In the Calm Belt, at the deep-sea prison Impel Down, the sea before dawn resembled an enormous slab of unpolished, ink-black glass.
There was no wind, no surf, not even the cry of a seabird.
Since ancient times, these waters had been a forbidden zone for life, a nest of Sea Kings, a graveyard for humans.
Yet now, more than thirty Marine warships lay anchored on that glassy sea.
They formed a neat ring, surrounding the towering structure at the center so tightly that nothing could get through. Every warship's deck was packed with fully armed soldiers, all their cannons pointing outward-toward any unidentified vessel that might approach from afar.
The fleet's commanders stood on their respective bridges, their Den Den Mushi constantly relaying orders from Marine Headquarters, each with a higher security classification than the last.
"...All personnel to highest combat readiness. Do not open fire without authorization..."
"...Until the target's identity is confirmed, no offensive behavior is permitted..."
"...Repeat, the target is the 'World Hero.' Individuals will be held personally responsible for any mistakes..."
The orders came one after another, their tone growing increasingly stern.
The fleet commander set down his Den Den Mushi and looked toward the silent structure at the center of the sea. A thought crossed his mind: since this prison had been built, it had probably never staged a reception like this for anyone.
He raised his head and looked toward the pale dawn beginning to whiten the horizon.
A biting morning wind blew from the north, carrying the cold, damp air unique to the depths of the Calm Belt.
That wind passed through the warships' masts, through the soldiers' collars, through everyone's bones, yet it did nothing to dispel the gravity on their faces.
Today, someone would arrive here.
And every one of