A World Out Of Reach

Blake leaned against the warship's side, the ocean stretching endlessly before him. He hadn't spoken much since they'd escaped Impel Down, but his mind was always working. It wasn't just about the fight they were heading into—the upcoming war at Marineford—there was a deeper problem gnawing at him.

He didn't know enough.

Blake wasn't someone who liked to be caught off guard. In his previous life, he had been known for his sharp intelligence and quick thinking. But this world? This world was utterly foreign to him. Worse still, he had been thrust into the body of someone infamous—the pirate Blake D. Flame—without any of the memories that were supposed to come with it. No memories of his life, his allies, or his enemies. Nothing.

The transmigration had stripped him of all the knowledge the original pirate would have had, and though he was quick to adapt, he knew he was missing key pieces of the puzzle.

His mind drifted back to Impel Down, where he had used his enhanced vision to catch glimpses of Ace and overheard snippets of the war to come. He was grasping at shadows.

"I need to catch up on this world," he muttered.

That was the solution. The real Blake D. Flame might have known everything about the world's current power dynamics, but his absence in Impel Down gave him the perfect excuse. If anyone questioned his lack of knowledge, he could tell them the truth: he'd been locked away for too long.

He scanned the deck, spotting Jinbei standing near the helm. The fish-man was calm, composed, and had an air of wisdom about him. If anyone could help him grasp the world, it would be Jinbei.

Blake walked over to Jinbei, keeping his pace measured. He needed to get the information he wanted without raising suspicion.

"Jinbei," Blake said, his voice calm but direct. "I've been locked away in Impel Down for years now. I've lost touch with the world. You seem to know a lot about what's happening—fill me in."

Jinbei turned, his expression neutral, but a flicker of understanding passed through his eyes. "You've been out of the loop, huh?"

Blake nodded. "I need to know what I've missed. The world has changed, and if I'm going to survive whatever comes next, I need to be prepared."

Jinbei didn't ask any more questions. He nodded and leaned against the railing, launching into a detailed explanation.

His words painted a vivid picture of the world's power structure. Whitebeard, the Four Emperors, the Marines, and their powerful Admirals — Blake now understood the battlefield their group was heading into. This war wasn't just a simple clash of pirates and marines. The convergence of titanic forces had ruled the seas for decades. But Blake's thoughts were focused on something more immediate — how to survive and thrive in this world with weird powers, with only his cards as his weapon.

A familiar, flamboyant figure approached as Jinbei's explanation began winding down. Ivankov, with his towering hair and eccentric presence, strolled over with a casual smile.

"Ahhh~ It seems you two are deep in conversation," Ivankov said, glancing between Blake and Jinbei. "Anything I can add to the mix?"

Blake had been waiting for this moment. He had kept his cool ever since they had escaped from Impel Down, but there had been something on his mind—something Ivankov had done back in the prison. He remembered how Ivankov had looked at him, not as a notorious pirate, but with a spark of recognition. It wasn't recognition for Blake D. Flame, the pirate with a fabricated evil reputation. It was something more profound.

Blake turned to Ivankov, cutting straight to the point. "Back in the cell, you recognized me. Not for the pirate I'm supposed to be but for something else. What do you know about me—or more specifically, about my species?"

Ivankov's smile faltered slightly, and he crossed his arms, giving Blake a more severe look. "Ahh~ So you noticed that, did you?"

Blake remained silent, his gaze locked on Ivankov.

With a sigh, Ivankov leaned closer. "You're not like the other pirates, that's for sure. What I recognized were your eyes. The Aetherian eyes."

Ivankov's usual flamboyant grin faded, replaced by a serious, almost curious expression as he studied Blake more closely. For a moment, the Revolutionary seemed to be weighing how much he should say.

"The Aetherians," Ivankov began slowly, his voice quieter than usual. They are a name I haven't heard in a long time. I didn't expect to see one of your kind still alive, let alone locked away in Impel Down."

Blake stayed silent, letting Ivankov continue.

"I recognized you because of your eyes," Ivankov continued, gesturing toward Blake's distinctive purple irises. "The color, the intensity—it's unmistakable. Your people were known for their eyes, for powers tied to vision that few could ever hope to match."

Blake's attention sharpened. This was what he had been waiting for.

"But," Ivankov said, pausing as if searching for the right words, "the Aetherians… they aren't well known anymore, at least not in this era. It's not just because they were rare—it's because they were... erased."

"Erased?" Blake repeated, his tone steady, though curiosity and caution warred within him.

Ivankov nodded. "From what little I know, it wasn't a natural extinction. Your people weren't just wiped out—they were deliberately erased from history like the world wanted to forget they ever existed. And when the World Government wants to erase something, well... there's always a reason."

Blake's eyes narrowed slightly. This was what he had suspected, but hearing it confirmed made it more real.

"There were whispers, back in the day," Ivankov continued, "about the Aetherians possessing abilities that even the World Government feared. Your kind had vision beyond sight—some could see across vast distances, while others... it was rumored they could catch glimpses of the future." Ivankov paused, watching for Blake's reaction.

Blake remained expressionless though his mind raced. Future sight, like advanced Observation Haki. Could that be why his vision had felt so different since his transmigration? He had sensed things and seen things with greater clarity than should have been possible.

"But don't ask me for more details," Ivankov said, his tone shifting back to its usual casualness. "I only know the rumors. No one really knows what happened to the Aetherians and why the World Government went to such lengths to bury them."

"So no one's left?" Blake asked, his voice neutral, but the question carried weight.

Ivankov shrugged. "I can't say for sure. If there are others, they've kept themselves hidden well. But you... well, you're the first I've come across in a long time."

Ivankov's eyes sparkled with something between curiosity and concern. "Be careful, Blake. If the World Government knows what you are—and they probably do—they won't stop until they've got you buried under the deepest ocean layers."

Blake processed the information, still keeping his usual calm demeanor, though inwardly, a storm was brewing. The conversation had given him pieces of the puzzle, but many more pieces were still missing.

He needed to learn the whole story of the Aetherians or why they were erased from history. But he knew enough to be wary. If what Ivankov said was true, then his very existence could become a target—if it wasn't already.

As the conversation came to a close, Blake took a moment to reflect on the new information. He now had the beginnings of a new personal quest. If his Aetherian heritage was the reason the World Government was so intent on erasing him, then there was more at stake than just surviving the war. He needed to uncover the truth about his species and what powers his eyes held.

Just then, the system menu appeared in his mind's eye:

New Quest Available: Discover the Secrets of the Aetherians.

Reward: 50000 AP, Special Card Draw.

Quest Objective: Uncover the truth behind the extinction of the Aetherian species and the role of the World Government in their suppression.

Blake dismissed the notification for now, but he knew that this quest would be his long-term goal—something he would tackle after the war. For now, his priority was clear: he needed to decide. Should he stay and help this group or strike out independently, seeking answers and growing stronger along the way?