Chapter 412

"So, are we really going along with this madness, Master?"

Lucci's voice, filled with exasperation, broke through the excited chatter of the crew. He stood beside me, arms crossed, his usual stoic expression marred by a twitch of irritation.

Our giant galleon, a fortress of steel and wood, drifted steadily toward the very edge of the sky islands, cloud's end. The edge of the sky island loomed ahead, where the endless blue of the heavens met the terrifying abyss below. Beyond it, nothing but open sky—and a fall of ten thousand meters straight down into the Blue Sea.

The Shandian warriors, our unexpected allies, escorted us to the drop-off point. Their expressions were unreadable, though I swore I caught some of them silently praying.

The crew, on the other hand? Utter. Panic.

Men scrambled to strap themselves to the ship, using whatever rope, netting, or chains they could find. Some were whispering final prayers, others writing their wills—one guy even tried to bribe me to turn the ship around.

And yet, at the center of all this chaos, was one person bouncing around with unrestrained glee—Dora.

The giant girl practically shook the deck with every step, her massive frame stomping back and forth in excitement. The giant straw hat gifted to her by the Shandians sat comically atop her wild curls, flopping with every movement.

Wrapped around her shoulders like a feathered scarf was her oversized pet—the so-called Lord of the Sky, a monstrous snake that once terrorized the entirety of Skypeia, who looked more confused than anyone else aboard.

Dora turned to me, eyes wide and sparkling with anticipation.

"Ross, do you think we really need this many octopus balloons?"

Her voice dripped with disappointment, as if using safety precautions was ruining her dream of pure freefall chaos.

I sighed. Of course, she wasn't satisfied. Originally, her plan had been downright suicidal—to launch the ship off the edge and let gravity do the rest. A ten-thousand-meter drop, no adjustments, no safety measures—just a sheer plummet into the ocean below.

Maybe I, Lucci, and Dora could survive such a fall thanks to our inhuman physiques, but the crew? Not a chance.

Even the Shandians—who had been hardened by war, and had trained under our guidance—weren't dumb enough to attempt this level of lunacy.

So, I had compromised. Instead of freefalling to our deaths, we had secured a large number of octopus balloons, which were tied to the masts and hull to act as natural shock absorbers when we hit the water. Not as thrilling, but at least it wouldn't turn half our crew into paste upon impact.

Dora pouted, arms crossed like a child denied a treat.

"It would be way more fun without them!"

"Oh, forgive us for not wanting to explode on impact like a dropped melon," Lucci deadpanned, clutching the ship's railing a little too tightly. I smirked as I read Lucci's thoughts with my advanced observation haki.

"You scared of heights, Lucci?"

His golden eyes twitched toward me, his expression darkening.

"I'm not scared, I'm just being sensible, Dora, something you are clearly not capable of." he muttered. But the way his fingers dug into the wood of the railing betrayed him. I chuckled. The irony was too much—the boy with one of the strongest mythical Zoan devil fruits in existence was nervous about a little drop.

Meanwhile, behind us, the crew's wailing grew louder.

"We're all going to die—"

"Shut up and hold onto something!"

"Someone write my mother a letter!"

I turned my gaze back to the edge of the sky island, where the clouds thinned, revealing the vast, endless blue expanse below. The thrill built up inside me, an undeniable rush of excitement that made my blood pump faster. How many people in history had ever done this?

I took a deep breath. "Alright."

I turned to the crew, grinning. "Let's fall."

And with that—the ship lurched forward, tipping over the edge.

Then— Gravity took hold.

A few minutes into the descent, Dora sat slumped against the railing, arms crossed, lips pursed in a deep, dramatic pout. This was not what she had signed up for.

She had expected an earth-shattering drop into oblivion, the kind that would make her stomach lurch and her heart pound against her ribs. She had been ready to feel the raw rush of adrenaline—the wind howling in her ears, the sheer chaos of a freefall so intense it would be talked about for generations.

Instead…

The massive galleon drifted. Slowly. Gently. Like a leaf lazily floating down from a tree.

The octopus balloons, which had been tied to the ship as a safety measure, made the descent so smooth and controlled that even the crew—who had previously been screaming like they were about to meet their makers—were now leaning against the rails, admiring the view.

"Wow… never thought I'd see the whole world like this…" one sailor murmured in awe.

"We're floating like a dream…" another sighed.

Even I had to admit—there was something strangely serene about it.

All around us stretched a vast, endless expanse of blue. The sky was a canvas of shifting clouds, sunlight shimmering against the white mist, giving everything a soft, golden glow. Below us, the planet curved like a breathtaking masterpiece, its endless ocean glistening under the sun like a bed of sapphires.

It was a sight few—if any—would ever get to witness in their lifetimes.

I let out a slow breath, inhaling the crisp, high-altitude air. A part of me had been bracing for some kind of disaster, but now that we were steadily floating downward, I allowed myself to relax.

Not Dora, though. She looked like someone had just stolen her favorite meal.

"This is so… so… lame." she groaned, throwing her head back against the railing.

Lucci, who had spent the past few minutes trying—and failing—to contain his amusement, finally cracked a smirk. His golden eyes flicked toward Dora, and I could see the sheer effort it was taking him not to rub it in.

But Hattori, his ever-loyal pet pigeon, had no such reservations. The tiny bird flapped onto Dora's head, puffed out its chest, and let out a very smug-sounding coo.

"Coo~ coo!"

A clear, unmistakable mockery. Dora's eye twitched dangerously.

"Lucci—control your damn bird before I turn it into a snack!" she snapped, grabbing for Hattori.

The pigeon, with what I could only describe as a shit-eating grin, easily hopped out of reach, landing gracefully on Lucci's shoulder. Lucci chuckled, arms crossed.

"What's the matter, Dora? I thought you wanted an adventure?" he said, voice dripping with amusement.

Dora's glare could have melted steel.

"You shut up."

I smirked, shaking my head as I turned back to admire the descent. Dora might not have gotten the heart-pounding, death-defying drop she wanted… But in a way, this?

This was an adventure all on its own.

For a moment, the world was silent. The sea below stretched out like a vast, endless sapphire. The sky, once an infinite expanse of blue, was calm. The only sound was the soft creaking of the ship's hull and the occasional sigh of the wind as we drifted gently downward.

Then, as if the gods themselves had taken offense to Dora's disappointment, the world shifted. A low, guttural rumble rolled through the sky—not thunder, but something deeper, more primal. The kind of sound that shakes you to your bones and warns you that something is coming.

And then— Chaos. The sky split apart. Massive, roiling storm clouds erupted out of nowhere, swallowing the once-brilliant sun. The air turned thick, charged with static, and before anyone could even process what was happening—

BOOM.

A bolt of lightning screamed past the ship, so close that the hair on my arms stood on end.

A gust of wind, stronger than anything we had prepared for, slammed into the galleon, sending the crew staggering. Ropes snapped, sails whipped violently, and I grabbed onto the nearest railing as the once graceful descent turned into a spiraling nosedive.

Massive tornadoes—each one a twisting, howling beast of destruction—began forming all around us.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" one of the crew members shrieked as a colossal vortex of wind tore past the ship, missing us by mere meters. It was so enormous that it stretched all the way from the sky to the sea below, carving through the ocean like a blade of destruction.

"I knew the Grand Line's weather was unpredictable, but this—this is just madness!" I gritted out as I braced against the howling winds.

But Dora? Dora's entire demeanor changed. Gone was the sulking girl who had pouted over a 'boring' descent. Now, her eyes gleamed with wild excitement.

"YESSSSSSSS!" she screamed, her voice brimming with exhilaration. She gripped the railing so hard it cracked beneath her fingers, her giant frame trembling—not with fear, but with unfiltered, reckless joy.

And then—POP.

One of the octopus balloons burst. For a split second, the ship lurched—and then it started to fall faster.

CRACK—BOOM!

Another lightning bolt flashed past, so close that the entire ship momentarily glowed white from the sheer intensity.

The octopus creatures, scared out of their wits, began panicking. Some released air in an attempt to escape, their instincts screaming at them to flee.

Each time one let go, our descent sharpened. The ship was now plummeting.

And Dora? She was LAUGHING.

"THIS IS IT! THIS IS WHAT I WANTED!" she howled against the wind, her grin stretched wide with glee.

The ship tilted violently, picking up more and more speed. The crew? Screaming.

Lucci? Clutching the nearest mast with a murderous glare in Dora's direction.

Me? Cursing under my breath as I struggled to understand how exactly everything turned out to be so in a mere instant.

"YOU DAMNED GIANT BRAT, THIS ISN'T A GAME—WE'RE GOING TO CRASH!" I shouted over the wind.

But Dora, with her massive hat whipping wildly in the storm, simply threw her arms out and shouted back—

"THEN LET'S SEE IF WE SURVIVE!"

Another explosion of lightning illuminated the sky— And the galleon continued to plummet toward the raging sea below.

*****

Marineford, Grand Line

"Crunch… crunch… crunch…"

The slow, steady sound of munching echoed through the grand office of the Fleet Admiral, the rhythmic chewing so unapologetically loud that it drowned out even the scratching of pens and the rustling of reports.

Vice Admiral Monkey D. Garp, the Marine Hero, sat comfortably—no, sprawled—on the couch, his legs stretched out as if he owned the place, a massive bag of crackers balanced in his lap. With no regard for decorum, his scarred hand plunged into the bag, fishing out another crisp cracker before shoving it into his mouth.

"Crunch… crunch…"

At the other end of the room, Fleet Admiral Sengoku's left eye twitched violently.

Here he was, knee-deep in reports of utter chaos unfolding across the New World, while this damned old fool sat there, raiding his personal snack stash without a shred of shame.

As if that wasn't enough, Garp had also helped himself to Sengoku's prized tea, sipping away with absolute smugness, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

The audacity.

"Garp… don't you have an office of your own?! And WHY are you digging into MY snacks, you bastard?!" Sengoku snapped, his patience fraying by the second.

His fingers, however, didn't stop their well-practiced motion—picking up an intelligence report, casually ripping it into strips, and feeding it to the small, bearded goat nibbling away contentedly at the edge of his desk.

Garp, utterly unbothered, snickered between bites. "Heh… maybe you should've thought about that before you cut my snack budget."

Another cracker vanished into his mouth.

"And," he added, reaching for yet another handful, "as a mere Vice Admiral, I don't get the luxury of the same fine tea the great Fleet Admiral enjoys, do I? So I figured, why not share?"

His grin widened as he chomped faster, almost daring Sengoku to leap across the desk and strangle him. Sengoku's hands clenched. This bastard. This absolute menace.

If only the Elders weren't so obsessed with protecting the Celestial Dragons, he would've thrown Garp into the New World himself—let him loose on those arrogant upstart pirate crews trying to carve their names into history.

Especially the Red Hair Pirates. The world still viewed them as a rising crew led by a young rookie, but Sengoku knew better.

'Akagami' Shanks.

That red-haired brat wasn't just any rookie—he had once sailed under the Pirate King himself. And he wasn't alone. There was another man in Shanks' crew, another former apprentice of Roger, and that fact alone made Sengoku's grip tighten around his pen.

The Marines had already lost control of the New World. They were spread too thin, and the chaos was only getting worse. The balance of power was shifting, and if they didn't act soon, the entire world would—

The door to Sengoku's office slammed open with such force that the walls rattled. Yet neither Sengoku nor Garp flinched. They already knew who it was.

"BAM!"

The entire office trembled as the heavy oak desk rattled violently under the sheer force of her fist. Papers scattered, Sengoku's trusted goat bleated in alarm, and even Garp paused mid-bite, a half-eaten cracker dangling from his lips.

Standing before them, her face twisted in fury, was Admiral Raylene.

Her piercing silver eyes burned with a rage so intense it could melt steel, and her grip on the crumpled deployment orders was so tight that the paper threatened to tear apart in her fingers.

"What is the meaning of this, Sengoku-san?!" she demanded, her voice sharp like a blade drawn for battle. Sengoku sighed, already dreading this conversation.

"Raylene, listen to me—"

"

No!" she snapped, cutting him off instantly. She took a single step forward, her military boots slamming against the pristine floor, her very presence radiating barely-contained fury.

"Slavery, Sengoku-san?" Her voice dripped with disbelief, her fingers shaking as she held up the orders. "You want me to run protection detail for a slavers' auction? And in Sabaody, of all places?"

Her words were venom, each syllable filled with undiluted disgust.

"After everything I've done to cleanse that hellhole of slavers' nests—after everything I have sacrificed—you expect me to stand guard like a damned watchdog while they openly trade human lives under my nose?"

Her voice escalated into a roar, her anger like a hurricane, rattling the room more than any storm ever could. Sengoku held his ground, but he understood her fury completely.

Because if there was one thing Admiral Raylene had dedicated herself to—if there was one absolute truth about her—it was this: She hated slavery. She didn't just oppose it. She hunted it down.

For years since she joined the Marines, she had waged a relentless war against the slave trade, cutting through its rotten core with the precision of a blade.

She couldn't touch the Celestial Dragons—that much was clear. Their sickening privilege placed them above any form of justice. But that immunity did not extend to the vermin who supplied them. The slavers. The pirates. The black-market dealers.

Raylene had uprooted them from Sabaody, tearing down their auction houses with her own hands. She had burned their operations to ash, shattered their supply chains, and hunted them across the seas.

For the past year, with the Holy Land in chaos, slavery in Sabaody had been on the verge of extinction. The streets—once lined with cages of suffering—had begun to clear. The desperate cries of the innocent had grown fainter.

But now…

Now, those same slavers had crawled out from their holes, emboldened by the return of their greatest patrons. With the Celestial Dragons descending from Mary Geoise for the first time in over a year, they had decided to celebrate their return with the largest slave auction Sabaody had ever seen.

And she—the woman who had dedicated herself to stamping out their vile existence—was being ordered to protect them. It was a slap in the face.

"Is this some kind of joke, Sengoku?!" Raylene roared, slamming the orders onto his desk. "You expect me to stand there and watch while they sell people like cattle? To act as an accomplice to this filth?"

Her chest heaved, her breathing ragged, barely able to contain the sheer rage coursing through her veins.

Sengoku let out a slow, measured breath, his temples throbbing from the sheer force of Raylene's wrath. He knew this fight was coming, but even he hadn't expected it to be this intense.

Raylene wasn't just angry—she was one second away from unsheathing her blade and tearing this office apart. And so, with grim determination, Sengoku turned to the only person in the room who had a chance of calming her down—her mentor.

Vice Admiral Monkey D. Garp.

Except… Instead of acknowledging the situation, Garp was doing his best impression of a man completely unaware that the world around him was about to explode.

His massive hands rummaged deep into his seemingly endless bag of crackers, eyes focused intently inside, as if searching for some hidden treasure buried within. Sengoku twitched.

"Garp..." he growled, rubbing his forehead. The old Marine Hero continued munching, ignoring him completely.

"GARP!"

With an exasperated sigh, Sengoku finally snapped.

"Say something, dammit!"

The office fell silent. Raylene's glaring feline eyes snapped toward her mentor, practically demanding he say something to justify this insult of an order. Garp finally looked up, blinking as if he had only just realized there were other people in the room.

Then, his gaze slowly drifted between Raylene—who looked ready to eviscerate the entire Marine Headquarters—and Sengoku, whose expression was borderline pleading.

For a moment, Garp held their gazes. Then, with a shameless lack of concern, he casually shrugged and said:

"Well… don't look at me like that, Sengoku. You drafted that order. I'm just a simple Vice Admiral. Surely, I can't be expected to act above my station."

Silence. Raylene's eye twitched. Sengoku's jaw clenched. And Garp?

Garp didn't even flinch as he smoothly threw his closest friend to the wolves without hesitation—his face completely devoid of shame. He even had the audacity to pop another cracker into his mouth, crunching loudly as he washed his hands clean of the entire mess.

Because truth be told?

He wanted nothing to do with this. Garp hated the Celestial Dragons. Raylene, ever since she had been under his wing, had absorbed that hatred and amplified it tenfold.

She had spent years dismantling the slave trade, and now the same government she fought for was asking her to protect it? No. Absolutely not.

Garp had no intention of being the one to tell her to stand down. So, instead, he did what he did best—he shoved the problem entirely onto Sengoku and pretended to be blissfully uninvolved.

The Fleet Admiral's eyebrow twitched violently.

"You... useless, senile—!"

But before Sengoku could even finish his sentence, Raylene—who had been silent for an unnerving amount of time—grabbed the hilt of her sword.

The air in the room shifted instantly. Her entire body tensed, shoulders squared, and her piercing silver eyes bore into Sengoku like molten fire.

"I will not be a part of this." Her voice was low, dangerous, and final.

And for the first time that day, Sengoku truly felt that this day couldn't get any worse than it already was.