Chapter 371

Elder Saturn's staff tapped against the polished mahogany floor of his opulent cabin, the rhythm erratic and betraying his growing unease. The cabin itself was a testament to his station as one of the Elder Planets, adorned with lavish silks, priceless artworks, and gilded fixtures.

Yet none of it offered him comfort; his mind was consumed by the troubling reports from the New World that had reached him mere hours ago.

The voyage to Dressrosa would take another week, two at worst if the Grand Line's capricious weather refused to cooperate. But even that time felt insufficient to recalibrate the intricate web of plans now unraveling before him. His hand tightened around the staff's grip as his frustration grew.

"Charlotte Linlin… you moronic fool," he snarled, his voice carrying a venomous edge. The timber of his staff groaned under his tightening grip. It wasn't as though the World Government lacked the strength to deal with her.

On the contrary, their hidden forces could have eradicated her if it were deemed absolutely necessary. But Linlin's chaotic reign had been a calculated allowance. Her presence, however disruptive, had served to maintain the delicate equilibrium of power in the New World.

And now?

With Linlin's downfall at the hands of Rosinante, the tenuous balance shattered like glass underfoot. The New World would become a bloodbath, a violent scramble for territory and dominance. Factions of all shapes and sizes would mobilize, and in their clashes, even the World Government's covert assets—forces groomed for decades—risked being extinguished in the crossfire.

Saturn's thoughts turned darker, his mind racing to reevaluate everything he had prepared for this meeting with the enigmatic and dangerous Donquixote Doflamingo.

"Damn that bastard..." he muttered, his eyes narrowing. Doflamingo, ever the opportunist, would exploit this chaos to its fullest. The man's ability to weave schemes was as deadly as his flames, and Saturn knew that stepping into Dressrosa unprepared was akin to willingly entering a demon's lair.

"I need Rosinante to be there," Saturn murmured, his voice heavy with contemplation. "If he's in Dressrosa, I won't have to deal with him in the shadows. A man who can kill Linlin..." His voice trailed off, his brow furrowing deeply.

Even he, one of the Five Elders, doubted his ability to achieve such a feat with Linlin's monstrous regenerative abilities and borderline immortality. She hadn't earned her place as an Emperor of the Seas through sheer brute strength alone but through her unrelenting vitality and her terrifying will. And yet, Rosinante had brought her down.

Saturn clenched his jaw. A man capable of that wasn't just dangerous; he was a threat to the very order the World Government had painstakingly built for centuries.

As Saturn's mind raced, devising contingency plans and strategies for the coming meeting, a soft knock on the cabin door broke his reverie. His eyes snapped toward the sound, his expression immediately hardening.

"Enter," he growled, his voice low and commanding, carrying the weight of authority that few would dare challenge.

The door creaked open, and the figure that entered bowed deeply, their presence as deliberate as their movements. Saturn's gaze remained sharp, assessing, as he waited for the interruption to justify itself.

The rhythmic tapping of Elder Saturn's staff halted as he turned his gaze toward the CP0 agent who had entered his quarters. His expression, carved from centuries of command, was cold and imposing.

"What is it...?" Saturn's tone was sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade. "I was explicit—do not disturb me unless it is absolutely necessary."

The agent, dressed in the pristine white uniform of CP0, bowed deeply, his head remaining lowered as he began to speak. "Saint Saturn, we have just received an urgent update from Marine intelligence.

Earlier today, Scarlett Lachlann publicly declared her withdrawal from the Shichibukai system. She has not only renounced her position but, in a show of defiance against the World Government, she single-handedly sank the entire fleet sent to eliminate the remnants of the Big Mom Pirates."

Saturn's grip on his staff tightened, the veins on his temple slightly throbbing as the report continued.

"The survivors reported that she has taken what remains of the Charlotte family under her wing," the agent added cautiously. "Furthermore, in retaliation for our actions, she has destroyed three Marine bases in the New World in the past twenty-four hours."

Each word hit Saturn like the echoing toll of a war drum. The elder's expression darkened with each revelation, the weight of Scarlett's resurgence compounding the chaos already stirring in the New World. The air in the lavish cabin grew heavier as if reflecting Saturn's growing ire.

"That woman..." Saturn growled under his breath. Scarlett Lachlann, a name that had once struck terror across the seas, was now fully embracing her infamy once more. She wasn't just a threat—she was a storm, tearing through everything in her path.

The CP0 agent shifted uneasily under Saturn's cold, calculating gaze. "What of the others?" Saturn asked at last, his voice sharp and deliberate. "Have they made any similar moves? Or has their response been equally defiant?"

The agent nodded stiffly, swallowing before answering. "No, Elder-sama. The others have made no movements of significance. However, they outright refused our orders to pursue Scarlett."

Saturn's lip curled into a sneer, his tone dripping with disdain. "Of course they refused. Foolish though they may be, even they understand that chasing after her would only end in their deaths.

People may speak of them in the same breath as her, but they are not equals. Scarlett Lachlann stands far above most who call themselves pirates."

The CP0 agent hesitated before continuing. "Then, Elder-sama, how shall we proceed? The resurgence of Scarlett in the New World will undoubtedly destabilize—"

"I am well aware of what her resurgence means," Saturn snapped, cutting the agent off. He leaned back into his chair, his fingers drumming against the staff once more. "If she intends to reclaim her place in the pirate world, then she will spark another bloody war for territory in the New World. Let her. Let the scum tear each other apart."

Saturn's voice lowered, his words laced with malice. "Deploy the Cipher Pol operatives to observe and wait. Take any opportunity to thin their numbers when the chaos allows, but do not engage Scarlett directly unless absolutely necessary. For now, we watch. Her next actions will dictate our response."

The agent bowed again, prepared to leave, but Saturn's voice stopped him.

"What of the matter I instructed you to handle? Did Kaido agree to our proposal?"

The question hung in the air like a dagger, sharp and expectant. Saturn's piercing gaze bore into the agent, demanding an answer.

The CP0 operative hesitated for only a moment before replying, "Kaido expressed skepticism about aligning with the World Government. However, he has not rejected the offer outright. His response indicated that he is weighing the proposition, but his distrust of us remains apparent."

Saturn leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk in front of him as he clasped his hands. His expression betrayed no emotion, only the relentless calculation of a man who held the weight of the world's stability in his grasp.

"Kaido..." Saturn murmured, almost to himself. "His arrogance is insufferable, but predictable. Keep pressing him. Offer him what he desires most—but ensure he understands the consequences of refusing us."

The agent bowed deeply once more, retreating from the cabin. Saturn sat in silence for a moment, his mind racing. The tides were shifting faster than even he could have anticipated. Between Rosinante, Scarlett, and the brewing chaos in the New World, the cracks in the world's delicate balance were widening.

But cracks could also be opportunities.

Elder Saturn's eyes narrowed as a faint smile crept onto his face. "The world may bleed, but it will bleed on our terms."

*****

The once-cozy tavern had become a grim spectacle of debauchery and violence. Its wooden walls, once warm and welcoming, were now stained with blood and the stench of death.

Overturned tables, shattered glass, and spilled ale told the story of a raid that left no soul untouched. The pirate crew, a group of hardened men from the New World, roared with drunken laughter and lewd shouts, their bellies full of stolen food and their minds clouded with arrogance and rum.

The tavern owner, a stout, elderly man, had been the first to die—a blade to his gut as he foolishly tried to protect his livelihood. The barmaids had fared no better, their screams echoing briefly before being silenced.

The pirates had turned their rage and lust upon them, leaving their bodies discarded like broken dolls. Now, the crew reveled in their dominion, the tavern nothing more than a playground for their depravity.

At the center of the chaos, the pirate captain—a hulking man with a jagged scar running across his face—lounged on a creaky chair, his boots propped up on the bloodied bar counter.

His golden tooth glinted as he sneered, a half-empty bottle of rum in one hand and a smoking pistol in the other. The captain was a veteran of the New World, a man who thrived on violence and chaos. Even among the brutal and lawless, he was a monster.

"Are you absolutely sure... you weren't drunk or somethin'?" he growled, his tone laced with skepticism. It was the dozenth time he had asked the question, but the idea of what his subordinate claimed to have seen was so outlandish that he couldn't help but press him.

"Yes, Captain, I swear on my life!" The scrawny pirate with patchy hair and a weathered face jabbed a finger toward his one good eye—cloudy and misted from some past injury. "I saw it with my own two eyes!"

The other pirates burst into raucous laughter, their jeers echoing through the wrecked tavern.

"Two eyes? More like one-and-a-half, you blind old fool!" one shouted, slapping his knee as the others howled in approval.

"Bet you couldn't see a damn mountain if it was sittin' on your chest!" another chimed in, nearly spilling his mug of ale as he doubled over in laughter.

The scrawny pirate turned red but didn't falter. "Laugh all you want, but I know what I saw! A lone giantess, wandering the High West! And she wasn't just any giant—she was something special. A beauty like no other. Pure white hair, glowing eyes... She didn't belong in this cursed sea!"

The laughter died down, replaced by an eerie silence as the crew digested the claim. Giants were rare, their existence more legend than reality in these waters. For a moment, even the rowdiest among them felt the pull of greed.

The captain leaned forward, his golden tooth catching the dim light as he studied the man. He didn't trust many, but this scrawny fool had survived by his wits far longer than most of the crew. If he said he saw something, there was a chance it was true.

"Heh... who would've thought?" the captain said, his grin widening into something feral. "A lone giantess, ripe for the takin'! Forget the Sky Island fairies—we've been chasin' rumors for weeks with nothin' to show but broken hulls and dead men. But this?" He slammed his fist on the bar, the wood groaning under the force. "This is somethin' real! Somethin' we can take! You lot know what the nobles of Marie Geoise would pay for a giant, don't you?"

The pirates' murmurs turned to excited whispers, then to cheers. They banged their fists on tables and swung their weapons in the air, visions of unimaginable riches dancing in their minds. The captain, fueled by their energy, stood abruptly, the chair screeching as it toppled over.

"Alright, boys!" he bellowed, his voice cutting through the cacophony. "The High West has been bleedin' us dry, but tonight, that changes! We're gonna hunt that giantess down, chain her up, and sell her for more gold than we've ever dreamed of! Who's with me?"

The tavern erupted into a frenzy, the pirates chanting their captain's name as they downed their drinks and prepared their weapons. The promise of a giant's bounty had ignited a fire in their hearts, replacing fear with reckless ambition.

The captain smirked, his jagged scar pulling tight. He turned to the scrawny pirate, who still stood nervously by the door. "You'd better hope you're right, or you'll be seein' your next drink from the bottom of the sea."

The scrawny pirate gulped and nodded, clutching his tattered hat.

As the crew stormed out of the tavern, their boots trampling over blood-soaked floors, the captain lingered for a moment. His eyes scanned the chaos they had left behind—a stark reminder of the brutality they thrived on. A lone giantess in the High West? It was too good to be true. But if it was true, the spoils would be worth any risk.

He stepped into the night, his laughter mingling with the rowdy cheers of his crew, the hunt beginning under the cruel gaze of a storm-filled sky.

*****

The fire crackled in the dim light of our camp as I leaned against a fallen log, watching Dora idly toss a massive log into the flames. The giantess moved with a casual strength that made the crew jump in fright. Embers exploded upward, scattering into the night sky.

For a moment, the drunken stupor of the men gave way to startled sobriety. Some looked ready to hurl curses but quickly swallowed their words when they realized who caused the commotion. Muttering under their breath, they shuffled a bit farther down the beach to light another fire, making sure to steer clear of Dora's towering figure.

"Are you sure you don't want to go back to Elbaf now and pay your family a visit?" I asked, breaking the silence. My tone was calm, but my eyes studied her carefully. Dora's mood had been stormy ever since we left Whole Cake Island. Her usual cheer had dimmed, replaced by a quiet gloom that weighed heavily on her massive shoulders.

She didn't respond right away, just stared at the fire, her large hands resting on her knees. When she finally spoke, her voice was low, almost a murmur. "Huff... I'm not going back there unless he apologizes to me..."

Her massive form shifted slightly, turning her back to me as if to shut the conversation down. But I wasn't done.

"Dora, this might as well be the last island we cross before we reach Skypiea," I said gently, my words carrying an edge of finality. "The seas ahead are too harsh to chart a proper course. If you want to see your family, the time is now. Once we leave this place, there might not be another chance."

Her shoulders tensed, and for a moment, I thought she might snap the log she was holding in two. But instead, she let out a long sigh, the sound like the rumble of distant thunder.

Ever since she had met Loki back on Whole Cake Island, her mood had darkened in a way I hadn't seen before. Family, for all its power to heal, could also wound in ways nothing else could.

Dora's usually indomitable spirit had been shaken by her brother's harsh words. It wasn't just what Loki had said; it was the coldness in his eyes, the distance between them that felt like an impassable chasm.

The Loki she had known—the one who would have dragged her back to Elbaf no matter the consequences—seemed like a ghost of the past. In his place was someone harder, colder, and more ruthless. His refusal to reconcile had left Dora adrift, her heart heavier than her towering frame.

What she didn't know, what I couldn't bring myself to tell her, was how much darker her brother's path might become. In another reality—if fate followed the path I remembered—Loki would descend into a quest for ultimate power that would end in tragedy.

The "Blessed Prince" of Elbaf, cherished and celebrated, would one day be remembered as the "Accursed Prince," a sinner who betrayed his people and brought ruin to his own family.

But I couldn't tell Dora that. Not now. She was a part of the Donquixote family, and it was my responsibility to protect her—not just from enemies, but from herself. If I revealed what might await Loki, she might take drastic, even foolish measures, and I couldn't allow that. Her brother's destiny, whatever it might be, was not our concern. She was here, with us, and that was what mattered.

Still, I couldn't shake the unease that gnawed at me. "Dora," I said softly, my voice almost lost in the crackle of the fire. "You don't have to face this alone. Whatever happened with Loki, whatever comes next, you've got us. You've got a family here."

She didn't turn around, but I saw the faintest nod of her head, a small acknowledgment that my words had reached her. It wasn't much, but it was enough for now.

The fire blazed brighter for a moment, as if in agreement, and I leaned back against the log, staring up at the stars. Somewhere out there, the path to Skypiea awaited us, full of challenges and mysteries. But for tonight, we'd stay anchored here, keeping our own small corner of the stormy sea alight.

The giantess sat brooding, her back to me, and her massive silhouette seemed almost fused with the darkness beyond. The air was tense, but Lucci's curiosity managed to break through the weight of the moment.

"Master," he began, his tone measured, "earlier, you mentioned there are two ways to reach Skypiea. If the Summit of the High West is one... what's the other?"

The flicker of the firelight caught my smirk as I leaned back, letting the question hang in the air just long enough to pique the interest of the brooding giantess, making her gather closer to me.

Dora's eyes turned to me, both still hazy from the tears she had shed earlier, but the sense of adventure seemed to pique her interest, making her temporarily suppress her sadness. She perked up slightly, her massive hands idly tossing another log onto the fire, causing sparks to dance into the night.

"Have you ever heard of the Knock Up Stream, Lucci?" I asked, my voice carrying an edge of mystery.

His brow furrowed as he folded his arms. "No, I haven't… Master."

"That doesn't surprise me," I replied, my tone deepening. "The Knock Up Stream isn't just some natural phenomenon—it's one of the most chaotic and unpredictable forces in these seas. It's said to be a pillar of water, as wide as a mountain range and as powerful as an erupting volcano, that bursts from the ocean with enough force to launch entire islands high into the sky."

The few of the crew's members who had stayed, their murmurs grew louder, the disbelief evident on their faces. I could see them exchanging glances, some laughing nervously, others leaning in closer to hear more.

"It happens because of the geological activity below the Grand Line," I continued, tracing a rough diagram in the dirt with a stick. "Deep beneath the ocean, massive pockets of air get trapped. When enough pressure builds up—" I jabbed the stick upward with force, "—the sea itself explodes, sending everything above it hurtling toward the heavens. And when I say everything, I mean everything. Ships, sea kings, even entire landmasses. It's a spectacle few have ever witnessed, and even fewer have survived."

"Sounds like a good way to get yourself killed," Lucci muttered, though his curiosity was still apparent.

"It is," I admitted with a grin. "But it's also the fastest way to reach Skypiea. The Knock Up Stream is what's called a 'heavenly elevator' by the lunatics who've ridden it. Of course, you'll need precise timing, a sturdy ship, and more than a little luck to make it.

One wrong move, and you'll either be crushed to splinters, thrown into the abyss, or vaporized by the sheer pressure."

The gravity of my words silenced the crew, but their awe was palpable. Even the drunkest among them seemed sobered by the sheer audacity of the idea.

"Master," Lucci said after a long pause, "how does one know when and where the Knock Up Stream will erupt? You can't just guess something like that."

I chuckled, tossing the stick aside. "You're right, Lucci. Guessing would be suicide. There are ways to predict it—patterns in the sea currents, changes in air pressure, and the behavior of the sky itself. The signs are subtle but unmistakable to those who know where to look. You might see an unusual cluster of storm clouds, a sudden lull in the wind, or even an eerie calm in the water. But the most important thing to watch for is the tide."

"The tide?" he echoed.

"Yes," I said. "When the water begins to recede unnaturally, as if the sea itself is being sucked downward into a singular point—that's when you know it's coming. And when it does, you only have moments to position your ship directly above the vortex. If you're even slightly off, you'll be flung in the wrong direction or torn apart."

The crew was utterly captivated now, their imaginations running wild. Even Dora turned slightly, her massive eyes glowing in the firelight as she listened intently.

"Of course," I added with a wicked grin, "that's assuming your ship survives the initial blast. If your ship isn't reinforced or built to withstand the immense pressure and turbulence, it won't matter how perfect your timing is. You'll be sailing into oblivion."

A hush fell over the camp, the weight of the explanation sinking in. The crew exchanged uneasy glances, their excitement tempered by the sheer danger of the proposition.

"But," I said, breaking the tension, "for those brave—or foolish—enough to ride the Knock Up Stream, the reward is worth it. Skypiea lies above, a legendary island in the sky, home to treasures, mysteries, and secrets that most of the world can only dream of. The risk is immense, but so is the glory."

The fire crackled as my words hung in the air, the crew staring at me with a mix of awe and apprehension. Lucci, ever composed, finally nodded.

"Then it's no wonder we're taking the safer route," he said, a rare smirk tugging at his lips.

"Safer?" I laughed. "Lucci, my boy, there's no such thing as safe on the Grand Line. Only less deadly."

The camp erupted in laughter, but the gleam in their eyes told me they were already imagining the impossible journey. And perhaps, someday, we'd face the Knock Up Stream ourselves. After all, in this world, only those who dared to challenge the impossible could truly call themselves free.