Chapter 180: Echoes of Endless Feud
Three days had passed since Gan Fall's abdication. With Ross now reigning as the new god of Skypiea, Angel Island entered a bold new era under his rule.
In that short time, Ross wasted no effort. He dispatched Zephyr to assemble an elite guard for patrolling the White Sea. Gion and Gan Fall headed to Birka to claim it for Angel Island and hunt down the Rumble-Rumble Fruit. And Stella and Moira led a strike force to Upper Yard, where they'd root out the last holdouts.
Upper Yard's rugged cliffs loomed like jagged teeth against the endless clouds. Moira stood atop a rocky outcrop, her gaze fixed on the Shandian settlement below. A flicker of regret crossed her face.
Down there, the slaughter unfolded without mercy. Elite warriors from the Jaygarcia District, backed by three hundred armed Sky Islanders, overwhelmed the defenders. The Shandians fought like cornered beasts, but they stood no chance against the onslaught.
"This isn't what I signed up for," Moira muttered, her voice barely audible over the distant cries.
Stella stood beside her, that perpetual sweet smile curving her lips. Ever since falling in with Ross, she'd worn it like a mask—unfazed, content, almost joyful in her new role.
"You think they're innocent?" Stella asked lightly.
Moira shot her a glance. "This is their homeland. They never asked to be blasted into the sky. And now we're finishing what the Sky Islanders started?"
Stella shrugged. "They had a chance to join us. They spat in our faces."
"It's their home," Moira countered, frustration edging her words. "No one just abandons that. Not without a fight."
"So they get wiped out." Stella's tone stayed even, detached. She didn't care about Shandians or Sky Islanders—only Ross mattered. He'd pulled her from the slave markets when no one else would. The so-called "good" folks? They'd never lifted a finger. Ross might be a devil to the world, but he was her savior.
Moira bit her lip, falling silent. Who was she to judge? She was the one leading this purge, sword in hand, personally razing villages. It twisted her gut, but orders were orders. Her undercover mission left no room for mercy.
"You'll get numb to it," Stella said after a beat. "This world's never been about understanding. Hatred's a chain—Sky Islanders kill Shandians, or vice versa. No one's breaking it."
"Can't we just... end it?" Moira's eyes clouded with doubt. Her dream was a world without this endless war.
Stella floated down from the ledge, her Float-Float Fruit powers kicking in effortlessly. "Maybe. If you can swallow your pride and accept the boss, why can't they drop their grudge?"
The clash below wrapped up, leaving only echoes and the acrid tang of blood in the air. Stella drifted toward the Sky Islanders, already assessing wounds to heal with her powers. Casualties were light—Gan Fall's peaceful handover as divine messenger had smoothed things on Angel Island. Wiping out the Shandians? That bought them real loyalty. Plenty of locals had lost kin to the "Trials of the Gods," and revenge burned hot in their veins. The volunteers on this raid all carried fresh scars from Shandian raids.
Moira lingered, staring at the smoldering ruins. Accept Ross? The man who'd stripped her of everything? She'd carve out her own heart first. If she got the chance, she'd watch him bleed out slow. But dreams like that were just salt in the wound.
Stella was right, though. If she couldn't bend, why expect the Sky Islanders to?
---
Birka, another speck in the vast Sky Island chain, was half the size of Angel Island with just five thousand souls. Its people—mostly winged Sky Islanders, dotted with a few wingless outsiders—worshipped their own god in a haze of complacency.
Until now.
BOOM!
A crimson mist exploded across the central plaza, thick with the metallic reek of blood. Birka's god crumpled amid the rubble, his head sailing through the air in a grotesque arc. Eyes bulging in shock, he hit the ground lifeless.
Gion sheathed her blade, wrinkling her nose at the mess. "Out of my way."
She wasn't one for needless killing, but threats? Those she met head-on. Gan Fall was supposed to handle the talks—swallow Birka under Angel Island's banner, rally the locals to snag the Rumble-Rumble Fruit before some fool bit into it. Even if someone did, Ross could just pry it back. Devil Fruits didn't stay loyal.
But Birka's god had greeted them with steel, not words. Big mistake.
"Gan Fall," Gion said coolly, "take charge here. Secure the island and locate that fruit for Saint Ross."
"Understood!" The former god bowed low, respect clear in his stance.
Birka's ruler had matched Gan Fall's strength, yet Gion dropped him in one clean strike. In a world like this, you honored power or you didn't last. Besides, folding Birka into the fold would beef up Angel Island's clout overnight.
Gion's head snapped up, Observation Haki tingling with something intriguing. "No need to search. I found it. Claim this place—it's ours now."
She vanished in a blur of Soru, leaving Gan Fall blinking in confusion.
She reappeared inside Birka's grand temple—a sacred no-go for common folk. Towering at the heart stood a stone statue of the island's founding god, stern and eternal. Before it, an altar gleamed, and atop that sat a plain wooden box.
A young boy, no older than ten, had just cracked it open. His small hands trembled as he lifted the fruit inside—a gnarled, golden thing etched with swirling lightning patterns.
"The Rumble-Rumble Fruit," Gion murmured, eyes narrowing on him. "Just like the reports."
Ross had mentioned it once: Devil Fruits had a knack for drawing in the right eater, like fate's twisted joke. This kid was proof—wide-eyed, reaching for power that could've been his.
But fate? Gion smirked. "Nah. If destiny's real, this bad boy's mine. I just happened to drop by."
She snatched the fruit mid-air, the boy's gasp lost in the temple's shadows. Birka's conquest was sealed—and Skypiea's storm was just brewing.
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