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Blue Lock : The Spirit of The Greatest
One Piece: Sol Ragnarok
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NEW SIVER MEMBERS:- Stephen and Qarteus
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The sky tore open.
From the frozen wastes of the Azgeda tundra to the humid swamps of the Broadleaf, the people of the ground looked up.
Streaks of burning orange and white cut through the blue atmosphere, leaving trails of smoke. The sound came seconds later — a sonic boom that rattled the windows in Polis and shook the snow from the trees in the north.
But unlike the first time the Dropship had fallen, panic did not grip the Coalition. There was no running, no screaming.
The decree had been sent. The Strat Heda had spoken. The Sky People will be arriving.
In the capital city of Polis, the Commander sat upon her throne of gnarled roots and candlelight. Lexa watched the descent through the high open balcony of her tower. The vibrations traveled up the stone, humming against her boots. She didn't flinch. Her face was a mask of calculated resolve.
"So," Lexa whispered to the empty room, her fingers tightening slightly on the armrest. "It begins."
Two floors down, in the lavish Guest Tower, another leader watched the spectacle. Luna, the leader of Floukru, stood by the window, her sea-green robes fluttering in the draft. Her advisor, a scarred man named Derrick, stood nervously behind her.
"That is them?" Luna asked softly, her eyes tracking the largest of the falling stars.
"Yes," Derrick replied. "The Sky People."
Luna tilted her head, a small, enigmatic smile playing on her lips. "He stands between two worlds now. The ground and the sky. If he fails, the fire above will become fire below." She turned from the window, her movement fluid like water. "Prepare my armor. I want to meet this Strat Heda the moment he returns."
Deep in the woods surrounding the drop site, Anya leaned against a massive oak tree. Her face was painted for war, her sword loose in its scabbard. She watched the metal giant scream toward the earth, aimed for the valley floor.
"Give them hell, Mike," she muttered, gripping her hilt.
The Plains – The Impact Zone
Mike sat atop his massive black warhorse, his cape whipping violently in the wind generated by the descending ship. Behind him, the phalanx of one hundred tactical warriors stood unflinching, their boots locked into the dirt, their rifles held tight against their chests.
"BRACE!" Mike roared, his voice cutting through the screaming engines of the Ark.
BOOM.
The ARC slammed into the earth a kilometer away.
The ground buckled. A shockwave of dirt, rock, and pulverized flora rippled outward like a tsunami of earth. Trees near the impact zone were snapped like matchsticks. A massive cloud of dust and steam mushroomed into the sky, blotting out the sun.
The 100(94) shielded their faces, coughing as the outer edge of the dust cloud washed over them. The ground rolled beneath their feet like the deck of a ship in a storm.
As the tremors subsided and the dust began to settle into a thick, choking fog, Mike spurred his horse.
"MOVE!" he commanded, pointing his sword toward the crash site.
He didn't gallop; he moved slowly. The warriors marched behind him in lockstep, a rhythmic thud-thud-thud that sounded like the heartbeat of war. The 100, terrified and awe-struck, scrambled to follow, jogging to keep pace with the horse and the soldiers.
***
Inside ARC Station
Inside the hull of the fallen ARC, panic grew. Sparks showered from blown conduits, and the emergency lighting bathed the bridge in a pulsating crimson glow.
"Status report!" Chancellor Thelonious Jaha barked, gripping the console to steady himself.
Sinclair, the chief engineer, was furiously typing at a terminal that was hanging halfway off the wall. "Hull integrity is at eighty percent! Retro-thrusters fired successfully. We have structural breaches on decks four and five, but the seals are holding. Atmosphere is... breathable. We're down, sir. We're on the ground."
A cheer erupted from the bridge crew.
"Show me the external feeds," Jaha ordered, silencing the room. "I want to see what's out there."
Sinclair tapped a sequence, and the main viewscreen flickered to life. The camera was grainy, obscured by dust, but as the wind cleared the air, the image sharpened.
The cheer died instantly.
The silence on the bridge became suffocating.
"My god," Abby Griffin whispered, her hand flying to her mouth.
On the screen, emerging from the haze like a horseman of the apocalypse, was Mike. His black armor drank the light. His golden eyes seemed to pierce through the camera lens.
But it wasn't just him. It was what was behind him.
"Are those..." Marcus Kane stepped forward, squinting at the screen, his face draining of blood. "Are those assault rifles?"
"Yes," a guard captain confirmed, his voice trembling. "Standard issue tactical gear. M4 carbines. Kevlar. That's... that's a military unit, sir. A well-equipped one."
Kane spun around, panic flaring in his eyes. "We need to deploy security immediately! Issue sidearms to every able-bodied adult. We are under threat. Those aren't savages; that's an invasion force!"
"Denied!" Jaha's voice cracked like a whip across the bridge.
"Thelonious!" Kane argued, pointing at the screen. "Look at them! They have automatic weapons! We have civilians, children, families on this ship. We have to secure the perimeter!"
"If we go out there with guns drawn, we will die."
He turned to Kane. "You read Raven's reports, Marcus. You heard the radio transmissions. This man — this 'Strat Heda' — commands a coalition of twelve massive clans. The estimated force of Trikru alone is in thousands. And now we see they have our technology? Or something better?"
Jaha pointed again at the screen, at the disciplined lines of the grounder soldiers.
"Look at that formation. That isn't a mob. That is discipline. We have two thousand people, Marcus. Maybe fifty guards. If we start a fight today, we all die before sunset."
"They're just kids out there with him!" Kane countered, though his resolve was weakening. "What if he's holding them hostage?"
"Then we negotiate," Jaha stated firmly. "We do not provoke."
He looked at Abby. "Is the medical team ready?"
"Yes," Abby nodded, though she looked terrified. "But Jaha... if they open fire..."
"They won't," Jaha said, though he was praying he was right. "Raven said he operates on logic. Aggression is illogical if we pose no threat. We go out there unarmed. The guards keep their weapons holstered unless I say otherwise. Is that clear?"
Kane clenched his jaw, the veins in his neck bulging. He stared at the screen, at the terrifying figure on the horse. Finally, he exhaled a sharp breath.
"Yes, sir."
"Good," Jaha straightened his jacket, buttoning it with hands that he forced to remain steady. "Let's go say hello to our children."
Thirty minutes later, the massive hydraulic hiss of the main airlock echoed across the valley.
The heavy steel ramp groaned as it lowered, crushing the soil beneath it. Steam vented from the release valves, obscuring the opening for a moment.
Then, Jaha stepped out.
He stopped at the top of the ramp. For the first time in his life, he didn't smell recycled air. He smelled damp earth. He smelled pine needles.
He took a deep breath, his lungs expanding with the rich, unfiltered oxygen.
"Ha..." A laugh bubbled up from his chest. "Hahaha!"
He threw his arms out, looking up at the real sun, feeling its warmth on his face without a UV shield in the way.
"Man," Jaha beamed, tears pricking his eyes. "It feels good to be back. Does it not?"
Behind him, Marcus Kane stepped out, blinking in the harsh light. Even he, with all his worry, couldn't suppress a gasp of wonder. "It's... green. It's so green."
Abby Griffin followed, her eyes scanning the horizon desperately, looking for only one thing.
Behind the leaders, the population of the Ark began to pour out — slowly at first, then faster. People fell to their knees, weeping and touching the dirt. Others stared up at the sky, dizzy from the lack of a ceiling.
But the wonder didn't last long.
As the crowd expanded onto the grass, their eyes adjusted. And then, they saw him.
Fifty meters away, Mike sat on his battlehorse, motionless. The phalanx of black-clad warriors stood behind him, a wall of silence and steel.
The laughter died. The weeping stopped. The people of the Ark froze, huddled together, clutching their children. The sight of the specialized weaponry aimed at the ground sent a primal shockwave of fear through the crowd.
Mike waited until the majority of the Ark survivors were on the ground. He waited until the silence was absolute.
Then, he stood up in his stirrups.
"STAND BACK!" Mike bellowed. His voice was amplified by the acoustics of the valley, rolling over the Ark citizens like thunder. "BUT BE READY!"
Behind him, the one hundred warriors slammed their heels together and shouted in perfect unison:
"YES, STRAT HEDA!"
The sound was deafening. It was a display of absolute loyalty and power. The Ark guards, hands hovering near their pistols, flinched visibly. Kane took a step back, his face pale.
Mike sat back down in his saddle. The intimidation tactic had worked. They were terrified. They were respectful.
He raised a hand and gestured to the 100 standing nervously to his left.
"Go," Mike said, his voice returning to a normal volume, though it carried clearly. "Meet your people."
The tension broke.
"Mom!"
"Dad!"
The 100 sprinted across the gap, tears streaming down their faces. The Ark survivors ran to meet them.
It was chaos, but it was happy chaos. Parents collapsed into the arms of children they thought they had sent to their deaths. Friends reunited with screams of joy.
Abby Griffin broke from the leadership group, her eyes locking onto the blonde hair of her daughter.
"Clarke!" Abby cried out, running forward, her arms open wide. "Clarke, oh my god, you're alive!"
Clarke stood still. She didn't run. She didn't smile. She stood with her arms crossed, her face a mask of cold granite that mirrored Mike's expression more than her mother's.
Abby reached her, grabbing Clarke's shoulders, pulling her in for a hug. "I was so worried, I thought — "
Clarke went rigid. She didn't hug back. She placed her hands on her mother's arms and firmly pushed her away.
"Clarke?" Abby pulled back, confused, hurt flashing in her eyes. "Honey?"
"Don't," Clarke said. Her voice was ice. "Don't act like you didn't send us down here to die. Don't act like you didn't float my father for trying to tell these people the truth."
Abby reeled as if she had been slapped. "Clarke, I did what I had to do for the greater good. I — "
"The greater good is a lie you tell yourself to sleep at night," Clarke cut her off. She stepped back, putting distance between them. "I am not the daughter you remember, Abby. That girl died in the Sky Box. I'm a leader of my people now. And right now, I have work to do."
Clarke turned her back on her mother. "Wells! When you're done, meet me by the Dropship tent. We have logistics to plan."
She walked away, leaving Abby standing alone in the grass, tears spilling down her cheeks, the reunion shattered before it began.
Nearby, Wells Jaha was having a very different conversation.
The Chancellor had found his son. He didn't run, but he walked with a speed that defied his dignity. He grabbed Wells, pulling him into a crushing embrace.
"Son," Jaha choked out, burying his face in Wells' shoulder. "I... I never thought I'd see you again. I am so glad that you are doing good, son."
Wells hugged him back, the tension leaving his shoulders. "I'm okay, Dad. We made it."
Jaha pulled back, holding Wells by the shoulders, scanning him for injuries. "Did they hurt you? The Grounders? This... Warlord?"
"No," Wells shook his head. "Mike... he saved us, mostly. He's hard, Dad. He's brutal. But he kept us alive."
Wells hesitated, looking toward the forest where the fresh dirt covered Finn's blood.
"But... not everyone made it," Wells said softly.
Jaha's face grew serious. "Who?"
"Finn," Wells said. "Just minutes before you landed. He... he challenged Mike. He insulted him, threatened him in front of his army."
Jaha's eyes narrowed. "And?"
"Mike executed him," Wells said, watching his father's reaction closely. "He beheaded him right here on this grass. For treason. For endangering the alliance."
Wells expected anger. He expected Jaha to rage against the barbarism.
But Jaha simply closed his eyes. He took a slow breath, the weight of leadership settling back onto his shoulders. When he opened his eyes, they were sad, but understanding.
"He challenged a sovereign leader in front of his troops," Jaha murmured. "During a time of war."
"Yes," Wells whispered.
"Then he chose his fate," Jaha said quietly. "A leader cannot show weakness, Wells. Not here. Not when survival is on the line. It is a tragedy... but it is a necessity."
He squeezed Wells' shoulder. "We will mourn him properly later. But right now, I have to ensure no one else joins him."
Jaha turned. He looked across the field, past the crying families, past the joy and the sorrow, directly at the man on the horse.
Mike hadn't moved. He was watching Jaha. Waiting.
Jaha straightened his jacket. "Stay here, Wells."
The Chancellor began to walk toward Mike.
As he approached the fifty-meter mark, two of Mike's elite guards stepped forward, their rifles raised slightly, blocking Jaha's path.
Mike flicked his hand.
"Let him come," Mike said.
The guards instantly stepped back, snapping their weapons back to the low-ready position.
Jaha walked until he was standing directly in front of the massive warhorse. He had to crane his neck to look up at Mike. The height difference was intentional; it forced Jaha to look up, to acknowledge the hierarchy.
Jaha didn't flinch. He looked directly into those glowing golden eyes.
"I am Thelonious Jaha," he said, his voice steady. "Chancellor of the Ark. And now, leader of the Sky People."
Mike looked down at him, his face unreadable. "Are you the leader of the Sky People?" he asked, the question heavy with implication. "Or are you just the man who fell from the sky?"
"I am their voice," Jaha corrected, understanding the test. "And I am here to thank you for the safety of my son and his people."
"Safety comes at a price, Jaha," Mike said coolly. "Your son has told you the laws of this land?"
"He has," Jaha nodded.
"And you saw what happened to the boy who thought those laws didn't apply to him?" Mike asked, tilting his head.
"My son told me," Jaha said, not breaking eye contact. "It was... swift justice."
"It was necessary justice," Mike corrected. "So, I ask you now, Thelonious Jaha. Do you speak for your people? Can you control them? Because if you join the Coalition, my laws become your laws. If your people steal, they lose a hand. If they kill, they lose a head. There is no 'Ark Station' privilege here."
Jaha looked back at the chaotic scene of the reunion. He saw Kane watching him nervously. He saw Abby crying. He saw the fragility of their existence.
"We don't want to spend our time running," Jaha said, turning back to Mike. "We want peace. If following your laws is the price of survival and the price of protection... then we will pay it."
He paused, then added steel to his voice.
"But we are a people of knowledge. Engineers, doctors, scientists. We have value. We will follow your laws, Strat Heda... but only if we have a voice in the Council. We will not be slaves."
Mike stared at him for a long, agonizing silence. The wind whistled between them.
Then, slowly, the corner of Mike's mouth twitched upward.
"Fair," Mike said.
He swung his leg over the saddle and dropped to the ground with a heavy thud. He towered over Jaha, but he didn't attack.
Instead, Mike removed his black tactical glove. He extended his bare hand toward the Chancellor.
"Knowledge for protection," Mike said. "Law for Order."
Jaha looked at the hand. He knew that taking it meant the end of the Ark as a sovereign nation. It meant they were no longer Sky People. They were Grounders now.
Jaha smiled, a genuine, weary smile. He gripped Mike's hand firmly.
"Knowledge for protection," Jaha agreed.
"Then I welcome Skaikru to the Coalition," Mike announced, his voice booming so all could hear. "Welcome to Earth, Jaha of Skaikru."
"Thank you for having us," Jaha replied.
Mike released his hand and turned to his army.
"LOWER WEAPONS!"
The rifles were slung simultaneously. The threat level dropped from 'Immediate Action' to 'Standby.'
Mike looked back at Jaha. "Set up your camp. Get your people fed. Tonight, we feast. Tomorrow... we prepare for the War Council. Because the real enemy is still out there."
Jaha simply nodded. He will ask about this later.
---XXXX---
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