A voice cuts through the Septenary's incense-thick air. Low. Measured. Coming from the throne on the far side of the circle—the one whose mask bears Greed's gilded leer.
"Marya Zaleska. Daughter of Dracule Mihawk. Bearer of Nisshoku. Mist Wielder."
A pause. The masked figure leans forward, amber light sliding across lacquered porcelain. The lips curl. The eyes gleam—two dark hollows that have watched empires crumble and pirates beg.
Eliane peaks out from behind Marya.
Her silver ponytail swings as she tilts her head. Her blue eyes—wide, curious, utterly out of place in this chamber of masks and power—fix on the figure seated on the far throne. The paprika smudge on her cheek has somehow survived the journey through the Chasm. Her chef's jacket still bears the stains of a dozen meals.
"Grandpa?"
The Gilded Leer freezes.
The masked figure's shoulders—broad, imposing, shoulders that have crushed rebellions and brokered the fates of nations—go rigid. The hands, calloused and scarred, tighten on the arms of the throne.
Elbert Anđel jolts.
It's a small movement. Almost imperceptible. But to the other masked figures, to the Cinder Knights who line the walls, to everyone who has watched the First Mask rule with iron certainty for decades—it is catastrophic.
Marya looks down at Eliane. Her lips quirk—a small, sharp expression.
Shanks smiles. The expression softens his scarred features, crinkling the corners of his eyes.
Beckman blows out a plume of smoke. His lips quake—the closest thing to a laugh the Red Hair Pirates' first mate ever allows in public.
Jannali shakes her head, rolling her eyes. "Bloody hell."
Elbert clears his throat. A valiant attempt at composure—a desperate grasp at the authority that has defined his existence. He straightens on his throne, his massive frame settling into the familiar posture of command.
"We have called you here to—"
Eliane beams.
It's a smile that could illuminate the darkest corners of the Chasm. A smile built from twelve years of bedtime stories and kitchen experiments, of a grandfather who carried her on his shoulders and wept with pride over bowls of soup.
"GRANDFATHER!"
She runs.
The other masked figures—Wrath's cracked snarl, Pride's mirrored sheen, Sloth's weeping visage, Envy's serpent curve, Gluttony's hollow maw, Lust's painted smile—all shake their heads in unison. The gesture carries the exasperation of people who have seen this exact scene before.
We knew this would happen.
Elbert completely breaks.
The mask—the Gilded Leer, the symbol of his power, the face that has condemned men to the molten crevasse without hesitation—becomes irrelevant. He rises from his throne, his massive frame unfolding with urgency.
Eliane pauses in front of him. Her head tilts back, blue eyes meeting the dark, gleaming sockets of the porcelain.
"Why are you wearing that weird mask?"
Elbert pauses. His voice—the deep baritone rumble that has made Cipher Pol agents tremble—emerges with gentleness.
"Oh. Is this scaring you? I can take it off."
He removes the mask.
The Gilded Leer clatters to obsidian, forgotten.
And Elbert Anđel is revealed.
His face—dusky-brown, etched with subtle burn-scars, framed by flowing silver hair and a manicured silver-white goatee—transforms. The flint in his gaze yields to firelight. The sharp cheekbones relax. The stern lines of his jaw melt into warmth.
Eliane lights up.
She leaps—a small, silver-haired missile—and Elbert catches her. His massive arms wrap around her with gentleness.
They have an embarrassing emotional moment.
Elbert's shoulders shake. His voice cracks. He buries his face in her silver hair and breathes.
"My little ember," he whispers. "My precious pearl."
Eliane giggles, patting his broad back. "Grandpa, you're squishing me!"
"I know. I don't care."
Luffy announces, "Aww, that's really nice."
He claps Marya on the shoulder. His grin spreads wide. "I knew you were a good person."
Marya scoffs.
Law glares. "Straw Hat."
Luffy looks over his shoulder. "What? I knew she was a good person."
Aurélie asks, her voice flat, "Marya. I thought you needed—"
Marya sighs. "I do. But I will just have to find another way."
Aurélie nods. Jannali sighs. "Bloody hell, mate. That could take a bit."
Marya nods. Then she turns to the Masquerade. "My payment."
The Masquerade all glare at Elbert. Then they turn to Marya. One of them—Wrath's cracked snarl—gestures toward a small trunk resting on a pedestal near the wall. A faint gleam of orange light beaming down.
Marya nods. She walks to retrieve it.
---
Eliane pulls away from Elbert. She stands in front of him, small frame vibrating with excitement.
"Grandpa, look what I can do!"
She points a thumb over her shoulder.
Her wings appear.
They unfold from her back like a revelation—colossal, jet-black feathered wings that gleam in the amber light and scatter it. Behind her, blazing with intensity, a halo-like flame roars to life.
Elbert blinks.
His expression shifts—surprise, wonder, then pride so profound it seems to radiate from him.
"Oh, wow. You have learned a lot in your travels."
Eliane nods, ponytail bouncing. She thrusts her hand out, brow furrowing.
"Yeah! And watch this!"
A small stream of fire jets from her palm.
It sputters. Flickers. Dies.
Eliane shakes her hand. "I'm still working on it though. It's kind of hard to do."
Elbert nods, patient. "Well, I can show you how. We can practice together."
Eliane beams. "Really?"
Then—
She becomes rigid.
Her voice drops to a whisper. "But what about Mom and Dad? They are always saying—"
Elbert cuts her off with a dramatic whisper. "It can be our secret. Just between us."
Eliane giggles.
---
Marya flips open the lid.
Orange light spills across her features. For a moment—just a moment—her golden-ringed eyes reflect it with hunger.
Vaughn's Devil Fruit.
The Razzle Dazzle Fruit.
It sits in the case like a captured sun—a sphere of swirling orange and gold, patterns rippling across its skin.
Marya's jaw tightens.
The case closes with an audible thud. She stands, holding it under her arm, and glances at Eliane—still chattering with her grandfather.
Her eyes linger.
Then she rejoins the group.
Shanks asks, "That looks valuable."
Marya nods. "It is. To me."
Luffy asks, head tilting, "Really? What is it?"
Marya locks eyes with Aurélie. "Vaughn's Devil Fruit."
Aurélie perks up. She nods, approval flickering across her sharp features. "I am sure he would approve."
Beckman asks, "Is this all, then?"
Marya glances over her shoulder at Eliane one more time. "Yeah. Let's—"
---
"Red Hair Emperor."
The voice booms through the Septenary.
The group looks up. Eliane and Elbert pause.
Another masked figure leans forward—the weeping visage of Sloth. But nothing about the eyes behind that porcelain is lazy. Nothing about the voice is indolent.
"You are here for the auction of the copy."
Shanks scans the group. His eyes narrow. "I am."
The masked figure nods. Fingers intertwine. They lean forward.
"The one you seek has taken refuge in Caldera City. But know this: he is not the one in power."
Shanks and Beckman exchange a look. The silent conversation of men who have fought together, bled together, survived together.
Shanks asks, "Why share this information?"
The masked figure tells him, "The one in power overexerts himself. We wish for you to deliver a message."
Shanks asks, "And why would I do that?"
The masked figure replies, "Because it benefits us both. He has crossed a line. You will be the one to remind him where the boundaries are."
A pause.
"You will understand soon enough. The auction is taking place in an hour. All of your questions will be answered then. The one you seek will be there. As will his associate."
Marya, Jannali, Eliane, Aurélie, Law, Shanks, and Beckman exchange a look.
Luffy stands clueless, finger slowly rising to his nose.
Marya shrugs. "We were going to the auction house anyway."
They turn, starting to leave.