The smoldering wreckage of the auction house still crackled with lingering lightning. Blood painted the floors, charred wood groaned under shifting weight, and smoke drifted lazily into the morning air as a temporary silence cloaked the chaos.
Enel laughed—light and honest, almost out of place among the carnage.
He stepped forward, resting a firm hand on Erza's shoulder. "Well then… welcome aboard."
Erza didn't flinch at his touch. She simply stared forward, unreadable, until Enel added with a raised brow, "So... how old are you anyway?"
"Twenty," she answered plainly, still standing tall and centered like a statue carved by war itself.
That ruled out the Figerland Celestial dragons he knew off.. The ages don't match cleanly.
Enel gave a low whistle. "Huh. Pretty young to already be that dangerous. That explains the bite, but not the blade," he mused. His eyes flicked toward Muramasa and Murasame, still sheathed at her sides.
Erza remained quiet.
Enel tilted his head slightly. "Mind if I ask who your father is?"
That drew a visible frown from her. It wasn't anger, not exactly. More like hesitation steeped in bitter memory.
"I… don't actually know," she admitted. "The Figerland family doesn't record lineages properly. Not for women. When they found out the firstborn young heir was female, they panicked. Apparently it had never happened before, and they kill off any daughters born to the Figerland family anyway as girls are considered weak and frail. Unfit to carry the powerful bloodline and Haki. They disregarded me instantly and shifted their attention to the next male born into the family. Whether he was a cousin, nephew, or some bastard from a concubine or sex slave, it didn't matter. If I ever had a direct right to hierarchy, I was rendered inadequate due to my sex alone. The only reason I'm still alive and wasn't killed off at birth is because of the belief that the firstborn in the generation is destined to be the strongest. Therefore there is great celebration when the firstborns are twins or more. But for the girl to bring such bad luck to the family's current generation? Nothing but contempt."
Her voice was sharp now, the cold metal behind her words more dangerous than the two swords sheathed at her hips.
"I was treated like an error. Hidden away. Segregated from 'proper' Figerland heirs and raised more by servants and guards than by my own blood. I saw the suffering of those slaves first hand. They were assigned to care for me, despite carrying fatal wounds themselves. A punishment for both, it would seem. Most of the Celestial Dragons… I saw what they were. Rotting from the inside out. Filth wearing jewels and dragging chains they weren't even physically capable of lifting for long."
Tatsumaki floated nearby, arms crossed, her psychic pressure simmering just under the surface. Her sharp green eyes narrowed with sadness and rage at the mention of the Celestial filth—but she said nothing.
Enel spotted it, dreaded it, and he knew he would have to ask eventually. He would cross that bridge when he got to it.
"The only one who ever thought I was worth a damn," Erza continued, "was the head of the God's Knights. Another Figerland… but even he made it clear I'd never rise above the role of an apprentice. He gave me training. A weak sword. A name. But not freedom. He just changed my chains into a collar."
She looked away, staring toward the slowly lightening skies.
"I stopped calling them family a long time ago." Erza said, mostly to herself before reflecting even further. "Actually, I don't think I ever did…"
Enel was quiet for a moment. Then he gave a slow nod. "That explains a lot," he said, his voice low, but not pitying.
He stepped beside her, his expression more serious now. "But don't let it weigh you down. If your life hadn't gone that way… we would've never met. You would've never crossed blades with me. You wouldn't have had the chance to find your own path and chase your own dreams. Away from that stifling, rancid stench of Mariejois."
"You wouldn't be a conqueror in the making." Enel finishes. "Forget those filth for now. Eventually all their heads will be on a spike, once someone strong enough is done with their bullshit."
Erza looked at him.
And then, surprisingly… she smiled.
"Good point," she murmured. "Perhaps it'll be us."
"Perhaps." Enel grinned, pleased. Then he gestured subtly toward the two cloaked individuals still standing near the far edge of the ruined hall—silent, watchful, and carefully out of earshot until now.
"What about those two?"
Erza followed his gaze. "They're CP4 agents," she explained. "Assigned to me for protection. Protocol. Because of my blood."
Enel nodded slowly. "Makes sense. The World Government wouldn't want to lose a Figerland—even a discarded one."
Then he turned his head slightly, eyes glinting.
"Kill them."
Erza blinked.
Enel didn't repeat himself. His voice was clear and final.
"This is the last thing you need to do to join the crew. No shadows from your old life. No one reporting back to Mariejois. No shackles weighing you down."
"Freedom, gained by your own hands, is the best kind of it." There was no malice in his tone. Just the truth.
Erza nodded, slowly. "Understood Captain."
Without hesitation, she turned and walked toward the CP4 agents. The movement was smooth, deliberate. Her posture didn't change—but something about her energy did. The calm that had settled over the auction house vanished again, replaced with tense expectation.
The agents stiffened as she approached.
"Erza-sama?" one asked, confused. "Has your duel concluded?"
She stopped in front of them, her voice neutral. "It has."
The other agent bowed slightly. "Shall we make preparations to return to the ship?"
Erza extended a hand.
"My blade," she said simply.
The two men exchanged glances.
"Don't… don't you have both Muramasa and Murasame?" the second asked cautiously.
"No," she said. "The other one."
Hesitantly, the first CP4 agent reached beneath his cloak and pulled free a long, wrapped weapon. Its sheath was a deep obsidian black, carved with red etchings that shimmered faintly in the morning light. The moment it was unsheathed—even slightly—the air grew colder.
As she channeled Armament through it, Enel felt it from where he stood.
It wasn't just powerful. It felt alive.
"...That's not just a regular great grade sword," Tatsumaki muttered, floating closer, brow furrowed.
Enel's gaze sharpened. "That's definitely one of the twelve supreme grade blades. It has to be. I'll admit she's nowhere near strong enough to wield it to the best of her ability as the blade would either reject or devour weak haki, killing her instantly. How can she use it so well?"
The agent handed the sheathed weapon over.
The moment it touched Erza's hands, the sword stopped radiating menace—and started humming with harmony.Watching the previously violent and bloodthirsty aura of the blade disappear in a way that could almost be deemed as affectionate from the weapon was awe inspiring, and mesmerizing.
But the moment never lasted. It was still a blade.
With lightning speed, Erza unsheathed the blade and drew it across the throat of the CP4 agent who'd given it to her. The motion was fluid. Beautiful. Final.
The man's eyes went wide. Blood poured from his neck. His body crumpled. His head rolled, eyes still blinking in disbelief before dimming to eternal darkness.
The second agent flinched back in horror. "Erza-sama—?!"
He reached for a weapon, but his training faltered and fought against his disbelief. This was still a celestial dragon, it reminded him. In the end, he was too slow.
Erza was already there, the new blade plunged cleanly into his chest. Straight through the heart.
He gasped once. His mouth opened.
"Why…?"
She didn't hesitate.
"I'm a pirate now," she said coldly. "And this… this is going to be business as usual soon."
The man's eyes faded to lifelessness before he even hit the ground.
Erza turned, stepping back across the ruined floor to where Enel, Tatsumaki, and Hinata waited. The lavender-eyed girl looked unnerved, but not completely fearful—but aware. Learning.
Enel studied the blade in Erza's hand.
Black.
Truly black.
He stepped closer, expression unreadable.
"That's not ordinary steel," he said slowly. "That's a black blade. A Supreme Grade one, no less. You don't just carry a weapon like that… unless you've earned it."
Erza nodded. "Its name is Benihime."
"Benihime…" Enel whispered. It looked familiar. Could it be a mimic from other fiction just like Murasame and Muramasa? He stepped around her slowly, eyeing it from all sides. "One of the twelve Supreme Grade blades. Made black through battle. Permanently."
The blade dripped crimson. It was only because it's blade was black was the blood even slightly noticeable on it. With its black and red design, Benihime was a fitting name for it and its wielder.
He looked at her with renewed respect.
"Only those naturally bonded to their sword… or strong enough to conquer it… can wield a higher graded blade. And you—" he gestured, "—you walk with a Supreme Grade Blade like it's part of your own soul."
A perfect bond. It explained everything. The only way to handle a weapon of high quality without meeting the strength requirement - especially a cursed one like Benihime looked to be- , was to have an immense affinity to the weapon itself. It explained how Yoru could be recognized as one of the Supreme Grade Swords long before Mihawk was alive to use it. He wasn't the one to turn the blade black, but because of his high affinity to it, he was able to use it till he gained the strength to render his supposed "lack of qualification" immaterial.
"I bought it," Erza explained. "At a black market auction not long after I left Mariejois. I thought… maybe it would help me prove my worth to the God's Knights."
She paused.
"I see now that that was a fool's dream."
Enel smiled.
"No. That was ambition. But now? It's no longer for them. It's for you."
She looked at him.
"Then what now?"
Enel extended his arm, not in challenge this time—but in oath.
"I thought I already told you, you're our crew's swordswoman now. The soon to be strongrest swordswoman in the world. And you've got one of the twelve supreme blades in the world to match."
Erza looked down at Benihime. Blood still dripped faintly from its edge. She sheathed it without a word and clasped his forearm in return.
"Understood… captain."
Watching the scene from further away, Tatsumaki floated a few feet higher, crossing her arms again. "She's got spine. And steel. I like her."
Hinata nodded faintly. "She's kinda scary… but strong."
"Don't be a wuss Hinata-chan." Tatsumaki said.
"Mmm." Hinata somethinged in affirmative response. It irked Tatsumaki just a bit more than the green-haired woman expected.
Enel turned towards the sea.
A new day was rising, golden and bright. The Bezan Black bobbed calmly at the edge of the docks, its ugly black sails catching the early wind in the distance.
And now, with storm, mind, blade, and eye united—his crew was starting to take shape. All he needed was a few more members and his ship.
The gods above -If they existed- had better be watching.
Because the world was about to change. Enel would do so, by Blood and Lightning.