Chapter 23: The Admirals Arrive

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Five Years Later

The seas had become a far more dangerous place since Davy Jones began his reign. In the years that passed, his influence spread across vast oceans, conquering islands and fortresses once thought impregnable. Stories of his cruelty and power became legends—whispers that echoed across the Grand Line and beyond. Some feared him as a ghost, a myth too terrible to be real. Others saw him as the herald of an age of lawlessness, where only the strong would rule the seas.

The Dutchman itself had transformed, growing in size and might, infused with the same dark power that fueled its captain. Davy Jones, wielding Poseidon's trident, had solidified his empire, turning distant isles into strongholds and gathering a crew of loyalists and warriors who knew no fear. The world had changed, and so had Davy.

Yet, with each conquest, the World Government grew increasingly wary of his unchecked power. His raids and dominance over the seas had not gone unnoticed, and soon enough, they would respond.

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The sea was calm, too calm for Davy Jones's liking. The Flying Dutchman cut through the still waters, its ghostly sails fluttering in the breeze. But the sense of foreboding had already settled in Davy's bones. He could feel the weight of something powerful approaching, something that challenged even his dominion over the seas.

From the crow's nest, a lookout's cry echoed across the deck. "Ship spotted! Coming in fast!"

Davy squinted toward the horizon, and there it was—a massive battleship flying the insignia of the World Government. His heart quickened. It had only been a matter of time before they responded to his growing empire, but the fact that they had sent an Admiral meant they saw him as a serious threat. He wasn't dealing with ordinary Marines; this was a power that could rival even his.

"Ready the crew," Davy ordered, his voice grim. "Prepare for battle."

The crew scrambled into position, the clatter of weapons and chains filling the air. But even among them, the whispers of fear were unmistakable. They knew what it meant to face an Admiral—these weren't mere mortals, but warriors with the power to bend nature itself to their will.

As the World Government ship closed the distance, Davy's gaze hardened. He stepped forward, gripping the ancient artifact at his side—Poseidon's trident, a weapon of immense power that he had claimed in a long-forgotten battle. The trident thrummed with energy, as if it sensed the battle to come. He had yet to fully unleash its potential, but today might be the day he needed it.

The battleship loomed over the Dutchman, dwarfing it with its size and might. And then, from its deck, the Admiral stepped forward. His coat billowed in the wind, and his very presence radiated authority. The sea seemed to bend to his will, the waves parting as if making way for a living force of nature.

"I am Admiral Fujitora," the man called, his voice carrying effortlessly across the waves. "By the authority of the World Government, you, Davy Jones, are hereby ordered to surrender your ship and cease your unlawful conquests."

Davy Jones met his gaze, unflinching. "I bow to no one," he snarled. "Least of all to the likes of you."

Fujitora's expression remained impassive, but the air around him began to distort. With a gesture of his hand, the sea itself began to churn, the gravity around the Dutchman intensifying. The weight of the water increased, pulling the ship down as if trying to drag it to the depths.

Davy's crew scrambled to maintain their footing, the wooden beams of the ship groaning under the strain. But Davy remained still, his grip tightening on the trident. This was a fight unlike any he had faced before, and he knew brute strength alone would not be enough.

"Hold steady!" Davy bellowed, raising the trident high. The skies darkened in response, clouds swirling as lightning crackled overhead. With a mighty thrust, he drove the trident into the deck of the Dutchman. Instantly, the sea roared to life, waves rising in defiance of Fujitora's gravitational force.

A towering wave formed at Davy's command, crashing toward the Admiral's ship with the fury of the ocean itself. But Fujitora was not so easily bested. With a mere flick of his wrist, the wave was split in two, crashing harmlessly to either side of his ship. The Admiral's power was immense, his control over gravity bending the very fabric of reality.

Davy grit his teeth, knowing this battle would push him to his limits. He summoned the full force of Poseidon's trident, calling forth a torrent of whirlpools and sea creatures from the deep. Giant serpents and monstrous fish rose from the depths, thrashing toward Fujitora with vicious intent.

But again, the Admiral's power proved overwhelming. He raised his hand, and the sea monsters were forced to the ocean floor, crushed under the weight of the Admiral's gravity. The Dutchman itself groaned, the pressure bearing down on it with relentless force.

Davy's crew began to falter. Cracks formed along the hull of the ship, and the ghostly figures who served him cried out in panic. The Dutchman, a ship thought to be indestructible, was breaking under the might of the Admiral.

"Is this all the infamous Davy Jones can muster?" Fujitora's voice rang out, calm yet filled with judgment. "A relic of a forgotten age, clinging to powers beyond his understanding."

With a furious roar, Davy raised the trident again, this time summoning a surge of lightning from the stormy skies. Bolts of raw energy crackled down, striking the Admiral's ship with deafening force. For a moment, it seemed as if Davy had turned the tide, but the Admiral merely raised his blade, deflecting the lightning with ease.

Davy's heart pounded in his chest. His crew was faltering, the Dutchman on the verge of collapse. He knew that if he didn't retreat now, they would all be lost.

With a final thrust of the trident, Davy summoned a massive wave to cover their escape. The wall of water rose high, obscuring the Dutchman from view as it surged toward Fujitora's ship. The Admiral stood firm, his power still unchallenged, but the wave bought Davy enough time to make his move.

"Retreat!" Davy bellowed, his voice filled with fury and frustration. The Dutchman, battered but still afloat, began to turn away from the battle. His crew, shaken but loyal, scrambled to obey his command.

As the ship sailed away, Davy looked back at the Admiral, his grip on the trident tightening. This was not the end. The Admiral may have won this battle, but Davy Jones was far from finished. He had tasted the power of Poseidon's trident, and though he had been forced to retreat, he knew that it was only a matter of time before he mastered its full potential.

The Dutchman limped across the sea, its once-imposing frame now marked by the scars of battle. The crew, though loyal, could not hide their unease. The Admiral had been too powerful, and they had barely escaped with their lives.

Davy stood at the helm, his face set in a grim scowl. His empire had been shaken, but it would not fall. He had faced the wrath of the World Government and survived, but this defeat would not go unpunished.

The sea was his domain, and Davy Jones would return. Stronger.