One Piece: From Marine to Legend

Choosing to elaborate personally, he went to the Chief Warden's office.

"Director, I heard that little Sadi was attacked by the Jailer Beasts!"

"Gulu—"

"I deeply regret to inform you of this but..."

"Puff—"

"But the prison operations cannot stop. I am willing to take on more dangerous tasks. Let me manage the Jailer Beasts!"

"Crackle—"

The repeated noises sent a sharp pulse of irritation through Storm's head.

"Director! Stop that! I'm getting scared!"

Crash!

A loud, gurgling sound echoed through the room.

A moment later, Magellan, his body radiating a faint poisonous aura, walked out of the toilet, his expression pained.

"I'm so sorry," he said, rubbing his stomach regretfully. "I had a tough battle this time… diarrhea again."

Storm's eye twitched.

Magellan sighed. "I think the chicken soup I had this morning gave me food poisoning..."

Didn't you just say it was 'not too salty, not too bland, and tasted great'?

The corner of Storm's mouth twitched at the contradiction.

"Director, if poisoned chicken soup doesn't sit well with you, maybe you shouldn't drink it," Storm advised, his tone completely serious.

"Being a picky eater isn't so bad."

"Hahaha, but that's the thing!" Magellan laughed, waving his hand dismissively. "As a 'Poison Human', my favorite foods are those poisonous!"

Storm was at a loss for words.

If he were to poison Magellan... would it count as feeding him or murdering him?

Magellan, seemingly unaware of Storm's thoughts, continued, "Although I shouldn't say this, isn't there an old saying… 'fight poison with poison'?"

"You have diarrhea because you can't fight poison with poison!" Storm retorted, unable to hold back his frustration. "That logic is as ridiculous as a cobra dying from its own venom!"

Magellan blinked in surprise. "Storm, since when did you become so sharp-tongued?" He narrowed his eyes. "Could it be that you've been influenced by Hannyabal?"

"I—"

Storm almost answered, but realizing the conversation was veering off track, he quickly redirected it.

"Director! I want a promotion!"

Magellan sighed deeply, rubbing his stomach again.

"Sure enough… Hannyabal's ambition is rubbing off on you." He shook his head. "It's only been a week, ah..."

This time, without waiting for Domino's intervention, Storm took a few steps back on his own—just in time to avoid another wave of Magellan's toxic breath.

He had no intention of inhaling that poisonous gas!

Magellan, noticing Storm's swift reaction, chuckled. "You're much smarter than Hannibal."

"Director, about Sadi—"

"I know," Magellan nodded, his expression turning serious.

The lighthearted banter disappeared as the weight of responsibility returned.

Storm had only been at Impel Down for a week, but even he could see the major issue plaguing the prison:

A severe lack of manpower.

Impel Down housed some of the most notorious criminals in the world. Ruthless, lawless individuals who required constant supervision.

Magellan, with his immense strength and the power of his Devil Fruit, could easily suppress the entire prison. In fact, within the enclosed environment of Impel Down, his poison was even deadlier than usual.

But there was a problem.

Even he wasn't immune to his own poison.

Magellan, age forty-one, lived in the Burning Hell on the fourth level of Impel Down.

To prevent himself from succumbing to his own toxicity, he had to spend ten hours a day dealing with severe diarrhea.

That left him with less than four working hours per day—after accounting for meals and sleep.

Because of this, Impel Down relied heavily on its jailers.

In the past, the deputy director, Shiryu of the Rain, had been an effective counterpart to Magellan. Together, they had been known as the "Iron Wall" of Impel Down.

But recently… Shiryu had changed.

Magellan had caught him murdering prisoners far too many times.

Yes, many of them were on death row, but that did not give Shiryu the right to kill them at will.

Despite repeated warnings, Shiryu refused to stop.

The warden was always in the toilet.

While the deputy warden was always killing prisoners.

And so, the daily management of the prison fell entirely on the head jailers and the lower-ranking guards.

But now, Sadi had been injured by the Jailer Beasts.

Or rather, the Jailer Beasts 'rebelled' against her was the more accurate phrase.

While attempting to 'discipline' the Jailer Beasts, Sadi suffered serious injuries.

With her incapacitated, Magellan had planned to assign someone else to handle them.

For example… Hannyabal.

Or Hannyabal.

Maybe Hannyabal.

But now Storm is volunteering for the job.

Magellan hesitated.

Storm had only been here for a week.

His performance had been excellent so far—training the blue gorillas in Crimson Hell, maintaining order, and even handling conflicts without issue.

But was he really ready?

Sadi had been overpowered.

She was a year younger than Storm.

Would Storm suffer the same fate?

If Storm got injured after Sadi, it would be an even bigger headache for Magellan.

Still…

Storm had shown potential.

Magellan thought about it for a long time before making his decision.

"Alright, Storm," he finally said. "From now on, you will be responsible for both Crimson Hell and Wild Beast Hell."

Storm's heart leaped.

"But!" Magellan added, raising a finger. "No lower levels for now."

Storm had no time to argue—Magellan suddenly clutched his stomach, his face turning pale.

"Ah! My stomach! I need to—"

Before he could finish, he dashed back into the toilet.

Storm sighed, shaking his head as he made his way back to the first level.

Promoted… but not fully promoted.

Ideally, he had hoped for control over all the prison levels—the Blugori of Crimson Hell, the Jailer Beasts of Burning Hell, and everything else.

But for now, he had only gained one additional level.

Well, it was still progress.

"I hope Wild Beast Hell isn't as chaotic as Crimson Hell…"

Upon reaching his office, Storm didn't head directly to Wild Beast Hell. 

Instead, he focused on something more pressing.

He summoned the [Trophy System] and checked his recent earnings.

His patrols of Crimson Hell had already granted him:

Eight bronze trophies and one silver trophy.

That was a solid haul.

Storm checked his skills, contemplating his next course of action. 

Without hesitation, he threw his only [Silver Trophy] into [Iron Body], reinforcing its defensive capabilities. 

As for the remaining [Bronze Trophies], he distributed them among [Moonwalk], [Tempest Kick], [Finger Pistol], and [Swordsmanship], ensuring a balanced improvement across his skill set.

At this moment, his skills had reached the following levels:

[Iron Body: ★★★☆]

[Moonwalk: ★★★]

[Tempest Kick: ★★★]

[Finger Pistol: ★★★]

[Swordsmanship: ★★]

With this, all of Storm's [Six Styles] had reached three stars, while even [Swordsmanship], a skill he had practically abandoned, had risen to two stars. Training these techniques further would undoubtedly sharpen them, pushing his combat prowess to greater heights.

Satisfied with his progress, Storm was about to mold a Clay Clone and resume his physical training when an irate voice thundered outside his office door.

"Storm!"

The sound of a fist pounding against the door echoed throughout the office.

"If you have the guts to meet Magellan, then have the guts to open this door!"

Without much thought, Storm swung his right hand, extending his clay-arm ability to pull the door open.

Crash!

Hannibal, who had been preparing to force the door open, lost his balance and tumbled forward, rolling into the office in an undignified manner.

"Ahem!"

Scrambling to his feet, Hannibal dusted himself off and attempted to regain his composure, acting as if nothing had happened. He stood upright, glaring at Storm with a look of exaggerated betrayal.

"Storm! You actually went to join Magellan!"

"Huh?"

Storm blinked in confusion.

"What are you talking about?"

"My informant told me everything!" Hannibal declared, storming toward the desk and slamming his hands onto its surface. His eyes burned with righteous indignation. "You went to Magellan's office and have been conspiring with him! Are you planning to team up with him to overthrow my rule?"

Storm almost choked on his own breath. There were so many flaws in Hannibal's statement that he didn't even know where to start.

Hannibal continued his dramatic tirade. "Storm! You are the man I personally acknowledged—"

"Stop! Stop it!"

Seeing that Hannibal was about to launch into another theatrical monologue, Storm raised a hand, cutting him off.

"I went to see Director Magellan because I wanted a promotion."

"A... promotion?"

Hannibal froze, his face twisted in an expression of disbelief. "Could it be that… Magellan is planning to step down and leave the Chief Warden's position to you?! Damn it! I was here first!"

Storm sighed, already feeling a headache coming on. "Listen, Lord Warden!"

Without warning, he extended his right hand, the clay morphing into a chain that swiftly wrapped around Hannibal's waist, pulling him closer.

"I'm not interested in becoming Director!" Storm said firmly. 

"I went to see Magellan because I wanted to take over Little Sadi's job and manage the jailer beasts!"

Hannibal blinked, absorbing Storm's words.

"Oh… is that all?"

His previously tense shoulders relaxed slightly, but he still found room to complain.

"Still, why did you go to Magellan for such a small matter?"

"A small matter?" Storm raised an eyebrow.

Hannibal crossed his arms, puffing out his chest. "I want to be the Director of Impel Down! Why would I let such an important position slip through my fingers? Isn't it just managing the jailer beasts? I can help you!"

Storm stared at him, unsure whether to be amused or exasperated.

Would having Hannibal's help really be beneficial? Or would it just lead to more chaos?