Gan Fall took a deep breath, his gaze distant as he began to speak. "Not much remains of the information regarding the gods. Most of what we know is fragmented, passed down through generations like whispers in the wind. But there are stories, traces of their existence embedded in the archives of Skypiea and the oral traditions of our people."
He paused for a moment, as if carefully choosing his words. "It is said that in the ancient times, there were three primary deities who governed the balance of the world we now live in."
"Three?" I interrupted, my curiosity piqued. The revelation took me by surprise.
Gan Fall nodded gravely. "Yes. Even millennia ago, the civilization on the Moon was said to be far more advanced than anything we know today. Their technology and understanding of the universe surpassed anything we can imagine."
"The line between what we might call 'mortal' and 'god' began to blur. How one could achieve godhood is a question that has puzzled even the most learned of our kind. But among our people, it is believed that such powers could be inherited or… taken."
"Taken?" I pressed, leaning forward as I caught the flicker of unease in his expression.
"Yes," he said slowly, his voice heavy with the weight of the truth. "There are records, incomplete and cryptic, of radical factions from the Moon who sought to steal the power of the gods for themselves. How they planned to achieve such a feat, no one knows. But their ambitions shaped much of the conflict that followed, driving civilizations to the brink of ruin."
His gaze grew somber as he continued. "Even among those who attained godhood, there were three deities who stood apart from the rest, forming a divine trinity. Each represented a fundamental force of existence: Creation, Destruction, and Balance. One of these, I believe, you people of the Blue Sea may have heard of—the Sun God, Nika."
I couldn't help but straighten in my seat. The mention of Nika sent a ripple of recognition through me, though I chose to remain silent and let him continue.
Gan Fall's voice softened, reverent yet weighted with awe. "The Sun God, Nika, was said to embody freedom and liberation. As the deity of creation, Nika represented the boundless potential of life, the spark that brings light to even the darkest corners of existence. But Nika was only one part of the trinity. To maintain the balance of creation, there was a second deity."
He paused, his expression contemplative. "This god represented Balance, the fulcrum upon which all things rested. Not much is known about this deity, but it is said that their power was the harmony of opposing forces, the thread that tied chaos and order together. Without them, the scales of existence would tip, and the world would spiral into ruin."
"And the third?" I asked, my voice steady but tinged with anticipation.
Gan Fall's gaze darkened, his tone dropping to a near whisper. "The third god was Destruction. They were said to wield the power of the Abyss—a force so consuming that it could devour even darkness itself. This deity was believed to bring about the end of worlds, not out of malice, but because destruction is as vital a part of existence as creation and balance. Without endings, there can be no new beginnings."
The weight of his words settled heavily in the air. Even Lucci, usually impassive, seemed intrigued by the revelation.
"Destruction," I murmured, the concept swirling in my mind. "A god who could devour darkness itself. What happened to these deities? Did they vanish, or were they destroyed?"
Gan Fall shook his head, a faint trace of sorrow in his eyes. "No one knows. Some say they ascended to a realm beyond mortal comprehension. Others believe they were destroyed by their own powers or fell victim to the ambitions of those who sought to steal their strength. What remains are their echoes—their stories, their ideals, and perhaps fragments of their power scattered across the world."
He leaned back, his expression weary. "These gods shaped our history in ways we can only begin to understand. The tribes of the Sky, the ancient civilizations of the Blue Sea, and even the events of the Void Century—everything is tied to the legacy they left behind."
I leaned forward, my voice laced with determination. "Then their story isn't over. If their power or their influence remains, it means there's more to uncover. I'll find the answers, no matter where they lead."
Gan Fall studied me intently, the weight of his gaze heavy with unspoken caution. "Be careful, Rosinante. The gods may be gone, but their shadows linger. To chase their legacy is to court forces far greater than you can imagine."
I smiled faintly, raising my cup of tea in a mock toast. "Good. Then I know I'm on the right path."
"Well, I suppose that's about all I know regarding the gods," Gan Fall admitted with a resigned sigh.
"If you'd like, we can visit the temple archives. The old records might offer more insight."
"That can wait," I replied, setting my teacup down with deliberate care. "I'm not in a hurry at the moment. Right now, there's a far more pressing matter that requires attention." My gaze locked on Gan Fall, who immediately recognized the implication.
"You'll need my help, won't you?" he said, the lines on his face deepening with an air of reluctant understanding.
"Exactly," I replied, my lips curling into a faint smile. "I'd rather not wander around the Sky Islands aimlessly, like a headless chicken. Your presence as a guide will make things considerably smoother. Besides, your reputation might help soothe the tempers of certain… Shandorian warriors."
Before I could finish, Gan Fall let out a hearty laugh that echoed across the porch. It was unexpected but strangely refreshing.
"Soothe the Shandorians?!" he exclaimed, wiping an amused tear from his eye. "I'd be surprised if they didn't try to skewer me with their lances the moment they laid eyes on me. I've spent decades—DECADES—trying to mend the rift between the Shandorians and Skypieans, and what's come of it? Bloodshed. Each year, countless lives are lost from both sides. They won't listen to reason, no matter how much I try to show them a better path."
He sighed, the weight of his frustration palpable in the air. The scars of a man who had fought for peace only to see his efforts unravel lay bare in his words.
"Can you really blame them, though?" I interjected, my tone sharp and unyielding. "The Skypieans stole the land that the Shandorians and their ancestors called home for centuries. Then, as if that wasn't enough, your people claimed it as a 'holy land' and pushed the original inhabitants out. You even had the audacity to name it 'Upper Yard,' turning their ancestral land into your sanctuary."
Gan Fall's face soured at my bluntness, but he didn't try to deny the truth.
"If you truly want reconciliation, why not simply return the land your ancestors took from them?" I leaned back in my chair, studying his reaction. "And don't feign ignorance, Gan Fall. Unlike many here on the Sky Islands, you must know how that piece of land ended up here in the first place."
Gan Fall stiffened, his jaw tightening. He remained silent, but his expression spoke volumes.
"We both know it wasn't a miracle of divine providence," I continued, my voice laced with a faint edge of mockery. "It was no act of the gods but a freakish twist of nature. The Knock-Up Stream sent that piece of Jaya hurtling into the sky. And what did the Skypieans do upon finding it?
They declared it sacred and waged war on the Shandorians to drive them out, claiming their homeland for themselves. Since then, for nearly four centuries, the Shandorians have bled and died, clinging to the hope of reclaiming what was taken from them. Can you really call that peace?"
Gan Fall's shoulders sagged, his composure faltering under the weight of my words. "You speak the truth," he admitted, his voice low and tinged with regret. "It was no miracle… It was greed that led to the wars, pride that fueled the conflict, and stubbornness that has kept it alive all these centuries. I've tried to undo the mistakes of my ancestors, but it seems no amount of effort will ever be enough."
"Effort without action is meaningless, Gan Fall," I said, standing and gesturing to the vast sky.
"The Shandorians don't care for your words or your regrets. They care about their home, their legacy, and their people's honor. If you want true reconciliation, you need to do more than talk. You need to act."
The old man looked up at me, his eyes shadowed but resolute. "And what would you have me do? Give back the Upper Yard? It's not as simple as that. The Skypieans see it as sacred, and even if I could convince them to return it, there would be unrest, chaos. I would risk tearing Skypiea apart in the process."
"Perhaps," I conceded with a shrug. "But if you do nothing, the bloodshed will never end. The Shandorians will continue their fight, the Skypieans will retaliate, and the cycle will go on for another four centuries—if not longer. Is that the legacy you wish to leave behind?"
Gan Fall fell silent, the weight of my words sinking in. His hands trembled slightly as he clenched them into fists, a mix of determination and despair etched into his face.
*****
Dressrosa, New World
"Fufufufu… I trust the welcoming was up to your expectations, Elder Saturn?" Doflamingo's mocking voice filled the air as he turned and gestured grandly toward the opulent palace hall of Dressrosa. His tone was soaked with sardonic amusement, an unspoken jab at the Elder's visible displeasure.
Elder Saturn's expression was anything but serene. His face betrayed a barely contained fury, the kind only someone of his station could suppress. He was a guest, yes, but the humiliation he had endured thus far was unprecedented—something he'd never imagined anyone would dare inflict upon him.
Just to gain entry into the Donquixote's dominion, Saturn had sacrificed six Cipher Pol agents. Not just any agents from the lower ranks, either—these were elite operatives, the cream of the crop, each one groomed for loyalty and excellence. Losing them was not just a blow to their ranks but a stain on the World Government's pride.
The sheer audacity of the Donquixote heir was beyond reason.
"Are you even listening, Elder Saturn?" Doflamingo's voice cut through the Elder's fuming thoughts, pulling him back to the present.
Standing before Saturn was a young girl with golden-blonde hair, her features strikingly reminiscent of Doflamingo himself. Her wide, curious eyes flitted between him and her older brother, unsure yet composed under the Elder's withering gaze.
"Allow me to introduce my little sister—Donquixote Robin," Doflamingo announced with a wicked grin. He turned to the girl with a dramatic gesture.
"Fufufufu! Robin, come here. Why don't you shake the old man's hand? After all, we were all once part of one big, happy family, weren't we?"
Robin hesitated, glancing nervously at Doflamingo before stepping forward. Her small hand reached out tentatively, an innocent gesture that belied the tension in the room. Saturn's grip on his staff tightened as his sharp eyes analyzed every detail of the girl. Something felt amiss, though he couldn't quite place it.
Doflamingo's gaze sharpened, a flicker of malice glinting in his eyes as Saturn made no move to return the girl's gesture. The Elder's hesitation was met with a chilling silence that seemed to darken the air around them.
"Doflamingo," Saturn finally growled, his voice laced with irritation. "As far as we're aware, when Homing left Mariejois for good, he only had two children—you and your brother Rosinante. So, where did this girl come from? And how can you prove she carries the blood of the esteemed Tenryubito?"
The Cipher Pol leader stepped forward, his irritation boiling over. "You expect us to believe this child is your sister? Your family's disgrace is well-documented. Homing and his offspring were abandoned by the Celestial Dragons long ago. What proof do you have that she's anything more than a pawn in one of your schemes?"
Doflamingo chuckled, but the atmosphere grew colder. His body shifted slightly, the familiar purple flames of his awakened powers flickering faintly around his form. The tension escalated instantly as both sides prepared for the worst. Robin, playing her role to perfection, stumbled back, clinging to Doflamingo's coat like a frightened child seeking protection.
"Are you insulting my family in my presence, Elder Saturn?" Doflamingo's voice dropped, low and dangerous.
Saturn narrowed his eyes, his mind racing with possibilities. Despite his irritation, he recognized the threat Doflamingo posed and chose to test the waters. Gruffly, he extended his hand toward Robin, who hesitated before stepping forward and shaking the Elder's hand briefly.
"There, see? That wasn't so bad, was it?" Doflamingo's mocking tone returned as he turned and gestured for the entourage to follow him deeper into the palace. His laughter echoed down the hall, but none of them noticed the sinister grin spreading across his face as he turned away from Saturn and the World Government delegates.
Standing at the entrance of the hall, Kuzan watched the scene unfold with a pensive frown.
Something about the girl gnawed at the back of his mind, like a faint memory he couldn't quite grasp. Her face, her mannerisms—there was something hauntingly familiar about her.
"Brat, are you daydreaming?" Garp's gruff voice snapped Kuzan out of his thoughts. The old Marine gave him a firm nudge, nearly sending the younger man stumbling.
"Garp Sensei…" Kuzan muttered, his brow furrowed as he exhaled a frosty breath, the air around him growing visibly colder. "I feel like I've seen that girl somewhere before. Her face—it's familiar. But I can't figure out where."
"Trust your gut, Kuzan," Garp replied, slamming a meaty hand on Kuzan's back with a force that would've sent any ordinary Marine flying. "If you think you've seen her before, you probably have. Never doubt yourself."
Kuzan nodded, but his unease didn't fade. His sharp eyes followed the girl's retreating figure as she disappeared deeper into the palace.
Garp, however, knew exactly who the girl was. He remembered her well. She had accompanied Ross, Doflamingo's estranged younger brother, during a crucial intervention that had saved Rouge's life. Just as Ross had kept the secret of little Ace's lineage, Garp would feign ignorance regarding the girl's true identity. For now.
But in the back of his mind, he couldn't help but wonder what dangerous game Doflamingo was playing this time—and how the presence of this girl fit into the grander scheme.
The massive room, grand in its design yet suffocating in its atmosphere, bore witness to a clash of wills. The air was heavy with the weight of unspoken truths and veiled threats, pressing down on the oval table that dominated the chamber. Ornately carved from an ancient blackwood, the table's surface seemed to absorb the tension, its polished sheen reflecting distorted images of the power players seated around it.
On one side sat one of the three remaining Emperors of the Sea, his presence an undeniable force. Donquixote Doflamingo, the "Heavenly Yaksha," lounged with his signature grin, the flicker of mockery dancing in his eyes.
To his right, the blind yet ever-perceptive Fujitora Issho, the Guardian of Dressrosa, sat like a statue of unyielding calm, his katana resting lightly against his shoulder. To Doflamingo's left, an uncharacteristic guest shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
King Riku Doldo III, the pacifist monarch of Dressrosa, sat as if unsure why he had been summoned to such a high-stakes meeting. His gaze avoided the searing intensity of the figure seated across from him, the very air seeming to ripple with suppressed malice.
Opposite them, Elder Saturn of the Gorosei radiated cold disdain. His half-burnt face twisted in barely concealed disgust, the scars amplifying his aura of menace. Though he grudgingly tolerated Doflamingo's insolent presence, the inclusion of King Riku and even Fujitora was a bitter insult to his pride. In his eyes, they were unworthy of sharing this table as equals. Yet he masked his rage, knowing that the time to settle these perceived affronts would come.
Behind him stood two figures of unwavering discipline. Vice Admiral Vergo, the rising "Demon Fist," loomed with an air of menacing calm, his posture betraying readiness for any sudden threats to Elder Saturn. At his side, the shadowy leader of CP-0 stood in silent vigilance, a specter of deadly efficiency.
The silence broke with Doflamingo's signature laugh.
"Fufufufu... So this is the man of the hour," he said, his voice dripping with amusement. His piercing gaze fixed on Vergo. "The late Admiral Zephyr's adopted son, the so-called 'Demon Fist.' The man supposedly destined to succeed my little brother in the Marines and elevate them to new heights. Tell me..." Doflamingo leaned forward, his grin widening. "Do you ever wonder, Vergo, if your father's death was truly what they say it was? A noble end in the line of duty, protecting innocents?"
The room fell deathly silent, the words hanging in the air like a loaded cannon. Doflamingo's grin sharpened as he observed Vergo's rigid stance, his gaze never wavering, never betraying emotion.
"Rumors, of course," Doflamingo continued, waving a hand theatrically. "They say it was the World Government's machinations that led to his untimely demise. Fufufu... And what of the Sorbet Kingdom? Do tell me, Elder Saturn, was that 'native hunting competition' another glorious act of the Celestial Dragons' benevolence?"
The mocking laughter that followed was enough to send a shiver through the room. Saturn's hand tightened into a fist, the armrest of his chair groaning under the strain. His eyes blazed with fury, but he restrained himself, his voice low and icy.
"Doflamingo," he said, his tone like steel, "I did not travel across seas and forgive your many sins so that you could spread baseless rumors. Zephyr was a hero, and he died a hero. The events in the Sorbet Kingdom are irrelevant to this discussion."
Doflamingo's laughter grew louder, more unhinged, as he slammed his palm onto the table, the sound echoing like a gunshot.
"Fufufufu! Is that how we're spinning it now? A hero, a martyr, a grand sacrifice for the greater good? Tell me, Saturn, when do you plan to publish that fairytale? And let's not forget your message—if that's all you came for, a simple Den Den Mushi call would've sufficed."
Saturn's knuckles turned white as his fingers dug into the table. He struggled to keep his composure, his mind racing. He knew Doflamingo was privy to secrets only the Elders themselves should know. The mere thought unsettled him, and his suspicions turned inward. Could there be a traitor among the Gorosei? The idea was ludicrous—Imu-sama held their lives in the palm of their hand. Betrayal was unthinkable. And yet...
His thoughts drifted to another possibility, one far more dangerous. Garling Figarland, Commander of the God's Knights, a man whose ambitions Saturn had always mistrusted. What if Garling had joined hands with Doflamingo? Saturn had long suspected that Garling's aspirations didn't end with his current station. No, Garling's eyes were fixed on the Empty Throne itself, the ultimate seat of power.
Doflamingo's grin widened, as if he could read Saturn's thoughts. "Come now, Elder Saturn," he purred. "Let's not waste time with theatrics. We both know why you're here. You've paid a hefty price for this meeting. Let's get to the heart of the matter, shall we?"
The room seemed to hold its breath as Saturn leaned forward, his voice low but filled with menace. "Watch your tongue, Heavenly Yaksha. You may laugh now, but there are forces at play that even you cannot manipulate. Remember that."
Doflamingo's laughter faded, but his grin remained. The storm brewing in the room was far from over.