"The Pirate King, is it?"
Octavia scanned the newspaper delivered by the News Coo, noting that her old rival was now addressed with that singular, momentous title. The man who acquired everything this world has to offer.
To Octavia, he was simply the man who had shattered her and Rocks' ambitions. It wasn't a pleasant realization. However, she understood that Novem—the girl now known as Kanata—didn't share that resentment.
She didn't know the specifics of what had transpired between the two, but she recognized they treated each other as something akin to friends. It was a complicated dynamic. Having abandoned her responsibilities as a mother long ago, Octavia felt she had no right to interfere in the path her daughter chose. She had considered seeking revenge on Roger for defeating Rocks, but since Rocks himself had accepted his loss before passing, Octavia found no righteous path to vengeance.
After much deliberation, she had made a choice: she would devote herself to the refinement of her techniques until the day Kanata inevitably came to kill her.
"We're almost there. Brace yourselves," Octavia commanded.
"Y-Yes, ma'am..."
On the deck of a mid-sized pirate ship, Octavia had beaten the captain into a bloody pulp to ensure his absolute obedience. They were currently off the coast of the massive island nation of Westland—the place known as "The Furthest West."
While the island was large, nearly its entire landmass was occupied by a single, colossal mountain. The mountain's peak pierced through the very clouds, leaving the pirates on deck staring up with their mouths agape.
"Uh... ma'am... we've followed your orders and reached the bay, but... are we really getting off here?" the captain stammered.
"No. We are going to climb the mountain."
"Climb the mountain?!" The captain looked at her as if she had lost her mind.
Octavia, her face hidden behind her mask as always, gestured for them to fold the sails. Confused and terrified, the crew complied, bringing the ship to a halt near the inlet.
"The clouds are thick today. We're in luck," Octavia muttered, glancing toward the slopes. She reached into her robes and produced a small whistle.
She slid her mask up just enough to blow. A high-pitched, piercing note echoed across the waves. The pirates waited in trembling silence, dreading whatever might follow.
The response was immediate.
A massive shadow surged beneath the hull. Something enormous lifted the ship clean out of the water, hoisting it above the surface.
"Wha—what is that?!"
"A shrimp... it's a shrimp! A giant shrimp is carrying the ship!"
Looking over the railing, the crew saw a gargantuan crustacean moving with purposeful speed toward the inlet. It swam up the river, and then, impossibly, began to crawl straight up the vertical face of the mountain.
As they ascended, the captain suddenly recalled the rumors of Westland. High West. The mountain was said to reach the legendary Sky Islands.
"You... you don't mean...!" The captain looked at Octavia in horror.
To most, the Sky Islands were nothing more than a myth or a fairy tale, but Octavia knew the truth. She had been there before. The giant shrimp accelerated, carrying the vessel past the mountainside and into the thick bank of clouds encircling the peak.
Inside the clouds, the air was as dense and heavy as water. After what felt like minutes of suffocating pressure, they burst through the top of the bank. The giant shrimp slowed its pace and finally came to a halt on a sea of clouds. Having delivered its cargo, the creature slipped back into the white depths and vanished.
"Cough! Hack! I... are we alive...?"
The captain clung to the railing for dear life. Several crew members were missing, likely thrown overboard during the vertical climb. Octavia ignored the loss, pulling her damp hair back into a tie and scanning the horizon.
They were 7,000 meters above the sea—the region known as the White Sea. The summit of High West loomed even further above them, and the air had already grown perilously thin.
As the crew sat in a daze, Octavia pointed a finger toward the sky. A flash of light erupted from her fingertip, a beam of concentrated energy that blew a hole through the surrounding clouds. A split second later, the thunderous crack of rent air shook the ship to its core.
"Now what?!" a pirate shrieked.
"Head that way," Octavia ordered, her voice cold. "We aren't at the top yet."
Wincing at the smell of ozone, the crew steered the ship through the white expanse. They navigated the cloud-sea with trembling hands until they reached the base of the mountain's true summit. To go higher, they had to ascend another river.
"Unfurl the sails. The updraft here spirals upward; it will carry the ship to the peak."
Octavia didn't care for the physics of it; she simply knew the route. The wind caught the sails, and the ship began to spiral upward, riding the thermal currents toward the very top of High West.
When they reached the summit, the crew looked up at a massive, solid cloud bank hanging directly over their heads. Several paths of "Island Clouds" stretched down like bridges toward the ship. They were bouncy to the touch and sturdy enough to walk upon.
"A few of you, get off the ship and head to that altar," Octavia said, pointing to an ancient, weathered structure nearby.
"The altar?"
The pirates, having no idea what was required of them, climbed onto the altar and looked around in confusion. They turned back toward the ship to ask for further instructions.
In that instant, a gargantuan sea snake lunged from the river and swallowed the men whole.
"What—?!"
The snake, larger than the ship itself, flicked its tongue toward the remaining crew as if the first few men hadn't been enough. It dived back into the white river, and the ship began to lurch violently.
"The snake is under the hull!"
"It's... it's lifting us up!"
Amidst the panic, Octavia stood perfectly still on the rocking deck. The sea snake surged upward, piercing the final cloud layer and depositing the ship onto a sea of pure, brilliant white. Its task finished, the serpent gave the vessel a final, predatory glance before vanishing into the depths.
This was 10,000 meters above the world—the White-White Sea.
It was a place few ground-dwellers ever reached. Of the few routes available, the path through High West required the loss of one's companions to even set foot on the summit.
"This is... a Sky Island?"
"It is," Octavia replied. "The clouds at the peak of High West are dense enough to support weight. Most people call such places Sky Islands."
There were several such islands, and while Octavia's ultimate destination lay further out, information about the sky was scarce. It was the perfect place to seek out unknown masters and refine her skills in isolation.
She could have reached this place alone, but a sacrifice made the journey faster. She considered herself lucky to have found such a convenient crew of expendable thugs.
The captain, realizing the truth, leveled his pistol at her. "You... you knew. You sent my men to that altar on purpose!"
"I did," Octavia said. "For some reason, that serpent will carry a vessel to the heavens if it is given a few lives as a tribute."
To pass through High West is to lose your friends. That was the legend. And this was the reason.
"Reaching the summit is simple enough. But for the sake of time, the sacrifice was more efficient."
"For a reason like that... you killed them! You—"
Before he could pull the trigger, his upper body was vaporized.
"You are no longer of use to me. Choose: die here, or try to find your way back."
Moving between Sky Islands was a simple matter of waiting for the drifting islands to pass by or creating paths of "Island Clouds" to ride the winds. Either way, Octavia could handle it alone. She had no more need for these pirates—though without a way to descend, their "choice" was an illusion.
The remaining pirates drew their weapons, staking their final moments on a desperate gamble.
"So you choose to fight. Excellent! Show me everything you have!"
The ship, stripped of its supplies and littered with corpses, would drift through the White-White Sea for eternity. Only the echoes of lightning remained in the vast sky as every sign of life was snuffed out.
Octavia's destination: Birka, the Sky Island of legendary warriors.
+++
"Fight me, Kanata!!"
That day, the very earth of Fullalead trembled.
In the training grounds used by Kanata, two titans had been clashing for over twenty-four hours. Finally, the battle reached its conclusion.
The victor was Kanata. Lying flat on his back, defeated, was none other than the "Heir of the Demon," Douglas Bullet.
Kanata stood over him, her clothes barely mussed and her few scratches already beginning to close. Bullet, shirtless and drenched in sweat, panted heavily as he stared up at the sky.
"You've grown stronger, but you aren't there yet," Kanata said. "There is too much hesitation in your fist."
"Hesitation...?"
"I've heard about you roaming the seas and picking fights since you left Roger's ship. It was the same when you were training alone while Roger was ill. You haven't made peace with your own heart."
Bullet glared at her, his Haki still radiating in waves that shook the air.
"Don't be so angry," Kanata said, shrugging. She paused, considering how to frame her thoughts. Bullet was likely unable to put his own emotions into words.
Roger—the man who was so strong his limits were invisible—was now being eaten away by a disease with only a short time left to live. To Bullet, who had made surpassing Roger his life's singular goal, this was an unforgivable betrayal by fate.
He had joined the crew to understand Roger's strength. He saw how Roger wielded absolute power to protect his friends, but he also realized that meant Roger could never truly give his all if his crew were in danger. To Bullet, the presence of others only muddied one's strength.
Roger claimed he was strong because of his friends, but Bullet couldn't accept that. He pushed himself into isolation to become the "strongest," challenged Roger to one final duel, and lost.
"Roger said... he was strong because of his friends," Bullet grunted.
"He's that kind of man."
"But I saw him. There were times he couldn't use his full power because he had to protect them. You're the same, aren't you?"
"I am," Kanata agreed, sitting down on a chair she manifested out of ice.
"It's a waste," Bullet spat. "To me, strength is something that begins and ends with the individual."
"I see. That is one way of looking at it."
"...I don't understand. Why couldn't I beat him? Why?!"
The battlefields he had survived, the combat experience, the sheer difference in their styles... the gap between Roger and Bullet was there, but to Bullet, it shouldn't have been an insurmountable wall. His "strength in isolation" was undeniable. He had regained the instincts he held as a lone soldier, yet he still couldn't see a path to victory over Roger.
"Why couldn't I win?! You should know the answer! Tell me, Kanata!!"
"The difference between you and Roger is quite clear," Kanata replied, sounding almost bored. "It's the difference between making strength your priority and using strength to achieve something else."
"What?"
"You prioritize being the strongest. Roger doesn't. He is powerful, but he didn't become strong just for the sake of a title."
He had become strong because he wanted to protect his family. The core premise was different. Whether it's to protect someone or to kill someone, if your only goal is "to be strong," you will eventually hit a ceiling.
"Tell me, Bullet. Why do you seek power?"
"Why...?"
"The reason you started fighting, the reason you want to be strong... everything has a reason. What is it you want? What is it you're trying to do?"
What did he want?
He knew that if he were alone, he couldn't be betrayed. Betrayal had been the only constant in his homeland. Even General Douglas, the man who had taken him in, had ultimately betrayed him. To trust was to be vulnerable. But strength—his own strength—would never betray him.
He started fighting because he was picked up by the General and turned into a child soldier. He fought for medals, for recognition, only to be sold out by his own fellow soldiers. He learned then that his own "weakness"—his heart, his willingness to trust—was the cause of his failure.
The stronger he was, the more he could live as he pleased.
Only strength guarantees freedom.
Bullet fell silent.
"It seems you've found the spark of an answer," Kanata noted.
"Yeah." Bullet sat up and stood to his feet. The hesitation was gone; the Haki radiating from him now held a different, sharper quality.
"Fufu. You have a better look in your eyes now."
Haki was the power of belief—the strength of one's will. If there is doubt, the power is clouded. Bullet seemed to grasp this instinctively now. Kanata found his greedy thirst for strength quite likable.
"Bullet. Do you want to join my crew?"
"What?"
"I don't mean to boast, but I can provide almost anything. Wealth, fame, power... what is it you desire?"
"I want... Freedom."
He had been picked up as an orphan in Galtzburg and raised as a child soldier. Every child raised in that unit was called a "Bullet." General Douglas had adopted him to claim his strength, and he fought as No. 9 among the "bullets" controlled by the military. He fought to destroy enemy nations, dreaming of a free life beyond the war—only to be betrayed by his "father."
But things were different now. He had the strength to seize his own freedom. He didn't know what that life looked like yet, but he knew one thing.
He wanted to seek the same "freedom" Roger had chased. He felt that if he did, he might finally understand the secret of Roger's strength.
"I see."
"So, I'm not joining your crew," Bullet stated. "I'm going to travel the world like Roger did. If I decide later that your place is worth staying in... then I'll think about it."
"Fufu. You certainly have a high opinion of yourself. Very well. My door is always open."
Kanata gave a small laugh, sensing that the "lost child" who had challenged her had finally shed his skin. She turned and began walking back toward the fortress. She had been fighting for a full day and wanted some rest.
"Wait, Kanata."
"What is it now?" she asked without turning back.
"I'm going to find this 'freedom'... but I don't think I can change the way I live that easily. I'm still going to be the 'strongest'."
"That's fine. It is better to seek the 'strongest' with a broad perspective than to be a small man obsessed with Roger's shadow."
"That means... eventually, I'm going to take you down too."
If one wanted to be called the strongest in these seas, there were several walls that had to be overcome. Kanata was undeniably one of them.
Kanata smiled, her back still to him. "You're welcome to try."
The words were simple, but they held an absolute weight. As one of the pillars of the "strongest," she had given him a welcoming challenge. It was a confidence born of absolute certainty in her own power.
Bullet felt like he finally understood why Roger liked her so much.
He watched her walk away, then picked up his discarded coat and headed toward the harbor. He had sought freedom, but for a man who knew nothing but the battlefield, everything else was uncharted territory.
"Freedom..." he muttered. "I still don't get it."
But just as Roger had sailed toward an unknown treasure on a final island, Bullet decided to search the vast sea for his own meaning of freedom.
***
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