Chapter 178: Forging the Sea King's Prophecy
"Has Poseidon already been born?" Sora asked, eyeing the ancient stone tablet.
"Guess," Ross replied with a faint smile, nodding toward the Poneglyph.
He was dead set on claiming all three Ancient Weapons. A power like that couldn't fall into anyone else's hands.
"Guess?" Sora arched an eyebrow, pondering for a moment before venturing, "Queen Otohime?"
She'd heard tales of the mermaid queen's innate mind-reading ability—a clear mark of awakened Observation Haki from birth. It suited a princess of the sea perfectly.
"Nope. She's a princess, not a queen." Ross shook his head, grinning.
"Princess?" Sora blinked, then realization dawned. She shot him a playful eye-roll, thinking of herself and Princess Titi—soon to be Queen Titi, no doubt.
The Little Mermaid was Otohime's descendant, and she'd surely stand by Ross's side. But he waved it off.
"It's not about that. Otohime's ideals are just... intriguing," Ross said lightly.
"I'm not Gion—you don't owe me explanations." Sora chuckled, unconvinced by his dodge.
Truth be told, she didn't care about the politics. As long as she had a place in his heart, nothing else mattered. This solo trip to the ruins meant more than any grand gesture. Her gaze softened as her hand drifted to her gently swelling belly.
If all went well, this child would be Ross's firstborn son.
She wasn't Celestial Dragon stock, and this world didn't fuss over bloodlines, but Ross had given her everything—security no one else could match. For that, she'd crush any threat to him without hesitation.
"You didn't drag me here just to gawk at this rock, right?" Sora asked, steadying her voice as she turned to him.
It was an easy read. Ross hadn't batted an eye at the Poneglyph or its secrets about Poseidon. He'd known about these stones—and their contents—long before today.
"Let's see if we can make it... useful." Ross smirked, drawing Poseidon's Trident. Black Armament Haki coated its length as he drove the tip into the unyielding stone.
Clang!
The Poneglyph didn't budge, nor did the trident. Sparks flew, but both held firm.
"Legends say these tablets are forged from some unbreakable alloy," Sora noted.
She said it casually, but deep down, she figured Ross had a trick up his sleeve.
"Nothing's truly unbreakable—especially not man-made junk like this. If it was, how'd they etch the words in the first place?" Ross laughed softly.
Conqueror's Haki surged along the trident, its edge grinding against the stone with a shrill screech. Power focused to a point, and faint scratches appeared—proof the Poneglyph could bleed.
But its material demanded more: at least Infused Conqueror's Haki to really bite in.
Sizzle!
Ross channeled his Devil Fruit next. Seawater erupted from the trident's prongs, blasting the Haki-laced surface. Sora watched, transfixed, as the stone eroded layer by layer. The ancient script blurred, then faded entirely under the assault.
The tablet wasn't huge—just a three-by-three-meter slab, inscribed on one face. In ten minutes flat, Ross had stripped it clean.
"What message should we carve, Your Highness?" Sora asked quietly. She got it now—why he'd brought her.
The original side was word-packed; rewriting meant precise layout. And that's where her Brain-Brain Fruit shone—perfect recall and flawless planning.
"A sea god once ruled humanity's fate," Ross murmured, eyes gleaming. "Daughter of the mermaid princess. One of the three Ancient Weapons: the Sea King Poseidon. Every eight centuries, the cycle renews. The sea god returns with her princess, and all oceans bend to her will."
Fate? Prophecy? Out here, you forged your own legend.
Ross didn't buy destiny's crap, but if the world did, he'd rewrite it to fit.
"Got it." Sora nodded, excitement flickering in her eyes. Ross was crafting a prophecy—and she'd help shape history itself. Honored didn't cover it.
She sized up the space in seconds, her power weaving the tale seamlessly. Notebook in hand, she jotted the ancient script.
"Layout's solid. Handwriting mimics the originals—no one'll spot the difference."
She ripped out the page and passed it over.
"Perfect." Ross memorized it on the spot, practicing strokes on the dirt floor.
Carving Poneglyphs was brutal work—exhausting, precise. One slip, and he'd ruin the stone. After testing until his hand cramped, he gripped the trident and got to it.
He had no clue how ancient masons pulled this off, but with his strength and Haki, it was straightforward. Thirty minutes later, the new prophecy gleamed fresh on the tablet.
This was Ross's first rewrite, but far from the last. Experience gained, he'd hit the others harder. The Holy Land Mary Geoise held over a hundred Poneglyphs—plenty for a full saga.
Scatter them worldwide, and a new history would stitch itself together overnight.
"Nico Robin pitched this idea first," Ross said, stepping back to admire their work alongside Sora. "You'll flesh it out. Weave your stories into the framework I lay down—make it airtight."
"The tales themselves are easy. Poneglyphs don't hold much text, so gaps are everywhere to fill." Sora glanced sideways, piecing it together. Ever since she'd studied ancient script under Ross's watch, she'd known about the mother-daughter archaeologists he backed in the Holy Land.
One puzzle nagged her, though.
"If Nico Robin suggested it, why not let her handle the heavy lifting?"
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