"ROAR…!"
The deafening sound echoed through the heavens as the Lord of the Sky unleashed its fury, its massive coils tearing through the edge of the settlement like a tempest. The ground trembled beneath its wrath, sending cracks spidering through the earth, and the air was thick with the cries of warriors and the terrified screams of the villagers.
"Evacuate the children and the elders! Everyone else, push that beast away from the settlement!" Wyrah's voice thundered over the chaos as he lunged forward, his spear gleaming in the sunlight. His muscles tensed with determination as he delivered a powerful strike to the serpent's scales. The blow barely left a mark but succeeded in forcing the beast to recoil momentarily.
Ganfall, too, had sprung into action, his lance gripped tightly in his hands. The current "God" of Skypiea wove through the fray with the precision of a seasoned warrior. His lance darted toward the serpent's underbelly, targeting the few vulnerable points the Lord of the Sky possessed.
"Hold the line! Don't let it reach the heart of the settlement!" he shouted, rallying the nearby warriors to his side.
The serpent, however, was an ancient predator, its sheer size and ferocity defying the combined might of the warriors. Its golden scales glinted ominously as it lashed out, sending several fighters flying with a single sweep of its colossal tail. Huts crumbled under the weight of its strikes, and debris filled the air like a storm of splinters and dust.
One of the Shandian warriors, the captain of the guard, staggered to his feet after being hurled across the battlefield by the beast's tail. Blood trickled from a gash on his forehead, but his rage burned brighter than his pain. His eyes locked onto Ganfall, who was charging toward the serpent once more, lance poised for another strike. "You bastard! This is all your fault!"
Ganfall barely glanced his way, his focus on the serpent as he jabbed his lance into its flank, forcing the beast to rear back. "This isn't the time for petty blame!" he barked, his voice sharp and commanding. "Push the beast back before it destroys everything!"
The guard captain, however, was far from appeased. He spat blood as he forced himself into a run, rejoining the warriors rallying against the serpent.
"If it weren't for you and your people driving us from our sacred lands, we wouldn't be in this situation! We wouldn't have been forced to settle in the beast's territory!" His accusations, raw with years of resentment, echoed even as he hurled his spear at the serpent's eye, missing by mere inches.
Wyrah, hearing the argument amidst the chaos, turned his glare toward the two men even as he readied his next strike against the serpent. "Enough!" he roared, his voice cutting through the cacophony. "Save your grievances for later, or there won't be anyone left to settle them!"
The serpent lunged, its massive jaws snapping shut where Wyrah had stood just moments before. The Shandian leader leapt aside with agility that belied his size, landing on the serpent's flank and driving his spear into the base of its neck. The beast let out a blood-curdling hiss, whipping its head around to dislodge the stubborn warrior. Wyrah held firm, gritting his teeth as the serpent thrashed violently beneath him.
Ganfall seized the opportunity, dashing forward and striking the beast's exposed side with a powerful thrust of his lance. The serpent recoiled, its head crashing into the ground with a thunderous impact that sent a shockwave through the settlement. Dust and debris filled the air as warriors pressed their advantage, raining arrows and spears upon the serpent in a desperate attempt to drive it back.
But the serpent was far from defeated. With an earth-shaking roar, it coiled its massive body, gathering strength before lashing out with its tail. The strike tore through the defensive line, scattering warriors like leaves in a storm. Wyrah was thrown from its back, landing heavily but quickly regaining his footing.
The Shandian priestess, still leaning heavily on her staff, stood at the edge of the battlefield, her frail form silhouetted against the chaos. Her voice, though raspy, rang out with surprising clarity.
I stood on the sidelines, arms crossed, watching the chaos unfold as the Shandian warriors fought valiantly to hold back the Lord of the Sky. Their proficiency in mantra was the only reason the situation hadn't devolved into a massacre.
Despite their efforts, the massive serpent's ferocity and strength were proving nearly impossible to counter. Its golden scales shimmered menacingly under the light, a reminder of its centuries-old dominance over these skies.
"Do we help them, Master?" Lucci asked, stepping to my side with his usual calm demeanor. His sharp eyes were fixed on the serpent, analyzing its movements. Though the Lord of the Sky was a terrifying force, for someone like me, dealing with it would require less effort than lifting a finger.
Before I could answer, a bubbly voice chimed in. "Ross, can we keep it?" Dora asked innocently, her wide eyes fixated on the massive serpent. The casualness of her question caught me off guard, and I couldn't help but chuckle.
"That thing isn't a pet, Dora. Have you seen the size of it? How do you plan to keep something like that around?" Lucci replied dryly, though there was a faint hint of incredulity in his voice.
Dora, however, wasn't the type to back down. "Lucci, you have Hattori, so why can't I have a pet of my own? Ross, I want it! I want that snake as my pet!" she declared, stomping her foot in a tantrum.
I raised an eyebrow, amused by the absurdity of the situation. "Well, it's not impossible," I mused, entertaining her wish for a moment. The thought of taming the Lord of the Sky and handing it to Dora as a 'pet' was as ridiculous as it was tempting.
"Master, you can't be serious," Lucci said with a sigh, his voice tinged with exasperation. "That thing is the size of a small mountain. There's no way we can haul it around like a pet everywhere we go."
"Who said anything about hauling it around?" I replied with a smirk. "Remember that devil fruit we found on the way here?"
Lucci's eyes narrowed as realization dawned on him. "You mean the paramecia fruit?"
"Exactly," I said, the thought of combining a mythical serpent with a devil fruit sparking a wicked sense of curiosity in me.
Before I could elaborate, the sound of rustling fabric drew my attention. I turned to see the frail figure of the Shandian high priestess hobbling toward me. Her age-worn body trembled as she moved, leaning heavily on her gnarled staff. Her milky-white eyes stared in my direction as if she could see through the veil of time itself.
And then, to my astonishment, she dropped to her knees before me, pressing her forehead to the ground in a posture of absolute reverence. "My Lord...!" Her voice, frail yet fervent, carried over the sounds of battle. "You have finally come to save us!"
The entire Shandian tribe froze at her declaration. Warriors halted mid-swing, their expressions a mixture of confusion and shock. Even the serpent seemed momentarily still, its great head swaying as if perplexed by the sudden shift in atmosphere.
Ganfall, who had been holding his ground valiantly against the serpent, faltered as his mantra broke under his surprise. The beast's massive tail struck him, sending him tumbling across the battlefield like a leaf caught in a storm.
Lucci, couldn't hold back his amusement at the sudden change and let out a quiet laugh. "Master, I told you this would happen one day," he said, his tone laced with mockery. "Look, you've officially been promoted to deity status."
Dora, of course, was completely unbothered by the gravity of the moment. "Does that mean Ross can make the snake my pet now?" she asked, her voice tinged with excitement.
I glanced down at the priestess, her trembling form prostrate before me. Her weathered face was streaked with tears, her frail body visibly shaking under the weight of her conviction. For someone who had lived through so much, endured so many years of silence and darkness, her faith was unwavering. It was almost... humbling.
"What is the meaning of this?" I asked, my voice cutting through the stunned silence of the onlookers. I wasn't one to shy away from theatrics when necessary, and the old woman's devotion intrigued me. "Why do you kneel before me?"
The priestess raised her head slightly, her blind eyes glistening with tears. "The gods whispered your name long ago, my Lord. They foretold your return. You are the one who will save us, the one who will restore balance to these lands."
Her words sent murmurs rippling through the gathered crowd. Warriors exchanged uneasy glances, unsure of whether to embrace or reject her proclamation. Even Wyrah, who had been in the thick of the fight, paused to look toward me, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"Restore balance, you say?" I replied, stepping closer to the priestess. My voice was steady, but there was a faint edge of amusement in it. "And what makes you think I am this savior?"
She lifted her staff with trembling hands, its weathered wood pointing unsteadily toward the towering serpent that loomed over the battlefield. "Only a god can tame the Lord of the Sky," she declared, her voice resolute despite the frailty of her body. "Only you have the power to end this chaos and lead us to salvation."
Beside me, Lucci scoffed softly, his arms crossed as he leaned closer. "A god, huh? Well, Master, are you going to answer their prayers?" His tone carried its usual mix of mockery and curiosity, but his eyes betrayed the faintest glint of intrigue.
I let the question hang in the air for a moment, surveying the scene—the frightened tribe, the warriors struggling to keep the beast at bay, the old priestess prostrate before me, trembling yet unyielding. Then, I stepped forward, tilting my head slightly as I regarded her.
"Tell me, what makes you think I will help you?" My voice was calm, edged with faint amusement. "Even if I could, I have no obligation to do so. Aren't you Shandians too proud to ask for help from outsiders? Why bend your knee to someone who isn't part of your tribe?"
The priestess lifted her head, her milky eyes fixing directly on mine with unsettling precision. Despite her blindness, her gaze felt piercing, as though she were looking straight through me.
"Because you are the one who has inherited the power of our god," she said, her voice steadier than before. "And because I know you have questions. I may have the answers you seek."
Her words gave me pause. It wasn't just faith driving her actions—it was something far more tangible. She was bartering, trading her knowledge for salvation. But how did she know I was searching for anything? The thought intrigued me, and for a fleeting moment, I found myself leaning into the mystery of it all.
I chuckled softly, testing the waters. "A god, you say? I'm sure I am no god. I'm but a pirate, nothing more." My words were laced with amusement, but I watched her carefully, waiting to see how she would respond.
The priestess smiled faintly, her face streaked with tears that fell unbidden from her cloudy eyes. "You gained the quality of a god when you conquered death itself. You've already started walking the path of godhood since you came to this world."
Her words hit me like a cannon blast. I froze, my amusement vanishing as my mind raced to process the implications. She spoke with such certainty, as if she knew. Before I could respond, I opened myself to her thoughts, reaching out instinctively with the Voice of All Things.
What I heard sent a jolt up my spine.
"You may very well be the only one who is qualified to truly walk on this path, oh traveler of worlds..."
The whispered thought echoed in my mind, each word a dagger cutting through my carefully composed exterior. My breath hitched, and for the first time since coming to this world, a shiver ran down my spine. She knew. Somehow, this frail old woman knew the truth of my existence, a truth I had guarded fiercely.
I composed myself quickly, but the weight of her words lingered. "Traveler of worlds..." I repeated softly, more to myself than to her. My tone was even, but there was a new edge to it—a sharpness that betrayed my unease.
The priestess, sensing my reaction, pressed her forehead to the ground again. "You are not like the rest of us, my Lord. You are something greater, something beyond the comprehension of mortals like myself. You have walked paths no other has tread, and that makes you the only one who can restore the balance our people so desperately need."
Lucci, who had been watching the exchange with faint amusement, raised an eyebrow. "Master, should I start building a temple for you now, or would you prefer to handle the sermon first?"
I shot him a sharp look, silencing him without a word. My focus returned to the priestess. Her frail form trembled with exhaustion, but her voice carried an undeniable conviction that cut through the chaos around us.
"If what you say is true," I began slowly, my voice heavy with thought, "then you'd best start speaking plainly. What do you know of me? How do you know of the path I walk?"
She raised her head slightly, her face a mixture of reverence and sorrow. "All will be revealed, my Lord, in due time. But first, the Lord of the Sky must be tamed. Only then can we speak of truths that will shape your destiny—and ours."
For a moment, the world seemed to stand still. The serpent roared again in the distance, its wrath undiminished, but my thoughts were elsewhere. The weight of her words lingered, intertwining with the echoes of my own questions.
I smirked, though my heart was far from settled. "Very well," I said, turning my gaze toward the rampaging beast.
As I took my first step, the world around me seemed to tremble under an unseen weight. A sudden, overwhelming burst of Conqueror's Haki rippled outward, a tidal wave of sheer willpower that froze everything in its path.
Time itself seemed to halt, the air thickening until it felt like even the wind dared not move. Though the pressure wasn't aimed at them directly, the Shandians collapsed to their knees, trembling as though the sky itself had descended to crush them.
The ground beneath me fractured, veins of fissures radiating outward as if the earth itself sought refuge from my presence. Above, the sky darkened, clouds swirling into an ominous vortex.
Lightning tore through the heavens in jagged streaks, illuminating the trembling, bloodied serpent. Its massive, bloodshot eyes that had burned with rage moments ago were now wide with fear, its entire body quivering under the oppressive weight of my haki.
For the first time in centuries, the Lord of the Sky—the apex predator of the Sky Islands—was subdued, its ferocity drained as death loomed over it.
Dora's voice cut through the suffocating tension, soft and trembling yet filled with earnestness.
"Ross… don't kill it, please." She clutched the hem of her cloak, her eyes wide with worry. The childlike innocence of her plea made me chuckle, breaking the heavy silence like a crack of light in a storm.
"Don't worry," I said, my tone light yet carrying a hint of amusement. "She'll be your pet from now on."
I bent down, picking up a small, smooth stone from the fractured earth. My gaze turned upward, locking onto a distant point in the sky, far beyond what most could perceive. With a flick of my fingers, the stone shot forward like a black comet, streaking across the sky with unimaginable speed. Moments later, the heavens reverberated with the deep, resonant gong of the Golden Bell.
The first note of the bell rippled through the sky like a voice from the heavens, a sound so pure and powerful that it seemed to bypass the ears and resonate directly within the soul. It was not merely a chime but a celestial call, an ancient melody that carried with it the weight of centuries. The sound expanded outward, its golden timbre ringing across the Sky Islands, a beacon that transcended barriers of time and distance.
The Shandians froze in shock, their eyes widening as the second gong echoed through the air. Tears streamed down their faces as they fell to their knees, their weapons clattering to the ground.
How could they not recognize it? This was the Golden Bell, the sacred artifact their ancestors had vowed to protect with their very lives. It was more than just a bell; it was a promise, a symbol of their lineage, and the voice of their forgotten history.
"The Bell of Shandora..." Wyrah whispered, his voice trembling with awe. "It still sings..."
The massive serpent, which moments ago had been trembling with terror, now raised its colossal head to the heavens. Its bloodshot eyes, once clouded with fury, filled with glistening tears. The chime of the bell seemed to pierce through its primal instincts, stirring something deep within—something ancient and pure.
As another gong resonated, the serpent coiled its massive body and rose higher into the air, its serpentine form twisting and swaying in a dance of jubilation. It roared, not in rage, but in harmony with the bell, a sound of reverence and celebration.
The Shandians stared in disbelief. The beast they had feared for generations now danced in worship to the very bell they had sworn to protect.
The sound of the Golden Bell spread beyond the Shandian settlement, echoing across the vast expanse of the Sky Islands. In Angel Island, the Skypieans halted mid-step, their eyes turning skyward.
"The Golden Bell?" one elder murmured, his hands trembling as he clutched his staff. "But that's... impossible."
In the forest of Upper Yard, even the animals paused, their heads tilting as the ancient sound resonated through the canopy. The clouds above seemed to shimmer, as if the very fabric of the sky was responding to the call.
But the bell's song did not stop there. It descended, carried by the currents of air and memory, breaking through the veil of clouds and into the Blue Sea below.
On the deck of a merchant ship, a sailor paused mid-task, his gaze snapping upward as the hauntingly beautiful chime echoed across the ocean. "What... what is that sound?" he asked, his voice hushed with wonder.
A weathered old man seated near the helm closed his eyes, a wistful smile spreading across his face. "That's the sound of history," he murmured. "The Golden Bell of Shandora... it sings once more."
In a remote village by the coast, a child ran to his mother, tugging at her sleeve. "Mama, do you hear it? The bell in the sky!"
Back in the settlement, the Shandians fully prostrated themselves, their foreheads pressed to the ground as the bell continued to ring. The sound seemed to wash over them, cleansing years of pain and struggle. For them, the chime was not just a sound—it was salvation, a sign that their ancestors had not abandoned them.
Ganfall, battered and bloodied but still standing, leaned on his lance, his face etched with awe.
"The Golden Bell... it's a miracle."
The priestess, tears streaming down her cheeks, raised her trembling hands to the heavens. "Our god has returned," she whispered. "The promise has been fulfilled."
And at the center of it all, I stood with a faint smirk, the colossal serpent now coiled obediently at my side. Dora cheered gleefully, running to embrace her "new pet," while Lucci watched with a mixture of amusement and begrudging respect. The bell tolled again, its golden voice singing the tale of Shandora, the unyielding will of its people, and the promise of a new chapter yet to be written.
Down below on the Blue Sea, on the shores of Jaya Island, a young man stood at the edge of the bay, his body trembling with a storm of emotions he could no longer contain. His name was Montblanc Cricket, a descendant of the infamous "liar" Montblanc Noland—a man whose tale of the Golden City had been ridiculed and dismissed as myth for over four centuries.
But now, as the melodious gong of the Golden Bell echoed through the skies above, everything Cricket believed in, everything he had fought for, crystallized into a singular, undeniable truth.
Tears streamed freely down his tired face, carving paths through the grime and salt left from thousands of diving trips into the depths of Jaya's waters. His eyes, bloodshot but filled with a fierce, almost childlike wonder, were fixed on the distant heavens, where the sound of the bell resounded like a beacon from a dream. Each gong carried a weight that pressed down on his heart, yet it also lifted him, filling his chest with a fiery resolve.
Finally, he could hold it in no longer. With his fists clenched and his voice raw with emotion, he threw his head back and roared at the sky.
"My ancestor was NOT a liar! You hear me, you bastards?! Noland was telling the truth! The Golden City exists!"
His voice thundered across the island, reverberating off the cliffs and through the dense jungle, carrying with it the pent-up frustration and pain of a man who had borne the weight of a sullied legacy. The island seemed to pause, the jungle creatures quieting as though the earth itself wanted to listen.
As the bell's ethereal chime echoed again, its golden resonance like an unbroken promise from the past, the pieces of the puzzle that Cricket had spent his life chasing suddenly fell into place.
His mind raced, connecting dots that no one else had dared to link.
The Golden City of Shandora, the mysterious absence of its ruins despite the countless expeditions, the Sky Islands—a myth dismissed as fantasy by most sailors—and the peculiar legend of Jaya.
For centuries, the legend of an unimaginable force capable of lifting entire islands had persisted around these waters, whispered in taverns and sung in old sailor shanties. Until now, Cricket had dismissed it as an embellishment, a wild tale spun by drunken pirates. But now, as the bell's song pierced the heavens, the answer was clear.
"The Golden City didn't sink to the ocean," he murmured, his voice trembling with awe. "It was blasted into the sky. Into the Sky Islands..."
The realization sent a chill down his spine. His fingers curled into fists as he thought of his ancestor, Montblanc Noland, who had been executed as a fraud and whose descendants had carried the weight of shame ever since. His lips twisted into a bitter smile, then a determined one.
Cricket turned to the horizon, the bell's reverberations still echoing in his ears. The shame, doubt, and ridicule he had endured for years since birth melted away, replaced by something far more powerful—a new goal.
His hand tightened around the soggy piece of parchment he always carried, a fragment of the map of Jaya. Once, it had only been a faint hope, a remnant of a dream passed down through his bloodline. Now, it was a promise.
"Noland," he said softly, his voice cracking with emotion. "You weren't lying. You weren't a liar. You were a hero." His tears fell freely now, but they were not of grief—they were of vindication, of pride. "And I swear on the name of Montblanc Cricket, on our family's name, I'll clear your legacy. I'll make the whole damned world take back their words."
He straightened, his chest swelling with resolve. The bell chimed again, and this time, it felt like it was calling directly to him, beckoning him to rise.
"Someday," he declared, his voice steady and unwavering, "I'll reach the Sky Islands. I'll find the Golden City, and I'll make the world remember your truth. You'll no longer be Montblanc the Liar. You'll be Montblanc the Brave. The man who found Shandora."