Chapter 9: On the Road

Chapter 9: On the Road

The wind howled, ripping through the air as heavy raindrops pounded the earth relentlessly. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the forest sank into darkness, its colours fading to a dreary palette.

A figure ran down the muddy path, its steps splashing through the mud.

His hood clung tightly, a feeble attempt to shield himself from the world.

Troubled thoughts burdened his mind, weighing him down with every step.

The rage of the storm mirrored his inner turmoil, a chaotic reflection of the upheavals of his life.

After suffering countless setbacks, he found himself alone, wondering what twist of fate had brought him to this desolate place.

 

The moment he and Bell-Mere parted ways, he realised how foolish their plan had been, as things immediately went downhill.

The only thing that kept him going was the safety of his companion and the desperate hope that he wouldn't arrive too late.

Recalling what he had witnessed in the office, he let out a heavy sigh.

When he finally entered, the reality was far from what he had expected.

Everything was in ruins.

The horrifying sight of 'pieces' scattered around the room painted a grim picture.

It was as if some wild beast had torn through the place.

 

Even the 'Den Den Mushi he desperately needed was lying in the rubble.

The devastation was so overwhelming that his immediate reflex was to abandon his mission and flee for his life.

But that impulse was quickly discarded as soon as it was conceived.

His only recourse now was to make his own way to the capital, where he could call for help.

Determined, he set off, oblivious to the looming prospect of another challenge.

...He soon found himself hopelessly lost...

After nearly half an hour of relentless running, frustration was beginning to take its toll. "How is this possible? There's still no end in sight. The briefing said it was only an hour round trip."

He sighed deeply.

"How much further could it be?" he murmured, trying to calm himself.

Pushing himself to the limit at top speed, exhaustion finally caught up with him, causing him to stumble and collapse to the ground, utterly exhausted.

In his fading consciousness, a resigned thought crossed his mind: "I might as well lie here and hope no one finds me.

Defeated, he surrendered to the consuming darkness.

After an indeterminate amount of time, a shadowy figure emerged from the darkness, sending a shiver of fear down his spine as dread engulfed him.

 

Relief washed over him as he recognised his captain, standing there with an obnoxious smile on his face.

"Well, well, well, what have we here?" The captain remarked, his tone tinged with mild disappointment.

Darion's expression froze, prompting a chuckle of amusement from the captain.

The laughter stopped as the captain crouched down beside the fallen Marine.

"Not only have you disobeyed orders, but now you've failed to redeem yourself," he scolded, causing Darion to hang his head in recognition of the truth.

A deep sigh escaped the captain as he continued, "Well, much of the blame for that falls on my shoulders for not disciplining you hard enough.

 

Gently tapping a stunned Darion on the forehead, he remarked, "Let's get you off this damp floor before you catch cold," and promptly lifted the pale Marine to his feet.

Trying to hide his embarrassment, Darion interjected, "But Captain, we thought you were dead, and if you were!"

Pausing briefly, he repeated the sentiment in a subdued murmur. "And if that were the case... what could someone like me have done?" His tone betrayed a sense of despair.

In an attempt to lift his spirits, Darion gathered himself and said, "But now that you're here, none of that matters!"

Watching the jubilant Marine, the Captain stood with a disappointed expression etched into his features.

Sensing a change in the atmosphere, Darion asked, "Captain?"

The man only glanced skyward for a moment before meeting Darion's gaze with a puzzled expression.

 A shiver ran down Darion's spine as he stammered, "Wait, how did you survive, and where have you been all this time?"

Gathering his courage, Darion shouted, "I need to know how you got here and...!"

Darion's ramblings grated on the captain's nerves until he could no longer contain his frustration and bellowed, "Shut up!"

Enjoying the brief moment of silence his outburst had granted him, the captain said sternly, "How should I know any of the things you're asking? Are you an idiot?" His tone dripped with contempt.

The sudden outburst left Darion stunned and gaping in disbelief.

How could someone so dedicated to discipline behave like such a scoundrel?

With a weary sigh, the captain lamented, "Oh, Darion, if only I could make you understand. But we do not have the luxury of time; you must concentrate on what really matters."

Confusion clouded Darion's expression as he asked, "What do you mean?" Uncertainty clouded his voice.

A flicker of pity crossed the captain's features as he urged, "Stop blaming yourself and focus on your mission; people are still counting on you."

Looking around hesitantly, the captain pondered for a moment before declaring, "I'm not even sure how I ended up here, but one thing is clear: you need to move out of the way." The words echoed in Darion's mind as the captain pushed him aside, bringing Darion back to his senses.

Shaking himself out of his daze, Darion found himself standing by the side of the road, muttering, "What the...?"

Struggling to capture the fleeting memory of recent events, he glanced around, but it slipped from his grasp.

The weather blurred the view, limiting him to a few metres in front of him.

Scanning his surroundings, he failed to spot the one who had helped him.

As he gathered his thoughts, he noticed that all traces of fatigue had vanished.

 

Pushing his doubts to the back of his mind, he decided to continue, driven by a newfound determination.

 

In his daze, he didn't notice the carriage coming from behind as he turned; it almost hit him, but the carriage driver managed to avoid him at the last second, scaring the horses.

 

In the chaos, the driver struggled to regain control, but the carriage veered off the road and sank into a deep puddle of mud.

"Today, out of all days, ain't that just wonderful?" The driver lamented, cursing his luck.

"Now, look at what you have done." The driver yelled at a stunned Darion.

"Why didn't you move out of the way, you imbecile?" taking out his frustration on the poor marine.

Darion stammered, still reeling from the near trampling. "I... I have to get to the capital."

A surge of determination welled up inside him with each word, and he emphasised loudly, "I have to go to the capital! It's an emergency!"

Darion rambled on, recounting everything that had happened, leaving the driver to wonder if he was sure he had not hit him by accident.

The commotion attracted the attention of a passenger, who stepped out of the carriage, removing his travelling cloak to reveal a well-dressed, surprisingly youthful man.

Meanwhile, the five companions approached from behind to assess the situation.

"It looks like the carriage is stuck," Penelope observed.

Ponto interjected cynically, "What an astute observation. Did you come to that conclusion all by yourself?"

Ramus joined in joyfully. "It looks like you lost the bet again, André."

"It seems you're always losing; better luck next time, André."

Andre remained silent, his expression sour, as he returned to the cart, followed by Ponto and Ramus, to settle their bets.

Unimpressed by her companions' antics, Penelope turned to Norman. "Big lug, would you be so kind as to lift the cart out of the mud so we can continue?"

Norman scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Don't pretend to be sophisticated; I know what you do in your spare time..."

Before he could finish his sentence, the look on Penelope's face silenced him, causing him to swallow his words.

"Do as I ask and lift the cart out of the mud," Penelope demanded again, her smile still there, but now with a slight twitch in her right eye.

The half-fishman rose reluctantly, wanting to mutter something under his breath, but wisely keeping his mouth shut this time.

Approaching the carriage, he quickly lifted it up, the horses still attached, their panicked kicks echoing in the air, before carefully placing them back on the road.

The sight brought Darion's wandering to an abrupt halt, shock written all over his face.

Realising he was wasting precious time, Darion apologised, "I must go. I'm sorry for the inconvenience," and tried to continue on his way, only to be stopped by the young boss, who placed a hand on Darion's shoulder.

 

As he tried to shake off the hand, Darion realised that he was immobilised, unable to move no matter how hard he struggled.

"Easy, my mysterious friend," the boss intervened, wrapping his arm around Darion's shoulders.

"Firstly, you're going the wrong way; this road leads to Kingsport, not the capital. And secondly..."

"I'm quite intrigued by these masked individuals, so come inside and tell me your story," the boss continued, opening the door and leading Darion inside.

Panic swept through Darion.

He was powerless to resist, his body moving slowly towards the open door as if compelled by some unseen force. Unable to cry out for help, his features twisted into a grateful smile against his will, lest he arouse the driver's suspicion.

 

The two remaining companions stood in stunned silence, struggling to process the sight before them.

"The boss... smiling?" The fisherman muttered in horror.

Penelope replied uncomfortably, "I've seen that smile before. It usually precedes a considerable amount of trouble."

"I just hope we're not in it this time."

They retreated to the waggon, unaware that the night sky had briefly shimmered emerald green.

Meanwhile, Darion, still unable to suppress the forced smile, sat across from the man who had ensnared him.

"Now, let's get things straight," the man began.

"Let's address the elephant in the room first. I am not your enemy; you may find that hard to believe given the circumstances, but it is the truth."

"My name is Lionel, but you can call me Léon," the man introduced himself.

"Now that the formalities are over, let's discuss why I kidnapped you so rudely."

"Secondly, I believe I know the identity of those masked individuals, but if my suspicions are correct, you probably won't believe me."

"I will now release my control over you so that you can tell me about these masked men."

"Please refrain from shouting. I despise loud noises."

With a wave of his hand, Léon released Darion.

As soon as he regained control, Darion asked, "And why should I trust you?" Vigilance gleamed in his eyes.

 

Léon let out a hollow laugh. "The fact that I didn't kill you on the spot while you were ranting about masked assassins should give me some credibility, don't you think?"

Acknowledging his point, Darion relented. "Fine, I'll tell you what I know."

"But I still don't trust you."

Listening to Darion's account, Léon furrowed his brow in deep thought. After a moment, he spoke. "The masked 'organisation' you encountered is a faction within the world government known as Cypher Pol. They are tasked with maintaining 'balance' in the world, or at least that's their supposed purpose now. Perhaps it was different in the past.

"Impossible!" Darion snapped. "Why would the Marines send us on a reconnaissance mission only to be targeted by this 'Cipher Pol Group'?"

Undeterred by the outburst, Léon calmly replied, "I understand that this is difficult to accept, but unfortunately, it's reality. If you take a moment to think about it, you'll find that many previously mysterious circumstances now make sense.".

"For example, I believe the reason they knew about your mission was because of a leak within the Marines.

Having the facts laid out in front of him made Darion feel sick.

"But why?" he asked weakly.

"The Kingdom has been planning a secession from the World Government and approached us exactly a year ago to ask for financial support to facilitate it," Léon revealed.

"Why are you telling me all this? I'm just an insignificant nobody," Darion asked.

Léon replied solemnly, "Perhaps, but you, 'a nobody', are running desperately to the capital for help after losing all your comrades in a suicide mission. I admire your determination, and you deserve to know the truth."

These words plunged Darion into deep thought.

In truth, Darion was reminded of himself two years earlier, when he had failed to save his sister and could only watch helplessly as she sacrificed herself.

It was then that he realised the world was sick and in need of change. He had joined a group of like-minded people to bring about the necessary reforms.

But there was no point in dwelling on the past.

 

"At any cost," Léon muttered to himself.

"What was that?" asked Darion.

Looking out of the window, Léon remarked, "We should be arriving at the capital soon," only to notice an unnatural black cloud of smoke looming on the horizon, filling him with an eerie sense of foreboding.

But why was that?

Perhaps his conversation with Darion had made him uneasy and overly vigilant.

After all, he had arrived before the pirates, and his fleet was positioned at the entrance to the harbour, effectively blocking all sea access to the capital.

 

The fact that his fleet was effectively blocking access to the Kingdom should have been enough to prevent its destruction, so why did Léon have such a sense of foreboding?

Was it the presence of Cypher Pol?

Why had they come here, and what had prompted them to wipe out a group of Marine scouts?

Had their plans been leaked?

This operation was supposed to be a pirate raid with no government involvement, so why were they here?

The more he thought about it, the worse his premonition became.

"Léon!" he barked at the driver. "Driver, move faster!"

"We can't, sir," the driver replied worriedly. "The weather is getting worse; it's like a hurricane, and I'm afraid it's only going to get worse. It's safer to maintain our present speed.

Léon shouted, "I don't care. Make it happen!"

"It's really impossible, sir; the horses can't go any faster in this weather," the driver shouted back over the howling wind.

"This is getting us nowhere," Léon muttered in frustration.

"Fine, I'll do it myself," he declared, taking control of the carriage and its horses, pushing them to their limits, and driving them forward as if possessed.

He repeated the process with the second carriage behind, starting with the driver and horses.

The sudden acceleration caused Norman to fall out of the carriage and into the mud, much to the amusement of the other passengers.

 "This isn't funny; wait up!" Norman shouted, trying to catch up as he ran after them.

Darion finally snapped out of his daze, panic in his voice as he asked, "How are you doing that?"

"Devil's fruit," Léon replied curtly, concentrating on controlling the carts again.

Leaving Darion stunned and gasping for breath, he looked out the window and watched the dense forest rush by at an unimaginable speed.

Now two waggons and someone running desperately behind them were racing towards the capital, their journey plagued by uncertainty.

With too many tumultuous events unfolding in a single day, Darion slumped back in his seat, fervently hoping that Bell-Mere had better luck than he had.