A seven-person stampede erupted from the temple, bursting into the open air of Lumenara's crater basin.
"Move your butts, they've gone and kicked the hornet's nest!" Jannali yelled, her accent sharp as she sprinted with Eliane on her back. The young Lunarian giggled, treating the flight as a thrilling ride.
"Bloop! Fast-fast-fast!" Jelly Squish chirped, wobbling alongside them.
From behind, the disciplined thunder of the Labyrinth Guard grew louder. Kuzan, bringing up the rear, half-turned. "Ice Time." A wave of crystalline cold shot out, encasing the ground-based guards in blocks of solid ice, their expressions locked in surprise.
But the threat descended from above. Shadows fell over them as the Aegis Guard's elite Owl Riders swooped down from the spires of The Owlery. The giant owls, their feathers rich with Pyrobloin, swept in with silent, deadly grace, their talons outstretched.
Seeing owl riders closing in from the flanks, Marya skidded to a halt. "A little obscurity should suffice," she said, her voice cool. She raised a hand, and from her palm erupted a thick, grey stream of mist that expanded with a rushing sigh. It was not a gentle fog, but a dense, rolling bank that swallowed the light and sound, billowing up to meet the diving owls. The creatures squawked in confusion, their sharp eyes rendered useless as the mist enveloped them, blocking their view and throwing their coordinated dive into disarray.
"Show-off," Galit Varuna shot back, his long neck whipping around as he assessed their path. He was already several paces ahead. "The sub! It's just ahead!"
Vesta Lavana, clutching Mikasi, risked a glance over her shoulder at her grandparents' home. "Sorry," she whispered. "I know I said it would be different this time, but…..."
Another contingent of Aegis Guards emerged from an alleyway, attempting to form a pike wall to block the final stretch to the harbor. "My turn!" Atlas growled, not breaking stride. He unleashed a short bolt of lightning that slammed into the cloud-stone at the guards' feet. The concussive blast and the surge of electricity didn't just sting; it knocked them off their feet, their formation breaking as they fell to the ground, armor clattering and muscles spasming from the shock.
A final contingent of Guards emerged from an alleyway, attempting to form a pike wall to block the final stretch to the harbor. Kuzan, with an air of profound inconvenience, exhaled a plume of frost. Another gesture, and the entire squad was frozen solid, creating an unintended, glittering barricade.
Galit was the first to reach the sleek, metallic form of their submarine moored at the cloud-stone dock. His fingers flew over the external keypad. With a hiss of equalizing pressure, the main hatch swung open. "In, in, in! Now!" he commanded, his voice tight with focus.
They piled in like a clown car act from a Grand Line circus. Jannali practically threw Eliane inside before scrambling in herself. Jelly Squish oozed through the opening with a cheerful "Bloop!" Vesta stumbled in, still clutching her guitar. Atlas launched himself through the hatch, his tail nub the last thing to disappear.
Galit didn't wait, vaulting into the pilot's seat. Marya slid into the co-pilot's chair beside him, her calm demeanor a stark contrast to the chaos.
"Seal it," Galit said.
Kuzan, the last one in, pulled the heavy hatch shut with a final, echoing clang.
"Everyone strap in!" Galit shouted. "This is—"
The submarine jolted violently, wrenching free from its moorings. The view through the thick glass viewport spun wildly before stabilizing on the deep, endless White-White Sea as they plunged beneath the surface.
Aokiji braced himself against a bulkhead. "A destination would be preferable."
Vesta, fumbling with her harness, piped up, "The closest Rainbow Current is—!"
"Everyone, hang on!" Galit interrupted, a wild light in his eyes. "I have an idea!"
Atlas, strapping in, snapped, "This better be a good one, you spaghetti-necked lunatic!"
Galit's hand slammed down on a large button with a warning symbol.
Marya's eyes widened. "Galit, no! Not the—!"
But it was too late. A deep, resonant thrum pulsed through the entire vessel, a sound that felt less like an engine and more like the universe itself taking a deep breath. The world outside the viewport didn't just darken; it fractured into a kaleidoscope of streaking, impossible colors. The submarine shuddered, then seemed to stretch, the very light around it bending inward.
And then, with a final, sound-swallowing jolt, they vanished from the waters of Lumenara, leaving behind only a few stray bubbles and a whole lot of very confused, very angry owl riders.
*****
The world slowly, agonizingly, righted itself. The deafening groan of tortured metal subsided into a chorus of creaks and pings, the ship's structure settling like a beaten beast. For a moment, the only sound was the ragged gasping of the crew and the persistent, worried hum of damaged systems.
Bianca and Emily, strapped into the pilot's chairs, were the first to move. They pushed themselves up from their consoles, groaning in unison. A thin trickle of blood traced a path from Bianca's temple down her cheek. She wiped it away with a grimy sleeve, her eyes wide as she took in the chaotic scene. "Like... is everyone alright?" she asked, her voice shaky.
A symphony of pained groans and muttered curses answered her. Aurélie was the first to find her feet, moving with a warrior's grit. She braced an arm against a sparking bulkhead, her silver hair in disarray. "Where are we?" she demanded, her voice cutting through the disorientation.
Bianca and Emily turned back to their consoles, which flickered erratically. Sparks jumped from a cracked panel, filling the air with the sharp scent of burnt wiring and melted plastic. "We are like, way off course," Bianca reported, her fingers flying across the sticky keys. "The nav-comp is fried. It might take me a while to like, figure out where we are."
Emily's face was pale in the gloomy light of the emergency lamps. "The navigational array is damaged, but the fuel gauge is still functional. We are also almost out of fuel. The reserves are critically low."
Kuro, who had been bent over the back of a chair, straightened up with a wince, adjusting his cracked glasses. The single unruly strand of his black hair fell across his face. "Options?" he asked, his voice clipped.
Emily sighed, the sound heavy in the tense air. "The best option we have so far is to send out a wide-band distress beacon and hope someone friendly finds us before our life support fails."
Charlie, who had been untangling himself from a web of loose wiring, pushed his pith helmet back into place. "Ahem! Are there any Typhons in the immediate vicinity? Summoning a predator to our doorstep would rather defeat the purpose of survival."
Emily's eyes scanned the mangled sensor display. "No. I don't see any biosignatures on short-range scans. The battle, or our uncontrolled spin, seems to have thrown us clear."
"Send the beacon," Kuro said, his decision swift. "And let us hope someone with a shred of decency finds us, and not more of Monastery fanatics."
Aurélie's gaze, sharp and calculating, swept toward the cargo hold. "What of our acquisitions? If we are found by the wrong people, a haul of Monastery technology and a Psycho-Reactive Crystal will make us a target worth dismantling."
Bianca nodded vigorously, unstrapping herself and standing on unsteady legs. "Like, yeah! It will take me forever to have to rebuild all that from scratch. No way I'm letting some space-scavenger get their grubby hands on my parts."
Charlie adjusted his overloaded vest, a look of academic resolve on his face. "I will assist. A proper inventory and concealment protocol is essential. We must treat this as a mobile archaeological site in peril."
Without another word, Bianca and Charlie moved toward the hold, their steps careful on the buckled deck plating, leaving the others in the damaged cockpit to stare at the star-dusted void outside, their fates now tied to a silent, blinking plea for help broadcast into the infinite and indifferent dark.
*****
The deep, resonant thrum of the bubble porter died, replaced by a sudden, stomach-lurching silence, and then the shriek of wind.
Gravity, absent for a blissful moment in the kaleidoscopic void, reasserted its dominion with violent intent. The submarine was no longer diving through water, but falling through open air. A frantic, weightless second passed before the vessel began to tumble, the world outside the viewport a nauseating spiral of blue sky and distant, glittering sea.
"Aw, crap," Jannali managed, a split second before zero-gravity took hold.
Inside the hold, chaos erupted. Jelly Squish let out a high-pitched "Wheee-bloop!" as he was flung upward, his gelatinous form splattering against the metal ceiling like a blueberry pancake. Atlas, caught mid-snarl, was thrown after him, his head and shoulders connecting with a solid thump that rattled his teeth.
"Oi!" Jannali cursed, her instincts kicking in. She wrapped her arms and legs around the giggling Eliane, using her own body as a shield. They slammed into the ceiling together, Jannali taking the brunt of the impact with a grunt that stole her breath. "You right, squirt?"
Eliane, nestled safely, just giggled brighter. "Again!"
Vesta, who had been trying to secure her massive, overstuffed backpack, screeched as she was yanked upwards. She hugged her guitar, Mikasi, like a lifeline, squeezing her eyes shut before she too hit the ceiling with a pained oof. The impact was too much for the strained seams of her pack. It exploded like a party popper, releasing a blizzard of Straw Hat merchandise. Bootleg posters of Luffy and Zoro, cheaply printed Bink's Sake sheet music, and a small mountain of homemade "Soul King" Brook badges were instantly shredded into colorful confetti against the unforgiving metal, a heartbreaking testament to her fandom destroyed by physics.
"What the hell?!" Atlas roared, pinned against the ceiling, his fur standing on end.
Below, strapped into the pilot's chair, Galit's fingers were a blur across the console, his face pale under his sea-green streaks. Panic made his movements jerky. "I'm recalibrating! I just need to—"
Marya, strapped into the co-pilot's seat, remained eerily calm, though her knuckles were white where she gripped the armrests. Her voice cut through the panic, analytical and sharp. "We are falling into the Blue Sea. We need to do some fast math and figure out how to—"
Her voice was cut off by a sharp hiss. The interior door to the outer deck slid open. Every head that wasn't pinned to the ceiling turned. Kuzan Aokiji stood there, his large frame filling the doorway, his expression as placid as a frozen lake.
"What are you doing, Frosty?!" Atlas yelled from his ceiling prison, his voice strained.
Aokiji didn't answer. He simply stepped out onto the exposed deck, the wind immediately tearing at his loose coat and hair with a sound like ripping canvas. He gripped a railing, the force of the descent threatening to pluck him into the sky. Then, with a focused intensity, he slammed his booted feet onto the deck. A crackling, crystalline sheen of ice erupted from his soles, fusing his legs to the submarine's hull, anchoring him against the howling gale.
He thrust his arms out towards the rushing sea below.
"Ice Time!"
A massive, groaning spire of ice erupted from his hands, spearing down towards the ocean. It wasn't a solid pillar, but a vast, spiraling slide, wider than the sub at its peak, its surface milky and rough. The submarine jolted violently as it made contact, the shriek of metal on ice echoing through the hold. Everyone still airborne was flung back to the floor in a tangled heap of limbs, groans, and a final, sad flurry of Vesta's merchandise confetti.
The speed, which had been terminal, began to slow. The sub skidded down the enormous ice slide, the narrowing channel of the spiral acting as a buffer, bleeding off their velocity in a series of shuddering, grinding impacts. The world became a blur of white and blue, the wind's roar now mixed with the protest of straining metal and the continuous, grinding crunch of ice.
Then, with a final, dramatic CRUNCH that threw them all forward against their restraints, followed by a colossal splash that soaked the viewports, the submarine collided with the water. It bobbed violently for a moment, then settled into a steady, rocking float on the waves of the Blue Sea.
Silence. Deep, profound, and blessed.
A collective groan filled the hold as they untangled themselves. Jannali pushed herself up, checking on a still-giggling Eliane. "Everyone in one piece?"
Atlas shook his head, looking a little green around the muzzle. "Only lost my lunch. Other than that, think we're all okay." Murmurs of agreement came from the others.
Aokiji walked back inside, the ice on his legs melting away. He brushed a bit of frost from his sleeve as if he'd just taken a casual stroll. "Everyone still alive?"
Jannali turned her head, giving him a look of pure, grudging admiration. "Yeah, mate. Thanks to you."
Marya unclipped her harness and stood, her boots firm on the now-stable floor. She fixed a cool, penetrating glare on Galit. "And that," she said, her voice low and clear, "is why you do not bubble jump to and from the sky. The calculations are not as direct as a simple coordinate transfer."
Galit, looking thoroughly chastised, ran a hand through his cropped hair. "I thought I had it… I compensated for atmospheric drag and the Coriolis effect…"
"Sky Islands are always in motion!" Marya interrupted, the flaw in his logic so fundamental it was almost amusing. "Their position is relative to the White-White Sea's currents, not the geosphere. You plotted a course to where Lumenara was, not where it is."
Galit jolted, his emerald eyes widening in sudden, horrified understanding. "Oh."
Marya's glare softened by a fraction. She then turned her gaze to Aokiji, offering a curt, genuine nod. "Thank you for that."
Aokiji returned the nod, a silent understanding passing between them.
"Right," Marya said, looking around at her staggered crew. "Any injuries?" After a round of confirmations that they were merely bruised and shaken, she looked over her shoulder at a sheepish Galit. "Figure out where we are."
Galit, grateful for the redemption task, slid back into his chair, his fingers flying across the console with renewed purpose. "Aye. Scanning… Looks like we're in the New World. And the closest landmass is… Sphinx Island."
Marya nodded. "Set a course."
Vesta, who had been swaying on her feet while hugging Mikasi, her eyes wide as dinner plates, finally found her voice. It was a shaky, awe-filled whisper. "So… does this mean… we're in the Blue Sea?"
Atlas chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, songbird, we—"
But Vesta was already in motion. A burst of energy overtook her shock. She rushed past Aokiji, scrambling for the hatch, her rainbow hair a messy banner of excitement.
Aokiji let out a low, rumbling chuckle and stepped aside.
Feeding off her electric energy, Eliane and Jelly giggled as they followed, the little Lunarian chef and the wobbly jellyfish tumbling out after her.
Vesta burst onto the deck, gripping the railing, her knuckles white. She took in the vast, endless horizon—the deep, vibrant blue of the sea, the rich azure of the sky, the smell of salt and freedom. It was nothing like the contained beauty of the White-White Sea. This was wild, untamed, and immense.
Her eyes bulged. She took deep, dramatic breaths, as if she could taste the legends in the air. "This is it," she whispered, tears welling in her violet eyes. "This is the Blue Sea." The words were a prayer. Then, a gasp. "I finally made it!"
She thrust her fists into the air, a triumphant scream tearing from her lungs that echoed across the waves. "I FINALLY MADE IT! I AM HERE ON THE BLUE SEA!"
As the rest of the crew filed onto the deck, drawn by her outburst, Vesta began to jump and spin, a spontaneous, joyous dance of pure, unadulterated dream-fulfillment. Eliane, caught up in the moment, joined in with a graceful, skipping twirl, while Jelly bounced around them in a wobbly circle, chirping, "Bloop! Sea! Bloop! Happy!"
They were a bruised, battered, and bizarre little crew, stranded in the treacherous New World. But on that sun-drenched deck, surrounded by the confetti of lost memorabilia and the infinite promise of the Blue Sea, for one perfect, heartfelt moment, all that mattered was that they were there, and a rainbow-haired musician's lifelong dream had just crash-landed into glorious reality.
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