Ada lay unconscious nearby, clutching Rocks' sword to her chest.
Silence.
After the endless thunder of war, silence felt almost cruel.
The wind carried only the faint crackle of fire and the soft hiss of falling ash.
The battlefield that had once shaken beneath the might of gods now lay broken — a graveyard of shattered stone and charred steel.
From beneath the ruins, something stirred.
A hand — gloved, bloodied — pushed through the debris.
Then another.
And slowly, painfully, Ada Wong dragged herself free from the wreckage.
Her crimson dress — torn, burned, but still gleaming faintly in the moonlight — clung to her like a second skin. The iconic red fabric of the assassin who once danced through battlefields now looked more like a banner of defiance than beauty.
She coughed violently, her lungs burning as she gasped for breath.
Her vision blurred — the sky was still glowing red from the fires, and the ground trembled faintly beneath her.
She could taste ash and blood. But she was alive.
Barely.
Her pistols were gone, buried somewhere beneath tons of rubble. One of her earrings was missing. But when she touched the back of her neck and felt the cool metal of her necklace — the one Rocks had given her long ago — a tired smile crossed her lips.
"…Still here," she murmured hoarsely.
She tried to stand and stumbled, collapsing to one knee. Her body screamed in pain — bones cracked, muscles torn. But her spirit, the fire in her chest, refused to die.
In the distance, through the smoke, Ada saw the faint lights of ships moving away from the island — sails tattered but flying the remnants of the Rocks Pirates' sigil.
She exhaled shakily, relief mixing with sorrow.
"They made it out…"
Her eyes followed the glow until it disappeared over the horizon.
She could make out faint figures — Shiki, Linlin, Kaido, Newgate. All alive. All running.
A soft laugh escaped her. "Good. You idiots actually listened."
The sky rumbled again — not thunder, but the last echoes of the war.
Somewhere to the east, she could still feel the residual pressure of the monstrous Haki left by Rocks, Roger, and Garp in their final clash.
Ada turned toward that direction, her gaze hardening.
"Rocks…I will carry your will."
She took a step forward, then another, limping through the ruins.
Bodies of Marines, slaves, and pirates alike littered the ground — victims of a battle too big for any mortal to survive.
Near one of the cliffs, she found the shattered remnants of a Marine flag, still fluttering weakly in the embers. She knelt, pressing her hand over it.
"This island," she whispered, "will burn from memory. But not from history."
A faint sound caught her attention — a Den Den Mushi lying cracked beside a corpse, still transmitting static.
Through it, she could hear panicked Marine voices.
"—repeat, God Valley is— collapsing! All ships retreat! Vice Admiral Garp and the Roger Pirates—!"
She turned it off quietly and looked back toward the sea.
The horizon shimmered gold as dawn broke — the first light after the longest night.
Ada stood there, her silhouette framed by flame and sunlight.
Her red dress fluttered in the wind, torn yet radiant.
For a moment, she looked almost like a phantom — the last ember of a dying era.
She raised her hand in a half-hearted salute toward the distant ships.
"Keep sailing, boys. The age of Rocks may have ended… but the sea never dies."
A faint smile curved her lips, bittersweet but proud.
She turned away from the battlefield, her cloak half-burned, her heels crunching on blackened soil.
The sun bled into the sea, painting the smoke-stained horizon in shades of crimson and gold.
God Valley — once the shining jewel of the Celestial Dragons — was nothing more than a dying island. The air still crackled with remnants of Haki and gunpowder, the land split open like the scar of a forgotten god.
From the ruins, Ada Wong walked through the haze.
Her red dress, once vibrant, was torn and streaked with ash. Her right arm was bound with a strip of black cloth; her left still carried her pistol, though the barrel smoked faintly. Her eyes, sharp and unbroken, scanned the coastline as if searching for a shadow that might still move.
Every step left a print of blood and soot.
The island was falling apart behind her — yet she didn't look back.
She had one thought left in her mind: Leave. Live. Remember.
Then, from somewhere deeper inland, she heard shouting.
Gunfire. And crying.
Ada's body moved before her mind did. She turned sharply, sprinting toward the sound, her heels clicking against the shattered stones. As she crested a broken ridge, she saw them.
A young man — messy black hair, wearing tattered Marine cadet gear — running desperately through the burning woods. In his arms, two infants wrapped in torn white cloth.
Behind him, three armored figures — Holy Knights — were giving chase, their rifles gleaming gold beneath the firelight.
"Return the children, Marine!" one of them barked. "You have no authority to take property of the Celestial Dragons!"
"Property?" the young man spat, ducking behind a fallen pillar as bullets struck around him. "They're human! You call yourselves just?!"
He aimed a small pistol and fired — a weak pop, the haki glazed bullet bouncing harmlessly off the knight's armor.
The Holy Knight raised his rifle to finish him —
but a crimson flash cut through the smoke.
Three bullets whistled through the air, curving mid-flight like living serpents.
They struck each knight cleanly — shoulder, arm, leg — and dropped them instantly.
The shooter landed gracefully between Dragon and his pursuers, heels hitting the ground with a soft click.
Ada Wong straightened slowly, smoke curling from her pistol.
"Nothing ever dies in here," she said calmly, eyes narrowing at the downed knights. "Not even monsters."
Dragon blinked in disbelief. "Who the hell—?"
"Someone who's also trying to leave this graveyard," she replied, holstering her gun. Her gaze dropped to the children in his arms. "You… weren't fighting for yourself."
He looked down, breathing heavily. The babies were crying — one louder than the other, their tiny faces red from smoke.
"They were going to be taken," he said through clenched teeth. "Their mother… she begged me to take them before she—"
Ada's expression softened slightly. "You're no Marine."
"Not anymore," he said bitterly. "I thought I could change things from within. Turns out justice has a price tag."
Ada smiled faintly. "Welcome to the truth, boy."
He smiled faintly. "I'm Dragon. Monkey D. Dragon."
Ada glanced at Dragon, studying the sharpness in his eyes, the same defiance she'd seen in so many children of the sea.
"You have a strong will" she said, her tone curious. "Tell me something — are you related to Garp?"
Dragon's expression stiffened for a moment, surprised by the question. He clenched the infant closer, eyes narrowing. "Garp… is my father," he admitted quietly, his voice rough from running and shouting.
Ada raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at her lips. "So that's where the stubbornness comes from. Makes sense."
Dragon allowed himself a faint smile, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "And you… you're not afraid to ask the hard questions."
"I've learned," Ada replied, her gaze drifting back toward the sea. "Sometimes knowing is the only way to survive."
Her brows raised. "Another D, huh? No wonder you're so stubborn and add to the fact that you're Garp's son."
He chuckled softly. "We're cursed with it, I suppose."
Ada smirked. "Cursed, or chosen. Time will tell."
He studied her — the red dress, the soot on her face, the unwavering calm in her voice. Something about her presence made the chaos around them fade.
"You're Ada Wong," he said quietly. "The Crimson Shadow. Vice-Captain of the Rocks Pirates."
She raised a brow. "And you're very bold to say that name aloud."
"I heard about you from… certain sources." He glanced toward the sea. "The world thinks you all died here."
Ada smirked. "The world likes its fairy tales neat and bloody. But the sea doesn't bury people like me."
He shifted the infants carefully, one in each arm.
"Then help me bury the truth. I just need to get them to safety."
Ada looked at the twins — both red-haired, both bearing the same small birthmark under their arms. They couldn't have been more than a few months old.
"They yours?" she asked bluntly.
Dragon's eyes hardened. "No. I don't even know their names."
Ada's gaze flicked to the treeline. She could sense movement — the Holy Knights were regrouping.
She sighed, rolling her shoulders. "You're in luck. I hate the Celestial bastards more than you do."
With practiced ease, she pulled out a compact rifle from the wreckage of a fallen Marine transport and snapped the chamber open. "Stay close. Keep their heads down."
Dragon obeyed without argument. Ada took the lead, weaving through the ruins with an assassin's precision. Her shots echoed in controlled bursts — three, five, seven — each one dropping a knight before they could reload.
The two moved as if guided by fate — his determination and her lethal grace cutting through the chaos together.
After several minutes of running and fighting, they reached the southern cliffside. The ocean stretched endlessly below, and the burning island painted it red.
Dragon set the twins down gently behind a rock, catching his breath. "We can't keep running. There's no way out—"
Ada didn't answer. She was staring at the horizon, at the ships disappearing one by one.
"…You'll find a way," she murmured.
He looked at her, confused. "What?"
She finally turned to face him. Her hair glowed red in the sunset, and the exhaustion in her face couldn't hide the strength burning in her eyes.
"People like us don't die in places like this," she said quietly. "We just stop being who we were."
He frowned, trying to read her tone. "You talk like someone who's already died once."
"Maybe I have." She smiled faintly. "But not enough."
A sudden gunshot tore through the air — one of the knights had circled around.
Dragon instinctively shielded the infants, bracing for the next shot—
—but Ada moved faster.
The bullet ricocheted off her pistol as she spun, firing twice. The knight fell instantly.
Smoke curled from her barrel as she stepped closer, kneeling beside Dragon.
"You alright?" she asked.
He nodded. "…You could've been killed."
"I've dealt with worse," she said with a smirk.
He stared at her — half in awe, half in disbelief. "You're insane."
"Probably," she replied, eyes glinting. "But that's how you survive in this world."
They shared a quiet moment as the wind carried the scent of burning trees. The twins whimpered softly, one reaching toward Ada's cloak.
Ada gently brushed the infant's hand. "You're a fighter too, huh?" she whispered. "Don't worry. Both of you will live free."
Then a piercing whistle cut through the air — a Holy Knight ship hovering offshore.
A spotlight swept the cliffside.
"They've found us," Dragon hissed. "We need to—"
Ada grabbed his wrist. "Take both of them and run!"
He froze. "I can't just lea—"
She shoved him toward the trees. "Go! Now!"
Another volley of shots erupted. Ada leapt in front, deflecting them with bursts of Haki.
One bullet grazed her arm, but she didn't flinch.
Dragon hesitated, torn — but Ada's glare left no room for argument.
"Move, Dragon!"
He clenched his jaw and obeyed, sprinting into the forest with one twin in his arms.
Behind him, Ada turned to face the oncoming Knights.
She smirked, blood trickling from her arm. "You'll have to do better than that."
The fight was brutal but swift. Ada weaved between bullets and blades, her movements a blur of red and steel. One by one, the Knights fell — but the last, a towering figure with gilded armor, managed to snatch the one of the twins from Dragon.
Ada's eyes widened. "No!"
Dragon eyes also widened. " Damn it!"
She shot, but the bullet missed as the knight activated a teleport seal, vanishing with a flash of light — taking the infant with him.
For a brief, searing moment, Ada stood frozen.
Then she lowered her pistol, trembling slightly. "That bastard…"
The forest quieted again. The fires dimmed, replaced by the gentle crash of waves against the cliffs.
Moments later, Dragon looking devastated said. "We could follow them!"
Ada shook her head. "No. You'd die before you reached them. This one," she said, touching the surviving child's cheek, "he's your miracle. Don't lose him."
Dragon swallowed hard, then looked at her — truly looked. "Who are you really, Ada?"
She smiled faintly, eyes soft but distant. "Just someone who's seen too many secrets."
He stared at her — bloodied, broken, radiant against the fire. For a moment, he felt something he couldn't name.
Then she turned away, facing the sea.
"Let's go," she said. "This island is collapsing."
They moved together through the wreckage, Ada leading the way as the forest around them burned. In the distance, the thunder of collapsing mountains echoed like the final heartbeat of the island.
Dragon followed closely, cradling the infant. "I was sent here as part of the reinforcements," he said quietly. "But the moment I saw what was happening… slaves being hunted, Celestial Dragons laughing — I couldn't obey."
Ada glanced back at him, eyes narrowing. "You disobeyed orders?"
"I couldn't stand by," he replied. "Not after seeing what 'justice' really means to them."
For a moment, Ada was silent. Then she said, "That decision will haunt you."
Dragon gave a tired smile. "Maybe. But I'll live with it."
They stopped at a cliff overlooking the burning valley. In the distance, ships fled the carnage — Marine and pirate alike. And far beyond them, Ada spotted it. The Oro Jackson, sails gleaming gold under the dim light of dawn.
"Roger's ship," she murmured.
Dragon frowned. "You know him?"
She gave a faint, wry smile. "We've crossed paths. He's loud, stubborn, and stupidly brave… but he keeps his word."
Dragon hesitated. "Then he can protect the child?"
Ada nodded. "If anyone can, it's him."
They made their way toward the shore through burning forest and shattered stone.
The island was collapsing in places, and the air still trembled with residual Haki.
Ada led the way — limping slightly, but unyielding — while Dragon carried the infant against his chest.
At last, they reached a ridge overlooking the Oro Jackson. The Roger Pirates were preparing to set sail.
Roger barked orders while Rayleigh secured the wounded. The ship's sails glowed gold under the fading sun.
Dragon exhaled shakily. "That's our chance."
He looked down at the child, then at Ada. "What about you?"
She smirked faintly. "I'll manage."
"You always say that," he muttered.
Ada's smile softened. "And I'm still here."
She handed him a small, folded note — a map torn from an old Marine document while rumming through the wreckage earlier.
"Head east. There's a small ship and current that'll carry you off the island. Follow it, and you'll lose them."
Dragon frowned. "You're not coming?"
Ada looked toward the ocean. "I don't belong in your fight… not yet."
He wanted to argue — but something in her tone stopped him. Instead, he nodded.
Then, quietly, Dragon crept toward the harbor.
When no one was looking, he tucked the infant into a small chest near the deck's supply crates. He left behind a folded scrap of cloth — the symbol of the Dawn.
He lingered for just a heartbeat, brushing the baby's hair from his face. "Live free," he whispered.
Then he was gone, melting back into the forest — into legend.
A few minutes later, Roger barked, "Raise the anchor!"
The Oro Jackson began to move, its sails catching the wind.
The crew didn't notice the tiny chest among the cargo — or the silent figure moving through the shadows of the lower deck.
Ada slipped aboard without a sound.
Her movements were like smoke — silent, fluid, practiced.
She pressed herself against the shadows, moving through the narrow passages below deck. Her wounds ached, but her focus never wavered.
She could feel the ship stirring beneath her feet — the hum of life and laughter above.
Roger's booming voice carried through the boards. "Let's get the hell off this cursed island!"
Ada crouched in the darkness, glancing at her reflection in a fragment of broken glass.
Her red dress was torn, her eyes sharp despite exhaustion.
She smiled faintly. "Looks like I'm a stowaway now."
From the cargo hold came a soft, muffled cry.
Ada turned — the chest Dragon had left shifted slightly, the baby inside stirring.
Ada approached slowly, her expression softening. She brushed a gloved finger across the child's cheek. Then she whispered. "Guess fate's got a strange sense of humor."
The baby quieted instantly, eyes fluttering open — a deep, fiery shade of red.
Ada exhaled quietly. "Don't worry. You'll be safe here."
She closed the chest gently, letting the hum of the ship lull them both into silence.
Outside, the sea swallowed the last sight of God Valley — the flames, the screams, the end of an era.
Up on deck, Roger laughed loudly, oblivious. "To the next adventure, men!"
Below, Ada leaned back against the wall, staring at the wooden ceiling.
Her thoughts were a storm — of Rocks, of Imu, of Dragon's defiance, and of the countless ghosts left behind.
"Nothing ever dies in here," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the sea.
"Not dreams… not monsters… not even me."
Then she looked through the window of the ship, God Valley began to crumble — the cliffs falling into the sea, the fires devouring what remained. The sky filled with ash, erasing the last traces of the island that had once housed gods and monsters.
The Oro Jackson sailed away from the dying island, carrying with it the ghosts of one age — and the seeds of another.