Chapter 114

The submersible groaned as it breached the surface, mercury-laced water sluicing off its hull in iridescent sheets. Marya stood at the railing, her gloved fingers curling around the cold metal as she scanned the horizon. The Stygian Abyss stretched before them—a flat, obsidian mirror beneath a bruise-purple sky. No whirlpools. No leviathans. Just stillness, dark and listless, as if the sea was devoid of life. 

"Nothing," she muttered, the wind snatching the word from her lips. The coordinates burned behind her eyes, seared there by Naylamp's ritual, but the water gave no answers. Only the faint, coppery tang of mercury stung her nostrils, a mocking reminder of Karathys' crypts. 

Mihawk materialized at her side, his shadow long and sharp in the dying light. "Disappointed?" 

She shrugged, the motion deliberately casual. "Expected at least a sea king or two. A hint of apocalypse." Her Void veins prickled beneath her sleeves, the curse's whisper a faint itch at the base of her skull. Liar, it purred. You hoped it'd be easier. 

Mihawk's gaze lingered on her profile—the tightness around her eyes, the way her thumb worried the hilt of the Kogatana at her neck. "This isn't a tomb," he said, nodding at the expanse. "It's a crossroads. Your mother's notes—" 

"—were cryptic," she interrupted, sharper than intended. A beat. She softened her tone. "Cryptic and half-charred. Hardly a roadmap." 

Behind them, a hatch clanged open. Jelly oozed onto the deck, his gelatinous body wobbling like a sentient tsunami. "Bloop! Sky's all… sparkly sad," he declared, morphing his hand into a makeshift telescope to peer at the sunset. "Needs more fwoosh! Like sword-slashes!" He mimed a dramatic swing, lost balance, and splatted into a puddle of giggling blue goo. 

Marya's lips twitched—a near-smothered flicker of amusement. Mihawk arched a brow. 

"We'll search for an island," he said, turning toward the conning tower. "Restock. Regroup." 

She trailed after him, boots echoing on the rust-pitted stairs. "Regroup how? We're chasing constellations scribbled by dead priests." 

"Further than your mother ever managed." 

The words hung between them, heavier than Yoru's blade. Marya froze mid-step, the sub's innards suddenly too close—the hum of dead instruments, the sweat-and-seastone reek of recycled air. Her mother's journal pressed against her ribs, its pages whispering of Elisabeta's final moments: The gate demands a bearer. Forgive me. 

"...Right," she said finally, pushing past him into the control room. 

The panel blinked to life under her fingers, holographic charts flickering like fireflies. Jelly squeezed through the door, reforming into a lopsided stool to watch her work. "Stabby friend make spinny lights again?" 

"Navigation lights," she corrected, inputting a search grid. "Quiet. I'm concentrating." 

"Quiet like… ninja quiet? Or quiet like grumpy-sword-man quiet?" 

Mihawk leaned against the bulkhead, arms crossed. "The latter." 

Jelly saluted, zipping his gelatinous lips—then immediately unzipping them to blow a raspberry. The sound died abruptly as the console sparked, screens fizzling to black. 

Marya slapped the panel. "No. No—not now—" 

The sub shuddered. Lights died. Engines whined into silence. 

Jelly's bioluminescence flared, casting the room in eerie blue. "Uh-oh. Spicy boat nap?" 

"Dead in the water," Marya hissed, kicking the console. A dent bloomed under her boot. "Perfect. Absolutely—" 

"—anticlimactic?" Mihawk supplied dryly. 

She shot him a glare, but the corner of his mouth quirked. A joke. He was making a joke. The absurdity of it unspooled her frustration, leaving her deflated. 

"...I'm going to the kitchen," she announced, striding out. "You want tea?" 

"You're offering?" 

"I'm threatening. Chamomile or gunpowder?" 

"Surprise me." 

The galley was a closet-sized chaos of dented tins and World Government rations—stolen during their Karathys escape. Marya rummaged through cabinets, her motions brisk, precise. Focus on the task. Boil water. Ignore the itch beneath your skin, the way the shadows seem to cling too close— 

Mihawk filled the doorway, his presence a silent question. She ignored him, slamming a kettle onto the hotplate. 

Jelly oozed in through a vent, reforming with a splortch. "Snack time? Jelly make snazzy snacks!" He lunged for a tin of salted fish, tripped over his own feet, and face-planted into a bowl of rice. Grains stuck to his cheeks like bizarre confetti. "Ta-daaa! Fishy snowman!" 

Marya stared. Mihawk pinched the bridge of his nose. 

"Out," she ordered. 

"But snacks—" 

"Out. Now." 

Jelly deflated, dripping toward the door. "Grumpy-stabby-friend needs… fluffy hugs." He paused, extruding a wobbly arm to pat her knee. "Bloop?" 

She stiffened, the touch foreign yet oddly warm. "...Take the rice. And don't clog the pipes again." 

"Aye-aye, captain-grump!" He blobbed away, singing off-key about "fishy rainbows." 

Silence settled, thick with unspoken things. Mihawk claimed the stool across from her, watching as she measured tea leaves—gunpowder green, steeped bitter-strong. Her sleeves rode up as she poured, revealing a sliver of inky veins creeping past her wrists. 

He stilled. "Marya." 

She yanked her sleeves down. "Don't." 

A beat. The kettle whistled, shrill in the quiet. 

"You've been… different," he said carefully. "Since Karathys." 

"Different." She snorted. "That's vague considering how long we have been apart." 

"I'm serious." 

"So am I." She slid his teacup across the table, steam curling like phantom snakes. "Drink. Before Jelly tries to 'improve' it with glitter." 

He didn't touch the cup. "That blade you carry. Eclipse. It's not the sword I gifted you, not anymore?" 

Her pulse spiked. The Void's whisper surged, oily and eager. Tell him. Let him see. 

"It's a tool," she said, too quickly. "Like Yoru. Like you." 

Mihawk's gaze sharpened—hawkish, relentless. "Tools don't bleed." 

Her cuff snagged on the cup's rim, revealing a crackle of black veins beneath. She hid her hand under the table. "You're hallucinating. Too much salt air." 

"Marya—" 

The sub's galley hummed with the weight of unsaid things—stale tea steam, the creak of rusted bulkheads, the way Marya's buttons clicked too sharply as she unfastened her jacket. Mihawk didn't move, didn't breathe, his golden eyes tracking the deliberate slowness of her fingers. She shrugged the coat off, the fabric pooling around her like a shadow discarding its host, and rolled up her sleeves. 

Black veins crawled up her arm, serpentine and alive, pulsing faintly beneath her skin. They writhed where the light touched them, as if allergic to the dim glow of Jelly's bioluminescence seeping under the door. 

"Ten months ago," she began, voice flat, clinical. "North Blue. The Consortium intercepted a lead about a Void Century relic in Germa 66 territory. We thought it'd be another trinket—another dead end." Her thumb brushed the hilt of her Kogatana, the motion reflexive. "Turns out the daggers I'd acquired from Alabasta weren't just ceremonial. They… connected. Like keys in a lock." 

Somewhere in the corridor, Jelly's muffled giggles crescendoed. "…and then the squid said, 'That's my emotional support anchor!' Bloop!" 

Mihawk's jaw tightened. "Germa 66. Judge's toys." 

"They wanted the relic's power." Her fingers grazed the scar peeking above her collarbone—jagged, teeth-marked.

The Void veins flexed as she spoke, tendrils creeping toward her shoulder. Mihawk's gaze followed their path, hawkish and unblinking. "And this… entity?" 

"It's not sentient. Just hungry." She said it like a correction, like she'd rehearsed the lie. "After Casimir, the veins spread faster. Consortium doctors said I had weeks. So I… left." 

"To find me." 

"Yeah, but you weren't home." Her laugh was brittle, a cracked bell. "Found Law instead. Sinking, taking on water, half-dead. He carved the infection out, trapped it in some… pocket dimension. Bought me time." 

A clatter erupted outside—Jelly's gelatinous body slamming into the door. "Knock-knock! Who's there? Interrupting jelly! Interrupting je—bloop!" He oozed through the gap, a wobbling tower of rice bowls balanced on his head. "Snack delivery! Extra… splatty!" 

The tower teetered. Mihawk caught a bowl midair, his reflexes honed by decades of duels. Marya didn't flinch, her eyes fixed on the blackened veins. 

"Leave," Mihawk said, not unkindly. 

Jelly saluted, squishing one eye shut. "Aye-aye, Serious Sword man! Bloop!" He deflated into a puddle, sliding back under the door with a wet schlurp. 

Silence rushed in, thick and suffocating. Marya rolled her sleeve down, the motion too brisk, too final. "Law's fix is temporary. The Void's patient. It'll find a way back." 

Mihawk set the rice bowl aside, his calloused hand hovering—a question, an offer. "And the blade?" 

"Eclipse holds it. For now." She met his gaze, defiant. "It's under control." 

"Control." He echoed the word like a foreign term. "You've always been a terrible liar, Marya." 

She stiffened, the Void's whisper curling through her mind. He pities you. He'll take the sword. Take your purpose. 

"I don't need your concern," she snapped, standing abruptly. The chair screeched, a dissonant note in the cramped space. 

Mihawk rose slower, Yoru's shadow stretching between them. "This isn't concern. It's observation." 

"Same thing with you." 

A beat. Then, quietly: "Perhaps." 

Something in his tone made her pause—a fracture in the ice, a father's fear. She turned away, gripping the edge of the sink until her knuckles turned white. Outside, the Abyss lapped at the hull, a rhythm older than sorrow. 

Jelly's face materialized in the porthole, smooshed into a gelatinous starfish. "Pssst! Stabby friends! Wanna see my fancy new trick? Behold… Jelly-fish mode!" He inflated his body into a bloated balloon, bioluminescence flickering through shades of neon green. 

Marya snorted, the sound startled out of her. "You look like a moldy melon." 

"Moldy… magnificent!" Jelly corrected, bouncing off the glass with a wet thwap. 

Mihawk exhaled—a near-silent laugh. The tension bled from the room, replaced by something softer, fragile. He reached into his coat, withdrew a small vial of amber liquid, and set it on the table. 

"Aloe extract," he said, as if commenting on the weather. "For the scars." 

She stared at the vial, the Void's taunts fading to white noise. "…Since when do you carry aloe?" 

"Since Karathys." He turned to leave, Yoru's edge catching the light. "You're not the only one who prepares for inevitabilities." 

The door clicked shut. Marya picked up the vial, warmth seeping through the glass. Outside, Jelly's giggles mingled with the sea's sigh, and for the first time in months, the itch beneath her skin felt… quieter.

The sub's engine hummed a lullaby of corroded gears and mercury-drip rhythms. Mihawk sat in the dim glow of a single swaying lantern, Yoru laid across his knees. He ran a whetstone along its edge with ritual precision, each shink-shink echoing like a metronome counting down the seconds until chaos. Marya slept fitfully in the corner, her brow furrowed, fingers twitching as if gripping an invisible blade. The Void veins beneath her sleeves pulsed faintly, threads of shadow stitching nightmares into her mind. 

In the dream, Elisabeta stood before a coral archway veined with bioluminescent runes, her voice a resonant chant in the ancient tribal tongue. Mercury pooled at her feet, reflecting the constellations Marya had been chasing. "The gate demands a bearer," her mother whispered, blood-black tears carving paths down her cheeks. "But the key… the key is a lie—" 

A jolt wrenched Marya awake. The sub groaned, metal screaming as pressure valves hissed. She rolled to her feet, Eclipse already in hand. "What the Hell?" 

Mihawk didn't look up from his blade. "Whirlpool. Minor." 

"Minor?" The floor tilted violently. Jelly slid past, a panicked blue blob clinging to a pipe. 

"Bloop! Spinny ride! Again!" 

Marya lunged for the viewport. Outside, the Stygian Abyss had become a maelstrom. Water spiraled downward into a gaping maw, dragging them toward a vortex of liquid night. Bioluminescent parasites swarmed the glass, their sickly green light flickering against the dark rush. 

"We're in the throat of Charybdis," she muttered. The sub shuddered, bulkheads creaking. 

Mihawk sheathed Yoru. "Haki can't cut a current." 

"Then anchor us." 

"To what? The abyss's goodwill?" 

Jelly inflated into a gelatinous raft, quivering. "Jelly… anchor! Stabby friends grab on!" 

Marya ignored him, slamming her palm against the control panel. "Ejecting air mixture—" 

The sub lurched. Gravity inverted. Tools, maps, and Jelly's half-eaten rice bowl levitated, suspended in the air like debris in a frozen storm. Mihawk's Conqueror's Haki surged—a golden pulse that rattled the walls—but the whirlpool's pull was older than willpower. Older than empires. 

"Brace," Mihawk growled. 

The world upended. 

Marya's stomach plummeted as the sub nose-dived, spiraling into the vortex. Jelly wrapped himself around her waist, his shrieks muffled by the roar of crushing water. "Not! Fun! Bloop!" 

The viewport cracked. Darkness swallowed them. 

When the pressure eased, they were suspended in an underwater cavern, the sub's hull groaning against the sudden stillness. Bioluminescent coral cast wavering blue light over jagged walls etched with ancient tribal glyphs—the same ones from her dream. Marya's Void veins flared, the curse hissing like steam. 

Mihawk examined a fracture in the ceiling where water trickled in. "We're trapped." 

"Obviously." The submarine hatch hissed as she opened, stepping into the ominous cavern. The glyphs glowed faintly under her touch. "This isn't a cave. It's a tomb. Their tomb." 

"Whose?" 

"The Oathbound." 

Jelly oozed up beside her, morphing into a wobbly telescope. "Spooky rock words! What's they say?" 

She traced the glyphs. "Here lie the jailers who became the jailed…" A sudden tremor cut her off. The cavern floor split, seawater geysering upward as the sub listed sideways. 

Mihawk steadied himself against a bulkhead. "Can your Mist-Mist Fruit get us out?" 

"Not if the walls are Black Seastone." She gestured to the glistening rock. "It nullifies Devil Fruits." 

"So we drown." 

"We improvise." Marya kicked open a storage locker, tossing Mihawk a breather apparatus. "Jelly—distract whatever's coming." 

"Distract… how?" 

"Be edible." 

Jelly saluted, inflating into a giant, glowing squid. "Bloop! Jelly-snack mode!" 

The cavern shuddered. From the fissure emerged a hulking figure—a knight encased in coral armor, sword fused to its skeletal hand. Its helm glowed with the same parasitic green as the glyphs. 

"Oathbound," Marya breathed. 

The knight raised its blade, seawater sloughing off rusted metal. Mihawk stepped forward, Yoru humming. "Finally. A challenge." 

Jelly lunged first, his squid-form slapping the knight with a wet thwack. "Haha! Squishy sword!" 

The knight backhanded him. Jelly splattered against the wall, reforming with a dazed grin. "More… spinny…" 

Marya darted low, Eclipse slicing the knight's knee joint. Black ichor oozed, sizzling where it met her Void veins. The curse purred, Yes… feed me. 

Mihawk's strike cleaved the knight's helm, revealing a hollow skull filled with squirming parasites. "Pitiful." 

"Don't kill it!" Marya blocked his next blow. "Its armor—the glyphs. They're a map." 

"To what?" 

"The coral archway. The gate." 

The knight collapsed, parasites scattering like spilled nails. Marya knelt, peeling a fragment of armor etched with constellations. Her mother's voice echoed in her skull: The key is a lie. 

Jelly poked the dead knight. "Grumpy sword-man… can Jelly keep the shiny hat?" 

Mihawk sheathed Yoru. "We're leaving. Now." 

"Not yet." Marya pressed her palm to the glyphs. The cavern trembled again—not from collapse, but awakening. Coral shifted, grinding into the shape of an archway identical to her dream. Beyond it, water swirled into a tunnel lit by drowned stars. 

"The Primordial Current," she whispered. 

Mihawk's gaze sharpened. "You've seen this before." 

"In my sleep. And hers." 

Jelly bounced toward the arch, bioluminescence flaring. "Shiny road! Adventure time!" 

Marya hesitated, the Void's hunger curling around her resolve. This is how it begins. How you end. 

Mihawk stepped past her, Yoru's edge glinting. "Stay close." 

She smirked, cold and bright. "Don't slow me down, old man." 

As they plunged into the Current, Jelly's giggles echoed behind them, tinged with cosmic static. Somewhere in the dark, the Oathbound's parasites hissed—a chorus of dead gods laughing.