Marya stormed out of Aurélie's apartment, the crumpled note still clutched in her fist. The wisteria-draped balcony seemed serene—until the world flipped. Her boots left the ground, and she hovered sideways, Eternal Night drifting lazily out of its sheath. "Oh, come on," she growled, dissolving into mist to snatch her sword. But the mist spiraled like smoke in a hurricane, leaving her tangled in a floating ivy vine. "Gaius, I swear—"
It was then that she realized the chaos wasn't confined to Aurélie's apartment. Across the city, something had dislodged gravity's hold. As Marya wrestled with the vine, a commotion from the dojo caught her attention. She could see Jax and Riggs, their forms tumbling in mid-air as they sparred, oblivious to the bizarre circumstances.
In the training hall, Jax and Riggs clashed blades, sweat flying—until sweat, swords, and they began floating. Jax's three-section staff bonked him on the forehead as he somersaulted mid-air. "Focus, Riggs! Adjust your stance!" he barked, though his legs now pedaled nothing like a flipped turtle.
Riggs, meanwhile, cackled. "THIS IS AWESOME!" He kicked off a wall, katana raised, to "ambush" Jax—only to spin wildly, pants snagging on a ceiling lantern.
Across the city, pockets of pandemonium erupted, each in their own eccentric fashion. The dojo wasn't the only place where chaos reigned supreme.
Bianca's engineering lab became a maelstrom of floating screws, blueprints, and half-built submarine parts. "Like, SERIOUSLY?!" She lunged for a wrench, only to somersault into a cloud of bolts. Her prized prototype engine sputtered, then shot upward, spraying oil in her face. "I'm, like, literally, going to murder Charlie and Zola!"
Meanwhile, in the heart of the city, the marketplace transformed into a surreal carnival. Vendors and customers alike found themselves floating among their wares. A cascade of oranges tumbled from a cart, the citrus orbs bouncing lazily in mid-air. Children giggled, reaching out to grab floating sweets, while their parents flailed, trying to anchor themselves to anything solid.
On the other side of town, in the grand library, books took flight, pages fluttering like sparrows. Scholars struggled to snag their precious volumes, while a librarian, Ms. Thistle, waved her arms frantically, attempting to corral the literary chaos.
Despite the widespread disarray, a peculiar sense of wonder pervaded the city. People momentarily forgot their frustrations, captivated by the spectacle of their everyday lives turned upside down. It was as if the city had collectively stepped into a dream where the impossible was suddenly plausible.
The whimsy of weightlessness was short-lived, as the city's unforeseen levitation soon transformed from amusing to alarming. People began to realize the practical implications of such an upheaval.
Natalie's infirmary was a snow globe of medical charts and bandages. "STOP FLOATING AND STAY STILL!" she ordered, snatching a drifting thermometer. A patient's bed floated by, its occupant gleefully riding it like a raft. "This is not relaxing!" Natalie hissed, juggling IV bags. "EMMET! GET IN HERE AND— Oh, right. Gravity."
Back in the marketplace, an elderly man glided serenely by, playing a flute, his melody weaving through the air like a gentle breeze. A flock of pigeons, now weightless, cooed and fluttered around him, adding to the surreal symphony. Yet amidst the enchantment, a sense of urgency began to grow.
People were beginning to grasp the dire consequences of this bizarre phenomenon. What had started as an otherworldly spectacle was quickly becoming a potential disaster. Natalie's shouts echoed through the infirmary, and Bianca's exasperation in the lab was palpable.
In the communal baths, Vaughn's shower stream curved upward like a fountain. "You've got to be kidding me," he muttered, soap suds orbiting his head. He lunged for a towel, but it flapped away like a seagull. "HARPER! DON'T YOU DARE—"
Harper, floating past the window with a camera snail, gasped. "DARLING, THIS IS ART!"
The lab door exploded inward, propelled by Bianca's grease-stained boot. Behind her, Marya mist-stepped through the wreckage, Eternal Night gleaming with murderous intent. Riggs vaulted over a floating desk, katana in hand, while Jax brought up the rear, three-sectioned staff twitching like an angry serpent.
"CHARLIE! ZOLA!" Bianca roared, her voice cracking. "Like, EXPLAIN THIS RIGHT NOW OR I'LL—"
She froze.
The lab looked like a sea king had vomited a rainbow. The gravity relic pulsed neon pink, suspended mid-air while screws, teacups, and half-eaten sandwiches orbited it like deranged moons. Charlie dangled upside-down from the ceiling, clutching a soggy manual, while Zola stood sideways on the wall, scribbling equations with charcoal on a floating chalkboard.
"Ah! Teamwork!" Charlie waved cheerfully, his glasses sliding off his nose. "We've almost fixed it! The glyphs clearly say 'invoke harmonic resonance'—
"YOU'RE, LIKW, LITERALLY WRITING ON THE CEILING!" Bianca jabbed a wrench at Zola.
Zola sniffed, adjusting her lab goggles. "Perspective is relative. Now, if you'd assist instead of berate—
"Assist?" Marya materialized beside her, mist coiling around her boots. "You turned Knox's mustache into a dirigible."
Riggs poked the relic with his katana. "Hey, does this thing make soup float too? Asking for a frien—
ZZZAP!
The relic flared, and Riggs' pants burst into glitter.
"…Cool," he said, admiring his sparkly legs.
Jax facepalmed. "Focus. Fix. This."
The gravity relic pulsed mockingly, its neon pink glow casting disco-party shadows across the lab. Riggs, now half-glitter, half-regret, saluted. "Aye-aye, Captain Grumpypants!" He lunged for the relic, katana raised. "I'LL STAB IT BETTER!"
"NO STABBING!" Bianca and Jax roared in unison.
Charlie, still dangling upside-down, waved the soggy manual. "The glyphs say 'invoke harmonic resonance'! That means singing!" He cleared his throat, unleashing a Shandorian sea shanty that sounded like a walrus in a wind tunnel: "Ohhhh, skyyyyy—"
Zola hurled a wrench at him. "CEASE THAT ATROCITY! Resonance requires precision!" She slammed her wrench into the relic's core. "LIKE THIS!"
CLANG!
The relic emitted a sound like a gong struck by a drunk giant. Gravity flipped diagonall. Bianca somersaulted into a shelf of beakers, which shattered into a rainbow of sticky goo. "I'M , LIKE, LITERALLY GOING TO, LIKE, MURDER ALL OF YOU!"
Marya, mist coalescing into a very done-with-this-expression, raised Eternal Night. "Stand. Back." She slashed at the relic—but her blade phased through it like smoke. "…Or not."
Jax, looked at Riggs, "Distract it."
Riggs, nose wrinkled, "HOW?!"
Jax, adjusting his stance, "YOUR FACE!"
Riggs grinned, striking a pose. "BEHOLD! THE FUTURE GREATEST SWORDSMAN'S SMOLDER!" The relic pulsed… then spat glitter directly into his eyes. "WORTH IT!"
Charlie, still singing:"—fluffy butts of the seaaa—"
Zola tackled him, sending them both spinning into a wall. "CEASE. CEASE!"
Bianca, now covered in fluorescent slime, crawled to the flux capacitor. "FINE. MY turn." She kicked it with the force of a thousand suns.
BLORP.
The relic burped. Gravity died. Everyone crashed to the floor in a groaning heap.
Charlie peaked from beneath Jax's elbow, "Success…!"
Zola, spitting out a screw, "Success?! YOU SUMMONED A GIANT FLOATING SQUID!"
Marya, staring at the translucent cephalopod nibbling a sandwich, "Again?" The squid blinked, then offered her a tentacle-tipped teacake.
Knox stormed in, his mustache now orbiting his head like a furry halo. "PENROSE LAW #50: NO MORE SQUIDS!" The squid sneezed glitter. Knox, coaxing his mustache back into compliance, "…Law pending."
*****
The frozen winds of the forgotten winter continent howled as the Germa 66 fleet descended, their black-and-orange sails emblazoned with the inverted "66" insignia. King Vinsmoke Judge stood at the helm of the floating fortress, his electromagnetic spear crackling with impatience. The fossilized roots of Yggdrasil loomed ahead—a skeletal giant clawing through ice and time. Sensors aboard the Warship Snail had detected anomalous energy readings here, resonating with the same frequency as Judge's old MADS research on Poneglyph materials.
"Deploy the clones," Judge ordered, his voice metallic beneath his golden helmet. "Type-MST and Type-MSP squads first. Scour the catacombs. Whatever's down there, we take it intact."
The Vinsmoke siblings—Reiju, Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji—descended into the labyrinthine crypts, their Raid Suits glowing faintly in the gloom. The walls were lined with polished black mirrors, their surfaces shimmering like liquid obsidian. Reiju paused, her Poison Pink gauntlets brushing one. A ripple spread, and for a heartbeat, her reflection shifted: a woman in a tattered crown, weeping over a battlefield.
"Ancestors… or lies?" she murmured, her breath frosting the glass.
"Focus," snapped Ichiji, Sparking Red lenses narrowing. "We're not here for ghost stories."
The clones marched ahead, their blank visors scanning for threats. But as they pressed deeper, the mirrors began to react. A Type-MST soldier froze mid-stride, his reflection morphing into a hulking warrior clad in Ancient Kingdom armor. The clone's helmet cracked as his own face contorted—then he collapsed, blood seeping from his eyes.
"Defensive system," Niji growled, Dengeki Blue boots sparking. "Electromagnetic interference. These mirrors aren't just stone—they're alive."
Yonji's Winch Green arm whirred as he shattered a mirror, but the fragments coalesced into a razor-edged storm. "Tch. Persistent garbage."
Judge's voice crackled over their comms: "Retrieve samples. Now."
Reiju moved swiftly, her suit's wings flaring as she scraped shards into a containment vial. The glass writhed, showing flashes: a shadowy figure (Imu's predecessor?) bargaining with a celestial horror, tentacles coiled around a bleeding sun. The birth of Devil Fruits? She pocketed it, her stomach churning.
Then the central chamber yawned open.
A colossal tree root formed a vaulted ceiling, and at its heart stood a mirror pool, its surface still as death. The clones hesitated—until their reflections climbed out, pixel-perfect duplicates wielding Germa weapons. Chaos erupted. Ichiji's energy blasts ricocheted off his doppelgänger's shields. Niji's lightning kicks met equal force. Yonji's winch arm tangled with its twin in a screech of metal.
"Pathetic," Judge snarled, watching via hologram. "Destroy them!"
But the clones were faltering. Each mirrored soldier fought with their own tactics, their own memories. A Type-MSP's reflection grinned coldly as it snapped its original's neck. "They're… us," Reiju realized. "But better."
The pool stirred. A figure emerged—Judge's double, clad in corroded armor, eyes hollow. "You perpetuate the cycle," it intoned, voice like grinding stone. "Conquerors. Tyrants. Will you kneel to your past?"
Judge's spear flared. "I am the future!" He lunged, but his duplicate dissolved into smoke, reforming behind him. A blast of electromagnetic energy sent the king crashing into a mirror.
"Father!" Reiju's doppelgänger seized her throat, its breath poison-sweet. "You could've been kind," it whispered. "But you chose fear."
Ichiji's Sparking Valkyrie beams pierced the chamber, buying seconds. "Fall back!" he barked. "This isn't a fight—it's a trap."
The siblings regrouped, shields overlapping as they retreated. The clones sacrificed themselves, detonating in waves to block the pursuing reflections. Aboveground, the Warship Snail's cannons boomed, shattering the crypt entrance.
As the fleet ascended, Reiju stared at the vial of mirror shards. The visions lingered: Joy Boy's shattered alliance, Sora's face among the dead. Judge adjusted his cracked helmet, already dictating notes to his scientists. "We'll return. With better weapons. With armies."
But Reiju wondered, as Yggdrasil vanished into the blizzard, if some doors were meant to stay sealed.
*****
The Celestial Atrium's astrolabe cast fractured starlight over Nanette Ellington and Knox Penrose as they stood before a trembling scholar. The air still smelled of burnt wiring from yesterday's gravity debacle—a fact Knox emphasized by plucking a stray glitter shard from his handlebar mustache.
"The celestial bodies… they've aligned," the scholar stammered, unfurling a star chart that glowed with bioluminescent ink. "The Mirror Crypts of Yggdrasil… they've manifested. H-here."
Nanette's crimson lips tightened as the scholar pointed to a frozen quadrant deep within Germa 66's territory. The chart flickered, revealing a jagged silhouette: a colossal fossilized tree, its roots clawing into a continent of perpetual winter.
"Yggdrasil," Knox grunted, squinting. "Ain't that the tree from them old Sky Island myths? The one that held up the moons?"
"Not moons," the scholar whispered. "Worlds. The crypts beneath it… the mirrors there… they don't just reflect. They… reveal."
Nanette's piercing eyes narrowed. "Reveal what?"
The scholar swallowed. "The Void Century. As it was… and as it could have been."
The chart projected a hologram of the crypts—polished black mirrors lining every wall, their surfaces swirling like oil on water. In one reflection, a shadowy figure (Imu's predecessor?) knelt before a cosmic horror with too many eyes, tendrils piercing their chest. In another, Joy Boy laughed with giants and fish-men, his dream unbroken… until the image shattered.
"The mirrors are fragments of the same stone as the Poneglyphs," the scholar said. "They show the Ancient Kingdom's fall… and the price paid to bury it."
"Price?" Knox crossed his arms. "What price?"
"A… bargain." The hologram zoomed in on the cosmic entity. "The origin of Devil Fruits? Perhaps. But the central chamber…" The image shifted to a mirror doppelgänger of the scholar, its eyes hollow. "…it forces you to confront yourself. Your role in the world's cycles."
Nanette's polished nails dug into her palms. "Germa 66 controls this region. If they find the crypts—"
"They already have," the scholar interrupted. "Our spies report Judge Vinsmoke's ships converging on the site. He seeks the mirrors' power… to rewrite his lineage's failures."
Mustache's mustache twitched like a live wire. "So we're walkin' into Germa's backyard, dodging killer clones, to stare at creepy mirrors? Sounds like Tuesday."
Nanette turned to the astrolabe, where constellations twisted into a warning: Yggdrasil's roots drink deep of buried truths. "Prepare a team. Marya. Charlie. Vaughn."