The sound of waves crashing against the shore filled Ace’s ears as he stirred, his body aching as though it had been through hell. His eyes fluttered open, and he found himself staring at the wooden ceiling of a small cottage. Slowly, he sat up, groaning as his limbs protested. His chest bore no sign of the mortal wound that should have killed him. He touched the spot instinctively memories of Marineford flooding his mind. I died...didn’t I?* he thought, but here he was, alive or so it seemed.
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