The Mirror's Mane sliced through the open waters, its course set with precision toward Water 7. The tension from the battle in Loguetown had faded, but the crew's focus was now sharper than ever. They knew what lay ahead—Impel Down, a place from which no one escaped. And yet, that was exactly where they were headed.
Zephyr stood at the helm, studying the sea charts and maps they had looted from the Joker Gang's base. The coordinates for Water 7 were marked, but Zephyr's gaze drifted toward the Calm Belt—the infamous stretch of sea that surrounded the Grand Line, home to the monstrous Sea Kings.
He turned to the crew, eyes narrowed with purpose. "We're sailing near the borders of the Calm Belt."
Ace, lounging nearby with his arms behind his head, raised an eyebrow. "The Calm Belt? That's asking for trouble."
Alice glanced up from her navigation tools, a hint of curiosity in her eyes. "Why there?"
Zephyr's response was brief and cryptic. "Sea King oil."
The crew exchanged glances, but none of them pressed the matter further. They had learned by now that Zephyr's plans always had a purpose, even if they didn't fully understand it at first. He had a way of seeing three steps ahead, of knowing exactly what he needed before anyone else realized what was coming.
Without another word, Zephyr folded the map and stepped away from the helm. "I'll be in the workshop below deck," he said, his voice steady but firm. "Don't disturb me. Especially you, Ace," he added, casting a sharp look at his grinning crewmate. "Unless you want this ship blown sky high."
Ace let out a chuckle, clearly not taking the warning too seriously, but Alice shot him a look, shaking her head. "You heard him, Ace."
Zephyr turned on his heel and descended below deck, disappearing into his workshop—the heart of his inventing space. There, surrounded by tools, blueprints, and the remnants of Marine weapons, he would begin the next phase of his preparations.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
{3 Days after the Lougetown Massacre}
{Water 7}
Zephyr held the small container of the jello-like mixture with a cautious reverence, its subtle glow pulsing slightly as he moved. His mind replayed the steps—Sea King oil, a rare and challenging find, especially refined by his own hand. The encounter had been a close call, and the memory of that narrow escape played in his mind as he felt the slight weight of the concoction in his hand.
Slowly, he climbed the stairs from the cargo hold to the deck, where Ace and Alice waited, curiosity mingling with the breeze that tugged at their clothes. Ace tilted his head, crossing his arms with a playful smirk. "So, what exactly is that stuff, genius?"
Zephyr didn't answer. He strode across the deck and down to the shore, each step deliberate as he created a safe distance between himself and the ship—around 100 meters to be exact. He could feel their eyes on him, both skeptical and intrigued, as he knelt down on the damp earth and placed the small, shimmering mound onto the ground.
Alice watched with an unblinking gaze, her curiosity silent but intense. Ace leaned over the ship's railing, squinting. "Is it… safe?"
Without looking back, Zephyr gave a quick, dry smile, more to himself than anyone else. "We're about to find out."
As soon as Zephyr placed the flint and striker beside the shimmering blue jello, he straightened, taking one last look at the concoction. The glow within it seemed to pulse with a subtle, almost alive energy. He turned and dashed back to the ship with quick, determined strides, calling out to Ace and Alice, "Hide behind something. This… might get loud."
Ace's grin widened, a hint of thrill in his eyes as he crouched down behind the mast. Alice calmly ducked behind a stack of crates, her gaze never wavering from Zephyr's hands.
From a safe distance, Zephyr extended his fingers, focusing on the metal striker. With the faintest gesture, he sent it scraping along the flint. Sparks flew.
The first spark met the jello, and for a second, nothing happened. A tense, silent moment stretched across the harbor—then, with a deep whoosh, the mixture ignited in a wave of brilliant blue flame. The heat surged outwards, blowing back a rush of air that whipped across the ship's deck, rattling everything from the sails to the wood beneath their feet.
Ace's eyes widened as he peered over the railing. "That's more than 'loud'!" he shouted, grinning ear to ear.
Zephyr shielded his face from the heat, feeling the thrill of success mixed with relief.
As the last of the blue flames flickered out, Zephyr heard a familiar chime in his mind.
[DING! NEW ITEM UNLOCKED: HIGH-YIELD FUEL]
[HIGH-YIELD FUEL: AN EXPLOSIVE CONCOCTION REFINED FROM SEA KING OIL AND MYSTIC INGREDIENTS. CAN BE USED AS A POWERFUL COMBUSTION FUEL OR HIGH-IMPACT EXPLOSIVE. NOTE: HANDLE WITH EXTREME CAUTION.]
Zephyr watched the small plume of smoke rise from his jello-like concoction, a self-satisfied grin spreading across his face. But just as he started to turn back toward the ship, he heard a loud, disdainful snort from behind him.
"What kinda amateur uses a cheap spark like that to ignite their mix?"
Zephyr turned around, irritation flickering across his face, and found himself staring at a huge, flamboyantly dressed cyborg with blue hair slicked back in a pompadour. The stranger's metal nose glinted in the sunlight, and he crossed his arms with a smug expression, clearly enjoying his critique.
"Excuse me?" Zephyr shot back, glaring at him. "You got a problem with my method?"
"Oh, yeah," the cyborg drawled, leaning in with a grin. "If you're gonna light up something dangerous, you do it with style." He threw his arms out, miming an explosion, then leaned back, laughing like it was the best joke he'd told all day.
"Style? Style?!" Zephyr's hands clenched, and a metal crate nearby trembled under his magnetic power. "I'm not trying to throw a fireworks show. This is advanced chemistry, not… whatever this circus act is."
The cyborg looked him up and down, his grin widening. "Advanced chemistry? Don't make me laugh! Only thing advanced here is that ego of yours." He took a step closer, waving off Zephyr's annoyance. "Name's Franky. And if you're experimenting with stuff that goes boom, I'm the one to ask. I've done more engineering on this island than you've probably ever heard of."
Zephyr's eyebrow twitched, but a curious glint crept into his eyes. "Yeah? Well, my name's Zephyr, and I don't need some oversized tin man lecturing me on explosions. I was handling things just fine until you decided to stick your nose in it."
Franky crossed his arms, unfazed. "If you were 'handling things,' why'd I have to step in? And let's be real—you're looking to make some noise, but I doubt you've got the equipment to back it up."
Zephyr felt the spark of a challenge. "Oh, I've got plenty of equipment," he snapped, a wicked idea forming in his mind. "In fact, I've got more than I can carry. Fresh loot from the Marines, their best weapons and artillery… real high-quality stuff." He paused, waiting for Franky's reaction.
Franky's eyebrows shot up, and he let out a low whistle. "So you got some Marine hardware, huh? Not bad for a rookie."
"Rookie?" Zephyr scoffed. "I've taken out entire Marine fleets. In fact, I've got enough loot to sink a ship, if I had the right ship to carry it all. But if you think you're the expert, why don't you help me build a real vessel? A submarine. It's gonna need durability, firepower, and space. The works."
Franky's grin turned from mocking to interested. "A sub, huh? You're thinking big, I'll give you that. And you're not wrong—if anyone can make it, it's me. But only if you're ready to get your hands dirty."
Zephyr matched his grin. "Oh, I'm ready. And I'll provide every last weapon I've got from the Marines' stash to make it happen. You want style? I'll show you power. Let's build something Water 7 won't forget."
Franky threw his head back and laughed, clapping Zephyr on the shoulder. "Now you're talkin'!
Zephyr and Franky finally locked eyes, both with a shared glint of respect and competitiveness. It was a silent agreement: introductions were in order.
"So, Zephyr D. Stormborn, huh?" Franky crossed his arms, his grin softened with a trace of nostalgia. "I like your style, Zeph. You remind me of someone… someone who put his soul into every ship he made." His face clouded for a moment, but he quickly shook it off. "Though you've got that extra spark, y'know? That drive."
Zephyr's eyebrow raised in interest but kept it cool. "Well, Franky, maybe it's just that I know what's at stake. Let's just say I need a submarine that's fast, stealthy, and deadly enough to make the Marines think twice. And…" He hesitated, then added, "It's for someone I hold dear."
Franky studied Zephyr for a moment, nodding thoughtfully. "Say no more, man. I get it. Sometimes… you gotta put it all on the line for someone." He punched a fist into his palm. "Alright, let's make this happen. But for a sub like that, I'll need at least four days."
"Four? I was thinking two."
"Yeah, but I'm thinking four," Franky shot back, defiant.
Zephyr smirked. "With my powers and your skills, we can hit a compromise: three days."
Franky grinned, seeing the fire in Zephyr's eyes. "Deal. But you better be ready to keep up."
And so began three intense days of nonstop work, with Zephyr, Ace, Alice, and Franky throwing themselves into building the submarine. Franky's blueprints sprawled across tables, the cargo hold transformed into a bustling workshop of clanging metal, rattling tools, and scattered sketches. Zephyr used his magnet powers to lift and mold heavy sheets of metal, Ace helped with welding (while occasionally getting distracted and accidentally setting things on fire), and Alice quietly assisted, her precision and patience balancing out the chaos.
The crew quickly warmed up to Franky. His stories of past adventures, his passion for engineering, and his infectious energy made the long hours feel lighter. He told them tales of his mentor, Tom, the legendary shipwright who'd inspired him and taught him everything about shipbuilding. And, bit by bit, they began sharing their own stories with him.
One night, as they hammered in the final bolts, Zephyr finally opened up to Franky. "You know," he began, voice quiet over the sound of the ocean lapping against the hull, "this sub… it's for someone who is important my life. I don't know what kind of trouble she's in, but she helped me once, and I'm not about to let her down."
Franky looked at him with a solemn understanding, patting Zephyr's shoulder. "I've been there, Zeph. When you owe someone that big, you make sure you come through." His grin returned. "We're gonna make sure this sub isn't just good; it's SUPER!"
After three grueling days and sleepless nights, the submarine stood ready. Its sleek design gleamed under the dawn's light, every detail a testament to their combined efforts and determination.