On the broken deck of the Sanjuan Wolf Pirate remnants, Athanacya stood frozen, the grip on her sword so tight her knuckles turned white. Before her, Vander Decken VIII loomed, seawater dripping from his coat, barnacles clinging to his sleeves. His single gleaming eye never left hers.
His voice rolled like thunder over the waves, asking again. "Tell me, Señorita… do you fear death?"
The silence stretched unbearably. The crew glanced nervously between them, too terrified to breathe. Athanacya's lips trembled. She couldn't breathe by the sheer pressure— the weight of that question crushed her more than any battle ever had. Her fear clawed its way out.
"…Yes," she admitted, her voice breaking.
For a moment, the tension was unbearable—until Vander Decken's expression suddenly snapped into something absurd. His mouth stretched wide, his voice booming with glee.
"HECK YEAH, I FEAR IT TOO!"
Athanacya blinked. "What?"
The crew stared in disbelief. Then whispers began. "There it is…"
"Captain Vander Decken's legendary pick-up line number sixty-nine…"
"Having something in common!"
"HE'S IN HIS FLIRTING MODE AGAIN!"
The pirates gawked. Athanacya could only stare in bewilderment, unable to comprehend what nightmare she had stumbled into.
Then came the crash. A fist, coated in black Armament Haki, smashed into Vander Decken's skull, sending him reeling sideways.
"Felicia!" he cackled as he straightened, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "Your fists always sober me up! DZAHAHAHA!"
The mermaid beside him—piercings in her ears, black circles under her eyes, her presence as sharp as steel—lowered her fist, glaring with disgust. She turned her gaze on Athanacya, eyes heavy with pity.
"What should we do with this poor human?" she asked coldly.
Vander Decken's grin returned, but now it was cruel. "AYE....Later… we'll test her skills as a navigator. For now, give her bubbly coral. We dive to the depths!"
Athanacya's breath hitched. She had heard of bubbly coral—used to descend into the abyss where no light reached. Her navigator's mind filled with dread, imagining trenches where monsters stirred. She clenched her jaw, refusing to let her terror show, but her heart pounded against her ribs.
...
...
...
Meanwhile—far away above the clouds of Angel Island—Clapp stirred. His eyes opened slowly to the glow of sunlight piercing white stone walls.
Amazon stood over him. She saw his lack of wings, she took a few steps back, arms folded, her cheerful mood replaced now by suspicion written plain across her face. "You're not… one of those devils from the Blue Sea, are you?"
Clapp tried to answer, but as he pushed himself up, something slipped from his chest. An amulet clattered to the floor, its golden surface glinting. Amazon bent down to pick it up—then froze.
Her eyes widened, her mouth parting in awe. Etched on the pendant was a familiar symbol: the burning rays of the Sun.
"This… this is real?!" she gasped, clutching it tightly. "The Legendary Sentinels…!"
Clapp rubbed the back of his neck, uneasy. He surely didn't wear that one until now… "It only reminds me of the Sun God… whom I believe in," he added when he saw the symbol himself.
Amazon looked at him with new reverence. "You're no lost dweller from below… You were sent by the Sentinels themselves." Her suspicion vanished, replaced by bright enthusiasm. "Then I'll help you. Happily! And with a discount!"
They walked together through Angel Town. Clapp kept silent, his eyes wide at every sight. Citizens moved about the streets with gentle smiles, each of them bearing small wings on their backs. Children laughed as they flew from rooftop to rooftop, their laughter ringing like bells.
The air was alive with festivity. Merchants lined the streets, their stalls overflowing with delicacies—spiced skewers sizzling over open flames, candied fruits glistening in the sun, steaming breads stuffed with fragrant herbs. Aromas of roasted meats and sweet pastries filled the air, mingling with the sharp scents of exotic spices. Citizens bought masks shaped like winged beasts, bright clothes sewn with golden thread, toy weapons carved from cloud-wood. Coins—extols—clinked merrily with every exchange.
But then the sound of drums echoed across the plaza. Boom. Boom. Boom.
A parade swept into view. Soldiers in crisp white uniforms and pants with a sky-like pattern marched in flawless formation, rifles glinting in the sun. Their steps struck the ground in perfect unison.
Amazon gestured proudly. "Yes! These are our pride. The White Berets!"
The soldiers snapped their arms into salute. "HESO!" they cried in one voice.
The crowd cheered, flags waving from the balconies. Clapp's chest tightened as he watched them—these men and women, united, disciplined, and celebrated. A pang of envy hit him deep. He thought of his own people, scattered and afraid.
The giant screens across the square flickered. A familiar face appeared: an old man in noble white armour, a staff in hand.
"Ahhh, President Gan Fall is speaking!" Amazon chirped, clasping her hands.
The parade halted. The White Berets froze in formation, saluting sharply once more. Citizens roared their approval.
Gan Fall's voice carried warmly across the city. "I welcome you all on this spectacular occasion. Today marks the Angel Island and New Shandora Reunification festival! Let us celebrate this day as eternal friends. Heso!"
The plaza shook as every voice thundered back: "ETERNAL FRIENDS, HESO!"
The soldiers stood firm, saluting. Then, above them, thirty great flying fish soared in tight formation, streaking the skies with dazzling speed. Fireworks erupted, filling the heavens with colour. Finally, from atop New Shandora's gleaming city, a great bell tolled—its solemn chimes rolling across the island.
Clapp stood rooted, his eyes wide. His lips trembled. For the first time since his capture, he truly smiled.
A single tear rolled down his cheek. "Wait for me…" he murmured softly, as the bell's song carried his vow into the skies.