2025-11-22 00:57:12
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the ABS is its fang
Jean Valéry smiled—a smile that six months ago had broken the cartel’s power, and today became an irrevocable promise.“Then we shall discover the identity and origin of this new enemy, Mr. Shark. They did not expect that the ruler of this dirty port is now capable of negotiating in the deep water, and that negotiation always begins with forced transmutation.”With that cold-blooded vow spoken, the false calm fell away from Jean. He folded the Potion bottle into his robe pocket. To Le Requin, who stood rigidly beside him, Jean gave brief instructions: “Gather the 200 personnel prepared for the Baptism. Not in the hall. We will meet them at the wet dock.”The wet dock. The deepest area, near the exit path of the submarine *Pisces*, where the granite walls smelled strongly of iodine. There was no civilian laughter there, only the steam of salt water and the promise of absolute discipline.They moved down, no longer as cartel leaders, but as the General and Lieutenant of a navy never ack
clean garage operation
The distinct aroma clinging to the Vieux-Port today is salt. Clean, salty, deadly salt. It is proof of the brutal peace Jean Valéry bought six months ago. The entire harbor floor is now coated in transmutation crystals—making the air cool and pure, and guaranteeing that no trace of the Cartel’s magic can thrive.The operation, which locals call the 'Clean Garage,' is actually the first open recruitment and training session for the Shadow Navy (ABS). Civilians clean dirty oil tanks and dark cargo. They are paid well and protected. They think they are cleaning physical trash. Jean and his men know the truth: they are cleaning a battlefield.From the surveillance balcony above the now-shining white pier, Jean watched with a flat demeanor, his black alchemy robe moving slowly in the sea breeze that no longer smelled of sulfur.“The cattle look happy,” Le Requin whispered from Jean’s side. The man nicknamed the Shark Boss looked leaner and neater in his new ABS service uniform. Fear of cha
raise the hull now
The single shout, laced with the bitter residue of stolen primordial energy, sliced through the air, but Anton’s confidence was a cheap veneer barely concealing the sheer, undiluted fear in his eyes. Gaston, clutching the rough, volcanic stone mahkota, met the challenge with the unyielding stoicism of a newly forged sentinel. The crystalline aura of his complete Tidal Transmutation glowed intensely, amplified by the silent, powerful psychic transmission now emanating from the figure in the clear water below him: Jean Valéry, the living, petrified core of the entire operation."You are no king, Anton," Gaston rumbled, his voice low, filled with a resonant power that chilled the nearby spectators. He did not retreat. He stepped forward onto the podium. "You are merely the residue of filth that Jean discarded. Our duel is over. You will be a sample for his new alchemy."Anton shrieked, firing his Transmuted Obsidium wire straight at Gaston’s chest, aimi
reading the secret message Jean sent
The Envoy read, his eyes wide with shock. He turned toward Gaston."I am summoning the Envoy immediately. The Salt Throne demands clarity. Gaston. I will conquer the world. Not as the Criminal King, but as your Secret Protector. The Salt Throne must be recognized on the global stage."Jean Valéry channeled his last energy and ordered the Envoy to head to the American Navy port. They would negotiate now.The Envoy staggered, turning to Gaston. He smiled, not with contempt, but with absolute, cold certainty. "Congratulations, Criminal King. The Salt Throne must come to the Atlantic Alliance. I must deliver this to your submarine. Preparations are complete. The Italian Navy and the Cartel Fleet have been totally neutralized."Gaston grabbed the Envoy's parchment. Inside, Jean Valéry saw it. The Salt Crown had been globally recognized. Jean Valéry, backed by the Destiny of the Sea Protector, was now the True King, ready to fight on the wo
Toward the Atlantic Alliance
“—I will take what is mine! Surrender your crown! Captain Neptune watches! The Final Transmutation Duel is now!”The single shout, laced with the bitter residue of stolen primordial energy, sliced through the air, but Anton’s confidence was a cheap veneer barely concealing the sheer, undiluted fear in his eyes. Gaston, clutching the rough, volcanic stone crown, met the challenge with the unyielding stoicism of a newly forged sentinel. The crystalline aura of his complete Tidal Transmutation glowed intensely, amplified by the silent, powerful psychic transmission now emanating from the figure in the clear water below him: Jean Valéry, the living, petrified core of the entire operation."You are no king, Anton," Gaston rumbled, his voice low, filled with a resonant power that chilled the nearby spectators. He did not retreat. He stepped forward onto the podium. "You are merely the residue of the filth Jean cast aside. Our duel is over. You will
You are not the King, Gaston
—And he must secure all his forces. Gaston’s Crown is merely a defensive tool, but Captain Neptune and the Italian Navy are preparing. The US submarine *Ohio* is still patrolling, ready to seize the Throne. Now, he must go—The pure sapphire-blue water of the harbor, restored to its primordial state, surged violently as the small, battered Auxiliary vessel slammed its Transmuted hull to a halt at the edge of the Vieux-Port main maritime plaza. The engine, Transmuted by Jean for final bursts of speed, whined, settling into silence. The silence of absolute triumph and absolute exhaustion.Gaston immediately executed Jean’s final psychic command, though he was shaking with exhaustion. He knew every passing minute was a wasted tactical opportunity as the global powers watched. “GET OUT! NOW!” Gaston bellowed, leaping from the auxiliary's bow, his silver eyes blazing with the forced intensity of his new reign.Lucie, Bastien, and the sev
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