One Piece: From Marine to Legend

A golden trophy!

Storm gazed at the glittering gold trophy floating before him, a flicker of satisfaction crossing his face. It seemed the jailers of Wild Beast Hell had accurately assessed the Sphinx's strength. The most powerful creature of this level had indeed yielded a golden reward.

'A golden trophy… not bad.'

Storm had already decided how to put this four-star trophy to good use. Without hesitation, he threw the trophy into his Clay-Clay Fruit ability.

[Clay-Clay Fruit: ★★★★☆]

His eyes drifted back to the motionless Sphinx below. As he observed the fallen beast, something stirred deep within his mind—an endless stream of inspiration rushing forth like a river.

Ideas flooded him, a feeling almost instinctual as if his mastery over clay had reached a new level.

Then, without thinking, Storm raised his right hand. A small ball of white clay emerged from his palm, rapidly taking shape—stretching, molding, twisting into something entirely new.

In mere moments, a lifelike white dragon flapped its wings in his palm.

A slight gust swirled around him. The dragon's broad wings stirred the air, creating an updraft strong enough to lift dust from the ground.

Once. Twice.

Under Storm's focused gaze, the dragon's claws left his palm, hovering in the air for the first time.

Storm smirked.

'Who says clay can't fly?'

The little clay dragon circled him before landing gracefully on his shoulder. He let out a quiet chuckle, then turned to continue his hunt.

After taking down the monster boss, Sphinx, Storm set his sights on the second most dangerous beast in Beast Hell—the Basilisk.

The giant hybrid of a snake and a chicken barely put up a fight before falling at Storm's feet. However, what disappointed him was that the trophy it provided was only silver.

Unlike the Sphinx's golden trophy, the Basilisk's strength was clearly inferior.

Still, Storm continued, hunting down the Giant Mantis, which the jailers had ranked as the third most dangerous monster.

Yet, once again—only a silver trophy.

It was now clear: only the Sphinx could provide golden trophies in Beast Hell.

'No point wasting time on the weaker ones.'

With that decision, Storm halted his hunt and focused on assimilating the power of his trophies.

At this moment, his trophy collection stood at eleven silver trophies—one from the previous Manticore, plus those from the Basilisk and Giant Mantis.

Rather than letting them go to waste, Storm invested all eleven silver trophies into his Six Styles (Rokushiki).

[Iron Body (Tekkai) / Paper Art (Kami-e) / Shave (Soru) / Tempest Kick (Rankyaku) / Moonwalk (Geppo) / Finger Pistol (Shigan): ★★★★]

Storm studied the list of abilities carefully, noticing that except for Swordsmanship and Spearmanship, everything had now reached four-star mastery.

His gaze lingered on one particular skill—Haki.

"I'm close…" he muttered, flexing his right hand, curling and uncurling his fingers.

He had felt something earlier—when he fought the Sphinx and tried to reinforce his body using Iron Body (Tekkai). At that moment, there had been a strange sensation, something more than just hardening his muscles.

With Iron Body now at four stars, that feeling had become even clearer.

'A few more attempts… and I might just grasp it.'

Storm narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.

'Could Iron Body be the key to unlocking Armament Haki?'

After finishing his rounds in Wild Beast Hell, Storm returned to the jailer's office on the first floor above sea level.

He had barely sat down when—

BANG! BANG! BANG!

A loud knock echoed through the room.

"Storm! Open the door!"

A familiar voice rang out.

Storm sighed. "Why is it always you, Hannyabal?"

With a flick of his Clay-Clay Fruit, the door unlocked.

Standing outside was Hannyabal, the ever-lazy deputy warden of Impel Down.

Storm gave him a blank stare.

"Is your job really this easy?" he asked dryly. 

But Hannyabal wasn't ashamed in the slightest. Instead, he grinned proudly and strode into the office like a man on a mission.

"As long as you have good subordinates, all the work can be delegated!" he declared. "My Domino is very capable!"

Storm recalled Domino, the strict yet competent officer with long, wavy blond hair.

'So that's why she's been missing all day…'

It seemed that her boss had dumped all the work onto her shoulders.

'Poor woman.'

Hannyabal made himself comfortable, about to speak—when he suddenly froze.

His gaze locked onto Storm's shoulder.

"HEY! What the hell is that?! Why is there a dragon on you?!"

Storm smirked.

Hannyabal inched closer, eyes wide with curiosity.

"This is one of your clay creations, right?" he asked, staring at the small white dragon. Then, as if realizing something, he burst into laughter.

"Haha! Clay can't fly! What's the point of giving this thing wings?!"

Storm raised an eyebrow. 'Oh? You want to test it?'

Without a word, the little white dragon suddenly spread its wings and—

WHAM!

It slapped Hannyabal across the face with a powerful flap!

A loud smacking sound echoed through the room.

"AHH! THAT HURT!" Hannyabal stumbled back, clutching his face.

Storm leaned back, feigning innocence. "You were saying?"

Hannyabal rubbed his cheek furiously.

"Storm! What kind of subordinate are you?! This is insubordination!"

Storm blinked. "Huh? That sounds awfully familiar…"

Realization dawned on Hannyabal's face as he remembered saying the exact same words to Magellan in the past.

"Ahem." He quickly changed the subject. "Anyway! I came here with important news."

Storm tilted his head. "Oh?"

Hannyabal nodded, then suddenly hesitated.

"…But before that, I heard an interesting rumor." His eyes gleamed with curiosity.

"Storm, did you really defeat the Sphinx in Beast Hell?"

Storm frowned. "Defeat?" he corrected.

"I was just managing my subordinates."

"…Right. Management." Hannyabal chuckled, but he couldn't shake off the uneasy feeling lingering in his mind.

Looking at Storm, completely unharmed despite fighting one of the strongest beasts in Impel Down, he couldn't help but shudder slightly.

"How terrifying…" he muttered under his breath.

Storm only smirked.

In Impel Down, Director Magellan and Head Jailer Shiryu stood at the top of the hierarchy. Especially Magellan—his Venom-Venom Fruit was enough to suppress any form of disobedience.

Aside from those two, however, the strength of the other jailers could only be described as mediocre.

Take Hannyabal, for example. If he had to deal with small-time pirates with bounties in the tens of millions, there wouldn't be an issue. But if he were to face a pirate with a bounty exceeding 100 million, that would be a different story.

Even then, a pirate with a bounty over 100 million wouldn't necessarily be a match for the Sphinx. In other words, Hannyabal himself lacked the strength to handle such a monster.

Yet Storm had dealt with the Sphinx effortlessly.

This new subordinate was far stronger than he had initially expected…

Hannyabal's mind raced with possibilities. If he had Storm's help, wouldn't his rise to power be inevitable? Soon, he would be promoted, get a raise, and take over as Director of Impel Down. His dreams were within reach!

Suppressing his excitement, Hannyabal cleared his throat and delivered his big announcement.

"Storm! Thanks to my unrelenting efforts, you've been promoted!"

"Promotion? Again?"

Storm's eyes lit up as a thought crossed his mind.

"Is it regarding the Jailer Beasts?"

"That's right!" Hannyabal puffed out his chest proudly. "I convinced Magellan to hand over the management of the first to fourth levels to you. That means you now have full control over the Jailer Beasts!"

Of course, there was a lot of exaggeration in Hannyabal's claim, but the core message remained true.

Storm was momentarily stunned—he hadn't expected Hannyabal to actually pull this off. Gaining command over the Jailer Beasts was a significant advantage.

"Thanks, Hannyabal."

This time, his gratitude was genuine.

"What's there to thank me for?" Hannyabal grinned, his ego inflating. "Just remember one thing—you're the man I believe in! If you ever run into trouble, come to me first! Don't go running to Magellan!"

Storm gave him a sideways glance. "Alright, alright. If anything happens, I'll come straight to you."

"Good! Leave everything to me!" Hannyabal pounded his chest. "After all, I'm going to be the next Director of Impel Down!"

That evening, news of Storm's overwhelming victory over the Sphinx had spread throughout the prison.

Many were surprised—some even in disbelief—but there were a select few who sought out Storm because of this very rumor.

The prison cafeteria was bustling with activity. Almost all the jailers had gathered, except for Sadi, who was still recovering from her injuries.

Storm swept his gaze over the crowd and was surprised to spot Shiryu of the Rain.

It had been a while since he last saw the infamous Head Jailer.

As their eyes met, Storm could tell immediately—Shiryu was coming for him.

The moment Shiryu took a step forward, the atmosphere in the room shifted.

A suffocating pressure filled the space as the seasoned jailers instinctively moved aside, parting the crowd for the man with the Thunderstorm blade.

Even Hannyabal, who had been full of confidence earlier, could sense something was off.

"Shiryu! What are you—"

"Get lost, Hannyabal."

"O-Okay!"

Hannyabal swiftly retreated behind Storm.

Storm glanced at him. 'Didn't we just agree that I should come to you when I'm in trouble? What are you doing hiding behind me now?'

Shiryu exhaled a thick plume of smoke, his sharp gaze locked onto Storm.

"So… you're the new recruit everyone's talking about?"

His right hand rested on the hilt of Thunderstorm, his signature blade.

"Tch… You look weak."

The moment those words left his mouth, Shiryu moved.

In a flash, Thunderstorm was drawn—its blade slicing toward Storm at an inhuman speed.

Storm's instincts kicked in.

The little white dragon on his shoulder lunged forward, its movements just as swift.

Clang!

Shiryu's Thunderstorm slashed through Storm's torso, splitting his body in half. At the same time, the little white dragon smashed into Shiryu's head, knocking his black military cap off.

A brief silence filled the room.

The jailers watching the scene held their breath.

Storm's bisected body rippled with white clay, the two halves reconnecting seamlessly.

"That's a fast sword."

Shiryu's brows furrowed slightly as he reached up to retrieve his fallen cap.

He glanced at the white dragon before shifting his gaze back to Storm.

"Hoh… Interesting."

For the first time in a long while, Shiryu of the Rain looked intrigued.

And that was never a good thing.

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