"Destroyed?"
Aboard a massive Waver, the God of Beist coldly tossed aside the shell in his hand.
It was an exceedingly rare long-range sound shell, usually crafted in pairs. One was held by him, the other by his priest.
No reply could only mean one thing — something had gone wrong.
He didn't know exactly what, but it was likely that Weatheria had begun to act.
"After all, we're facing the legendary Weather Island itself."
The response came from a man seated upon an enormous chair not far away. His attire was typical of the Sky People, though his belt was lined with combat pouches filled with various Dials.
Normally those pouches remained sealed, their contents hidden. When opened, they could be deployed in countless tactical ways to defeat an enemy.
Because of that, the man bore the nickname "Prism."
Around him stood two other Sky Pirate leaders of similar rank — Wind-Rider and Cloud-Mist.
Wind-Rider possessed a vast number of ancient Jet Shells, long thought extinct. It was said he had mastered the lost art of breeding those ancient Dials.
Every Waver belonging to the Sky Pirate Alliance carried at least one Jet Shell.
Thanks to this advantage, Wind-Rider's subordinates were considerably stronger than any ordinary Sky Pirates. He himself wielded a weapon forged from Jet Shells, one swing of which could turn wind into blades.
As for Cloud-Mist, her fighting style revolved around a variety of cloud-type Dials, making her extremely difficult to handle.
Together with Prism and the God of Beist, these four commanded the entire Sky Pirate Alliance.
"The bait's been released?"
"Yes."
"And the Vivre Cards have begun pointing toward the target. We only need to wait."
Two days later, Weatheria Sky Island welcomed its second wave of returning scholars.
The Sky Pirate Alliance's aggression had enraged these gentle meteorological researchers.
Though they were scholars, the founders of meteorology were by no means powerless. Some Weather Scholars had already launched their Weather Ships to search for missing colleagues — and to strike back against the Sky Pirates.
The skies became a storm of chaos.
Among it, the first group of survivors embraced the second wave, tears welling in their aged eyes.
Scholar Bode merely frowned as he watched them.
His assistant asked quietly, "Aren't you happy they've returned safely?"
"I just received a message from Haredas. Things have taken an unexpected turn."
Bode relayed Haredas's warning — and his young aide froze.
"You mean… their return might be a trap?"
"Yes."
"Then why—?"
"This meaningless war needs to end quickly."
"But surely… we can't start a battle on Weatheria itself?"
"Haredas made a proposal. After consulting with the other scholars, I agreed."
As Bode lifted his gaze, the sky dimmed. "By my count… it's begun."
The young assistant instinctively looked up — and instantly recognized Weatherian technology at work.
From various research facilities, meteorological machines were altering the weather around the island.
The chosen condition — thunderstorm.
The assistant stared, stunned.
Bode said nothing. Weather Scholars seldom involved themselves in war or violence. But anyone who thought them weak would be making a grave mistake.
Even so, scholars were not warriors. Possessing strength and choosing to kill were entirely different matters.
That, precisely, was why Bode and the others had accepted Haredas's suggestion.
Guided by Haredas, the Enlightenment approached Weatheria.
The floating island hung above the sea of clouds, about the size of a small landmass.
At first glance it looked much like any other cloud island — save for two details:
A massive rainbow ring shimmered above the island, and beneath it floated an enormous bubble, glistening like soap.
"So this is Weatheria?"
Standing on the deck, Nami gazed at the distant sky island in awe.
"That's right — the nation of scholars who study the weather."
Haredas stroked his long beard and began contacting Weatheria through a Den Den Mushi.
Before long, they received permission to enter.
The Enlightenment sailed beneath the giant bubble of the island.
"What's that?"
Nami tugged on Haredas's sleeve, pointing upward at the vast bubble hovering tens of meters above.
"The entry mechanism — you could call it the nation's gate. But bringing a ship like yours through will be… troublesome."
"Troublesome? Then how do you usually get down from there?"
"We fly."
"You're joking, right?"
"Ever heard of a hot-air balloon? Same principle. Our weather ships work like that."
"That's… incredible."
"You still have much to learn."
Haredas turned toward Ren. "Can the people go up while the ship stays here?"
"Of course."
Ren nodded, issuing a telepathic command through his mind-link network, leaving the Iron Knights to guard the Enlightenment.
Moments later, a peculiar Weather Ship descended from within the bubble.
It looked like an ordinary vessel, except without mast or sail — only a steel cable leading up to another bubble at its end.
That bubble had two layers — the outer layer transparent, the inner one containing a ball of fire.
A hot-air balloon? Or black magic?
Ren eyed the ship's design and twitched his mouth.
Still, under its escort, they safely passed through the great bubble and entered Weatheria.
Unexpectedly, the interior contained elevator-like platforms, making the ascent effortless.
Soon Ren and the others arrived in a paradise-like land: rolling green hills, vast fields, and countless research structures dotting the terrain.
By any measure — at least by One Piece standards — this was indeed a nation.
They were soon welcomed into a grand hall, meeting the leading Weather Scholars who represented Weatheria.
"Good morning, scholars."
Ren bowed politely.
Outside the window behind him, thunderclouds brewed, lightning surging within.
"We've reviewed your request," said Haredas, now acting as spokesman. "Can you truly promise not to use meteorological power for… ambitious ends?"
"To be honest, I can't."
Ren shook his head. "Ambition can also mean ideals — goals, convictions, or dreams. As long as I'm not a man who only eats and sleeps, I'll always have such impulses.
So no, I can't promise never to use weather's power for ambitious deeds."
"That's not what you said last time," Haredas narrowed his eyes.
"Different question. Last time, you asked if I'd direct calamity toward the innocent."
Ren's tone was calm yet resolute. "If I had no ambition, we wouldn't be meeting today. Only by pursuing something do we move forward, adventure, and persist. That pursuit may be called ambition — but I will never turn disaster upon innocents."
The scholars exchanged glances, then nodded slightly.
"As you see," said Haredas, "Weatheria is a land devoted to research. The study of weather is deep and vast — we rarely leave our island. Only when research funds run low do we descend to the Blue Sea, solving weather problems in exchange for Beli.
Because of that, we possess strength — yet seldom use it."
"I understand," Ren replied. "A hand that holds a pen shouldn't need to hold a blade."
"Then you also understand why we restrain ourselves. The power of weather is immensely destructive. It can bring irreversible tragedy to innocents — something we will not allow. That's why we demand this assurance from you."
Haredas's eyes shone sharply. "We will not give this power to a madman. If you misuse it, we'll see that fault as our own. And rather than that shame, Weatheria would rather go to war ourselves. A hand that writes can still wield a sword, if it must."
"So… you need a guarantee."
Ren considered for a moment. "I can promise my enemies will never be civilians. I will never intend harm toward innocents. For the next few years, all my enemies will be pirates. But as someone often hunted by the Marines, I can't promise more than that."
"..."
The scholars looked at one another. Finally, Haredas asked in surprise, "You're a pirate?"
"I'm not. Never was, and never will be. But sometimes, labels are given by others — and once branded, they stick."
At that, Ren's expression grew solemn.
After brief discussion, the scholars reached a consensus.
"We accept your proposal," Haredas declared. "We'll help modify your ship and share Weatherian technology. In return, you'll serve as a mercenary in this conflict. We'll pay you an advance — and in the nearby skies, we've formed a thunderstorm zone. You may go there to create… that phenomenon of yours."
Clearly, even Haredas couldn't describe the Angel of Glory — a being born of flame and lightning — which defied scientific reason.
How could mere metal, when fused with fire and thunder, produce life? He could only assume it was a Devil Fruit power — a complex and frightening one.
"Good. Then, let's begin."
Ren left without hesitation and began expanding the Angel of Glory army.
As the stockpiled iron ore dwindled, their numbers swelled to three hundred.
He could have forged five hundred, but blank Angels lacked combat power. Their strength came from their enchanted armor and lightning-driven mechanisms.
Upon closer study, Ren realized why the Two-Winged Angel form was so strong: it allowed multiple enchantments — and its battle armor was itself lightning-powered machinery.
Angel 001, inspired by the Iron Knights, had designed her own powered armor using thermal and electrical energy. No doubt the MU-2 Heavy Exosuit schematics had contributed.
Thus, armor was indispensable — as were proper war armaments.
From the Beist Island battle, Ren had learned that an Angel equipped with weaponry was vastly stronger than one without.
Just one armed Angel 001 had obliterated an entire Sky Pirate crew with three volleys.
So what if that firepower were multiplied by 300?
While it might not threaten truly powerful foes, it would annihilate any lesser enemy force.
Moreover, the Angels could self-enchant when energy was sufficient — obedient and efficient.
Within the mind-link network, they exchanged combat data, quickly mastering the properties of Light-Heat manipulation.
Their growth rate was terrifying — likely the influence of the Red Queen AI.
Soon, the honed Angels of Glory would face their first mass engagement.
The Sky Pirate Alliance had located Weatheria.
Countless Wavers approached from all directions, scattering pirates on skates and boards like dandelion seeds.
Hiss—whoosh! Jet air roared as they drew near the island.
They didn't know why such thick, leaden clouds now hung over it, or why flashes of green light flickered within.But the order was clear — invade and destroy all mechanical structures.
On the third deck of his flagship, the God of Beist stood tall. The vessel stretched over eighty meters, six decks high — a floating fortress.
"It begins," he said coldly. "Let's teach these scholars what war truly means."
Beside him, Prism, Wind-Rider, and Cloud-Mist all shared the same predatory calm.
They didn't rush to fight — content to watch their subordinates charge ahead.
But as the saying goes — you watch the scenery from the bridge, while others watch you from the tower above.
Ren hovered within the black thunderclouds, lightning spears swirling around him, drinking in endless electricity.
His Shikigami scouts had already relayed details of the approaching fleet. Through Clairvoyance, he confirmed the situation.
Begin the operation. Destroy them all.
Ren's mental command echoed through the network — the cold signal of war.
Few of his crew joined the fight.
Nojiko had exhausted herself overusing her flame systems.
Vivi had no role here, left to act freely.
Shikigami relayed orders to Zoro, delivering a simple plan.
Nami stayed with the Weather Scholars, studying their miraculous weather machines — the source of the storm clouds now spanning the skies.
She would one day master them herself.
But for now — they were merely Sky Pirates.
Ren began charging his ultimate technique while the Angels of Glory took over the battlefield below.
The first strike — a volley.
Angel 001 descended through the clouds, raised her war armament, and aimed at the approaching horde.
To the Angels, Divine Punishment: Type-1 was not an irreplaceable weapon — it was a principle of light and heat.
And in a thunderstorm, lightning itself supplied both.
Thus, all 300 Angels each held a weapon of divine retribution.
"Prepare. Single-shot volley. Output 80%. Maximum lethality. Prioritize targets with high firepower."
As 001's voice rippled through the network, the dark cloud layer erupted in blinding light.
"What the—?"
The God of Beist instinctively looked up.
The once-dim sky now shimmered with countless golden crosses.
A moment later, beams of light pierced the heavens, raining impartial destruction upon the pirates below.
Each golden "sword of judgment" struck with surgical precision, eliminating those wielding captured Divine Punishment weapons.
Then came the second strike.
"Prepare. Full volley. Continuous output 30%. Maximum area suppression."
Calm as ever, 001 issued her command.In her eyes, victory was already decided.
With their war-vision ability, the Angels saw the entire battlefield as if from a god's perspective.
Once again, the black "night" flashed with a constellation of golden crosses.
Dozens of divine blades swept through the pirate armada, their fire columns burning at two thousand degrees Celsius.
Had the power not been limited to 30% for sustained fire, not even ashes would remain.
Even so, hundreds of pirates fell, charred black, plummeting into the sea of clouds.
"Damn it! Those researchers sold the Divine Punishment weapons to someone else?!"
On the flagship, the God of Beist and his lieutenants leapt to their feet, panic rising.
At that very moment, hidden within the thunderclouds, Ren extended his hand.
Six golden wings unfurled behind him, lightning spear gripped tight.
He compressed it — tighter, tighter — until the hundred-meter-wide thunder spear trembled violently.
"Heaven's Wrath — Thunder Judgment!"
The Six-Winged Angel hurled the lance like a god passing sentence.
BOOM!
A blinding pillar of light split the heavens, striking the pirate flagship in an instant.
There was no resistance — the colossal Waver vanished, erased as if wiped clean by an eraser.
Only the radiant column remained, piercing through the clouds.
The released energy formed a blazing hemisphere of lightning and fire, hundreds of meters wide — then exploded outward like a bursting sun.
The ensuing shockwave engulfed everything within six hundred meters.
(End of Chapter)