Impel Down, its lowest level, LEVEL 6: Infinite Hell.
The cell that had once held the Pirate King, Gol D. Roger, alone now welcomed his own flesh and blood.
Portgas D. Ace hung with his hands raised high in thick Seastone chains, his feet weighed down by heavy shackles as well.
The wounds covering his body from his fierce battle with Blackbeard had not been properly treated, only hastily tended to.
He hung his head in dejection. His orange Cowboy Hat was long gone, and his disheveled black hair hid his expression. Only the faint rise and fall of his chest proved he was still alive.
Then a clear rhythm of footsteps approached through the silence, breaking the stillness.
Ace, who had been imprisoned alone for nearly a week, heard the sound and instinctively lifted his head a little.
Outside the cell, two tall figures stood quietly beneath the dim, flickering lantern light.
When he recognized their faces, Ace called out softly in a hoarse voice.
"Old man... Gern... weird old guy..."
At those words, Garp's fists clenched instantly. He stared at the battered Ace inside the cell, his eyes reddening despite himself, and forced a word through gritted teeth.
"Bastard..."
Gern did not show his emotions as openly as Garp. He simply stood there quietly, his gaze passing over Ace's shackles and wounds before settling on the eyes that had lost their old spark.
He pressed his lips together, unsure what to say. In the end, all he managed was a sigh.
"Looks like... you still couldn't decide your own fate, Ace."
Facing Garp, Ace had nothing to say.
What could he say? Apologize? Explain?
Against the debt he owed the man who had raised him, any words seemed hollow.
He hated the father who had given him his