The ship was not a pirate vessel. It was a machine of cold, white, and gray order. It moved with a silent, unnatural purpose, cutting through the glassy water of the Calm Belt with no sails and no visible propulsion, leaving a clean, sterile wake. The massive flag it flew, the one that had frozen Eris to her core, was a variation of the World Government's symbol, a simple, stark, blue cross on a white field. It was the flag of the Holy Knights.
It didn't drop anchor. It simply... stopped, its hull gliding to a perfect, silent halt against the white sand of the cove, the sheer, arrogant wrongness of its presence a violation of the island's peace.
A ramp descended from its side with a sharp, pneumatic hiss.
Aster... Flamey's voice in his head was a low, nervous, uncharacteristic growl. Aster, get behind your mother. Now. Do not... move.
Eris, her body trembling with a terror Aster had only seen once before, he shoved Teach into his arms. "Aster," she whispered, her voice a reedy, tight sound he barely recognized. "Take Teach. Stand behind me. And no. Matter. What. You. Do. Not. Move. Do you understand me?"
She didn't wait for an answer. She spun around, her own long, well-used spear appearing in her hand as if by magic. She planted the butt of it in the sand.
Aster did as he was told, his own small body a rigid, protective shield in front of his baby brother. Crimson Abyss was in his right hand, its black, Supreme Grade haft cool and reassuring.
Down the ramp they came.
First, a line of twenty Marines, their faces pale and set, their standard-issue rifles held at perfect attention. They fanned out, forming a wide, sterile semi-circle around the beach, their movements clipped and terrified. They weren't looking at Eris; they were looking back at the ramp, as if afraid of what was following them.
Then came the agents. Five of them, in immaculate, white, high-collared uniforms, the blue cross emblazoned on their shoulders. They were tall, impassive, and their auras were cold, sharp, and disciplined.
Finally, he walked out.
He was tall, unnaturally so, with a posture so rigid it seemed inhuman. He wore the bubble of a Celestial Dragon, but not the flowing, ridiculous robes. Under it, he wore the pristine, high-collared, white-and-gold uniform of a commander. His hair was his most striking feature: a pale, almost white-blonde, coiffed into a perfect, stiff, crescent-moon shape that framed his long, arrogant face. He walked with a slow, measured, owning pace, as if the sand of their hidden, sacred home was nothing but dirt on his boot.
He stopped thirty feet from Eris. The Marines and agents stood at a perfect, fearful distance behind him. He looked at Eris, at her spear, at her defiant, terrified stance.
Then, he smirked. It was a cold, thin, cruel expression.
"My, my, my... look what we have here," he said. His voice was high, cultured, and dripping with a condescension that scraped Aster's nerves raw. He made a faint 'tsk-tsk' sound. "The last living member of the legendary 'No Name Clan,' discovered at last. Hiding in a filthy patch of dirt with... a few offsprings."
He took a step closer, his gaze sweeping over her, from her wind-tangled hair to her bare feet.
"Even after all these years, Eris," he purred, "you are still... quite beautiful. Wasted. Utterly wasted."
Eris didn't speak. Her knuckles were white on her spear. Her mind was a whirlwind. Aster could feel it through his Observation Haki: a thousand frantic, desperate simulations, a thousand escape plans, all running at once. And every single one of them... failed.
They ended with her dead. They ended with Teach dead. They ended with him dead. The man in front of them was not an option. He was an end.
Aster, Flamey's voice was a dead, terrified whisper, a tone Aster had never heard. That... that is not a normal man. He is not as strong as your father, but he is strong. Do not... move.
"Garling," Eris finally said, her voice a low, hateful, trembling thing. "I see the Holy Knights let you out of your cage. Or did you finally climb to the top of it?"
The man, Garling, let out a high, thin laugh. "Always so sharp, my dear. 'Commander-in-Chief,' if you must know. It took some time, but I finally have the... authority... to clean up old, loose ends."
His gaze sharpened, his smile vanishing. "I still cannot believe you chose that... that filth... over me. Over us. You, with your blood, your... your purity. You chose to throw it all away on a 'D.' A savage, chaotic, common monster like Rocks."
He shook his head in disgust. "Shame. Such a shame."
The instant the insult left his lips, Aster moved.
It wasn't a thought. It was a reflex. His father's blood, his father's name, had been spat like dirt.
"You--" Aster started, stepping out from behind his mother, Crimson Abyss lifting.
NO!
Flamey's mental shriek was so violent, so absolute, that it was like a physical blow, staggering Aster in his tracks. DON'T! ASTER, STAND DOWN! THAT MAN WILL SLICE YOU IN HALF BEFORE YOU CAN EVEN THINK OF SOUL HEAT! HE WILL KILL YOU! YOU ARE AN INSECT TO HIM! STAND! DOWN!
Aster froze, his small body vibrating with a rage he couldn't unleash, the sheer, primal terror coming from his spiritual partner a cold dousing of water on his hot, protective fury.
Garling's cold gaze drifted from Eris to the small, shaking, scarred child who had just dared to step forward. He looked at the white streak in Aster's black hair. He looked at the Supreme Grade axe, a weapon he clearly recognized, held in a perfect, practiced, four-year-old's grip. He looked at the golden eyes, blazing with Xebec's own defiant fire.
His lip curled in a sneer of pure, undiluted disgust.
"So this is it," Garling said, his voice laced with contempt. "The half-breed spawn of that monster. What a... disappointment."
He then looked past Aster, at the small, dark-haired baby hiding behind his brother's legs. "And... another one. He was certainly... productive."
Garling let out a long, theatrical sigh. He turned his gaze back to Eris, his smile returning, as if he were discussing a minor, distasteful bit of housekeeping.
"But, no harm done," he said, waving a dismissive hand. "His... stain... on your bloodline can be... cleansed. The children will be re-educated, of course. Taught their proper place." He paused, his gaze lingering on Eris's face, his tone becoming a possessive, taunting purr.
"As for you... I've moved on, my dear. After you so rudely declined my... generous offer... all those years ago. It took time, but I have finally found a new one. Someone truly... worthy... to be my wife."
He said it as a taunt. A final, twisting knife. You have been replaced.
This guy... Flamey growled, his fear being eclipsed by a deep, fiery hatred. ...is a real piece of work. I am going to enjoy burning him, one day. BUT NOT TODAY. STAY. STILL.
Garling straightened his pristine white uniform, his gaze becoming cold and official. The time for taunting was over.
"Well," he said, "let's not get sidetracked. This island has been a thorn in the World Government's side for too long. A blind spot. A shadow. And now... we know why."
He looked at Eris, his voice losing all its false charm, becoming the flat, cold, absolute command of a Celestial Dragon.
"Eris of the 'No Name Clan.' By the supreme authority of the Five Elders and as Commander-in-Chief of the Holy Knights, you are to stand down. You will surrender your children, your weapons, and yourself into my custody. Immediately."
He pointed a white-gloved finger at the ramp of the ship. "You will go sit in the ship. Quietly."
This was it. The moment.
Aster could feel his mother's aura. The thousand simulations had stopped. The frantic, terrified calculations had ceased. All that was left was a vast, cold, empty despair.
She could fight. She could unleash her 'Voice,' her Haki, her spear. She could probably kill every Marine and every agent on this beach.
But she could not kill him.
Not Garling. Not while holding a baby. Not while protecting a four-year-old. He was, as Flamey had said, a monster on the level of his father. And he was a cold monster.
If she fought, she would die. And if she died, Aster and Teach would die. Horribly.
But if she surrendered... they might live. They might be "re-educated." They might be "cleansed." But they would be alive.
Aster watched, his heart pounding, as his mother, his protector, his indomitable, strong, perfect mother... bowed.
Her spear, her last line of defense, slipped from her hand, its point digging uselessly into the white sand. She pulled Teach tight to her chest, her other hand finding Aster's shoulder, her grip a desperate, crushing, apologizing vice.
"Yes," Eris whispered, her voice a dead, broken thing. "I... we will... go quietly."
Garling's thin, cruel smile returned. He had won.
"Excellent," he said. "See? So much more... civilized... than your pirate brute."
He turned, his white uniform immaculate. "Agents. Escort them. The children... and her. She is... precious cargo."
---xxxx---
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