After Law and Luffy came to an agreement, things unfolded naturally. Law left the ship with Lami and his crew, determined at last to give his parents a proper burial.
I took advantage of that moment to pass on to him the bond that allowed his sister to remain anchored in the world of the living. The transfer visibly weakened him: his breathing grew shorter, his shoulders heavier, but he didn't care in the slightest. To him, none of that mattered as long as Lami could stay by his side—and unlike mine, five percent was a negligible cost.
Meanwhile, the rest of the crew spread out to explore the island. Before they left, I made sure to warn them. I asked them to avoid breaking anything unnecessarily and, above all, not to breathe in the white dust that was everywhere. I told them what the spirits of the city had shared with me: the disease, the massacre, the fear, the abandonment. Many of them went pale in silence. Charles clenched his fists, deeply outraged to learn that the Marines had never intervened to save civilians condemned to a slow death.
As for me, I decided to take Nami toward the center of the island. There, I could clearly feel the lock, buried beneath earth and stone, like a sick heart that needed to be reached. As we approached the old mine, Nami instinctively raised a Gust spell, creating around us a cocoon of pure air that efficiently pushed back the white dust suspended in the atmosphere. The wind swirled gently, whistling against the walls, keeping the air breathable.
We walked for a while, hand in hand, without speaking. There was something heavy in that silence, almost solemn, as if the island itself were holding its breath. Then the tunnel suddenly widened, opening into an immense underground quarry. There, nearly a hundred men worked with pickaxes, backs bent, sweat running down their grayish faces. Blocks of raw lead were piled into makeshift carts, ready to be transported.
I took the time to observe them. None of them had a truly malevolent aura. Most of their hearts were white or pale blue, marked by exhaustion, resignation, and sometimes hope. That realization deeply unsettled me.
I then raised my hand and cast a bolt of lightning that struck the ground at the center of the quarry with a deafening crash. Tools fell, conversations stopped dead. Every gaze turned toward us.
"I don't wish to trouble you," I said in a calm but firm voice, "but do you know what you are truly doing here?"
A heavy silence settled in. None of the men dared to respond with hostility. Finally, one of them stepped forward. He was trembling slightly, but found the courage to speak.
"Sir… we're just mining," he said. "It's to earn money. To feed our families."
I met his gaze without anger, but without indulgence either.
"I hope you don't plan on having children," I replied slowly. "Because what destroyed this country… is exactly what you're doing right now."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. I continued, knowing every word would weigh heavily.
"About a dozen years ago, Flevance was attacked and wiped off the map by its neighbors because of a disease called lead poisoning. You catch it by breathing in white lead dust, especially when it's being excavated."
Faces froze. Some men instinctively stepped back.
"The worst part," I went on, "is that this disease is passed down from generation to generation. Each time, life expectancy is cut in half."
Nami tightened her grip on my hand.
"There's… no cure?" she asked softly.
I slowly shook my head.
"Not that I know of. The only known survivor is Law… and only thanks to his Devil Fruit."
My words hit them like a thunderclap. The men looked at each other in panic, some dropping their tools as if their hands had suddenly started burning. They were searching for a solution, an escape, something—anything—to cling to.
That was when I heard footsteps behind us.
When I turned around, I saw a massive man, broad-shouldered, his body covered in muscles hard as stone. Yet his gaze didn't settle on Nami or me. He charged straight toward the workers, his face twisted with irritation.
"Why did you stop working, you bunch of idiots?" he barked without restraint."You don't want money anymore? Let me remind you that North Blue HQ paid a lot to bring you here, and the money goes straight to your families. So get back to work!"
The instant my eyes fell on him, I felt the stench of his heart. Red. A filthy, thick red, saturated with innocent blood. This wasn't a man who merely followed orders—this was someone who had already killed, and not criminals. Just the way he spoke to the workers made me want to break his teeth one by one.
But before I could open my mouth, Nami spoke.
She let go of my hand, crossed her arms, and fixed him with an icy stare.
"So if they keep working here, they die slowly… and if they stop, it's because it cost you money that they should die too?"
Her tone was calm, almost mocking. Sharp as a blade.
The massive man finally turned toward her, his eyes sliding over her in a disgusting way. A heavy, lecherous smile stretched his lips.
"Listen, doll… don't get involved. I'll take care of you after I put them back to wor—"
He cut himself off.
His gaze had just landed on me.
I saw sweat instantly bead on his forehead. His shoulders stiffened. His breathing grew short, as if his instincts were screaming danger.
I smiled.
A slow, calm smile… utterly devoid of warmth.
"So," I said evenly, "you wanted to take care of my girlfriend."
I tilted my head slightly.
"That takes courage. Or a great deal of stupidity. Who are you?"
The man swallowed, then bowed hastily, instinctively trying to put distance between us.
"O-Orlondo…" he replied, his voice suddenly far more humble."Lieutenant of the North Blue bounty hunters, sir… Heartless."
I raised an eyebrow.
"I see you know who I am. Good."
I took a step forward. He immediately took half a step back, despite himself.
"Our crew is currently present on this island," I continued calmly."So really try not to give us a good reason to take a little trip to your headquarters."
Beside me, Nami smiled, satisfied.
Behind Orlondo, the workers exchanged incredulous looks. They had never seen this man, who usually acted like a petty tyrant—lose his composure like this.
One of them, the one who had spoken to me earlier, dared to ask in a hesitant voice:
"Mr. Orlondo… who is this man?"
I simply raised my hand.
"Be quiet," I ordered Orlondo, without even looking at him.
Then I calmly pulled a bounty poster from inside my coat and handed it to the worker. I carried several copies on me, a small habit, useless but amusing. In any case, most people already recognized me.
Orlondo didn't wait around. As soon as the tension became unbearable, he turned on his heel and left the mine almost at a run. I let him go. There was no need to frighten the workers any further—they had already seen enough.
However, taking advantage of the relative darkness of the gallery—despite the strange glow of the white lead—I discreetly detached a shadow from my own. It slid along the rock like a living stain and set off in pursuit, silent and patient.
I then turned back to the miners, still in shock.
"Listen carefully," I said in a firm but gentle voice. "Take what you've already extracted and leave immediately. Go see Law. Maybe he can do something for you. Tell him Jordan sent you… and that you were forced to work in this mine."
They exchanged glances, hesitated for a second, then all nodded almost at the same time. Without another word, they loaded their carts and bags and fled as fast as their exhausted bodies would allow.
I took Nami's hand and we moved deeper into the mine. A natural recess opened in the rock face, like an old wound in the stone. There, I felt it clearly.
The lock.
I didn't waste any time. I placed my hand on it and opened it without ceremony. Darkness immediately began to ripple, and Heartless poured out in droves. Unlike other islands, these perfectly reflected the nature of Flevance.
Two main types emerged.
Black Fungus—like their white-and-blue cousins but darker and far more aggressive—capable of poisonous attacks in the form of small violet clouds. And Black Ballads, a dark version of elementals: they could create six clones, and if the wrong one was struck, they would unleash black lightning; the rest of the time, they were invincible.
There were many of them. Very many.
Without waiting for my orders, they scattered and vanished out of the cave, as if drawn toward prey that had already been marked.
I turned to Nami.
"I'm going to take care of Orlondo," I said calmly. "Stay cautious."
She nodded, following at a distance while I moved ahead. I teleported outside, still invisible, and observed the scene before me.
Orlondo, mad with rage, had caught up with the workers. With the help of his men, he was beating them mercilessly, ripping the ore bags from them, trampling them as they barely tried to defend themselves. The situation had worsened.
His body was now in a hybrid state: his muscles had swollen, his features had twisted, and two curved horns had grown from his skull. A ram-man—brutal and grotesque. All the workers now lay on the ground, injured or unconscious.
And Orlondo had no intention of stopping.
He raised his weapon, ready to finish them… when the shadows fell over him.
Black apparitions sprang up all around the group. An opaque barrier rose between Orlondo and the workers, isolating them. His men, panicking, opened fire on the Black Ballads.
A bad idea.
The Ballads pressed into the gunfire and released violent electrical discharges. The bounty hunters collapsed one after another, convulsing before slipping into unconsciousness. Then the Black Fungus descended on them, releasing thick waves of poison. In seconds, the bodies were engulfed, dissolved, and then transformed into common Heartless—empty and docile.
Orlondo staggered back, terrified.
"What the hell is this?!" he screamed. "Those things are supposed to be in East Blue! How did they get here?!"
He charged blindly and slammed violently into a Black Fungus that had become invincible. The impact snapped one of his horns clean off. He screamed in pain and fury.
"It's Heartless!" he bellowed. "It's definitely him!"
He pulled out a Den Den Mushi, but I took it from him without him even noticing. Then, slowly, I made myself visible right in front of him.
I was smiling.
"Correct answer," I said calmly. "But no prize."
I struck.
My fist buried itself into his stomach with crushing force. Orlondo was hurled backward, flew through the air like a rag doll, and smashed into a tree, the trunk splitting in two from the impact.
He collapsed to the ground, groaning, coughing up blood, unable to stand.
"Stop."
The word slipped out almost despite myself, instinctively hurled at the Heartless that were about to finish Orlondo. For a split second, I froze as well, remembering that normally I didn't have absolute control over them, at least not over those born from locks.
And yet…
The creatures stopped.
Their dark silhouettes froze with a muted rustle, as if the very air around them had come to a standstill. None attacked. None protested. They simply waited, all turned toward me.
I averted my gaze slightly and let my crocodile Heartless step forward. Unlike the others, it did not hesitate. It lunged at Orlondo with cold, final brutality. The lieutenant didn't even have time to beg. His end was swift, swallowed by darkness, his existence reduced to what it had always been at its core: a corrupted heart.
I immediately felt the return of energy.
Not a violent surge, but a sharp, precise reinforcement. As if that execution had honed my Heartless's combat instincts, solidifying its primary function: hunt, strike down, transform corrupted souls.
Without wasting time, I summoned five green Requiems around the unconscious workers. A soft, soothing light spread out, a brutal contrast to the carnage that had just taken place. Wounds slowly closed, breathing steadied, and bodies stopped trembling under the lingering effects of the poison.
Once their condition was stable enough, I dismissed the Requiems one by one, then recalled into my shadow the newly created ram Heartless, as well as my crocodile. Calm gradually returned to the devastated clearing.
That was when Nami emerged from the cave, the Gust spell still faintly active around her. Her gaze swept quickly over the scene, lingering on the workers lying on the ground, the broken trees, then on me.
"Is it taken care of?" she asked cautiously.
I simply nodded.
"Yes. Let's go rejoin the others."
I hadn't noticed that one of the workers—the strongest one, the one who had dared to speak to me in the mine, had regained consciousness. Lying against a rock, he watched the scene in silence, having understood far more than I realized.
And in his heart, there was neither resentment nor hatred.
Only deep gratitude toward the one who, asking nothing in return, had just given them a second chance.
(Author's note: As usual, I'm leaving you three images—for the Black Fungus, the Black Ballads, and the ram Heartless ^^)