With a final, precise movement, Kozuki Oden finished the carving and sheathed his sword. Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead as he stepped back to admire his work. He looked at the bold declaration, a message from the new era etched right beside the words of the ancient world, and his heart swelled with pride.
"Kuhahaha! Well done, Oden!" Roger clapped the stone base of the belfry, treating the ancient rock like the shoulder of an old friend.
Shanks and Buggy, though too young to fully grasp the historical weight of the Poneglyph's message, were caught up in the powerful atmosphere. They stood a little taller, puffing out their chests as if they, too, had played a part in this legendary moment. The ruins of the Golden City seemed to settle under the gravity of Roger's declaration, the air thick with the feeling of past and future intertwining.
Kyle stood slightly apart from the others, arms crossed as he quietly took it all in. A small smile played on his lips, a testament to his captain's incredible boldness and the sheer fantasy of their journey. But as he watched, a new thought began to creep into his mind.
Since I'm already here...
In this incredible era, in this legendary place, Roger had left his declaration as a future king, and Oden had left his mark as a witness. What about him? Was he just going to be a part of the background, a silent observer in a historic photograph? Once the thought took root, it refused to leave.
He wasn't the type to be content standing in the shadows. Of course, he had no interest in stealing Roger's thunder; carving "Kyle was also here" next to his captain's message would be incredibly lame. He needed a more unique, more personal way to leave his mark.
His gaze scanned the massive golden base, finally landing on a shadowed corner at the very back, partially hidden by a collapsed stone pillar. It was the perfect spot—inconspicuous, weathered by time, and easily missed even by someone looking for it.
Perfect.
Kyle strolled casually toward the spot, wandering into the shadow as if he were just exploring. With his back to the crew, he pretended to examine the texture of the golden ruins while subtly raising his right index finger. An invisible energy gathered at his fingertip, causing the air to shimmer slightly. The surface of the ancient gold began to heat up silently. He planned to use a focused version of his Heatwave Breath, like a pen made of pure heat, to burn his message into the metal.
But what should he write?
A thought flashed through his mind. Maybe he could be mysterious, a riddler for future generations. His finger began to move, and a fine line of text started to appear: Listen to the tides, watch the light and shadow, for all things speak...
He paused. The words felt vague and intentionally profound. Anyone who found them hundreds of years from now would probably just be annoyed. He could almost hear them cursing, "Get lost, you riddler!"
He shook his head and, with another pulse of heat from his fingertip, melted the inscription away, leaving the surface smooth once more. No, that's too pretentious.
What about a poem, then? Something to show off a bit of culture. He thought for a moment before writing again: The Golden Bell is silent, the blue sea waves sing, awaiting the new King...
He stopped before he could finish the word "King." It felt sappy, more like something a sad poet would write than a pirate. Besides, he knew he wasn't that deep.
He erased it again.
Maybe he could try a haiku, like the ones from Oden's homeland. Short, simple, and artistic. He frowned in concentration, composing it in his head.
Sky Island's deep clouds,
Golden City's ancient dream,
A wanderer's mark.
He muttered it to himself and immediately cringed. It was just awkward. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, feeling his brain starting to overheat.
Damn it, forget it!
Suddenly, a wave of relief washed over him. He had been overthinking it. Why did it have to be so complicated?
A faint red glow appeared at his fingertip again. This time, there was no hesitation. His movement was smooth and certain. Two simple words were clearly branded into the corner of the golden base.
Was Here
Mission accomplished.
Kyle mentally dusted off his hands and admired his work with satisfaction. The two words were simple, clear, and honest. They perfectly captured the author's... longing for home, or whatever. Who cared about history or the future? The point was, he was here, and that was enough.
Humming a little tune, he stepped out of the shadows and casually rejoined the group.
"Hey, Kyle, what were you daydreaming about over there?" Rayleigh asked, noticing his return.
"Nothing much," Kyle shrugged, a hint of a mysterious smile on his face. "I was just thinking that if this bell were to ring again, the sound would probably reach every corner of Sky Island."
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