The iceberg trembled under continuous fire.
Cannonballs slammed into frozen cliffs, sending shards of ice screaming through the air like shrapnel. Explosions bloomed against white stone, carving blackened scars into the Jewel Ice Sheet. Smoke rolled low over the surface, mixing with snow and steam, turning the battlefield into a choking haze.
The Happosai was grounded hard against the ice, her hull tilted awkwardly, unable to maneuver. Cannon fire tore into her sides again and again, wood splintering, sails shredded beyond repair.
And caught just off to the side, far too close for comfort, was the Black Pearl.
Her hull shuddered as a cannonball struck near the waterline. Another slammed into her mast, snapping rigging and sending ropes whipping wildly. She couldn't return fire. Her guns were silent, her angles wrong, her deck already damaged from earlier chaos.
On the deck of his warship, Capone Bege laughed.
It was a low, satisfied sound—the laugh of a man watching a long-held grudge finally bear fruit.
"There you are," he muttered, cigar clenched between his teeth. "Pinned. Helpless."
He personally turned one of the forward cannons, sighting along the barrel.
Boom.
The shot slammed into the Black Pearl's side. The ship lurched violently, wood groaning in protest.
Bege watched carefully, calculating angles, watching for movement.
No counterfire. No retaliation.
Good.
He raised a hand. "That's enough. She's finished."
Enoy stepped beside him, panting. "Boss, the Pearl's out of the fight."
"Good," Bege said calmly. "Then we move to phase two."
His eyes gleamed.
"I was never here for the treasure."
Enoy blinked. "Boss?"
Bege exhaled smoke slowly. "Gold is temporary. You can get more gold. Power is temporary. You can also become powerful yourself But eliminating enemies?" He smiled thinly. "That lasts."
He looked toward the ice sheet where Chinjao had disappeared earlier.
"The Happo Navy. My greatest obstacle in the West Blue."
Then his gaze slid back toward the Black Pearl.
"And Jack Sparrow. And Van Augur."
His smile twisted into something ugly.
"They humiliated me."
Bege laughed again, louder now.
"A betrayal," he said mockingly. "Hah. That's what you get for trusting a pirate."
He raised his arm sharply. "Enoy. Take the men. Plant the explosives."
Enoy nodded and shouted orders. Men grabbed crates, ropes, fuses—high-grade explosives, enough to fracture entire sections of the ice if placed properly.
Bege watched them go, heart light.
Let Chinjao and Sparrow kill each other, he thought. And if they don't—
He glanced at the charges.
—the sea will.
Then, something pressed down on him.
Bege's smile faltered.
His chest tightened, breath hitching as if the air itself had thickened. His cigar slipped from his mouth and dropped to the deck, forgotten.
"…What," he muttered, "is this feeling?"
The snowstorm ahead shifted.
A black speck appeared against the white.
Growing.
Fast.
Bege's eyes widened.
"…No."
The speck resolved into a figure.
Tall. Broad.
Walking calmly through exploding ice and cannon smoke as if the battlefield were a leisurely stroll.
Don Chinjao.
Bege's blood ran cold.
"ENOY!" Bege shouted, panic cracking through his voice. "Leave the bombs! Get back! Detonate them all—NOW!"
Enoy turned, following Bege's gaze.
His eyes went wide.
"That—!"
"MOVE!" Bege roared.
The oppressive pressure intensified.
Men staggered.
One dropped to his knees, eyes rolling back.
Another collapsed face-first into the snow, unconscious before he even understood why.
Enoy tried to run.
His legs felt like lead.
The pressure crushed down harder, squeezing his lungs, his vision blurring. He took two steps—then stumbled.
Chinjao stopped a short distance away.
He stood still.
And the world bent around him.
His Conqueror's Haki rolled outward like a tidal wave.
Men fell.
Dozens of them.
Weapons clattered uselessly onto the ice.
Enoy looked back one last time, terror frozen on his face.
Chinjao smiled at him.
A sadistic, satisfied smile.
Enoy passed out.
Bege staggered backward, barely staying upright. Sweat poured down his face.
"This… this isn't right," Bege rasped. "You were supposed to be weaker."
His eyes snapped upward.
The drill.
Still sharp. Restored.
Impossible.
"…No," Bege whispered. "Garp broke it. I saw—"
Chinjao took one step forward.
The ice cracked beneath his foot.
"Did you enjoy your bombardment?" Chinjao asked pleasantly.
Bege forced his body to respond, adrenaline cutting through fear. His coat shifted violently, metal plates sliding into place as a cannon barrel emerged from his torso.
He aimed.
Chinjao moved.
"DRILL DRAGON—"
The impact never reached him.
Chinjao charged, his restored drill leading the way, spinning as he slammed into Bege with terrifying force.
The cannon misfired uselessly into the sky.
Bege screamed as he was launched backward, body smashed clean off the deck and sent flying into the sea below.
Water erupted as he vanished beneath the surface.
Silence followed.
Chinjao stood at the edge of the ship, breathing steadily.
He looked down into the churning water.
"…I won't kill you," he said. "As much as I want to."
He turned to his men, many just regaining consciousness.
"Fish him out," Chinjao ordered. "And treat him."
A pause.
"…Someone must answer for today's dead."
As his men moved, Chinjao glanced once toward the distant ice field where Jack Sparrow lay unconscious.
Then—
Memory stirred.
Flashback
The Black Pearl cut through the cold sea toward the iceberg, sails straining.
Jack leaned against the railing, hat low over his eyes.
"Gibbs," Jack said casually. "What do you think are the chances that Bitch betrays us?"
Gibbs frowned. "Bege?"
Jack nodded.
Gibbs considered. "We have an agreement."
Augur, cleaning his rifle nearby, spoke without looking up. "That doesn't mean anything. He might pull off something like we did. But we never betrayed him. We just helped in getting Bege's head for money."
Augur chambered a round, eyes calm. "Bege can turn around and leave us to deal with the Happo Navy."
Gibbs' eyes widened. "Or…"
Augur continued, "…he can blow us up with the explosives he brought, along with the Happo Navy."
Silence.
Jack slowly smiled.
"That," Jack said, "is exactly the answer I wanted."
Gibbs stared at him. "You planned for betrayal?"
Jack tilted his head. "Honestly, I didn't. He's a mafia isn't he? Isn't betrayal one of the frowned upon things in their code?"
Augur glanced up. "You definitely have a plan. So what is it?"
Jack leaned in, lowering his voice.
"If," Jack said carefully, "we were to restore Chinjao's drill…"
Gibbs' lips curled into a grin. "He'd be ecstatic."
"Happy enough," Jack continued, "to spare us."
"And maybe," Gibbs added, "…make us allies."
Jack nodded.
Augur frowned. "And how do you plan to do that?"
Jack's grin widened.
"I need to land a direct hit on his head."
Gibbs stared. "Jack… no one likes being hit on the head."
Jack turned to Augur.
"That's where you come in."
Augur met his gaze. "You want me to distract him."
"Yes."
Augur considered it.
Then nodded. "I can do it."
He paused. "But are you sure you can restore the drill?"
Jack looked out at the horizon, eyes bright with reckless certainty.
He smiled.
"Absolutely not."
Then he added, quieter—
"But I know I can hit him."