Chapter 143: For Freedom!
In that dim, damp prison cell.
An old man, as thin and withered as firewood, sat quietly in the corner of the cell, his eyes vacant and dazed.
His figure was hunched, his skin slack and dull, as if the endless years of confinement had drained him of all life.
The tattered prison uniform he wore hung loosely on his gaunt, bony frame, swaying slightly with his gentle breaths.
Suddenly, the ceiling began to shake violently. The once-solid brick and stone structure, as if losing all support, started to wobble like jelly.
This strange sight caused a flicker of surprise to flash through the Red-Haired Marquis's vacant eyes. He snapped his head up, staring intently at the constantly shaking ceiling, filled with curiosity.
However, it wasn't long before his furrowed brow gradually relaxed. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly, and a mysterious smile appeared on his face.
Like a phantom, Lightning, with her distinctive club-patterned hairstyle, emerged from the split-open wall!
Lightning's gaze quickly swept over to the Red-Haired Marquis in the cell. Without a shred of hesitation or doubt, both of her arms instantly transformed into scissors, gleaming with a cold, metallic luster.
With a flash of her figure, she moved swiftly to the front of the prison door. With a forceful swing of her arm, the seemingly impregnable cell door was easily cut open with a large horizontal gash!
The Red-Haired Marquis watched this scene unfold, the smile in his eyes deepening.
He slowly stood up. Though his body was weak, his eyes revealed an unconcealable excitement and anticipation.
He reached out his hand, his withered fingers trembling slightly, yearning for the freedom that was about to arrive.
Lightning did not pause for a moment. She used her Snip-Snip Fruit ability on the Seastone shackles on the Red-Haired Marquis's wrists and ankles.
With a series of soft metallic cracks, the Seastone shackles binding the Red-Haired Marquis snapped and fell to the ground with a dull thud.
Having done all this, Lightning took the sword from her waist, handed it to the Red-Haired Marquis, and said softly, "This is the sword that kid Ren gave you. Take it."
The Red-Haired Marquis looked at the sword, a glint flashing in his eyes. He slowly reached out, took the sword, and gently stroked the blade. "It's a good sword. A bit like that one of Shiryu of the Rain's..."
The Red-Haired Marquis read Lightning's memories, his eyes shining brightly. "I understand!"
He looked at Lightning again. "Then, let this old bag of bones have one last blaze of glory!"
"The Lofty Red... reporting for duty!"
The piercingly cold wind howled like millions of ice blades, raging wantonly in this world of ice and snow, mercilessly slicing through every inch of air.
A group of okama huddled tightly together, their bodies shivering violently and uncontrollably in the severe cold. Most of their faces bore looks of fatigue and terror. Their lips were frozen purple, their teeth chattered incessantly, and the breath they exhaled instantly condensed into white clouds of mist in the air.
They stumbled along behind Ivankov, the snow beneath their feet crunching with every step, each one seeming so arduous and heavy.
Ahead of them, rows of prison cells stood gloomy and terrifying. Long icicles hung from the exteriors of the cells like sharp fangs, glinting with a cold light under the faint illumination.
Through the blurry layer of ice, one could vaguely see that the prisoners inside the cells had already been frozen into ice sculptures.
Their bodies were fixed in all sorts of twisted poses, as if time had frozen them in their most painful moments.
Some prisoners had their hands over their heads, curled up in a corner as if futilely resisting the invasion of the cold. Others had their mouths wide open, seemingly letting out silent screams, their frozen expressions filled with despair and helplessness.
However, the constitutions of these prisoners were exceptionally tough. Despite being frozen into ice sculptures, they were still stubbornly alive.
Every day, the air conditioning in the cells would activate on a schedule, releasing a faint amount of heat to slowly melt the ice on their bodies.
But to them, this brief warmth was the greatest mockery in all of Impel Down.
In the process of the ice melting, their bodies would gradually regain sensation, but what they felt was endless pain and torment.
The bone-piercing cold would quickly invade again, re-freezing them into ice sculptures. The cycle repeated, leaving them to suffer in this alternation of ice and fire, unable to live, yet unable to die.
This situation was all too familiar to the okama, as most of them had come from the Extreme Cold Hell, chosen by Lightning to be sent to Level 5.5.
Seeing such a scene again, the okama trembled collectively, terrified of being locked up in such a hell once more.
And next to the rows of cells was a guards' room that was emitting heat visible to the naked eye.
There was no snow around this room; the ground was covered in meltwater. Through the glass, one could see the guards inside playing a game of cards.
A mere few hundred meters separated the cells and the guards' room, yet it was like the difference between hell and heaven.
Ivankov quietly approached this "heaven" and kicked the door open!
The guards were stunned by this sudden attack. They scrambled to their feet, the playing cards in their hands scattering all over the floor, their faces filled with terror and confusion.
"You! Who are you!?" a guard shouted, trembling.
However, Ivankov did not answer. He scoffed, his figure moving as fast as a phantom. The fingernails on his hands traced sharp arcs through the air as he lunged viciously toward the guards.
"Hee-haw! Newkama Kenpo, Aesthetic Secret Art 44—Dream Strike Treatment Punch!"
Ivankov roared, swinging both hands. The guards had no time to dodge; they could only watch helplessly as the glinting fingernails flew toward their bodies.
In an instant, screams echoed throughout the guards' room.
Ivankov's fingernails rained down on the guards. Their bodies, like worn-out sandbags, were knocked every which way.
Before long, all the guards had been severely injured by Ivankov, and they collapsed on the ground, unable to move.
Ivankov looked at them coldly, not a shred of pity in his eyes.
He bent down and quickly searched the guards' waists for keys, while his okama followers activated the heating system for the cells.
With a faint hum, warm air began to slowly flow into the prison cells.
Inside the cells, the prisoners who had been frozen into ice sculptures began to thaw in the warm air.
The prisoners' consciousness gradually returned. They opened their eyes in a daze, looking at the strange yet familiar surroundings, their faces full of confusion and shock.
Just then, Ivankov strode to the front of the cells. He raised the keys high in his hand and yelled:
"Everyone! Come with us and embrace the great sea!"
"For freedom!"
Tears welled up in the eyes of the prisoners. "For... freedom!"
(end of chapter)