The Dreadnought Thalassa clawed toward the apex of Reverse Mountain, the summit looming above like the edge of the world.
The submarine had become a stage for chaos. Explosions bloomed overhead as Ember's Sparkler rounds met cannonballs in bursts of orange light, each detonation shaking the already trembling vessel. Stray arcs of Haki from the duel above carved through the grey sky, some striking the cliff face and sending cascades of red stone tumbling into the upward current. Debris rained constantly—fragments of rock, splinters of wood, twisted metal—all of it caught in the impossible flow and carried toward the summit.
On the hull, Atlas and Leander continued their deadly waltz. Lightning arced from their clashes, blue-white bolts that struck the cliff walls and ricocheted across the chasm. They moved like blurs, appearing and disappearing, their combat leaving scorch marks on the metal beneath their feet.
Twenty meters away, Jannali and Alisa circled each other on the slick surface. Jannali's spear wove intricate patterns in the air, each thrust and sweep countered by Alisa's flickering form. The cobalt-haired woman would vanish, reappear, vanish again, her Vorpal Blade always seeking an opening that Jannali's third eye refused to give.
Across the gap, on Shamrock's deck, Aurélie and Elvira fought amid scrambling sailors. The dinosaur-woman's greats word carved trenches in the wood while Aurélie's wings beat against the wind, her compound eyes tracking every move.
And above them all, Bō-Zak and Esen spun through the air in their own hurricane, wind against gravity, demon against condor.
The bridge of the submarine was a study in controlled pandemonium.
Galit sat at the helm, his long neck curved in that alert S-curve, his emerald eyes fixed on the displays before him. His fingers flew across the panel, adjusting, compensating, keeping them on course as the vessel shuddered and groaned. His tactical slate lay forgotten beside him, covered in half-sketched diagrams that no one would ever see.
Behind him, the non-combatants clung to anything that would hold.
Jelly Squish had flattened himself against the wall, his translucent blue body spread thin like a pancake, his massive starry eyes wide with something that might have been terror or excitement—with Jelly, it was hard to tell. "Bloop," he whimpered softly. "So much wobble. Why so much wobble?"
Sanza Kaplan Figarland stood braced against the back of a chair, his small hands white-knuckled on the metal frame. His red hair was even more disheveled than usual, his heavy Gallagher eyebrows drawn together in an expression of intense frustration. He glared at the main monitor, which showed Marya and Shamrock locked in their deadly embrace.
"I don't understand," he demanded, his high-crust accent cutting through the chaos. "Why is Big Sis fighting Father? Someone explain this to me immediately."
Dr. Zip H. Scatyl pressed himself against the far wall, his wide yellowish eyes darting around the room as if seeing threats no one else could perceive. His small needle-sharp horns had snagged a roll of surgical gauze that trailed behind him like a bizarre flag. He muttered to himself, his sibilant voice barely audible over the roar of the mountain. "The vibrations... the frequency... this is not conducive to specimen preservation..."
Eliane stood braced against a support beam, her petite frame trembling with each jolt. Her silver hair had escaped its practical braid and now hung in wild strands around her face. Her large blue eyes were fixed on the monitor, watching the battle with a mixture of fear and fascination. She clutched the edge of a console so tightly her knuckles had gone white.
Charlie Leonard Wooley hung off the back of a seat like a man attempting to ride a bucking sea king. His vintage pith helmet had somehow remained on his head, though it was now at a rakish angle. His round wire-framed glasses had fogged completely, and his leather satchel had spilled half its contents across the floor—scrolls, ink bottles, crumbling notebooks, all sliding back and forth with each movement of the ship.
Galit ignored them all. His focus was absolute, his hands never stopping their dance across the controls.
Halia's voice cut through the chaos, calm and measured. "Approaching the apex. Estimated time to crest: thirty seconds. Prepare for transition."
Sanza stomped his foot, the gesture almost comical given the angle. "I demand an answer! Why is she fighting him? He's my father! She's my—" He stopped, confusion flickering across his features. "What is she to me, exactly? I'm not clear on the family tree."
No one answered.
Eliane, seeing his distress, pushed off from the support beam and stumbled toward him. She caught herself on the back of his chair, her voice gentle despite the chaos. "Well, it looks like they don't like each other very much."
Sanza blinked at her. "That's it? They just... don't like each other?"
"Sometimes that's all it takes." Eliane offered a small smile. "Adults fight about the silliest things."
Sanza considered this. His brow furrowed deeper. "But he's my father. She's... whatever she is. Shouldn't they be on the same side?"
Galit's lips curved into a faint smirk, but he said nothing.
The submarine shuddered violently, a chunk of debris slamming into the hull close enough to rock the vessel. Everyone grabbed for purchase.
Bianca's voice crackled over the comms, her speech pattern as chaotic as the battle outside. "Like, torpedo is like loaded but—"
"I can't get a lock," Galit cut her off, his voice tight. "Too much disruption. The Haki, the debris, the current—it's scrambling everything."
"Like, I know but like when you can, it's like ready." A pause, then: "Like, really ready. I used the good stuff."
Galit allowed himself half a second to smirk. "Copy."
Charlie, regaining his composure enough to contribute, cleared his throat. "Ahem! Forgive me, but what precisely is the plan here?" He squinted at a monitor showing the flow of the currents, his academic mind overriding his fear for a moment. "I was under the impression we were headed to the North Blue. Yet this mountain's natural flow..." He traced a pattern in the air. "It leads to the Grand Line. That's... that's where all four currents converge and descend. We'll end up in Paradise if we follow the natural path."
Halia's voice answered, calm as ever. "You are correct. If one follows the natural flow of the currents, one does indeed enter the Grand Line."
Charlie's eyes widened behind his fogged glasses. "I assume we are not doing that."
Galit's response was flat, final. "No. We aren't."
The submarine jolted sideways, avoiding a falling chunk of cliff that would have crushed them. The violent maneuver sent everyone sliding—Charlie crashed into Dr. Zip, who hissed in irritation, while Jelly wobbled across the floor like an oversized water balloon.
And then, for one heart-stopping moment, the world fell away.
The Dreadnought Thalassa crested the edge of Reverse Mountain.
The upward current that had carried them for so long released its grip, and the submarine was airborne—a brief, impossible moment of weightlessness where gravity forgot its duties. Everyone's stomachs dropped. Jelly expanded to twice his size, then contracted with a loud BLOOP. Sanza's eyes went wide. Eliane grabbed for anything, finding only empty air.
Then they crashed down onto the summit.
The impact threw everyone to the floor. Charlie's pith helmet flew off. Dr. Zip's gauze unraveled completely, wrapping around his face like a mummy's bandage. Jelly flattened into a perfect circle, his starry eyes spinning. Eliane landed in a heap beside Sanza, who had somehow managed to keep his grip on the chair and now dangled from it like a very angry monkey.
Galit caught himself against the helm, his arms screaming with the effort. He didn't pause. His hands flew across the panel, entering commands, adjusting thrust.
"Thrusters! Full reverse!"
He grabbed the transponder snail's receiver, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Ember! Fall back! Full withdrawal! We only have a few minutes to pull this off!"
Through the receiver, Ember's cackle echoed, punctuated by an explosion in the background. "Affirmative! Time to light the candles and leave!"
Charlie struggled to his feet, retrieving his pith helmet and jamming it back on his head. "Pull what off, exactly? What are we—"
Halia's hologram materialized in the center of the bridge, her silver-blue hair drifting in that unfelt current, her whirlpool eyes calm and knowing. She gestured, and a holographic display bloomed before them—a cross-section of Reverse Mountain's summit, showing the four converging currents and something else, something hidden deep within the stone.
"At the very apex," Halia explained, "where the four currents collide, the water does not simply push into the Grand Line. A small percentage of the volume is forced downward, into a hollowed geode within the Red Line itself." The display zoomed in, showing a hidden chamber deep within the mountain. "If we enter the peak's whirlpool at a specific angle, we can drop into a calm internal lake. From that chamber, different natural tunnels lead out to the other three Blues."
Charlie's eyes widened. "A cavitational tunnel? Those are—that's—the theoretical—" He stopped, swallowed, and forced himself to focus. "I see. And I assume we know the specific resonance frequency required to open such a passage?"
Halia's eyes flickered with data streams. "Affirmative. I am scanning for the mean and resonance now." A pause. "Resonance is middle C. Approximately 384 Hertz."
From the floor, where she had landed in a tangle of rainbow hair and platform boots, Vesta's hand shot up.
"Oh! Oh! I can help with that!"
Charlie blinked at her, then turned back to Halia. "Ahem! Halia, show me the historical records of these geodes. The texts reference something similar—the resonance of chambers within the earth where the elements—"
Bianca's voice crackled over the comms, shattering the moment. "So, like, can we get a lock yet? Because I'm like super ready to—" Another explosion in the background. "—like, you know, do the thing!"
Galit's smirk returned. He grabbed the receiver. "Stand by. We're about to make our entrance."
He turned to the helm, his hands finding the controls, his eyes finding Halia's hologram.
"Give me that angle. And someone get ready to sing."
Vesta bounced on her toes, her rainbow hair flying. "I was born ready!"
The submarine shuddered, turned, and aimed for the heart of the whirlpool.
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