Chapter 379: How Can Humans Control Gods?
Sabaody Archipelago, Area no. 13, Shakky's Rip-Off Bar.
Flip! Flip!
The air inside the bar was heavy with silence, it was broken only by the rustle of newspaper pages being turned.
Thud!
After a moment, Dark King Silvers Rayleigh set the newspaper down on the counter, his eyes drifting to a bottle of liquor nearby.
Clink!
He grabbed the bottle with one hand.
Glug! Glug!
The fiery liquid burned its way down his throat as he chugged it without pause.
Clank!
Slamming the empty bottle back onto the bar, Rayleigh let out a hiccup. His face was flushed and his eyes were glassy with a mix of awe and intoxication.
"This is… absolutely unreal!" he rasped after a long pause.
Shakky, standing across from him, stubbed out her cigarette, her own astonishment barely concealed. She exhaled a plume of smoke and replied calmly, "Didn't you already know this? Even back on Death Island, their battle was just as staggering. This time, it's just…"
"More complete," she finished. Her voice was steady, but her hands were trembling slightly as she held her cigarette.
Rayleigh met her gaze. If not for that subtle shake, he might have admired her composure. Shaking his head, he turned his eyes skyward, toward the Red Line, the place of the World Government, the Holy Land Marijoa.
But even the Celestial Dragons, perched in their lofty sanctuary, could no longer look down on the world with impunity.
As Morgans' newspaper proclaimed, two gods now loomed above them all, eternal stars in the sky. Even glimpsing them was a privilege beyond reach.
Rayleigh was referring to the Demon God, Ryomen Sukuna. This war had no photographs of him, ordinary people could no longer gaze upon his visage. Who would dare try to capture his image? Even the Den Den Mushi, living creatures themselves, likely quailed at the thought.
"Their existence defies belief. This world… it's truly a strange and wondrous place," Rayleigh said, reaching out as if to grasp something intangible in the air. He sensed subtle shifts in the environment around him, though he couldn't pinpoint what they were.
"Just be yourself. How can humans possibly control gods?" Shakky said in a resolute tone, while taking a sharp drag on her cigarette.
"Hahaha! You're right! How could we ever control them?" Rayleigh laughed, grabbing another bottle of liquor. His hearty chuckle filled the bar, though it carried a tinge of resignation.
A moment of silence followed, broken only when Shakky's cigarette burned out.
"This is a dangerous yet thrilling era," she mused. "Putting aside those two inhuman beings, the Demon Clan's apostle named Kujira can actually command Sea Kings. That's… astonishing."
Pop!
Rayleigh uncorked the new bottle with a grin. "If this were the old days, an apostle like Kujira wielding power akin to the Ancient Weapon Poseidon would've had me on edge."
But compared to the clash of two gods, he seemed almost trivial.
"Ancient Weapon Poseidon," Rayleigh repeated, his gaze drifting out the window toward the sea, toward the depths where Fish-Man Island lay.
He hadn't expected anyone besides the true Poseidon, the Mermaid Princess, to hold sway over Sea Kings.
"Some time ago, in the New World, someone spotted a massive figure hovering in the distant Calm Belt," Shakky said thoughtfully. "He looked like a whale, and from what we know, he was enormous."
She paused, considering. "Maybe it's tied to that sighting. Could the apostle Kujira have the ability to grow to such a size? Perhaps the Sea Kings, seeing a creature so similar to their kind, obeyed his commands."
Rayleigh rolled his eyes at her speculation. "How would I know? I can't speak to Sea King. Who knows what goes on in their heads?"
---
Red Line, Holy Land Marijoa, Pangea Castle.
While Rayleigh and Shakky dissected the event's implications, far above the Sabaody Archipelago, atop the Red Line, the Holy Land Marijoa stood in disarray.
In a large, makeshift room within Pangea Castle, its walls cracked and barely holding together, the leaders of the allied nations gathered once more.
The building was a shadow of its former grandeur, a testament to the devastation wrought days ago. The heads of state sat with heavy hearts, their faces etched with worry.
The battle had left the Holy Land in ruins. Countless guards and agents had perished, and the city's defenses were crippled. The Marines, serving as external support, had fought steadily from the outskirts, holding their ground until the gods' battle ended and the demons retreated. Their losses, while significant, were lighter than those within the city.
Now, the Holy Land faced the daunting task of clearing rubble, rebuilding, and treating the wounded. To make matters worse, natural disasters continued to plague the world, and Marijoa was no exception. Atop the high-altitude Red Line, storms battered the city, while an unsettling mental malaise afflicted its residents, sapping their spirits.
The past few days had been a grueling ordeal for the Holy Land's inhabitants.
Yet, amidst the chaos, the World Government pressed forward with the Reverie, resuming the meeting that had been interrupted by the demon invasion. Though the crisis had passed, the urgency of the summit remained.
Truthfully, the Five Elders would have preferred to cancel the event altogether. But they didn't dare, not after the words left by King, a being who wore a human form but wielded the power of a god.
"Let the Reverie officially begin!" one of the Five Elders declared, seated at the conference table.
Bandages swathed the speaker, making him resemble a mummy. He met the curious and wary gazes of the assembled kings with a cold snort, signaling the chairman to commence the proceedings.
Their last battle against the apostles had left the Five Elders battered, nearly broken. Only by facing those monsters firsthand did they grasp their true terror, each apostle was a nightmare incarnate.
Thankfully, that ordeal was over.
But the Reverie loomed, and with it, new challenges.
"So, who among you will present a proposal?" the chairman asked, his voice tentative as he scanned the room.
The heads of state exchanged flickering glances and their expressions were unreadable.
"I will," a voice rang out.
Under the curious and expectant gazes of the other leaders, Nefertari Cobra, king of Alabasta, rose to his feet. His face was grave and his demeanor was full of resoluteness.
The chairman's shoulders slumped slightly, as if dreading what was to come. He's not really going to say it, is he?
Many of the other leaders couldn't hide their excitement, while the Five Elders' faces darkened.
Cobra spoke, his voice was steady and deliberate. "I propose reducing the Heavenly Gold that World Government member nations pay to the Celestial Dragons. This would allow more non-member nations to join the World Government."
His words, though anticipated by some, sent a ripple of excitement through the room. Kings and heads of state whispered eagerly to one another.
The Five Elders' eyes narrowed, fixing on Cobra, a descendant of one of the twenty royal families that founded the World Government. Their gazes carried a hint of menace, a silent warning.
Cobra met their stares unflinchingly and his eyes were burning with determination.
His proposal was diplomatic, giving the Five Elders an out. Lowering the Heavenly Gold would enable more nations to afford membership, bringing new streams of tribute to the World Government's coffers.
"Do you have any objections to this proposal?" the chairman asked, glancing nervously at the Five Elders.
'No objections! I support it with both feet!' the leaders thought. Their silent agreement was unanimous, though none dared voice it aloud.
(End of this Chapter)