"Head this way, we'll find them soon. Leaving your ship here?" Ginny asked, eyeing Oran's vessel in the desolate valley, still at risk of discovery.
"I'm prepared. You'll see," Oran replied.
As they left the valley, Ginny gasped—the ship vanished.
"Where's the ship?"
"Still there. Holographic camouflage activated. Invisible unless you walk into it. Auto-weapons ensure short-term safety," Oran explained.
He recalled God Valley's fate: a historic battle would erase it from maps. Hiding might've worked otherwise.
Normally docked at standard ports, the ship hadn't needed camouflage, which was why Ivankov and Ginny saw it earlier.
"Time's tight. Damaged systems, including power, rely on backup energy—limited duration. Take this," Oran said, handing Ginny a gas mask-like device, a Zaun necessity for air filtration, now used to hide her face.
"Cover up. I've got plans post-escape. Don't want to be on their wanted list, and you don't want World Government hounds after you, right?"
The Government's intelligence was weak—they barely controlled public opinion, perhaps deeming it unworthy. Unless you touched the Void Century, they wouldn't obsess over you. Oran's mask was just precaution; the sea's face-blindness made it almost overkill.
"What about mine?" Ivankov asked, expecting one.
"Your face is too big. No fitting size. Use cloth," Oran said, unapologetic. Ivankov's unique features ruled out standard gear.
Meanwhile, in a God Valley clearing, tall stone pillars stood amid sparse shrubs and moss. A trickling stream murmured until frantic footsteps shattered the calm.
A burly boy, face youthful, fled desperately. Scars marked his shaved head, tattered clothes and chains revealing his slave status, a target on his shirt.
Chasing him weren't Navy or Dragons, but fellow slaves. A stone flew, striking his head. His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed.
The pursuers, unsatisfied, beat him with a stick. "Bastard! Our group's linked—if you escape, we all die! Who told you to run?"
Only when the stick broke did the man stop, signaling to drag the boy back. But as he grabbed the boy's leg, a net shot from afar, binding him.
"Lord! Lord! We caught the escapee! Don't harm us—we fixed our mistake!" the bound man pleaded, prostrating. His companions knelt in unison, conditioned to obey Dragons.
"Idiots. No one's watching, yet you serve those who'll kill you. You love being slaves," Oran mocked, having fired the net. Ginny couldn't handle the gun's recoil, so he wielded it.
These obedient slaves were pitiful, nothing more.
The boy stirred, eyes opening groggily. Ivankov and Ginny approached with Oran.
"Bakania clan? Huge guy. Got giant blood?" Ivankov asked, curious. Ginny's intel marked this boy as a Dragon priority.
"Ivan, later," Oran said, extending a hand to the boy. Sensing kindness, the boy took it, standing with Oran's help.
"Thanks… Who are you?"
"People trying to leave. You ran, so you've got guts. Join us?"
Those too scared to flee weren't worth saving. The boy agreed instantly—no real choice.
"Wait! You can't take him! If he escapes, we can't answer to the Dragons!"
"Grab them! Maybe the Dragons'll reward us!"
Outnumbering them, the slaves, emboldened by shared glances, moved to encircle. They chose to grovel, hoping to please masters who'd hunt them regardless.
"You fools think catching us spares you? They'll kill you anyway!" Ivankov aimed his gun, but the non-lethal nets didn't deter them.
"No choice! It's the Dragons!" they whined, closing in.
Oran raised his arm, blue tubes on his exosuit glowing. Thud! Ice spikes shot out, unleashing a localized ice storm. Moments later, only ice sculptures remained.
Hextech GLP-800, the "ice gun," was far deadlier than the net gun, powered by a Hextech core. Valoran's harsh life and Oran's dream-forged resolve left no room for mercy. He had no time for those groveling to oppressors.
"Don't freeze up. This isn't just escape—it's war. They chose to be enemies. War means death. Let's find those willing to fight. Hopefully, fewer idiots."
Oran led Ginny and the others through God Valley's hills.
Meanwhile, the outside world grew tense.
Earlier, in the New World, Hachinosu—Pirate Island—teemed with outlaws. The strongest were the Rocks Pirates.
Having caught Ginny's message, the Rocks Pirates sailed for God Valley.
"They're moving! They'll beat us!"
"Follow! This is huge for pirates!"
Countless pirates poured from the New World, crossing the Calm Belt to the West Sea. Soon, the Navy caught wind.
At Marine Headquarters, Marshal Kong, irritated, fiddled with a phone snail. "That's the situation, Garp. Unconfirmed, but if true, it's trouble. I need you."
"Huh? Why're Dragons flocking to some remote island? Field trip? I'm not going—they've got guards," Garp said, lounging on another island.
"I can't say much, but Roger's heading there."
"What? Why didn't you say so? I'm off!"
Pirates and Navy elites converged on God Valley, heralding a new era's clash.
(Chapter End)