God Valley was a fortress.
The pristine, verdant island, a private paradise for the Celestial Dragons, had been transformed. Its white, sandy ports were now gray military zones. Massive, newly-constructed naval batteries bristled from the cliffs, their cannons polished and aimed at the empty, calm sea. Thousands of Marines, a force large enough to conquer a nation, patrolled the beaches, their blue-and-white uniforms a stark, nervous presence against the island's lush green.
This was not a defensive posture. It was an ambush.
In a temporary command center at the main port, the air was thick with tension.
"Still no sign of Rocks," Vice-Admiral Sengoku said, his brow furrowed over the tactical map. "The reports were precise. He should be here."
"Bwahahaha! Maybe he got scared!" Monkey D. Garp roared, not for the first time, from the corner where he was destroying a bag of rice crackers. "He probably heard I was here and ran away!"
"Shut up, Garp," Vice-Admiral Tsuru snapped. "This isn't a joke. This is Rocks. The reports said he would be arriving, but this..." She pointed to the sea. "This is what worries me."
"It's illogical," a deep, cold voice added. Rear Admiral Monkey D. Dragon stood near the doorway, his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the ocean.
"This is a trap, and the bait is obvious. But the target... is too big. They are expecting a wolf, but a tiger is also on the loose."
"What are you muttering about, Dragon?" Garp grunted, tossing another cracker into his mouth.
"He means Roger," Sengoku said, his face grim. "And he's right. Roger's movements are unknown. If he shows up..."
"SHIP SPOTTED!" The cry from the lookout tower was a raw, panicked scream. "STARBOARD BOW! IT'S A PIRATE FLAG!"
"It's him!" Sengoku roared, grabbing his Den Den Mushi. "All units, battle stations! All cannons, lock on! Prepare to--"
"Wait!" the lookout shrieked again. "It's... It's not the Sabre! The flag... it's the Oro Jackson! It's ROGER! ROGER PIRATES IN SIGHT!"
Sengoku slammed the receiver down, his face a mask of disbelief.
"Roger? Here? Now?"
"Bwahahaha! What did I tell you!" Garp was on his feet in an instant, his boredom gone, his entire body thrumming with a joyous, violent energy.
"TWO FOR THE PRICE OF ONE! IT'S A FESTIVAL! BWAHAHAHA!"
"This is a disaster," Tsuru whispered, her face pale. "This complicates everything. What is he doing here?"
"It doesn't matter!" Sengoku's voice cut through the confusion, all strategist, all command. "He is a pirate. He is an enemy. All batteries, reposition! Target the Oro Jackson! Do not let them make landfall! Garp, you're on the front line!"
"With pleasure!" Garp roared, cracking his black-coated knuckles.
The entire port exploded into disciplined chaos. Marines sprinted to their positions, officers barked orders, and the massive, heavy cannons of the naval batteries began to turn, their muzzles swinging toward the approaching pirate ship.
But just as the first cannon was about to fire, another cry came from the tower. It was not a report. It was a scream of pure, abject terror.
"VICE-ADMIRAL SENGOKU! THE... THE... THE SKY! LOOK AT THE SKY!"
Sengoku, Garp, and Tsuru all looked up as one.
The sun... was gone.
A shadow had fallen over God Valley. It was a colossal, unnatural darkness that blotted out the midday light. It wasn't a cloud. It was a shape. High above them, so high it was almost a silhouette against the clouds, was a ship. A flying ship. A floating fortress of dread.
And on its flag, the unmistakable skull of Rocks D. Xebec.
"He... he flew...?" Sengoku's strategic mind, which had accounted for every naval possibility,... stalled.
Garp's grin had vanished. He was staring, his mouth open. Dragon, who had remained silent, let out a single, sharp breath.
They all realized it at the same time. The same, impossible name, a horrified, unified thought.
"SHIKI...!"
"The Sabre of Xebec," Tsuru breathed, her voice trembling. "He's not approaching. He's here."
The ship, however, wasn't attacking. It just... hung there. A continent of dark wood and Haki, suspended in the heavens.
"It's... it's turning back?" a marine yelled, his voice cracking. "It's... it's leaving!"
"No," Garp growled, his eyes narrowed, his Haki flaring.
"It's not... wait..."
A single, black dot detached from the underside of the flying ship.
It was small. Insignificant. And it was falling, a silent, dark speck against the bright, blue sky. It was falling with unnatural speed, arcing not toward the ports, not toward the Navy, but toward the center of the island.
Toward the pristine, white, Holy Mansion of the Celestial Dragons.
Sengoku's blood ran cold. Saint Garling.
"Get me Saint Garling!" he roared, fumbling for the Den Den Mushi. "NOW! HE'S COMING FOR--"
It was too late.
The world broke.
VEEEEEEEEEN
It was not a sound. It was an eruption. A tidal wave of pure, black-red, suffocating power exploded from that falling dot. The very sky bled. The air, the light, the world itself, was instantly stained a dark, crackling, black-red.
This was not the crushing, dominant pressure they had felt from Roger or Garp. This was Haoshoku on another level. This was the raw, unrestrained, furious will of something greater than a Supreme King.
It was not a wave. It was a hammer.
It slammed down on God Valley, and across the entire island, thousands of Marines, Marines with wills of iron, veterans of a hundred battles, simply... stopped. Their eyes rolled back. They dropped their rifles. They collapsed where they stood, foaming at the mouth, instantly, mercifully unconscious, their minds shattered by a Haki so vast it was a natural disaster.
The cannons went unmanned. The entire port fell into a dead silence, broken only by the groans of the strong few who were still conscious.
Sengoku was on one knee, his entire body rigid, his own Haki flaring, his teeth gritted so hard his jaw ached. He was straining just to breathe.
Tsuru was next to him, her hand on the deck, her face pale, sweat beading on her brow.
Only Garp was still on his feet. He was shaking, not with fear, but with a pure, adrenaline-fueled rage, his own black-red Haki a crackling, defiant storm, fighting back against the oppressive, crushing, corrosive weight of the atmosphere.
"ROCKS...!!!!" Garp bellowed, his voice a defiant roar against the storm.
And then, the laugh came.
It was not a laugh of joy. It was not the "Vohahaha" of a chaotic brawler. It was a sound of pure, apocalyptic, grief-fueled rage. It echoed across the Haki-choked island, seeming to come from the sky itself.
"VOHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
A voice, amplified by a will that tore at the very air, boomed over the island, a god's judgment from on high.
"YOU BASTARDS! YOU DARE LAY YOUR FILTHY HANDS ON MY WIFE... AND ON MY KIDS... YOU PIGS DAREEEEEEEE?!"
The words hit the surviving Vice Admirals harder than the Haki blast.
"Wife...?" Tsuru breathed, her eyes wide with horrified understanding. "And... kids?"
Sengoku's head snapped up. His strategic mind, which had seen this as a military trap, instantly reassessed. This wasn't a trap. It was a poking of a titan. "They... they used his family as leverage?" he whispered, his blood running cold. "Those... those fools! They're not just insane, they're suicidal! They want to get themselves killed!"
"Those... bubble-heads...!" Garp's voice was a low, guttural, murderous growl. The righteous fury he'd felt for Garling a moment ago was now a burning, undirected rage at the entire system. "Using a man's family? Even... even for him..." He slammed his Haki-coated fist into the deck, cracking the wood. "There's no justice in this! This is just filth!"
In the doorway, Monkey D. Dragon, still braced against the bulkhead, merely closed his eyes. His face was a mask of cold, utter contempt. "Of course, they did," he muttered, his voice a low vibration of pure disgust. "This is what they do. They see people as tools. As leverage. They are rotten... to the core."
"SKY FALL!!!!!!"
The roar from the heavens cut them off. They looked up.
The falling dot was no longer a dot. It had ignited.
From the Navy's perspective, it was the most terrifying sight of their lives.
A black-and-red shooting star, a meteor of Haki and crackling, dark energy, was descending at an impossible speed, aimed straight at the heart of the island.
The meteor impacted.
The Marines at the port were blinded. A sound not of an explosion, but of the world tearing, a deafening KRA-KOOM, shook the island to its very foundations. A pillar of pure, black-and-red corrosive energy erupted into the sky from the center of God Valley, a geyser of pure wrath. The ground beneath their feet heaved, a man-made earthquake that sent ships in the harbor smashing into one another.
The crushing, island-wide Haki vanished, receding instantly, focusing all of its impossible, terrifying intensity onto that one, single point of impact.
The Marines who had been spared could breathe again. They whimpered, their minds broken, their spirits shattered.
Sengoku staggered to his feet, his mind, his strategic, brilliant mind, finally catching up.
"He's... he's not at the port. He's not at the fleet," he panted, his eyes wide with a dawning, horrified realization. "He bypassed all of us. He went straight... straight for Garling."
This was their only chance.
"ALL HANDS!" Sengoku roared, his voice cutting through the ringing in their ears. "ALL SURVIVORS! GET UP! LEAVE ROCKS TO THE HOLY KNIGHTS! THAT IS HIS FIGHT! OUR TARGET IS THAT FLEET!"
'This is the best I can do to help you, bastard. Kill those fucks' Sengoku thought.
He pointed to the sky, where the Sabre of Xebec was about to land.
"OUR TARGET IS ROCKS'S CREW! DO NOT LET THEM LAND! FIRE AT WILL! FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!"
*********************************************************
On the deck of the Oro Jackson, the crew had gone silent.
The entire crew stood frozen, staring at the terrifying spectacle. They had seen the flying ship. They had felt the Haki-storm that had made even their knees buckle. They had seen the black meteor fall. They had seen the pillar of dark energy that now marked the center of God Valley.
Roger was at the prow, his straw hat clutched in his hand, his jaw on the deck, his eyes wider than they had ever been.
He was silent for a long, long time.
Then, his voice, a high-pitched, incredulous squeak, broke the silence.
"WHAT... THE FUCK... IS THAT BASTARD DOING HERE?!?!"
He roared, his voice a mix of pure shock and excitement.
Rayleigh was beside him, his face grim, his hand on his own sword. "I told you, Roger," he said, his voice a low growl. "This is a trap. And I think... I think it just got sprung."
Roger's shock faded, his face splitting into his signature, impossibly wide grin. He started to laugh. A wild, joyful, mad laugh that shook his entire body.
"A trap? Who cares! BWAHAHAHA!" he laughed. "Rayleigh! This... this is gonna be fun!"
---xxxx---
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