Somewhere on the Sky Island, in Skypiea Village.
The Shandian’s encampment. Following Gan Fall’s map, Sakarski and Kurik arrived here and had just caught a glimpse of the camp.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Three whistling sounds cut through the air as three spears shot towards Sakarski’s heart, throat, and temple. Sakarski neither dodged nor flinched, raising a finger.
Screech…
The sound of spears piercing flesh echoed. Sakarski’s heart, throat, and temple were all pierced with large holes.
Upon closer inspection, something felt off. No blood flowed out, only some magma.
The Shandians opposite tensed. Although the Sky Island was isolated from the Blue Sea, they still knew some common sense. They took out weapons from their backs resembling rocket launchers.
Boom!
They fired a burning cannonball at Sakarski and simultaneously blew a whistle, signaling an enemy.
Sakarski’s fingers moved. Unlike his usual bullet-like finger guns, this black magma bullet spun at extreme speed as it shot forward with a thunderous roar.
A massive gust of wind erupted where the bullet passed, clearing a path directly to Skypiea Village, devoid of clouds, right in front of Sakarski.
Boom!
The magma bullet shattered the burning cannonball and then hit the Shandian guard. However, it didn’t explode but continued its trajectory forward, heading towards the giant vine in Skypiea Village.
Just as it was about to hit the vine, the dark magma bullet rapidly expanded and writhed, engulfing the Shandian guard’s entire body. It quickly cooled and solidified, leaving only his nose and eyes exposed.
Boom!
It crashed into the giant vine, creating a large crater. The Shandian guard, however, was unharmed. He was simply unable to move.
The piercing whistle alerted all the Shandians, who thought the Sky People had attacked. Within two seconds, all the Shandians rushed out of their homes, weapons in hand.
But they found no sign of the enemy, only the path cleared by the powerful gust of wind, where two figures, one large and one small, were walking.
At this moment, a man, roughly the same age as Gan Fall, raised his right hand, signaling everyone to hold back and observing Sakarski and the other as they slowly approached.
This was the chieftain of the Shandian tribe, adorned with ancient decorations and wearing a wolf-head cap, signifying his distinguished status.
The crowd watched the approaching pair nervously, gripping their weapons, ready to attack at any moment.
“We mean no harm.”
Sakarski’s deep voice resonated as he reached the outskirts of Skypiea Village. He then raised his right hand, causing renewed tension among the Shandians.
Sakarski pressed his right index finger downwards. The Shandians heard a wriggling sound from behind and turned to see a large pit in the giant vine.
As Sakarski’s ability activated, immense heat radiated from the solidified magma, melting it back into molten rock that flowed to the ground.
The Shandian guard, who had been freed, jumped down. Apart from a slight burn, he was otherwise unharmed, observing Sakarski with caution.
“State your purpose, Blue Sea dweller.”
Seeing Sakarski release the guard, the chieftain felt slightly relieved but still cautiously inquired about the pair, whose style was unlike that of the Sky People.
“Do you remember Roland?”
The chieftain’s eyes widened instantly, an expression of disbelief surfacing on his face, as if shocked that anyone would know of their connection to Roland.
It had been so long since the tribe’s chieftain had inquired about Roland from a Blue Sea adventurer, and now this person was bringing him up proactively.
However, the shock lasted only a moment before he regained his composure, asking with a slightly hoarse but calm voice,
“How…?”
“It seems I’ve come to the right place.”
Sakarski confirmed this with a symbolic gesture, then pushed the Kurik beside him forward a little.
“He is Roland’s descendant, seeking Kalgarah.”
“What!!!”
“Roland’s descendant!!!”
The Shandians looked at Kurik’s small figure with disbelief. The chieftain trembled, his mouth opening, unsure of what to say.
“Truly…”
Only then did they notice Kurik’s chestnut-shaped head, just as described in their legends. They felt a tremor of disbelief, and their eyes welled up with tears of excitement.
“Great Warrior Kalgarah.”
“Your sworn brother’s descendant has come to find you.”
The chieftain crouched down, looking at Kurik, repeating “Good, good, good” with great emotion.
“Good, good, good.”
He took Kurik’s hand and invited Sakarski into the tribe, shouting to the crowd,
“Bring out the best to entertain our honored guests!!!”
“Yes!!!”
The Shandians’ warmth was evident. No one held back. As the feast’s bonfire was just lit, Kurik’s table was already overflowing with food.
The chieftain sat beside Kurik, his gaze filled with paternal affection, as if Kurik were his own child. He chuckled while chatting with Kurik.
Meanwhile, the warrior who had been sent flying earlier walked up to Sakarski with a stern expression and presented a large bowl of wine.
“I apologize for my rudeness earlier, mighty adventurer. Please forgive me.”
He then drank it all in one gulp.
“It’s nothing.”
Sakarski also picked up a large bowl filled with wine, gestured to the warrior, and then drank it all as well.
The atmosphere of the feast reached its peak, with singing and dancing continuing until late into the night when everyone fell asleep.
The chieftain and the great warrior Krum entered their tent. They smiled gently at the sleeping Kurik. Sakarski then rose and followed the two to the large vine leaves.
The three sat on the leaves, looking down at the tribe below. The chieftain spoke first.
“Respected adventurer, I noticed Kurik seemed hesitant to speak earlier.”
“Besides seeking the trace of the great warrior Kalgarah, is there any other reason for your arrival here?”
Sakarski nodded, looking down at the camp.
“That’s right, there is one more matter.”
“Gan Fall has entrusted us to convey his wish for reconciliation.”
Krum, the great warrior beside the chieftain, became agitated and wanted to say something, but the chieftain held him back. He looked at the tent where Kurik slept, and after a long pause, he spoke.
“Is this also Kurik’s wish?”
Sakarski looked at the chieftain, who had been silent for a long time. If it were Kurik’s wish, as Roland’s descendant, the Shandians would surely approve.
“No.”
“Kurik has not made a choice, so the decision rests with you.”
The chieftain smiled with relief, his gaze towards Kurik’s tent growing more tender, but then his expression turned somber. Four hundred years…
“Are you kidding me? Can a hundred years of humiliation be wiped away with a single word of reconciliation!”
“These four hundred years…!!!”
“Silence, Krum!”
The chieftain stopped the agitated Krum with a shout, his somber expression betraying his own inner turmoil.
“The hatred of four hundred years is understandable.”
“No one else has the right to interfere.”
“By the way, we have found the lost Golden Bell of Shandora.”
“It is at the top of the giant vine that traverses Gaia Island.”
Sakarski’s calm voice resounded. On matters like this, no one could decide for others. He then stood up and jumped down from the vine leaf, leaving the space to the two.
It was destined to be a heavy night.
The next morning, Sakarski led Kurik out of the tent. The chieftain, looking somewhat dispirited in the distance, perked up slightly upon seeing Kurik emerge and walked over with a smile.
“I apologize, Mr. Sakarski… we…”
“I understand.”
Sakarski nodded, patted Kurik, and told him to bid farewell to the others as they prepared to depart. The Ark of Promise was the priority.
Then, the chieftain summoned the tribespeople and reluctantly bid farewell to Kurik. As the two walked away, even the strongest among the tribe, Krum, had tears in his eyes.
He turned to look at the statue of the great warrior Kalgarah, lost in thought.
-----------------------------
Blue Sea, Grand Line.
The Everlasting Warring Nation.
In a small town on the edge of a battlefield between two countries.
Thump!
A figure was thrown onto the ground, alongside several unconscious figures covered in blood. They wore military uniforms, but they appeared to be children.
Screeech!
The sound of a jar scraping against the ground was heard. A figure several times sturdier than the children lying on the ground appeared. He looked at the few figures lying on the ground, his eyes gleaming with bloodlust.
Crack!
A wine jar was smashed onto one of the individuals in the middle. The jar shattered, and the high-proof wine splashed onto the unconscious people. The alcohol flowed into their wounds, stimulating them awake.
“Hiss!!!”
“Urgh.”
“What’s going on?”
“This is…”
“Bar… Barrett.”
“What do you want!!!”
The ones awakened by the alcohol’s sting on their wounds looked around in confusion. They immediately spotted Barrett. They suppressed their fear and spoke.
“Heh heh.”
Barrett grinned and stepped forward, grabbing the neck of the first child who had called his name. Choked and unable to speak, he struggled in terror, but his limbs were broken…
“Mmph mmph mmph mmph.”
Crack!
The sound of bone shattering echoed. The struggling boy went still. Barrett flung him aside and moved on to the next.
“No!!!”
“Barrett, I was wrong!!!”
“Let me go!!!”
“It was all Byrde’s idea!!!”
“He forced us!!!”
“Let me go!!”
“No…!!!”
“Mmph mmph mmph mmph mmph!!!”
Crack!
Crack!
Crack!
No matter how much these people struggled, the sound of relentless bone-cracking echoed in their ears, followed by an abyss of darkness.
Barrett reached the last person, who was also the most tragic. All four limbs were broken, and his tongue had been torn out. He could only watch in horror as Barrett approached him step by step.
“It’s your turn.”
Byrde looked at Barrett, who stood before him with a blank expression, his entire body filled with terror. He thrashed, but it was useless. He could only watch as Barrett reached for his head.
Bang!
Like a watermelon bursting, blood splattered onto his face, which, combined with his bloodthirsty gaze, appeared exceptionally demonic and cruel.
Thump!
With a forceful pull, he yanked off the medal that should have belonged to him from Byrde’s chest and solemnly pinned it to the left side of his military uniform.
“Comrades… betrayal… heh…”