The sky above Mock Town cracked open like a shattered mirror, jagged fractures of light swallowing the horizon. In an instant, a vortex of swirling darkness and unfamiliar energy spat thirteen figures onto the island's filth-ridden streets. The stench of rum, sweat, and blood filled the air. The Phantom Troupe had arrived.
Uvogin landed first, the impact of his mass sending a ripple through the damp wooden planks of the dock. He sniffed the air, his nostrils flaring with distaste. "Smells like shit."
Chrollo stood beside him, his dark eyes scanning their surroundings, his mind already cataloging every visible detail. The streets bustled with scum—pirates, bounty hunters, and desperate men with nothing to lose. Yet something was off. No Nen. No aura. This world was fundamentally different.
Shalnark knelt, brushing his fingers over the cobbled path. He tapped a device strapped to his wrist, a modified phone receiver stolen from a past victim. He activated the Den Den Mushi he had swiped moments after landing, letting its signal latch onto the island's communication network. A small smile tugged at his lips. "Interesting. No radio waves, but they have something similar."
Pakunoda tilted her head, pressing her fingers against the temple of a quivering man nearby. The pirate screamed as flashes of memories were yanked from his mind. Blood trickled from his nose. He collapsed in spasms as Pakunoda turned to Chrollo. "No aura. No Nen. But there's something called 'Haki.' A willpower-based combat system. And 'Devil Fruits'—bodies changed by unnatural abilities."
Feitan rolled his shoulders, irritated. "No Nen? Boring. We are stronger."
A commotion erupted from one of the taverns up ahead. A gang of brutes, wearing ragged coats emblazoned with the mark of a grinning hyena, stormed out. One of them—a towering man with rusted cleavers strapped to his back—locked eyes with them.
"The hell you bastards looking at?"
Uvogin grinned. "Finally." He stepped forward.
The pirate leader, a crooked-tooth man, sneered. "You new here? Don't know how things work? This town belongs to Bellamy the Hyena. You cross us, you die—"
Swoosh!-His words died in his throat as Uvogin closed the distance in a blink. A single punch obliterated his skull, sending a red mist spraying across his crew. The man's body folded inward as if crumpled paper, his ribcage shattering audibly. His corpse hit the ground with a wet slap.
Silence.
Then chaos.
The remaining pirates unsheathed their blades, charging forward with a mix of rage and fear. Franklin sighed, raising both hands. The compartments in his fingers slid open with a soft metallic click.
"Twelve bullets." His fingers recoiled, releasing a barrage of invisible Nen bullets that tore through flesh, bone, and steel alike. Blood geysered from gaping wounds as men crumpled, their bodies twitching as if puppets with cut strings.
A desperate pirate swung his cutlass at Nobunaga. Metal rang as Nobunaga's katana intercepted it mid-swing. The pirate gasped—his blade hadn't even scratched the katana.
"Your sword's shit." Nobunaga drove his katana forward, the tip bursting through the man's throat. Blood spurted in arcs. He twisted the blade before wrenching it free, letting the body collapse at his feet.
Feitan sidestepped a spear thrust, gripping his attacker's wrist. He bent it backward with a sickening crunch, then stabbed his own blade through the man's gut, twisting until intestines spilled onto the ground. "Weak."
Machi flicked her fingers, a thin string of Nen wrapping around the throat of a pirate who tried to flee. She pulled. The man's head snapped clean off, his body twitching before slumping.
Shizuku, standing amidst the carnage, hummed absentmindedly as she summoned Blinky, her vacuum. It whirred to life, consuming the blood-drenched corpses until nothing remained.
Bellamy's surviving men turned, fear overriding loyalty. They sprinted towards the docks.
Shalnark pressed a button on his stolen receiver. A sickening crackle sounded through the air. The fleeing men screamed, their bodies spasming uncontrollably before they collapsed. The electric signal fried their nervous systems instantly.
Chrollo, unscathed amidst the slaughter, turned towards the now silent streets. He stepped over bodies, crouching beside a still-breathing pirate who had lost both his legs.
"Tell me about the Grand Line."
The pirate gasped, blood leaking from his lips. "Y-you don't…understand…Yonko…Admirals…they'll k-kill you…"
Chrollo smiled. "We'll see." He placed a hand over the dying man's forehead. A flicker of dark energy passed between them. The pirate's eyes glazed over as his memories were stolen. His lifeless body collapsed moments later.
"We need a ship," Chrollo said, rising to his feet.
Kortopi walked to the largest vessel docked nearby—a grand, sturdy galleon with cannons lining its hull. He placed a hand against it. In an instant, an identical copy materialized beside it, perfect in every detail.
The Phantom Troupe boarded their new vessel. The ocean stretched out before them, vast and filled with possibilities. The Grand Line awaited.
Behind them, Mock Town was silent. Blood pooled in the gutters. Bodies lay strewn across the cobbled streets, limbs twisted at unnatural angles.
The Spiders had arrived.
And the world had no idea what was coming.