The skittering tide of Scrap-Scuttlers seemed to swell, their mindless hunger focusing on the largest, noisiest targets—the Armored Frames. Aurélie, searching for an opening, navigated her frame to the hanger. Inside her Rust Falcon, Aurélie saw a cluster of them massing for an assault on Evander's flank. The Frame's beam rifle was an ungainly weight in the machine's hand, a tool of blunt force. It felt wrong.
In a move that defied all standard piloting protocol, she hit the emergency release. The cockpit canopy blew open with a sharp hiss. In the same fluid motion, she launched herself into the chaotic air, a silver-haired avenger. As she fell, the air around her shimmered. With a sound like tearing silk, immense, iridescent locust wings erupted from her back, catching the air and halting her descent. Her eyes, now great, compound orbs, took in the entire battlefield in a single, sweeping glance.
Anathema was in her hand, the black blade seeming to hum with a quiet joy. She became a blur of motion, a dervish of silver and chitin. She didn't fight the swarm; she harvested it. Her wings beat, carrying her in impossible arcs between the lumbering Frames, and with every movement, Anathema flashed, severing drill-tipped proboscises and shearing through metallic carapaces with clean, definitive strokes. It was a brutal, beautiful dance, a warrior's ballet performed in the air between the giants.
Inside his Paladin, Evander could only stare, his lecture on honorable combat dying in his throat. This was not piloting. This was something else entirely—a fusion of being and blade that made the Armored Frame seem clumsy by comparison. He realized in that moment that her potential was not bound to a cockpit; she was a weapon all on her own.
Kuro observed Aurélie's display with a flicker of analytical interest before returning to his own problem. His Frame was being swarmed, the creatures chewing at its legs. Instead of fighting them off, he began to move, a calculated, stumbling retreat that made his machine look vulnerable. He led the chittering mass pursuing him deep into a canyon of collapsed girders and torn hull plates. Once a critical density of Scuttlers was packed into the narrow space, his Frame stopped its feigned weakness. It turned, raised its arm, and fired a single, low-yield burst from its beam emitter into a key support beam.
With a groaning roar that shook the Cathedral, the entire wreckage column collapsed inward, burying the swarm under tons of scrap metal. The chittering was silenced in an instant. His Frame stood untouched at the edge of the destruction. It was efficient, ruthless, and involved no direct risk to himself. From the shadows of his Wraith, Caden watched this performance of cold intellect. A strategist who used the battlefield itself as his weapon. The void where Kuro's emotions should be felt more dangerous than ever.
"Wooohoo!" Ember's voice shrieked over the comms, a sound of pure, unadulterated joy. Her Frame, surrounded by a seething mass of pests, was overheating, warning lights flashing across its console. "Time for a big hello!" She slammed the controls for the auxiliary thrusters, forcing a massive, unauthorized power surge. The Frame shuddered violently, then released a concussive wave of energy and superheated air from its exhaust ports. The blast ripped the surrounding Scrap-Scuttlers to shreds, leaving a circle of smoldering, twisted parts around her.
The Frame immediately sagged, its systems groaning in protest, vents spewing steam. Jack's laughter echoed through the channel. "That's my girl! That's the most expensive, most fun pest control I've ever seen! Hope you like walking home!"
Souta, who had been frantically backpedaling, saw Ember's reckless blast and the collapsing wreckage from Kuro's trap. He saw the direct, brutal methods of the others and knew they were not his. His Frame came to a sudden halt. He raised his arms, and the tattoos coiled down to his hands. Instead of forming beasts, he unleashed a flood of pure, black ink from the Frame's external waste-dump ports, spraying it across the metal deck in wide, glistening arcs. The Scrap-Scuttlers, rushing toward him, hit the ink-slicks and immediately lost all traction. They skidded, slid, and piled into each other in a tangled, flailing heap. Dozens more slid right off the edge of a platform, spinning silently into the abyss below. It was a non-lethal, control-based tactic that turned the environment itself against the enemy. For the first time, a look of thoughtful satisfaction crossed his face.
Meanwhile, deep within the tangled derelict that housed Chloe's workshop, the blare of an alarm cut through the sound of her explaining the harmonics of a Minovsky reactor to a fascinated Bianca. Charlie jumped, clutching his data-slate to his chest like a shield. Outside the open bay door, people were scattering, shouting, running towards battle stations or the hatches of dormant Frames.
"What's that? Is that, like, a fire drill?" Bianca asked, her head swiveling.
Chloe's cybernetic arm shifted, the holographic tattoos flashing red as she accessed a local channel. "Scrap-Scuttler swarm. Breached the outer hull." She dropped the engine part she was holding with a clatter. "Not a drill. Come on!"
She led them at a run through the cramped, cluttered corridors. They rounded a corner and found their path blocked by a falling grille as the ship's emergency protocols engaged. "Reroute!" Chloe snapped, pulling them into a small, dimly lit control room filled with flickering terminals.
Bianca's eyes scanned the archaic control panels. "I can, like, work with this." Her fingers flew across the keyboard, pulling up schematic after schematic. "The emergency containment fields… if I cross-circuit the power from non-essential sectors…" With a few furious commands, she rerouted the power. Outside, in the corridors, shimmering blue energy fields snapped into existence, blocking the advancing skittering hordes and sealing off entire sections, creating safe zones for the fleeing JFF crew.
"Ahem! The structural integrity of this sector is compromised!" Charlie announced, his voice surprisingly steady as he consulted his data-slate. "According to the deck plans I reviewed, the most defensible position with adequate life support and only two access points is… the secondary mess hall, three levels down! We should guide everyone there!"
Chloe looked from Bianca, who was jury-rigging a century-old system with the intuition of a savant, to Charlie, whose scholarly knowledge was actively saving lives. She grinned, a flash of understanding in her eyes. "You heard the man! Let's move!" She realized that in the Typhon Cluster, value came in many forms, and a sharp mind was often a better weapon than a strong fist.
*****
The submarine cut through the choppy waters at the base of the impossible mountain. It wasn't stone, but a towering, silent hurricane of cloud and light, its base hissing with the sulfurous breath of geothermal vents that stained the air with the tang of rotten eggs. Before them, the Path of the High West began—a winding, watery ribbon of cloud-matter that spiraled up into the dizzying heights, connecting the solid-looking cloud summits in a terrifyingly steep gradient.
In the pilot's seat, Galit's fingers flew across the console, pulling up a shimmering holographic map of the path. His long neck was coiled tight with focus.
"Bloody hell," Jannali cursed, leaning over his shoulder. "Look at that slope! And the depth of those cloud anchors... it's like a spiderweb holding up a continent."
Atlas leaned in, his rust-red fur bristling. "So that's the famous path. One miscalculation and we're not drowning, we're splatting."
Eliane, strapped into a seat with Jelly quivering in her lap, swallowed hard. "But... it's the only way up."
Marya, in the copilot's seat, watched the hologram with calm, golden eyes. " If the bubble porter miscalculates and there is no ocean to compensate and catch us, we would still crash," she commented, her voice even." She glanced back at the group, a faint, challenging smirk on her lips. "Last chance to bail."
From the rear, Aokiji, already reclined with his hands behind his head, didn't open his eyes. "This path has been successfully navigated by thousands of ships. Wake me when we get there."
Galit took a deep breath, his emerald eyes fixed on the real view through the reinforced viewport. "Right. Let's go!"
With a deep thrum from the Jet Dials, the submarine nosed into the path. The world outside immediately changed. The light took on a thick, golden quality, filtered through tons of swirling vapor. The deep, resonant hum of hyper-dense cloud matter grinding against itself vibrated through the hull, a sound felt more than heard.
The ascent was immediately a white-knuckle ride. Galit fought the controls, the Jet Dials flaring as he navigated the fluid maze of "cloud valleys." One moment they were climbing a near-vertical wall of water-like cloud, the next they were shooting through a tunnel of solid-looking mist that felt as sturdy as rock.
"Hard to port!" Jannali shouted, pointing at a patch of innocent-looking, puffy white cloud to their starboard. "That's a false path! It'll collapse!"
Galit wrenched the wheel. The sub lurched, sending Atlas stumbling into a wall. "I see it! Stop back-seat driving!"
"Oi, just trying to keep us from becoming a lovely stain on the Blue Sea!"
Their first major obstacle was the Veil of Sighs. The cloud walls here wept a cold, fresh mist that beaded on the viewports. Strange, star-shaped moss clung to the passing cliffs, emitting a soft, guiding glow. The sound of the wind whistling through hollow Gale-Reeds growing from the cloud created a continuous, dissonant chord that set everyone's teeth on edge.
Suddenly, a school of winged creatures flitted past, humming a distorted, mournful sea shanty.
Eliane perked up. "What are they?"
Jannali listened, her head tilted. "Echo Finches," she said, her voice unusually quiet. "They say they learn those tunes from centuries of doomed sailors. Cheery, huh?"
The tension was broken by Jelly. Bouncing with excitement at the sight of the "birdies," he morphed into a giant, wobbly paddle and slapped the inside of the sumarine.
"Jelly, no!" Eliane cried.
The cloud, disgorged a flock of angry, squid-like creatures with needle-sharp beaks that began pecking furiously at the hull. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap.
"Great. Now we're being attacked by sky calamari," Atlas grumbled, pounding on the hull from the inside. "Shoo!"
Marya simply shook her head with a long-suffering smirk. "Just keep going, Galit."
They hit a Windless Belt exactly where Galit had predicted. The sub stalled, floating motionless in a dead zone. The silence was oppressive.
"Now!" Galit barked.
He activated the secondary Jet Dials. With a roar, they shot forward, only to immediately encounter a cross-current of razor-edged winds. It screeched against the metal, and a warning light flashed—a sensor array on the port side had been sheared clean off.
"Told you we should've added more reinforcement!" Atlas yelled.
"Your face needs more reinforcement!" Galit shot back, his neck knotting with stress.
As they neared the top, the cloud walls became unnaturally smooth. This was the Whispering Gallery. And then, they heard it. Faint, but clear.
...the sound of laughter... a fragment of conversation about "cloud-milk"... and then, unmistakably, the deep, melodic ringing of a massive bell.
"The Shandorian Golden Bell," Aokiji said, his eyes still closed. "We're close."
The final stretch was a narrow, corkscrewing channel of unstable cloud. Galit was sweating, his movements sharp and calculated. "The cloud is thinning here! I need more power, but the Dials are overheating!"
"Almost there!" Marya said, her calm voice an anchor in the storm.
And then, with a sound like tearing silk, the cloud bridge directly ahead of them began to collapse.
"Punch it!" Jannali screamed.
Galit slammed the thrusters to maximum. The sub shot forward as the path disintegrated behind them into open, empty air. For a heart-stopping second, they were falling. Then, the nose of the submarine punched through a final, shimmering layer of mist.
The screeching winds died. The terrifying incline vanished. The sub leveled out, floating serenely.
Outside the viewport was an endless, calm expanse of pure white. The White White Sea. The sky above was a breathtaking, impossible blue. A fluffy, docile-looking sea king drifted past.
Marya's eyes widened. A completely unguarded, genuine smile spread across her face. "It's... so fluffy," she whispered, staring at the white puffs of clouds.
Everyone sat in stunned silence for a moment, strapped into their seats, breathing heavily.
Aokiji finally stretched, his joints popping. "Took you long enough." He glanced out the viewport. "Welcome to the sky."
The submarine drifted with an unnatural serenity through the White White Sea. The world outside the viewport was a study in impossible simplicity: a vast, calm plain of pure white that stretched to a horizon of sharp, clean blue. The only sounds were the low hum of the sub's engines and the occasional, muffled moo of a drifting sky cow.
Galit kept his hands on the controls, his posture still tense from the ascent, his eyes scanning the featureless expanse on the holographic map. Then, a shadow fell over him. Aokiji had risen from his seat, his massive frame leaning over the pilot's chair. He pointed a single, thick finger at a location on the map, a spot that seemed no different from any other.
"Let's start here," the former Admiral rumbled.
Galit gave a sharp nod. "Is that where your acquaintance is?"
Marya, who had been quietly observing the alien landscape, raised a questioning brow. "Acquaintance?"
From his seat, Atlas cracked a feral grin. "Didn't you hear? Frosty has a friend he wants to visit. Probably another giant who likes long naps and cold drinks."
Aokiji ignored the jab, straightening up. "You will most likely be able to find out more information about this clandestine island of yours, as well." He then turned and made for the pressurized hatch. "Think I'll get some air."
That was all the invitation Jelly needed. "Bloop! Fluffy cloud candy!" he chirped, morphing into a wobbly pogo stick and bouncing excitedly towards the hatch.
Eliane, her earlier fear replaced by wide-eyed wonder, scrambled after him. "I'm coming too!"
"Not without me, you won't!" Jannali declared, springing from her seat. "Someone's got to make sure you two don't try to eat a cloud and fall straight through."
Marya glanced at Galit, who was watching the exodus with a look of pure, unadulterated annoyance. "Put it on autopilot, Galit," she said, standing. "We can all take a look."
Galit's long neck stiffened. "We're in uncharted aerial waters. Maintaining a vigilant course would be the strategically sound—"
"Oh, come off it, Noodle-Neck," Atlas laughed, clapping him hard on the shoulder as he passed. "Even the iceberg needs a stretch. You can't pilot the whole sky."
Galit's emerald eyes flashed. "And I suppose you'll be the one to recalculate our position if we drift into a sky-whale's migration path?"
"Nah," Atlas shot back with a toothy grin. "I'll just punch it. Seems to work for that Straw Hat guy."
With a sigh of profound resignation, Galit input the commands. The console beeped its acknowledgment, and he reluctantly unstrapped himself. "If we are captured by sky-pirates because of this, I am designating you as the primary distraction, Atlas."
"You say the sweetest things."
One by one, they emerged from the hatch onto the sub's narrow deck. The air was cool and incredibly clear, carrying a faint, sweet smell, like sugar and rain. The sea beneath them wasn't water, but billowy puffs of wispy white mist curling about in low banks and deep foothills.
Aokiji was already standing at the railing, looking out at the emptiness with a familiar, lazy posture.
"Whoa," Eliane breathed, kneeling down to pat the cloudy surface. "It's like meringue!"
The submarine cut a silent, dark line through an endless expanse of white. This was not a solid plain, but a true sea—a churning, rolling ocean of cloud. Up close, it had the look of whipped cream in a giant's kitchen, but with a slow, deep current that pulled at the submarine's hull. The air carried a faint, sweet smell, like candy-floss and cold morning mist.
Jelly, unable to contain himself, let out a joyful "Bloop!" and launched himself from the deck. Instead of bouncing, he sank into the white surface with a soft foomp, disappearing for a heart-stopping second before bobbing back to the surface like a wobbly, azure buoy. He floated, jiggling with the slow swell, leaving a temporary, melting indent in his wake.
"Well, that answers that," Jannali said, leaning cautiously over the railing. "It's a proper swimmin' pool, not a footpath. Don't fancy a dip, though. Looks bloody cold."
Eliane gripped the railing tightly, her knuckles white. "It's so… deep." The clouds weren't transparent, but their swirling, opaque nature suggested a profound depth, hiding whatever might lurk below.
Marya stood beside her, her golden eyes tracing the slow, hypnotic roll of the vaporous waves. The surface looked soft and inviting, like a giant down comforter, but the occasional glimpse of a darker, denser current beneath served as a silent warning. Her usual calm was tinged with a keen curiosity. She watched as a school of what looked like winged, silver-scaled koi fish broke the surface, their fins cutting through the cloud-stuff like knives through steam before diving back under. "It has its own ecology," she murmured, more to herself than anyone.
Atlas, ever the tester of limits, grabbed a loose tool from a deck box and hurled it overboard. It didn't clatter; it sank with a muffled, sucking sound, vanishing instantly into the milky depths. "Yeah, you'd sink like a stone in that," he concluded, crossing his muscular arms.
Galit, who had been monitoring the sub's sensors from the open hatch, let out a sound of frustration. "The density is inconsistent. It reads as a fluid, but the particulate matter is interfering with sonar. Mapping a course is going to be a navigational nightmare." His long neck was twisted in a knot of professional irritation.
From his spot leaning against the conning tower, Aokiji spoke without turning. "They say the first sky-people learned to build their ships from the same cloud-matter, treated and compressed. Their hulls don't cut through the sea; they become part of it." He gestured with his chin towards a distant shape. "Like that."
A small, graceful vessel with billowing cloud-silk sails glided past, its hull seeming to merge seamlessly with the white sea. On its deck, a fisherman was hauling in a net of sky-fish.
Marya's focused expression softened considerably at the sight. "Are those… sheep?" she asked, her voice losing its edge.
"Sky-woolies," Aokiji corrected lazily. "Their fleece is lighter than air. Makes for good insulation up here."
Jelly, having gotten the hang of floating, began to paddle around the sub in a wobbly circle. "Bloop! Cloud bath!" he cheered, accidentally morphing his hand into a paddle that was a little too effective, sending him spinning in a sudden, dizzying circle.
Eliane giggled, the fear in her eyes replaced by delight. "I wish I could touch it."
"You can," Jannali said, "once. And then we'd be fishin' you out with a very long net. If you didn't sink straight to the Blue Sea first." She shook her head, a wry smile on her face. "This place is bonkers. An ocean you can't swim in, fish that fly, and sheep that are basically living blankets."
Suddenly, a massive, shadowy form drifted beneath the sub, a dark leviathan shape moving with slow purpose through the cloud depths. The entire vessel listed slightly in the wake of its passage. The deck fell silent for a moment, the sheer scale of the hidden world beneath them settling in.
Galit straightened up, his analytical mind already moving on. "We need to find a solid island, and fast. I am not charting a course through a sea where the geography can decide to eat us."
Atlas smirked. "What's wrong, Noodle-Neck? Scared of a little fluff?"
"I'm scared of unquantifiable variables that can capsize us," Galit retorted sharply. "You should be, too, unless you've learned to swim in condensed vapor."
Marya finally turned from the railing, her gaze sweeping over her crew—the wary, the fascinated, the impatient, and the utterly unflappable. They were afloat in a world that defied the very logic of the sea below. Here, the rules were written in cloud, and they were just beginning to learn how to read them.
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