**Chapter 7: The Serpent's Road
The Calm Belt lived up to its name. An eerie, profound silence settled over the Raiju as it glided away from the perpetual thunder of Raijin Island. The water was a glassy, unnerving mirror, reflecting the blank white sky. The only sound was the low, resonant hum of the ship's own lightning-core, a sound that was more felt than heard.
Arata stood at the helm, his senses stretched to their limit. His Observation Haki, honed by predicting lightning strikes, flowed out from him like a ripple on a still pond. He felt the immense, sleeping life forces below. Sea Kings. Dozens of them. Behemoths whose sheer size and power could crush a Marine battleship without a second thought. This was the true barrier of the Calm Belt—not the lack of wind, but the guardians that dwelt within it.
He willed a trickle of power into the Raiju. The black hull left no wake; it seemed to slide over the water rather than through it. He held his breath, hoping the ship's unique energy signature and his own Conqueror's Haki, which he kept coiled tightly within him like a suppressed storm, would be enough to avoid notice.
It wasn't.
A shadow, vast enough to blot out the sun, moved beneath the ship. The water bulged, then parted as a head the size of a small island broke the surface. It was a serpentine Sea King, its scales a mottled grey, with eyes like cold, yellow pools. Its maw opened, revealing rows of teeth like jagged monoliths, and it let out a guttural sound that vibrated through the very air.
It was a challenge. A demand to know what lesser creature dared trespass in its domain.
The primal part of Arata, the Thunder God, roared to the surface. His first instinct was to answer with a bolt of lightning that would vaporize the beast's head. But he restrained himself. A fight here could attract more of them, and a prolonged battle in the Calm Belt was a death sentence for any normal sailor. He needed to communicate in a language it would understand.
He didn't unleash his Haki as a blast. Instead, he let it flow. He stood taller on the deck, his storm-grey hair lifting slightly with static, his golden eyes locking with the Sea King's dull yellow ones. He projected his will, not as an attack, but as a statement.
I am not prey.
The Conqueror's Haki washed over the colossal beast, carrying the essence of the storm, the authority of a god, and the unbreakable will of a survivor. It was an aura of absolute sovereignty.
The Sea King's advance halted. Its massive head, which had been poised to strike, tilted slightly. The mindless hunger in its eyes flickered, replaced by a spark of ancient, bestial intelligence—and confusion. This tiny creature on the strange, humming vessel did not smell of fear. It smelled of the sky's wrath. It smelled of power.
Arata took a slow, deliberate step forward, not breaking eye contact. He raised a hand, and a small, controlled sphere of golden lightning, crackling with restrained fury, formed above his palm. He wasn't threatening it. He was showing it. This was his nature.
This sea is your domain, his presence seemed to say. But I am a force from a domain you cannot comprehend. I am just passing through. Stand aside.
For a long, tense moment, the leviathan remained motionless, its immense body causing the water to slosh against the Raiju's hull. Then, with a low, rumbling sound that was more respectful than aggressive, it slowly sank back beneath the glassy surface, the wake of its descent causing the ship to rock gently.
Arata let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. The sphere of lightning dissolved in his hand. It had worked.
He encountered two more Sea Kings on his journey. Each time, he repeated the process. A display of his divine presence, a meeting of wills, and a silent, commanding request for passage. The weaker-willed ones fled immediately. The stronger, more ancient ones assessed him with a grudging curiosity before conceding the path.
He was not fighting the Calm Belt; he was taming it.
After a day of silent, tense travel, a smudge appeared on the horizon. As the Raiju drew closer, the smudge resolved into a massive, flower-shaped island, wreathed in mist and surrounded by towering cliffs. Lush, vibrant jungle was visible at the top, and he could sense hundreds of powerful, concentrated life forces. All of them, female.
He had arrived.
Amazon Lily. The home of the Kuja Pirates and their Empress, Boa Hancock.
He guided the Raiju towards a hidden inlet, the ship's dark hull blending seamlessly with the shadow of the cliffs. As he brought his divine vessel to a halt, he felt the moment they detected him. Dozens of those life forces turned their attention his way, moving with the swift, practiced grace of warriors.
Arata stepped off his ship onto the rocky shore. He made no move to hide. He stood calmly, his hands at his sides, as a group of Kuja warriors emerged from the jungle foliage, their bows drawn, their expressions a mixture of shock, anger, and confusion. They had never seen a man here before, and they had certainly never seen a ship like the Raiju.
One of them, a woman with a commanding presence, stepped forward. "Halt, intruder! You tread on the land of the Kuja! Identify yourself and prepare to be petrified for your transgression!"
Arata met her gaze, his own calm and unwavering. He could feel the pressure of their Observation Haki trying to read him, and he allowed them to feel only what he wished—a deep, still power, like the calm before a storm.
"My name is Arata," he said, his voice even, carrying easily in the quiet air. "I mean you no harm. I have come from the sea, and I wish to speak with your Empress."
His words were simple, but the power that simmered just beneath them was not. The air crackled with unspoken potential. The first trial of Raijin Island was over. The next trial, in the court of the Snake Princess, was about to begin.