**Land Mariejois — The Empty Throne**
Deep within the sacred halls of Mary Geoise, where the air felt unnaturally pristine and the walls gleamed like untarnished marble, something unnatural stirred amidst the pristine surroundings. The Celestial Dragons, swathed in opulence, whispered meaningless nothings behind heavy velvet curtains, blissfully ignorant of the shifting tides outside. Yet, in the chamber of the Empty Throne—an edifice built for nobility that was never meant to be occupied—Imu remained still, a figure ensconced in enigma.
Positioned not upon the throne itself but before it, Imu sat with their knees folded, cloaked in shadows that seemed to absorb the very light around them. This darkness was deeper than the void between stars, an unsettling contrast to the immaculate surroundings. Their presence warped the silence like the tension in the air before a storm, so palpable that even the ancient weapons locked away beneath the city's surface felt the tremors of unease. Above them, through elegantly carved windows that opened to the heavens, the sky bled—a deep crimson streak marred its azure expanse, a wound that hinted at chaos.
Days ago, that black streak of power had carved a path through the atmosphere, and although the vibrant colors of the world had returned, the echo of that moment still reverberated through the very fabric of reality. Imu slowly raised their head as if stirring from a long, ominous dream. When their eyes opened, they did not gleam with fury but instead shimmered with a rare, unsettling emotion.
Fear.
"Abyss…" The word slithered from Imu's lips like a forgotten prayer, edged with a weight that belied its simplicity. "The Abyss has crowned a king." In that instant, unknown to them were the name, the face, or even the location of this new power. Yet they felt it reverberate through the core of existence, as if something had irrevocably shifted in the fundamental rhythm of the world. This was no mere disturbance caused by pirates or revolutionaries, but a stirring belonging to something much older and more malevolent—something that had long waited beneath the skin of reality.
Moments later, the Five Elders entered the chamber with an urgency that cut through the air like a blade. Each carried parchment etched in frantic handwriting, hastily compiled reports that spoke of chaos. Cipher Pol agents had vanished across various fronts, and one kingdom within the Grand Line had fallen into a fog of silence.
"Alabasta," said the elder with the scarred face, urgency lacing every word. "Unconfirmed. No contact. No eyes on the ground."
The second elder, with a voice like gravel, rasped his report. "He's not claiming territory in the open. He moves without a trace. We've found nothing—not a symbol, not a name."
"Only the sky," muttered the eldest among them, his tone heavy with concern. "The bleeding sky."
As the elders spoke, Imu stood slowly, their robes trailing behind them like whispers of darkness sweeping across the polished floor. The room felt charged, an electric tension building with each moment.
"H-Does he have followers?" they demanded, their voice steady yet laced with tension.
"Rumors only," replied one of the elders, fear trickling into his words. "Faint sightings. Power signatures too unstable to track. Cipher Pol Zero has begun reconnaissance, but they have nothing."
"Then increase their number," Imu commanded flatly, their gaze as hard as steel. "I want agents in every broken kingdom, every port, every cursed ruin."
One elder dared to step forward, hope and fear mingling in their voice. "And if we still find nothing?"
Imu turned their gaze away from the Empty Throne and looked skyward, a hint of something dark haunting their thoughts. "Then we search the sky again," came their quiet response, almost a whisper, as if speaking to themselves. "No shadow should move unseen. Not in my world."
**Elsewhere — A Serpent Cuts Toward Giants**
Beneath these ethereal upheavals, the Abyss Serpent sliced through the waves with an aura of regal silence. Its black sails harnessed not the breezes of the sea but the sheer will of Ravro. Within the ship's hold, shadows twisted and writhed with an anticipation that felt tangible, electric.
On deck, Mihawk honed his blade in a focused silence, each stroke an expression of his unwavering resolve. At the bow, Velra stood with her spear, the weapon humming with an energy that resonated with the wind, as if aware of the power soon to be unleashed. Meanwhile, Robin sat cross-legged in meditation, her mind unraveling ancient languages, decoding fragments of a prophecy that danced between memory and foresight.
And at the very center of the deck, Ravro D. Flare remained motionless, his eyes closed, caught not in sleep but in an intense state of listening. The air around him pulsed with the System's soft murmurs, guiding him through this unfolding destiny.
[Current Campaign: Little Garden — Giants of the Abyss]
[Objective: Subjugate or Convert Dorry & Brogy]
[Reward: Establish Abyss Soldier Corps]
They were close now, the scent of ancient wars and forgotten legends wafting through the salt-laden air. Soon, the first true warriors of the Abyss would rise, ready to sow chaos.
But far above, the world's currents stirred, and in Mariejois, blind and desperate, the Celestial Dragons began to search for shadows they could not name. Each backward glance at the sky painted a picture of fear—a palatable dread that clung to them like a shroud, whispering of a power that would not stay hidden for long.