more imposing. The arena seemed to shrink around him as he approached fifteen feet tall. His hybrid form had reached a scale that made Varin look small by comparison, a predator that had simply decided to become larger than its prey.
Leif brought his blade down in a horizontal arc. Varin rolled backward to avoid it, but the sheer reach of the sword meant he had to keep moving, keep retreating. The blade carved through the stone where he'd been standing moments before, leaving a gash in the ancient rock that was a foot deep.
Varin launched himself forward anyway, trying to get inside Leif's reach where the size advantage meant less. His claws came up, aiming for his brother's face, for anything vital that he could exploit. But Leif simply shifted his weight and caught Varin's arm with his free hand. The grip was impossible to break. Leif's fingers closed around Varin's wrist and lifted him off the ground as if he weighed nothing.
Varin snarled and thrashed, his other claws raking across Leif's arm. The wounds sealed themselves almost immediately. He was being held there, suspended, unable to generate any real leverage or force.
"It's dishonorable to speak ill of a warrior in the middle of combat," Leif said. His voice was quiet, almost conversational despite the violence of what he was doing. "But brother, do you still view yourself as a warrior?"
He threw Varin against the far wall. The wolf's body hit the stone hard enough to crack it, a canine whimper escaping his throat as the impact drove the air from his lungs. Cracks spider-webbed outward from where his body had impacted, ancient stone splitting under the force of the throw.
Varin pushed himself up slowly, his movements labored now. Blood ran down his face from a gash above his eye. His breathing was ragged, each breath coming with visible effort.
Leif walked closer, his massive form casting a shadow across the arena platform. He wasn't even moving fast, wasn't even trying anymore. He was simply walking. "I haven't even had to use the Six Powers, brother," he said. "Right now, you're nothing but common pirate trash. I haven't needed a single technique beyond what the Draugr form gives me naturally."
Leif stopped a few feet away from Varin, his sword held loosely at his side. The blade was barely scratched despite the constant contact with stone and claw.
"If I didn't know better, I'd say you simply had the Wolf Fruit, not Fenrir," Leif continued. His tone wasn't cruel. It was worse than that. It was factual. "Fenrir who devoured gods. Fenrir who swallowed the sun and the moon. But the Wolf-Wolf Fruit belongs to one of my own upstairs, and even he has more control over something he ate yesterday than the fruit you've lived with for years."
Leif crouched before Varin's prone form. The wolf lay on the stone, breathing hard, muscles trembling with exhaustion. His mind was fracturing under the weight of what was happening, doubts from the day before coming back in radiating waves that matched the pain radiating through his body.
"I'm certain, brother, I'm the strongest opponent you've faced," Leif said. "A Styrnvald knows not to underestimate. A Styrnvald knows not to gamble on luck. I doubt I need to go on."
A massive hand came down and picked Varin up by his scruff. The wolf snarled and thrashed, but Leif lifted him effortlessly, holding him suspended as he straightened to his full height. Now Varin could see Leif's eyes clearly, despite everything his brother had done. There was no animosity there. No pity either. It was like looking at a teacher during a particularly hard lesson, his eyes filled with something between curiosity and hope.
Varin slashed again, his claws raking across Leif's arm. He twisted, trying to snap at his brother's hands, but it was to no avail. Leif's strength allowed him to maneuver and hold Varin like a helpless kitten, completely indifferent to the attacks.
One of the Marines watching shifted uncomfortably. "Should we intervene, sir?"
"No," Leif replied without looking at him. "This is family law. This is how it must be."
"Every fruit is chosen by the user's own personality," Leif said to Varin directly. "Do you remember that lesson, brother?" He didn't wait for an answer. "We didn't know what to expect when you were chosen by the Devourer," Leif continued. "And it seems, even you don't know yet. So allow me to give you some last advice, as your kin."
Leif's massive frame began to shift and shrink. His Draugr form was receding, pulling back into a more human shape. As he changed, his grip on Varin's scruff loosened, and he dropped his brother to the stone platform.
Varin hit hard. He tried to shift back to his human form, his body reverting on its own as if the effort of maintaining the wolf was simply too much now. When he was human again, when he could feel his actual body without the enhancement of the Fenrir fruit, the full weight of the damage became apparent.
His ribs screamed. Each breath was agony. Most of them were broken, definitely cracked at minimum. His side was a mass of bruising, deep purple and black spreading across his entire flank. When he tried to move, something in his chest shifted wrong, and he realized at least one of his organs had been crushed or at least heavily bruised.
The other marine took a step forward. "Commander, he's severely injured. While I'm not opposed, wasn't his execution supposed to be handled by others in your family?
"Stand down," Leif said flatly. "He's not dead yet. Not while there's still breath in him."
Leif stood over Varin now, human-sized but still towering, still overwhelming. His expression was completely neutral.
"Stop holding back your rage," Leif said. His voice was quiet but carried absolute clarity. "The Devourer is known for his deeds, but often not for what he truly is. Jormungandr represents the world, Hel represents death, but Fenrir represents rage. Pure, primal, unfiltered rage. Stop suppressing your anger, brother. Stop acting like you're civil. Even when we were kids, you were always rougher and tougher than the rest. Even the older kids. So stop acting like you're a normal person."
Varin lay on the stone, breathing in short, painful gasps. Blood was running down his face and pooling beneath him. He looked up at his brother with eyes that held something raw and breaking.
"The fruit chose you for a reason," Leif said. "Because you have something in you that most people suppress their entire lives. You have the capacity to be something other than what society tells you to be. And instead of embracing that, you've been fighting it every single day since you ate it."
Leif raised his sword again. The blade caught the light of the afternoon sun.
"So this is your choice, brother. Stay broken and die like this, or remember what you actually are."