As the Skylark slowly docked at Angel Island, Gan·Fall was already waiting eagerly at the pier.
Before the ship had even fully stopped, he leapt aboard.
"Mr. Riberra Sami!" he hurried toward Riberra Sami, who had just stepped out of the cabin.
"How did it go? Are they… willing to coexist peacefully?"
Riberra Sami looked at him and slowly shook his head.
"No."
His voice was calm—but to Gan·Fall, it landed like a heavy hammer.
"Both the older chief and the prime-aged warriors are extremely resolute," Riberra Sami continued.
"You could say… they're all hardliners."
Aldo added from the side:
"Man, the moment the boss mentioned 'what if the Sky Islanders wanted peace,' that old chief looked like he was ready to burn us alive! If we hadn't covered it up with a story, we might've ended up fighting."
Marcus spoke in a low voice:
"The hatred is carved into their bones. The younger generation shows no hesitation when talking about battle or sacrifice. That path is completely blocked—for now."
The light in Gan·Fall's eyes dimmed instantly.
His upright shoulders seemed to sag, and his face showed undisguised disappointment and confusion.
"So… it's still impossible…"
"Three hundred years of hatred… it runs too deep…"
Seeing the once-driven young captain suddenly deflated, Riberra Sami stepped forward and patted his shoulder.
"Don't lose hope so quickly. Nothing in this world is absolute—especially not over time."
He guided Gan·Fall to sit on a crate and handed him a bottle of alcohol.
"If it doesn't work now, it might just mean the timing isn't right… or that the right person isn't yet in the right position."
Gan·Fall held the bottle but didn't drink. He stared blankly at it.
"The right person… the right position?"
"For example," Riberra Sami said as he sat beside him, "when you become God."
"When you hold the highest authority, your will can truly shape the direction of the entire Kingdom of God."
"At that time, you could attempt something that fundamentally changes everything."
"What… kind of thing?" Gan·Fall asked instinctively.
Riberra Sami looked straight at him and spoke slowly, word by word:
"Return Upper Yard—your so-called Holy Land—to the Shandians."
"What?! That's impossible!"
Gan·Fall shot to his feet as if struck by lightning.
"Return it?!"
"Yes. Return it."
Gan·Fall stared at him in disbelief.
"What are you saying? Upper Yard… has always been the Holy Land of our Kingdom! The land where God resides!"
"It's land your ancestors took from the Shandians," Riberra Sami replied calmly.
"Took… from them?" Gan·Fall's voice turned dry.
"That can't be… Upper Yard has always belonged to us. Our Gods have lived there for generations—"
"How long have you lived there? Three hundred years? Four hundred?" Riberra Sami interrupted.
"The Shandians lived there for over a thousand."
"Their ruins, their ancestors' graves, everything they had… lies buried beneath that land's forests and soil."
Gan·Fall opened his mouth—but no words came out.
"Upper Yard… the land you call sacred," Riberra Sami continued,
"was once known as Shandora—the homeland of the Shandians."
"More than three hundred years ago, a massive knock-up stream blasted it into the sky."
"Only after that… was it occupied by your ancestors—and gradually turned into what you now call the Holy Land."
Gan·Fall's worldview shattered.
He had always believed the Kingdom of God was defending sacred land—
that their battles were just, protecting against savage invaders.
But now—
he was being told the opposite.
That they were the outsiders.
That they had taken someone else's home.
"So… we… the Kingdom of God… are actually…"
"Your ancestors were," Riberra Sami said calmly.
"Your generation was simply born into that reality and raised to protect it."
"There's no absolute right or wrong here—only different perspectives."
Gan·Fall fell into silence.
His head lowered, hands gripping the bottle tightly.
The truth was too heavy.
It pressed down on everything he had been struggling with these past days.
After a long while, he spoke again, each word heavy.
"But even so…"
"Returning the land… is not that simple."
"Mr. Riberra Sami, you're from the Blue Sea. You may not understand what land means to us Sky Islanders."
"In our ancestors' stories, land was like a dream."
"We've always lived on fragile island clouds… longing for solid ground beneath our feet."
He looked toward the distant outline of Upper Yard, his expression deeply conflicted.
"And now… we finally have it."
"A vast land, with forests and life."
"It's not just a Holy Land—it's the dream of all Sky Islanders."
"A God could order war. A God could enforce strict control."
"But if a God ordered us to abandon that land…"
"Even if I became God… I don't think I could do it."
Aldo scratched his head and couldn't help interrupting:
"But the problem is—the Shandians don't want to share at all!"
"We heard it clearly. To them, you're just thieves who stole their home."
"Who'd want to live under the same roof as a thief? If it were you—would you?"
Gan·Fall shut his eyes in pain.
Aldo's blunt words shattered the last bit of hope in his heart.
Yes.
Even if he became God—
On one side: the original owners who would never compromise.
On the other: his own people who saw the land as a treasure beyond compare.
It was a perfect deadlock.
"Is there… really no solution?" he asked hoarsely.
"There's always a solution," Riberra Sami replied. "It just takes time—and patience."
He patted Gan·Fall's shoulder again.
"You still have decades ahead of you."
"In that time, a lot can change—people's thoughts, a nation's beliefs."
"For now, don't dwell on problems neither of us can solve yet."
Riberra Sami stood up and stretched his neck.
"For now, let's focus on what we can do."
"We've fulfilled our part of the deal—we brought you firsthand information about the Shandians' stance."
"Even if it's not what you hoped for."
"And as for us…"
He glanced toward the ship.
"Our Jet Dials are still waiting to become real propulsion."
"Captain Gan·Fall, shouldn't your promised modifications be arranged now?"
Gan·Fall took a deep breath, forcing down the turmoil in his heart.
Riberra Sami was right.
Thinking endlessly wouldn't solve anything.
He nodded.
"You're right, Mr. Riberra Sami."
"I'll arrange the most reliable craftsmen immediately to install the Jet Dial propulsion system."
He stood, gave Riberra Sami a firm nod, then cast one more complicated glance toward Upper Yard—
before turning and leaving the dock.
On the deck, Aldo watched him go and muttered:
"Boss… don't you think dropping that truth on him was a bit too harsh?"
"Looks like his soul just got knocked out of his body."
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