"What...!"
A searing pain surged into Qin Chuan's brain, forcing him to clutch his head and collapse to the ground, unable to stay upright.
Across from him, Douglas Barrett, freshly freed from his seastone shackles, was startled. A moment ago, Qin Chuan had stood tall, fierce like a beast in battle. Now, he looked completely drained, broken.
"Qin Chuan, are you alright?" Barrett asked, his voice no longer laced with sarcasm but genuine concern.
"Hmph... I'm fine. Just the aftereffects from pushing my body too far in the last fight. I just need... some time to recover."
Qin Chuan gritted his teeth against the pain as he tossed the key ring to Barrett.
In truth, his condition was dire. At that moment, even a low-ranking pirate could have ended his life. But he still entrusted himself to Barrett without hesitation. That trust wasn't born from naivety. Barrett had once sailed under Gol D. Roger, the Pirate King. Men of that era held honor like steel in their bones. They didn't go back on their word.
True to form, Barrett didn't hesitate. He caught the keys, unlocked his shackles, then threw back his head and roared into the darkness of Impel Down, the sound of liberation echoing through the inferno.
Then, without waiting for instructions, he walked over to Qin Chuan, hoisted him over his back, and stood tall.
"From here on, rest. I'll take you out of this hellhole," Barrett said with quiet conviction.
And whether it was the release of tension or the security in Barrett's words, Qin Chuan slipped into unconsciousness before he could respond.
Time passed. Qin Chuan didn't know how long he'd slept, but when he finally opened his eyes, he was lying on a soft bed within a small cabin.
He sat up quickly, heart racing. Fatigue clawed at him instantly, forcing a sharp breath from his lungs.
Damn... the backlash from the Eight Gates is brutal. Though the technique gave him the strength to dominate even the monsters of Impel Down, it had almost killed him in return. If Barrett hadn't agreed to join him, if he'd blacked out just seconds earlier, he would've died alone in that prison.
He pushed open the cabin door.
Blinding sunlight hit his face, and a salty breeze brushed against his skin. The vast ocean spread endlessly before him.
"I'm on a ship..." Qin Chuan muttered.
"Awake at last, Captain Qin Chuan."
Standing at the bow, hands crossed behind his back, was Douglas Barrett. His voice was calm but firm. He had kept his word—not only rescuing Qin Chuan, but now recognizing him as his captain.
This wasn't a casual title. For pirates like Barrett, calling someone "Captain" was a pledge of loyalty and respect. It acknowledged the other's strength and leadership.
Qin Chuan walked over slowly, his body still aching.
"Where are we?" he asked.
"Somewhere in the East Blue. Can't say for sure. I don't know weak seas like this. If we hadn't encountered Navy reinforcements during our escape, I would've taken you straight to the New World."
Barrett's tone was matter-of-fact.
"Navy reinforcements? Who came?" Qin Chuan asked, now alert.
"Vice Admiral Garp. And Admiral Kuzan."
Qin Chuan's eyes widened.
Garp—the legendary Marine hero. A man from Roger's time, the only one who ever cornered the Pirate King again and again. Though technically only a Vice Admiral, Garp had more clout and strength than most Admirals. Even Sengoku, the Fleet Admiral, deferred to him.
And Kuzan—known as Aokiji—an Admiral with the power of the Ice-Ice Fruit. A disciple of Admiral Zephyr and one of the Navy's strongest pillars. Just those two names meant the Navy had responded to his prison raid with their top-tier force.
That was why Barrett had chosen to retreat.
His strength hadn't fully returned after his long imprisonment. And facing both Garp and Kuzan would've been suicide. Even Barrett, with all his monstrous might, knew it would've been a losing battle.
He had taken the wiser path, escaping to the East Blue to recover.
Meanwhile, back in Impel Down, within the Warden's Office on Level Four...
Garp sat heavily in Magellan's chair, his expression cold and unreadable. Kuzan stood nearby, silent. Magellan and the remaining senior staff of the prison lined up before them. They were battered, covered in bandages, bruises blooming across their bodies.
Magellan, as Warden of Impel Down, held a rank nearly equivalent to an Admiral. The three major institutions—Impel Down, Enies Lobby, and Marine Headquarters—were all pillars of the World Government's power. But now, after such a colossal failure, he stood with head bowed before the heroes of the Navy.
In the presence of Garp, Magellan didn't dare speak out of turn. The hero of the Navy wasn't someone even he could challenge in status or spirit.
"Have all the prisoners on Level Six been accounted for?" Garp's voice was deep and firm.
"Yes, they've all been secured. We're still tallying casualties. Besides a few minor figures, in Level Six—Infinite Hell—Basque Shot was killed in the conflict. The rest of the major prisoners suffered serious injuries. Additionally…"