When facing someone as arrogant as Enel, the best approach was always the element of surprise.
And to achieve that, speech itself had to be restrained.
The reason was simple—Enel was a natural-born genius within the domain of Observation Haki. Even without systematic training, he had awakened that ability.
By merging his Observation Haki with the powers of the Rumble-Rumble Fruit, he could expand his senses to cover the entirety of Angel Island.
Within his perception range, sound waves could be captured and converted into precise coordinates.
In the original timeline, when Conis had cried out, "You must escape!", Enel had heard her from several kilometers away and immediately struck her location with lightning.
Simply put, the lightning Enel commanded existed on a level beyond the thunder system Ren controlled.
That was the unreasonable power of a Devil Fruit.
Thus, upon landing on Skypiea, one had to watch every word; caution in speech was far more crucial than caution in action.
After a brief meeting, the Enlightenment began sailing toward the cloud island ahead.
Ren stood at the bow deck, his gaze distant and thoughtful.
He was considering something.
If I could obtain the Rumble-Rumble Fruit, my thunder system would receive an immense upgrade.
Whether I eat it or Nami does—no, it's better if Nami eats it.
The Weather Woman combined with the Rumble-Rumble Fruit... what kind of monster would that create?
Even I can't help but look forward to it.
But the transfer mechanism of Devil Fruits makes no sense at all. Even Vegapunk hasn't figured it out.
Still… perhaps I could try making a wish, and maybe win an item capable of extracting it? The Golden Roulette should be strong enough to handle that sort of thing.
But in the end, that's just my own speculation.
For once, Ren found himself uncertain. Money, on the other hand, was the least of his problems.
The crew's joint account, Nami's funds, and even Nojiko's savings—
Even Zoro would willingly contribute for the sake of his comrades.
They could easily pool together one or two hundred million.
What truly mattered was whether they could actually draw such a prize.
After all, Ren didn't even know if such a thing existed.
Either way, the Enlightenment finally reached Angel Island.
Angel Island's entire operation revolved around two systems.
One was the legal structure represented by the Priests—a system excessively hostile to outsiders.
They imposed endless so-called "laws" to extort fines.
Most of them were absurd to the point of comedy.
For example—
If you were attacked by a sky beast on a cloud beach and defeated it, a squad of White Berets would appear to fine you "in the name of the law."
Or if you ordered a bowl of noodles—if it was a large bowl, you'd be taxed for using one.
Like now—
Inside a restaurant along Angel Island's Lovely Street, a group of pirates from the Blue Sea glared furiously at the sudden arrival of the White Beret troops.
"This is a large bowl," one of them said flatly. "You'll need to pay the large-bowl tax to use it."
"This is outrageous!" the pirate captain roared. "We've been here less than a day, and you've already charged us more than a dozen ridiculous taxes. This is robbery!"
His hand tightened on his sword hilt, clearly on the verge of a fight.
"Sir, are you attempting to break the law?"
The leader of the White Berets—McKinley—narrowed his eyes and motioned behind him with a wave.
Expressionless Divine Soldiers poured into the restaurant entrance, armed with peculiar bows fitted with cloud-shell arrows.
Again… How long must these days continue? The restaurant owner's face turned pale as he slipped into the back room to prepare—because no one could defy the will of God.
As expected, battle erupted inside the restaurant.
The Blue Sea pirates were no pushovers; their captain was a skilled swordsman who could unleash flying slashes.
But clearly, the high-altitude environment worked against them.
They could only exert half their true strength at best.
At that level of suppression, even Tyson would turn into a weakling.
Boom!
Cloud arrows exploded, wrecking the entire restaurant. Only the pirate captain and a few subordinates managed to slash their way out.
They fled in disarray.
The White Berets suffered losses too; McKinley immediately called for reinforcements.
During that short gap, the restaurant owner slipped away, moving deftly through the twisting alleys until he found his targets.
"H-How did you find us!?" The pirate captain gripped his blade warily, ready to strike at a word.
"Don't misunderstand—we're not enemies. I just want to help you escape this place."
"Ha? Don't joke with me! The Divine Soldiers of Skypiea are chasing us down, and you're not even hiding—you want to help us?"
"It does sound strange, but—"The owner's expression darkened. "—You've noticed it too, haven't you? This country's laws make no sense."
"The large-bowl tax is beyond insane," one of the pirates muttered. "I've never seen a place with so many meaningless taxes. Living here… doesn't it drive you mad?"
"In fact, all those taxes exist solely to target outsiders."
The owner forced a bitter smile. "Every time something like this happens, my shop gets wrecked. I can't stand it anymore. That's why I'm helping you. You should leave quickly."
"…How?" the captain asked, slowly lowering his blade.
"I can summon an Express Lobster for you. It'll carry your ship toward land. Once you cross over, you'll find a path to leave this country."
The owner's voice grew urgent. "If you trust me, act quickly. The White Berets will surround this area any moment now."
The pirates exchanged uneasy looks. Thinking of the relentless Divine Soldiers and the unseen Priests, the captain gritted his teeth and agreed.
With the owner's help, they retrieved their ship.
Then, just as before, the Express Lobster clamped onto their hull and launched them toward the "land."
"Farewell!" The owner waved from a cliffside. Once his hand fell, his expression turned grim.
That land ahead had no exit—only the Four Trials of Death.
The Trial of the Swamp (50% survival rate), ruled by Priest Gedatsu.
The Trial of the Ball (10%), ruled by Priest Satori.
The Trial of the String (3%), ruled by Sky Knight Shura.
And the Trial of Iron (0%), ruled by Priest Ohm.
Those four Priests were the mightiest beings in the Land of God aside from God himself.
Those pirates who couldn't even defeat the White Berets… were surely doomed.
"God…" He almost prayed, then stopped—because this very nightmare was the will of the current God.
He swallowed the prayer and left in silence.
When the previous God still reigned, Angel Island hadn't been like this. But no one could defy divine will.
That contradiction tore at the hearts of Angel Island's people.
By Enel's command, they had to lure outsiders into the trials. Yet they weren't mindless zealots; many hesitated.
Their kindness hid thorns. And that, ironically, was the deadliest kind.
If Ren had been here, he would have quoted a saying from his past life—
"True saints and true villains are rare. Most people are simply ordinary. They drift with the current… until the moment survival demands they bare their fangs."
And that—was the most frightening part.
"That owner was really kind,"the pirate captain said aboard the Express Lobster, once they were sure they'd left the island's clouds behind. "If I ever get the chance, I'll thank him."
"He really helped us out," his first mate agreed.
Soon, their ship reached a vast landmass.
But—
The Express Lobster overdid its throw, slamming the ship against a cliff base.
The bow shattered, tossing everyone onto shore.
"Damn lobster! Next time I see you, I'm turning you into soup!"
The captain cursed, rallying his men as they moved inland to scout.
At that moment—
High above the vast land of Upper Yard, within the green temple supported by towering vines, a man seated upon the shrine opened his eyes.
He wore a white turban, his earlobes long and pierced with gold. His upper body was bare, revealing four massive golden drums mounted on his back. Golden rings adorned his fingers; a staff of pure gold was planted before him. His pants were balloon-shaped, and his bare feet wore toe rings.
The God of Skypiea—Enel!
"More toys delivered to my doorstep," Enel murmured.
His gaze stretched across kilometers, perceiving the intruders on the island.
Too weak—unworthy of his hand.
He'd let the Priests handle them.
Then, shifting his focus toward the cloud port, he murmured, "New visitors have arrived… but Amazon hasn't reported anything?"
"Trouble? Deceit, violence… or something else? Looks like some interesting guests have come."
Moments later—across four directions of Upper Yard, the Priests received the message.
"Another batch of challengers?"A knight astride a giant bird grinned coldly, spear gleaming. "Seems my days won't be dull for a while."
"Who are you?" a terrified pirate stammered.
"Ahhh!" A scream tore through the forest, scattering birds into the sky.
"Finish this batch quickly. The next trial group will arrive soon."
"Eight of them? I wonder how long they'll last."
"Too few. Not enough to go around," another Priest muttered.
All across the land, similar words and clashes erupted—and soon, the forests of Upper Yard fell silent once more.
The shattered pirate ship lay stranded on the shore, deathly still.
Then—ghostly figures rose from the deck and drifted swiftly toward the forest of Upper Yard.
So it's begun?
Far away, walking along Lovely Avenue of Angel Island, Ren received the faint report through his Shikigami.
Ahead of him, a kindly middle-aged man was leading the way.
"My cooking is the best on this island!" The man beamed, leading Ren's group into a restaurant along Lovely Street.
A few Skypieans in island garb were hauling out piles of debris.
But upon closer look, the debris seemed to match the restaurant's own décor—same material, same design.
Ren frowned slightly. Remodeling?
Following the man inside, he found the small restaurant spotless, freshly cleaned.
"Take a seat! Have a look at the menu," the man said cheerfully, rubbing his hands together like a hardworking, honest shopkeeper.
Everyone looked to Ren instinctively, waiting for his decision.
"Order whatever you like," he said, shrugging and taking a seat.
Skypiean cuisine came in many forms—far more than just seafood rice.
One item caught Ren's interest: cloud noodles.
Made from processed cloud, it was very different from Blue Sea noodles.
Ren ordered a bowl, and the others began ordering as well.
"One large seafood platter," Zoro decided quickly—he needed food before any coming battle.
"I'll have what Ren's having," Nami said, sitting beside him.
Nojiko and Vivi chose other dishes. Urouge stood guard near the door like a silent sentinel.
As for Robin and Karasu—they were no longer traveling with Ren's group for the moment.
The chef worked fast.
Two steaming bowls of cloud noodles were placed before Ren and Nami before the chef hurried off to prepare the next course.
"Mmm! It's delicious—like fluffy clouds with bounce!" Nami exclaimed, her words half-nonsense but full of joy.
That drew Nojiko's interest.
"Maybe we can get the recipe later, pick up some Skypiea ingredients, and make it ourselves?"
"If it's a secret recipe, they might not sell it," Vivi mused.
"Can't hurt to ask. Maybe later," Nojiko said casually.
Then—
"Who's there?"
Urouge's sharp voice came from the doorway.
Everyone turned—and saw a group of men in uniform with white berets enter.
"We are the White Beret Security Force of Angel Island," one stepped forward. "I am Captain McKinley."
A plain-looking Skypiean man glared at Urouge. "Are you obstructing law enforcement, outsider?"
"Let him in," Ren said calmly. "This is a restaurant—anyone can enter."
"Yes, Captain." Urouge stepped aside silently.
McKinley cast him a wary glance before leading his men inside for the second time that day.
He swept his eyes across the room, then pointed at the large bowls on Ren's table.
"You're using large bowls. A large-bowl tax must be paid to use them."
At the counter, the restaurant owner froze mid-motion, quietly setting the seafood platter back into the kitchen.
Well, that's that…This batch's fate will be worse than the last—they won't even finish their meal before the fight starts.
Still, at least his quota was met. He wouldn't be punished as an example this month.
Seafood platter… guess I'll eat it myself. Sorry, green-haired guy.
As that thought crossed his mind, a puzzled voice reached his ears.
"Oh?"
Ren raised his head, eyes narrowing slightly as he fixed his gaze on McKinley's arrogant face.
"Say that again."
(End of Chapter)