Three Years (Part 1)

Sea Circle Calendar 1503, November.

Guanhao Floating Archipelago, core area, captain's bedroom.

The ink-darkness 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 precisely branded Adams's face.

His eyelids flew open. There was none of the haze of waking in his aqua-blue eyes, only the clarity of the deep sea. He sat up with the fluid motion 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 like this.

He turned his head, his gaze passing over the sleeping woman beside him—Stussy had her back to him, her blonde hair scattered messily across the pillow, her breathing long and steady.

A silent curve lifted at the corner of Adams's mouth, cold and satisfied. Three years of constant closeness had allowed him to successfully claim this woman not long ago.

He reached out, his broad palm lightly squeezing her full breast. A hazy moan escaped 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 a Floating Island. Stussy had brought this paper back with her yesterday and reminded him to read it. Last night, though, he had not gotten around to it.

He shook open the newspaper and swept his eyes over it. Two images in the headline instantly seized his attention:

The mountain of corpses made up of Impel Down guards and Jailer Beasts, and beneath it, Golden Lion Shiki's grinning wanted poster.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Just as expected of an old veteran. He even slaughtered his way through Impel Down. The old blade is still sharp."

A low laugh rolled from Adams's throat, full of unrestrained schadenfreude.

His fingertips traced the twisted wreckage in those photographs taken by who knew whom, and a faint trace of doubt flashed through his eyes.

"But why did he kill his way out instead of escaping? And why was it three years late?"

He clearly remembered that the Golden Lion of the original story had never accomplished such a feat as bathing Impel Down in blood.

The thought flashed through his mind and was immediately cast aside. What did the madness of a great pirate have to do with him? It was merely a spicy little garnish for after-dinner conversation.

He casually tossed the newspaper aside, then leaned over and grabbed the large, coarse pottery wine jar from the bedside table. Tilting its mouth, he poured a thick stream of clear liquor into his mouth.

The liquor brewed from Skin-Soothing Water exploded with an intensity so spicy it nearly burned. It scorched all the way from his throat to the bottom of his stomach, followed by a vast heat surging back like crashing tides.

Adams closed his eyes. At the instant his eyelids shut, lava seemed to flow through his pupils before sinking into the haziness of the deep sea.

The outside world had been turned upside down, yet he had never stopped moving forward.

Not long after dealing with Gotti three years ago, he had begun a more proactive hunt.

Alone, he descended like a ghost upon one public stronghold, fortress, and dockside warehouse after another belonging to the Five Great Families. Every attack was a naked provocation, a bloody game meant only to temper himself.

Thanks to the Five Great Families' "lavish patronage," by now, flintlock bullets striking his chest could not even scratch his skin. Even the metallic storm of machine-gun fire required several sustained volleys before it could draw blood.

By now, he had begun comparing himself to Subject No. 15. He was even close to reaching fifty percent of its strength.

However, none of this came without a price. The Five Great Families' arsenals had rapidly run dry in the mad war of attrition, while the arms black market in the West Blue had seen prices soar due to this sudden demand.

The main reason for this was that they were not incapable of piercing Adams's defenses. They simply had no way to kill him completely. Every time, they achieved the result of "seriously wounding the enemy," making them believe that the next attempt would surely succeed.

The liquor still burned in his throat. A chill flashed through Adams's eyes. The Five Great Families, who had to deploy enormous firepower every time just to injure him, had already lost their usefulness. Besides, now that he had thoroughly investigated their businesses, 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 wooden cabinet.

He rose from bed, swift and light as a leopard, and dressed himself. After taking one last look 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 to her waist, and her black eyes watched the sea of clouds churning at the edge of the Floating Island. Her back carried a trace of settled silence.

Adams walked to her side without a sound.

"Stella, are you still thinking about the past?"

Stella did not turn around. She merely shook her head gently, her blonde hair stirring in the wind.

"No."

Her voice was calm, like the waters of a deep pool.

"It's peaceful here. The past... I can barely remember it anymore."

More than two years ago, Adams had bought her from one of the Colombo family's public employment centers at the price of a "zero-cost purchase" 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, under the sunrises and sunsets above the clouds, that boy's face had truly blurred and faded. Instead, the image of the silver-haired boy beside her had grown ever clearer in her heart.

"That's good."

Adams looked toward the sea below, hidden beneath the clouds.

"Let the past remain in the past. The future is what matters. If you need anything, remember to tell me."

His tone was calm, yet carried an unquestionable strength of support.

"Mm."

At last, Stella turned her face toward him and gave him a faint but genuine smile.

"I will."

Adams gave a slight nod 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 suddenly opened up. At the edge of the core area, a massive construction site was taking shape amid thunderous 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 exceptionally resilient.

They hoisted and joined steel frames in their hands, crudely pouring concrete. Their skills were extremely clumsy.

Suddenly, a heavy steel beam slipped free and crashed down, instantly crushing several Loess Men into scattered chunks of earth.

There were no screams and no chaos. The shattered clods, as though alive, wriggled and rolled toward the edge of the construction site.

There, books related to construction were piled high like mountains.

The shattered Loess Men gathered beside the stacks of books. As they discussed why the accident had just happened, they clumsily yet swiftly flipped through the pages to further confirm the problem.

Moments later, the clods of earth gathered together again, turf spread over them, and they silently returned to their places. They lifted the steel beam and continued working.

Their efficiency was appallingly low. Yet they needed neither food nor water, no sleep or rest, and would never truly die.

As long as Adams was not knocked unconscious in battle, they were tireless laborers capable of reviving without limit.

The new residence he envisioned was painstakingly growing brick by brick amid this near-masochistic cycle of learning while working.

Adams's gaze swept over the absurd yet vibrant construction site without lingering for even a moment, and he headed straight for the circular Arena.