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Chapter - 130 Start binding the Legends in eternal hell.
🕑 Added 2025-04-21 17:38:39 +0000 UTCThe next day, when Saint Lakeman finally stirred from sleep, the sun had already reached its zenith.
He rose from the bed, his blood-red eyes still half-lidded with sleep, and rang the bell near his bedside. A maid, who had been waiting silently outside, entered at once.
Without needing a word, she bowed gracefully and began her duties—preparing a warm bath infused with fragrant herbs. She bathed him with practiced gentleness, dried him, and dressed him in his custom-tailored garments. Once finished, she bowed again and quietly exited.
‘The girls have already gone for training,’ Lakeman thought, running a hand through his tousled black hair, a smug smile playing on his lips. ‘It’s about time I ramp up my training pace too.’
With that, he made his way toward the elevator that led to the floor below.
At the entrance to the lift, he produced a sleek, black key adorned with a silver emblem of the World Government. He inserted it into the lock, and the metal doors hissed open with a deep, echoing rumble. As he stepped inside, the doors closed behind him, and the elevator began its slow descent into the abyss.
……
Eternal Hell—Level 6 of Impel Down.
The lowest and most terrifying level of the prison. It was here that monsters among men were locked away—those who had committed unspeakable crimes, whose sheer existence posed an existential threat to the World Government.
It was said by Fleet Admiral Sengoku himself that just one Level 6 prisoner, if let loose in a remote nation, could plunge the world into chaos. These prisoners had been sentenced either to death or to spend the rest of eternity rotting in their cells—forgotten by history.
Saint Jaygarcia Saturn of the Five Elders had once admitted in shock that anyone from this level serving under another man was unthinkable.
Even the highest-ranking officers of Impel Down feared to tread this floor unless absolutely necessary. The danger was too great, the darkness too deep.
The Chief Warden held the terrifying authority to execute any prisoner at will—no trial, no witness, only judgment. When Magellan assumed that title in the future, he made a brutal example of it, unleashing his Poisonous Hydra to silence any defiance the moment it sparked.
……
As the elevator halted with a heavy clang, the doors opened into a long corridor shrouded in darkness and dread. Lakeman stepped out, the air thick with the scent of blood, rust, and despair.
The silence was unnerving at first. But as soon as the prisoners caught sight of the young Celestial Dragon, the madness ignited.
“WHO DARES—!”
“COME CLOSER, YOU LITTLE RAT—!”
Chains clattered violently. Wild, guttural roars echoed through the stone halls. Steel bars shuddered under the force of massive fists slamming against them. The entire level erupted into chaos.
Lakeman’s expression remained impassive.
He took a single breath.
Then, he spoke.
“Silence.”
His voice was calm, but laced with divine command.
In the next instant, a storm of purple-black Conqueror’s Haki exploded outward from his body, rippling through the air like a tidal wave. The sheer force of it slammed into the cells, shattering the will of all who dared to scream or curse.
One by one, the rioters fell—eyes rolling back, foam at their lips—as they collapsed like broken dolls. The violent banging ceased. Screams were cut short. Chains fell still.
In mere seconds, the chaotic Eternal Hell became deathly silent.
Only a handful of the most infamous legends remained conscious.
These were not men—they were beasts, warlords of blood and flame, monsters who had razed islands, killers who had stared into the abyss and grinned back.
And now, they were staring at Lakeman.
Their Haki surged in response, a primal attempt to assert dominance, to test this intruder. Invisible waves of pressure collided around him, a haze of murderous intent filling the corridor.
But Lakeman did not flinch.
His crimson eyes met theirs without fear, without mercy. His aura burned brighter, crackling like lightning, and he walked forward, unbothered, unchallenged, into the heart of the beast’s den.
……
As Lakeman stepped deeper into the forbidden heart of Eternal Hell, his eyes landed on his first two targets—both infamous names that once shook the Grand Line to its core.
Golden Lion Shiki sat bound in layers of thick seastone chains, his body restrained from neck to toe, yet his fierce golden mane still flowed wildly like a beast refusing to die. His eyes burned with hatred, glaring at Lakeman like a caged predator.
Just across from him, Douglas Bullet was on the ground, sweat pouring off his muscular frame. Despite having both hands and feet shackled in seastone, he continued to perform push-ups with brute determination. A heavy aura of Conqueror’s Haki pulsed faintly from his body, aimed directly at the approaching boy, as if to crush him under sheer force of will.
But Lakeman remained utterly unfazed.
He continued walking forward, each step echoing arrogantly across the cold stone floor. The metal doors of the two infamous pirates' cells stood between him and the former legends, but the weight of his presence alone seemed to pierce through the barriers.
He stopped just in front of them, folded his arms, and spoke with a smirk dancing on his lips.
“Well, well… I thought I’d find some kind of monsters locked up in the deepest depths of Impel Down,” he said in a taunting voice. “But it turns out, it’s just a couple of washed-up losers.”
Shiki's golden eyes blazed with fury. His chains rattled as he struggled against them. “You insolent brat. I am Golden Lion Shiki, a legendary pirate who ruled the skies! How dare you mock me?”
His voice thundered through the prison, but Lakeman didn’t even blink.
“When I ruled the seas, kids like you used to wet themselves and run crying to their mothers just from hearing my name,” Shiki growled, spitting the words like venom.
Lakeman let out a short, amused laugh, shaking his head.
“Haha… and yet here you are,” he said mockingly, gesturing around at the damp, iron bars. “Locked away like a dog. Tell me—who’s afraid of you now?”
Shiki bared his teeth in a snarl, but Lakeman wasn’t finished.
“Let me remind you, oh ‘Golden Lion’—you weren’t locked up for being too strong. You were locked up because you were a fool. Roger was your rival, not your lover. But when he died, you couldn’t handle it like a man.”
He stepped closer to the bars, eyes glowing crimson with a cruel glint.
“You stormed Marineford like some broken-hearted widow—only to be beaten down by Sengoku and Garp, then dragged here in chains. Pathetic.”
A flicker of amusement crossed Bullet’s eyes as he continued his push-ups in silence. Shiki’s face, on the other hand, had turned red with rage.
Lakeman smirked wider.
“With your Devil Fruit, you could fly. You could lift islands. You could have escaped to the heavens. But instead, you threw a tantrum and got humbled. And now? You rot in this cell.”
He paused, chuckling to himself.
“If that isn’t idiocy, I don’t know what is.”
Silence followed for a few seconds, thick, heavy, and seething with tension.
Shiki’s body trembled, not from fear, but from the sheer fury boiling inside him. The chains groaned under his strength, but they held firm. Bullet stopped his movements for a moment, looking up at Lakeman with calculating eyes.
Just as Shiki was about to snap and lose all reason, a cold, aged voice echoed from the deeper shadows of the prison.
“Brat... are you a Celestial Dragon?”
Lakeman’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of intrigue crossing his face. Though momentarily surprised, his tone remained calm and composed.
“How did you figure that out, Redfield? With my level of observation and Conqueror’s Haki, you shouldn’t be able to read my mind... even with your special Observation Haki.”
Douglas Bullet’s hands paused mid-push-up. His brows furrowed as he muttered to himself, disbelief dripping from his voice.
“A Celestial Dragon...? Impossible…”
To him, Celestial Dragons were nothing more than spoiled pigs in ivory towers—decadent and weak. The idea that one of them could wield this level of strength shook his perception.
Shiki, however, had a more nuanced view. He had once witnessed the terrifying might of the Knights of God during the fabled God Valley Incident. He knew the elites among the Celestial Dragons were far from powerless. Even so, seeing such overwhelming power in one so young made him scowl in disbelief.
Lakeman ignored their reactions. He remained still, waiting patiently for Redfield to speak again.
……
According to Sengoku himself, Patrick Redfield—infamously known as Red the Aloof—was powerful enough in his prime to stand on equal ground with both the Pirate King, Gol D. Roger, and the Emperor Edward Newgate.
Though Red carried himself with the elegance of a nobleman, behind that refined demeanor was a ruthless and violent predator. He had torn through fleets of Marines without a shred of hesitation.
He hated alliances, despised camaraderie, and saw friendship as a fatal weakness. Unlike Whitebeard, Roger, or even the Straw Hats of the future, Red held contempt for any man who placed faith in others. He believed true power was solitude. He would rather kill than be questioned about his independence.
And above all else, he had one singular dream—becoming the Pirate King.
Even if it meant discarding his humanity, he would claim the throne alone.
……
“Your aura,” Redfield’s voice came again, this time quieter, more introspective. “I’m familiar with that kind of presence... of a Celestial Dragon who holds great power. Yours feels similar. Different—but familiar.”
Lakeman chuckled.
“So it’s aura, huh? Seems there’s still a lot for me to learn.”
He no longer had any interest in wasting words on these fallen titans. The only reason he continued to speak at all was because his system had already begun binding Shiki, Bullet, and Redfield.
The process would take time—but proximity accelerated it. And once the bindings were complete, he would receive continuous feedback on their training, skills, and battle instincts. Knowledge. Power. All flowing to him.
He remained on Level 6—Eternal Hell—for nearly five hours, occasionally mocking Shiki and Bullet for their past failures, and speaking with Redfield when prompted.
All while standing in silence, waiting, feeding the invisible threads of connection and control that spread from him to their souls.
By the time he left and stepped back into the elevator, his system had already delivered its quiet progress reports:
[Binding: Golden Lion Shiki – Progress: 2.75%]
[Binding: Douglas Bullet – Progress: 2.79%]
[Binding: Patrick Redfield – Progress: 1.97%]
……
Returning to Freezing Hell, Lakeman strolled back toward his private villa. The snow crunched under his boots, and as he approached, he saw a delightful sight.
Robin, Hancock, and Lily were training in the snow, their breath rising in soft clouds, their bodies moving with fierce elegance despite the freezing cold.
With a playful grin, Lakeman leapt into the scene.
“Let’s see how well you’ve trained,” he teased, tackling the girls as they squealed in surprise.
They tumbled onto the snowy ground together, rolling and wrestling as snowballs flew in every direction. Laughter echoed across the frost-covered courtyard as the mock battle escalated.
Lakeman, of course, took full advantage of the moment—his hands sliding boldly across their curves, grabbing handfuls of soft flesh as they tried to fend him off with snowballs and playful punches.
As heat built beneath the cold, their flushed faces and teasing smiles said it all.
Aroused and breathless, Lakeman scooped the girls up and carried them back inside the villa.
There, behind closed doors, they surrendered to pleasure.
The symphony of debauchery played out in full as moans, gasps, and the rhythmic slap of flesh against flesh filled the air for two long hours.
Pah
Pah
“Mmhh”
Smack.
Only when the maid arrived with their meal did their lustful celebration finally end.
After a hearty dinner, Lakeman spent the night wrapped in the arms of Robin, Hancock, and Lily—another night of passion, pleasure, and absolute dominance.
……
The next day, he woke around noon, once again descending into the depths of Eternal Hell.
He spent the entire day in the presence of monsters—feeding the system with proximity, pushing the binding process further, observing, listening, and provoking when needed.
And so the days passed.
Three uneventful yet productive days.
Five days in Impel Down had already gone by.
But Lakeman’s binding progress with legends only tightened.
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