At that moment—
Lika suddenly said, "One of them ran off. Should we chase him?"
"Of course. Since the death knell has already been struck, let's bury every Blue Sea intruder on this Sky Island beneath the clouds."
Ander's smile remained, though his eyes were cold enough to chill bone.
Far in the distance—
One quick-witted pirate lackey had fled early, bolting toward the harbor before the encirclement could close in.
Head for the harbor—get that Waver, and get the hell off this cursed island!
Sterling gritted his teeth, his mind flashing with the bloodthirsty faces of those Anka islanders.
Wasn't Anka supposed to be a peaceful island with simple folk?
Why had it turned into this?
Everyone here looked like a raving killer! Were those "holy" wings on their backs just decoration?
…Well, apparently, they really were just decoration.
No matter what, Boss Mok was dead.
If Sterling wanted to survive, he had to reach that Waver they'd used to get here in the first place.
A unique mode of transport exclusive to Sky Islands—powered by Wind Shells or Jet Shells, capable of gliding across the sea of clouds.
Like a sea motorbike, though its operation required deep understanding of airflow and cloud currents, making it incredibly hard to control.
Luckily, Sterling was not only the navigator of his crew but also the Waver's pilot.
His steps quickened, darting through alleys like a rat in flight.
The air of the cloud island rang with sharp whooshes—bursts of flame from Fire Shell rifles roaring in the distance.
Thunderous booms followed, air pressure cracking and popping—that would be Wind Shells or Impact Shells.
And the sharp tearing of cloth—that was the sound of a rare Slash Shell in action.
During his desperate escape, Sterling had witnessed all kinds of strange Skypiean shells and their devastating uses—but he would've rather never seen any of them.
Every new sound meant another Blue Sea pirate being slaughtered.
The cries of frenzy echoed across the island.
"Kill all the Blue Sea scum!"
As time passed, the chaos gradually dimmed in waves of exhaustion.
Sterling finally reached the harbor—and there it was, the Waver.
Ecstatic, he made for it while the remaining Blue Sea pirates clashed with the Anka natives.
As long as he reached it— as long as he could get away alive—
Sterling would pay any price. Once he escaped, he swore he'd start over.
No more killing, no more robbing, no more ransoms, no more cruelty. He'd live as an honest man.
Just as he thought that—
A massive shadow suddenly loomed overhead.
"...?"
Sterling froze mid-step, looking up to see a silver-gray mountain descending from the sky.
BOOM—!
A column of cloud-water burst up several dozen meters as the massive bear-paw bubble shattered.
"Hm?"
Ren stood at the prow of the ship, frowning down at the deck.
That fall—had it damaged the hull? Had they struck a coral reef in the sea of clouds?
He didn't have time to check.
The chaos below quickly caught his attention.
His pupils flared open instinctively—
The scarlet hue of his eyes turned jade-green, and a beam of light from the heavens flashed down, sweeping across half the island.
His ears twitched; Keen Hearing caught the faintest sounds carried by the wind.
He heard the shouting clearly.
"Kill every Blue Sea worm!"
"Don't let a single one escape!"
"Trying to mess with me? Eat this, bastard!"
The cacophony grated at Ren's senses, forcing him to shut off his Keen Hearing. His Clairvoyance continued sweeping the harbor instead.
Down there, a fierce battle raged—and several had already spotted the sudden appearance of the Enlightenment.
They were approaching fast.
No good intentions—no friendly faces.
"How strange," Ren murmured, scratching his head.
If he remembered correctly, Kuma had told him that Anka Island was a peaceful place.
Was it him who had misunderstood? Or had Kuma gotten it wrong?
"What's going on?"
Nami emerged from behind him, curiosity flashing in her eyes. When she saw the scene ahead, her brows knit.
"Looks like… we arrived at a bad time."
"No," Ren said calmly, "we came at just the right time. Chaos is opportunity."
He might not understand the situation, but he could already tell it was perfect for his plans.
At the very least—
People who'd just been beaten senseless were always more willing to talk.
As he said that, his Clairvoyance beam caught sight of a figure—one familiar, yet unfamiliar.
"Well, well… fancy meeting him here."
He gave a small grin. "Handle things here. Restrain hostile Sky Islanders—don't kill them. Blue Sea pirates are fair game."
Behind him, twin violet wings unfolded.
The Phantom Wing Flight spell lifted him smoothly into the air.
Then a second pair of wings—golden Elytra—unfurled, their color shifting into deep violet.
The four wings beat together, and Ren shot forward across the island like a streak of light.
The others exchanged glances.
Then Zoro drew a single sword, smirking. "Captain gave an order. Why are you still standing around?"
"I should be the one giving orders here," Nami muttered, pouting as she raised her Magical Clima-Tact. But no sarcastic retort came from Zoro.
She turned—and found the green-haired swordsman already coolly sizing up enemies along the harbor, clearly picking his next opponent.
Selective hearing—a technique Zoro had mastered through painful experience.
Nojiko chuckled softly, pulling out a wrinkled little teddy bear as she prepared for battle.
"Hey, did a ship just fall out of the sky?"
Rushing toward the harbor, Urouge kept his trademark grin as he glanced at the horizon.
"Seems like it."
"How odd. Are there other islands above the White-White Sea?"
"Maybe someone from the legendary Weatheria?"
"That's just a myth, isn't it?"
Ander and Ika spoke as they followed Urouge, their gazes tinged with awe and envy as they eyed the massive pillar strapped to his back.
A gigantic, perfectly hexagonal "pencil," forged with rare metal and heavy enough to weigh tons.
Only a monster like Urouge could swing such a thing around.
That was why, subconsciously, everyone considered him their strongest—the natural leader.
The "Mad Monk" was famous throughout Sky Islands civilization, after all.
As they pondered this, Urouge suddenly halted mid-step and gestured toward a street corner.
There—stood a Blue Sea man, seemingly unremarkable.
"A Blue Sea dweller… and he isn't running?"
Ander saw Urouge's signal and assumed it meant "attack."
He stepped forward, lifted his Fire Rifle, and pulled the trigger.
BOOM—!
A blast of blazing flame roared forth.
Fire, huh?
Ren's eyes flickered slightly—but he didn't move.
The stream of fire pierced through his chest—only to ripple like a stone dropping into water—before detonating inside a nearby cloud building.
Charred chunks of processed cloud scattered everywhere.
Urouge's expression hardened. "A Devil Fruit user?"
"Just a little trick," Ren said mildly. "But it seems you all really hate Blue Sea people. That's going to make things… troublesome."
His form shimmered from translucent back to solid as he brushed nonexistent dust from his shoulders.
"I just wanted to ask for directions. Can we talk peacefully?"
"Screw you, ghost freak!"
Ika's only reply was to fire again—another searing flame beam shrieked toward him.
But this time—
Before it reached Ren, the beam suddenly unraveled, dispersing into a swirling ring of fire that encircled him obediently.
"Oh? And you?"
Ren lifted his hand, the ring of flame wrapping through his fingers like a tame serpent.
Urouge grinned—a wild, war-loving grin.
"Sorry, I'm the battle-hungry type. You look like a strong one."
"If you're worried I might accidentally kill you, you'd better surrender early—otherwise, I'll have to start the prayer for your soul."
"Should I thank you in advance?"
"No need to be polite."
"Heh."
Ren grinned back. He didn't mind fighting Urouge.
No need to merge his templates yet—time to test something new.
He flipped his palm—
The Cursed Blade: Thousand Edge appeared in one hand; in the other, the Thunder Spear.
Don't get the wrong idea—
He wasn't planning on wielding both at once; this was merely for testing hybrid ability integration.
The process was simple.
The Thunder Spear dissolved into crackling arcs of lightning, which he channeled into the Thousand Edge.
A thousand micro-blades within the weapon began vibrating at ultra-high speed under the electric current.
In conventional terms, this type of weapon had a familiar name—
A High-Frequency Blade.
Of course—
With Ren's current development level, he couldn't achieve molecule-splitting precision like true sci-fi tech.
He was just mimicking the concept—letting the Thunder Spirit induce rhythmic, high-frequency oscillations.
Even so—
It was enough to drastically enhance the sword's killing power.
Using Qi alone could yield similar effects, but it consumed Ren's personal energy.
With the Thunder Spirit maintaining it, he could keep the blade vibrating freely without exhausting himself.
"Come on, then."
Ren raised his sword one-handed, chin tilting up.
THUD—
The ground quaked. Urouge charged like a living tank, each footstep denting the cloudy street.
He swung the massive hexagonal pillar in a brutal arc—an earth-shattering sweep of a thousand armies!
A violent gust exploded outward, the sheer pressure dwarfing the strength of men like Arlong or Don Krieg.
By measure, that was at least C-Class raw power!
Interesting. What a monstrous body.
Ren raised his arm—and slashed.
A flash of silver tore the air. The clash exploded with a deafening roar.
Ren was sent flying backward over ten meters, landing and skidding across the ground, his boots punching deep craters with each retreating step.
That was the difference in pure strength.
But Urouge's charge was halted too. He stared dumbfounded at his weapon—now snapped cleanly in half.
The heavy pillar that had shattered countless blades… broken in one stroke?
How was that possible!?
While Urouge stood in shock, Ren marveled at the Thousand Edge's newfound sharpness. The tradeoff of control for power was worth it.
After all—
With his current skill level, he couldn't perform the Cutting Steel feat of a true master swordsman.
Normally, he could only rely on superior weapons and brute force to smash through metal—never cleanly slice it.
But that last strike—
Had felt smooth as slicing through tofu.
(End of Chapter)