Sea Circle Calendar 1503, November.
Guanhao Floating Archipelago, core area, captain's bedroom.
The darkest ink-black before dawn was silently torn apart. The first ray of light, like a cold blade, slashed diagonally through a gap in the velvet curtains and struck Adams squarely in the face.
His eyelids snapped open. There was none of the haze of waking in his aqua-blue eyes, only the clarity of the deep sea. He sat up, moving with the fluid ease of a great beast stretching its limbs. His shoulder-length silver hair hung like a frozen waterfall.
Ever since mastering Life Return, he had kept his hair this way.
He turned his head, his gaze sliding over the sleeping woman beside him—Stussy had her back to him, her golden hair scattered messily across the pillow, her breathing long and steady.
The corner of Adams's mouth curled soundlessly, cold and satisfied. Three years of daily companionship had allowed him to successfully win over this woman not long ago.
He reached out, his large palm giving her full breast a light squeeze. A muffled whimper slipped from Stussy's nose. Like a disturbed cat, she curled up slightly but did not wake.
Adams withdrew his hand, his face filled with pure contentment. Reaching over her, he grabbed the neatly folded newspaper from the bedside table.
Normally, news-delivering seagulls could not reach the Floating Island. Stussy had brought this paper back with her yesterday and reminded him to read it, but he had not gotten around to it last night.
He unfolded the newspaper. As his eyes swept across it, the two images beneath the headline instantly seized his attention:
The mountain of corpses belonging to Impel Down guards and Jailer Beasts, and beneath it, the wanted poster of Golden Lion Shiki wearing a savage grin.
"Tut, tut, tut. As expected of a veteran. He even slaughtered his way through Impel Down. Still sharp as ever."
A low laugh rolled from Adams's throat, filled with pure schadenfreude.
His fingertips brushed over the twisted wreckage in those photographs, taken by who knew whom, and a faint trace of doubt flickered through his eyes.
"But why kill his way out instead of escaping? And why was it three years late?"
He clearly remembered that in the original story, Golden Lion had never accomplished such a feat as bathing Impel Down in blood.
The thought flashed through his mind and was promptly cast aside. What did a great pirate's madness have to do with him? It was merely a spicy bit of seasoning for idle conversation.
He casually tossed the newspaper aside. Leaning over, he grabbed the huge coarse clay wine jar from the bedside table. Tilting its mouth, he poured a thick stream of clear liquor into his mouth.
The intense, almost burning spiciness contained in the wine brewed from Skin-Soothing Water exploded instantly, scorching all the way from his throat to the pit of his stomach before a vast surge of heat flooded back like a raging tide.
Adams closed his eyes. In the instant his eyelids shut, lava seemed to flow beneath them, only to sink into a deep-sea haze a moment later.
The outside world had turned upside down, but he had never stopped moving forward.
Not long after dealing with Gotti three years ago, he had begun hunting more proactively.
Alone, he descended like a ghost upon one public stronghold, fortress, and dockside warehouse after another belonging to the Five Great Families. Every time was an outright provocation, a bloody game solely meant to temper himself.
Thanks to the Five Great Families' "generous donations," flintlock lead bullets could now strike his chest without even scratching his skin. Even the roaring metallic storm of machine-gun fire required several continuous volleys before it could draw blood.
By now, he had begun comparing himself to Subject No. 15. He had even reached roughly fifty percent of its strength.
But none of this came without a price. The Five Great Families' arsenals were rapidly running dry in the insane war of attrition, while weapons prices on the West Blue black market had skyrocketed because of the sudden demand.
The main reason for this was that it was not that they could not break through Adams's defenses. They simply had no way of killing him completely. Every time, they achieved the result of "seriously injuring the opponent," which made them believe that the next time would surely succeed.
The liquor still burned in his throat. A chill passed through Adams's eyes. The Five Great Families, who had to deploy massive firepower every time just to injure him, had lost their usefulness. Besides, now that he had fully investigated their operations, there was no need to keep them around.
With that thought, he set down the wine jar. Its bottom made a dull, soft sound against the solid wood cabinet.
He got out of bed, swift and light as a leopard, and dressed himself. After one last glance at the sleeping Stussy, he silently pulled open the heavy bedroom door, then gently closed it behind him.
Outside, the sea wind carried the crisp chill unique to high altitudes. A figure stood quietly by the railing. Golden hair cascaded down to her waist, and her black eyes watched the sea of clouds churning beyond the edge of the Floating Island. Her back carried a trace of settled silence.
Adams walked soundlessly to her side.
"Stella, are you still thinking about the past?"
Stella did not turn around. She merely shook her head lightly, her golden hair lifting in the wind.
"No."
Her voice was calm, like water in a deep pool.
"It is very peaceful here. The things from before... I can barely remember them now."
More than two years ago, Adams had bought her from a public employment center belonging to the Colombo Family for the "price" of zero and brought her here.
At first, the gray-green-haired boy who had briefly illuminated her despairing life at the employment center would occasionally still stir ripples in her heart.
Now, however, that boy's face had truly blurred and faded amid the sunrises and sunsets above the clouds. Instead, the image of the silver-haired boy beside her had become clearer and clearer in her heart.
"That is good."
Adams looked toward the sea below, obscured by clouds.
"Let the past stay in the past. What matters is the future. If you need anything, remember to tell me."
His tone was calm, yet it carried an unquestionable strength of support.
"Mm."
Stella finally turned her face toward him and gave him a faint but genuine smile.
"I will."
Adams nodded slightly and turned to leave. His black boots stepped across the cold stone ground, their echoes swallowed by the high-altitude wind.
Once he left the building containing the captain's bedroom, the view before him suddenly opened up. At the edge of the core area, an enormous construction site was taking shape amid roaring noise.
Around five hundred strange "creatures" were at work. They were molded from loess, their bodies covered in a layer of tenaciously growing dark green turf. Their movements carried the sluggish weight of earth, yet they were extraordinarily resilient.
They lifted and riveted steel frameworks in their hands, roughly pouring concrete. Their skills were exceedingly clumsy.
Suddenly, a heavy steel beam slipped loose and crashed down, instantly crushing several Loess Men into scattered chunks of dirt.
There were no screams and no chaos. The shattered clods of earth, as if alive, wriggled and rolled toward the edge of the construction site.
There, books related to construction were piled into mountains.
The shattered Loess Men gathered beside the stacks of books. As they discussed why the accident had happened, they awkwardly yet rapidly flipped through the pages to further confirm the problem.
A moment later, the clumps of earth gathered together again, turf spreading over them. They silently returned to their positions, lifted the steel beam, and resumed working.
Their efficiency was outrageously low. Yet they needed neither food nor water, neither sleep nor rest, and they would never truly die.
As long as Adams was not beaten unconscious in battle, they were tireless laborers capable of reviving infinitely.
A brand-new residence of the kind he desired was painfully growing brick by brick through this nearly self-torturous cycle of learning while working.
Adams's gaze swept across the absurd yet vibrant construction site without lingering for even a moment, and he headed straight for the circular Arena.
TO BE CONTINUED