Perona led the way with the dramatic sigh of a martyr, floating a few feet ahead of the group as they ventured deeper into Kuraigana's heart. The gloomy ruins stretched around them, a graveyard of some forgotten, advanced civilization. Jagged, swirling mountains of strangely fused rock clawed at the perpetual twilight sky, and the air hummed with a latent, metallic energy that made the hair on the back of Bianca's neck stand up. Ember skipped along behind Perona, humming a disjointed nursery rhyme and completely oblivious to the ominous surroundings.
The path was not peaceful. Humandrills, their eyes burning with combative intelligence, launched occasional hit-and-run attacks from the skeletal remains of buildings and the twisted, petrified forest. They were met with swift, casual defense. Aurélie, without even breaking her stride, would deflect a thrown spear with the sheathed Anathema. Souta's ink wolves would materialize to intercept a leaping attacker, dissolving into puddles after their task was done. Kuro's Cat Claws would flash, a blur of seastone that sent simian warriors stumbling back, numb and disarmed. It was a practiced, effortless dance of deterrence.
Charlie, meanwhile, was utterly captivated, his fear replaced by academic fervor. He stumbled over a chunk of oddly smooth, glass-like rock, his eyes wide behind his spectacles. "Miss Perona!" he called out, his voice echoing. "Ahem! If you would be so kind… do you know what transpired here? The state of the landscape is a most unique configuration!"
Perona didn't look back, her voice floating over her shoulder, laced with boredom. "The grumpy man said there used to be some fancy-pants civilization here. But they were always fighting. Ended up blowing their own island to bits. So dramatic." She waved a dismissive hand.
Bianca nodded, kicking a piece of warped metal. "Like, yeah. But what kind of war makes the mountains look like swirly ice cream? This is… weird."
"Precisely!" Charlie agreed, pulling out his notebook and nearly tripping again. "The geological formations suggest immense, focused energy release, but the patterns are chaotic, non-linear! Perhaps they were experimenting with radical energy sources!"
"Like, yeah, maybe," Bianca said, her engineer's mind ticking over. "But that should've been, like, contained, right? Who does open-air experiments with world-breaking energy? I mean, maybe it was something more like…" She trailed off, pondering, her fingers absently tracing the multitool holster on her hip.
Souta, walking silently beside Kuro, glanced at her. "Like what?" he murmured, his low voice barely audible.
Bianca's eyes lit up. "I keep thinking about how our Bubble Porter works. It doesn't, like, actually move faster. It's more like it… makes a bubble that slides through dimensions to get us where we're going."
Kuro looked from Bianca to the impossibly twisted landscape, his strategist's mind attempting to forge the connection.
Charlie nearly squealed with excitement. "How very astute of you, Miss Clark! Multidimensional theory! Of course! The energy signatures, the spatial distortions! It wasn't an explosion of power, but an unraveling of reality itself! A dimensional cataclysm!"
Perona finally spun around, floating backward with an exasperated expression. "What are you even talking about? Dimensions? Bubbles? You're giving me a headache! This is so not cute!"
Ignoring her, Charlie pressed on, his focus on Perona. "The Humandrills! Are they native to this island?"
Perona blinked. "How should I know? They're just here. They're annoying."
Aurélie, who had been listening while keeping a watchful eye on the perimeter, spoke, her voice cool and analytical. "Are you suggesting the creatures are not of this dimension?"
Bianca nodded vigorously. "It's, like, possible! Think about it! Why would a super-advanced civilization lose to a bunch of strong, smart-ish apes? If the apes were, like, here from the start, they would've won, like, way before the people could blow themselves up!"
"The relevance?" Kuro asked, his tone flat, though a flicker of intense interest was in his eyes.
"Oh, just stop talking!" Perona whined, clutching her head. "You're making my head hurt!"
Charlie, however, was undeterred. "The relevance is quite significant! It provides a promising potential discovery! If the fabric of reality is thin here, or layered with… leakage… from other dimensions, then the probability of Miss Clark finding not just the components she needs, but perhaps materials or technologies thought impossible, increases exponentially!"
Bianca's face broke into a grin. "Yeah! So like, I'm wondering what else we might, like, find too!"
Back at the Castle
Mihawk took a slow sip of his rich, blood-red wine. His eyes were closed, his consciousness expanded across the island through his mastery of Kenbunshoku Haki. Every word of their conversation, from Bianca's theories to Perona's complaints, reached him as clearly as if they were spoken in the hall. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk touched his lips.
"Interesting," he murmured to the empty room, his voice a low rumble. "It looks like your friends are more astute than I originally thought, Marya." He took another sip, the smirk lingering. "I should have known you wouldn't be associated with complete idiots."
The game on Kuraigana was deepening. The hunt for simple parts had just become a hunt through the corpse of a civilization that had torn a hole in the world, and the visitors were already piecing together the terrible, fantastic truth.
*****
The silence in the chamber was a heavy, living thing, broken only by the low hum of the light dials and the frantic rhythm of Haruta's own heartbeat in his ears. He took a cautious step, then another, his eyes fixed on the distant platform where Marya and Galit stood watching. His boot hovered over the next tile in the center path, the one adorned with the intricate, swirling design.
He never got to put his weight on it.
The tile, and the entire section of the mosaic path before him, didn't collapse—it simply vanished. One moment it was solid, ancient stone; the next, it was a yawning, silent blackness that seemed to swallow the very light from the dials above.
Haruta's balance, committed to the step, was instantly gone. A strangled gasp tore from his throat as he pitched forward, his arms windmilling wildly against the sudden, gut-lurching pull of gravity. He teetered on the edge for a heart-stopping second, staring down into an abyss that offered no bottom, no sound, no hope.
"Haruta!" Vista's shout was sharp, laced with a rare edge of alarm.
But it was too late. Gravity won. Haruta fell.
The drop was only an inch, maybe two, but it was enough to seal his fate. He braced for the endless plunge.
A sudden, iron-hard grip locked around his wrist, jerking him to a violent, bone-jarring halt. The momentum swung him forward like a pendulum before he was hauled unceremoniously back onto the solid platform. He stumbled, his boots scraping on the safe stone, his chest heaving.
He looked back, his face pale with shock. It wasn't Vista who held him.
It was Riggs.
The lanky blond stood there, one hand casually in his pocket, the other still clamped around Haruta's wrist with a strength that belied his slouched posture. He wore his usual, slightly vacant grin. "Whoa there. That was close."
Haruta yanked his arm back, straightening his jacket with a sharp, embarrassed tug. "I… thanks," he managed, the words tight.
Riggs shrugged, the picture of nonchalance. "Don't mention it."
From the safety of the entrance platform, Dalton stared, his brow furrowed in pure bewilderment. "When did he…? I didn't even see him move."
Vista's eyes, narrow and calculating, never left Riggs. "It appears," he murmured, his voice low enough only for the king to hear, "he is more than he presents himself to be."
Riggs, utterly unconcerned, casually turned his back on the deadly gap and ambled back to the group as if he'd just nipped out for a stroll. "So," he announced, popping the 's'. "That doesn't look like the right path to take."
Vista grunted, his mustache twitching in annoyance at the blindingly obvious statement. His gaze shot back to the ceiling, scanning the intricate three-headed mosaic and the three rivers flowing from the world tree. The center river, straight and true. The swirling, marked by the eagle. The third, a winding, dark path downward, marked by the stark lightning bolt.
"Why do you think that dragon has a weird stripe on it?" Riggs asked randomly, pointing a lazy finger at the serpentine form coiled around the central river.
The question was like a spark to tinder in Vista's mind. His head snapped down, his eyes darting from the dragon on the ceiling to the patterns on the floor. There, on one of the safe tiles near the edge, was the exact same intricate stripe design.
"That's it!" Vista's voice was a low rumble of triumph.
Dalton looked between the ceiling and the floor. "What is it?"
"That's the path!" Vista explained, a thread of excitement in his usually steady tone. "The designs match. Look—the dragon on the ceiling, the one with the stripe. It's like the design on the button, the dragon and the serpent, there must be a connection."
Haruta's frustration melted into eager recklessness. "There's only one way to find out!"
Before Vista could issue a caution, Haruta took a decisive step onto the tile marked with the distinctive stripe. He held his breath. The stone held firm. A grin split his face. He took another step, then another, following the trail of striped patterns that formed a winding, serpentine path across the deadly chasm. In moments, he was across, landing safely on the far platform. He turned, waving back at them with confident, sweeping gestures.
"The stripe!" he called out, his voice echoing in the vast chamber. "Follow the stripe! It's the only safe path!"
Vista let out a slow breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He glanced at Riggs, who was examining his fingernails with great interest. The puzzle was solved, but the mystery of the man who'd solved it first only deepened.
The air in the wide, downward-sloping corridor was still and cold, carrying the scent of wet stone and something else—an arid, metallic whisper, like dust on old copper wires. The only light came from the humming light dials embedded in the ceiling, their milky glow illuminating walls carved with geometric patterns that seemed to shift in the peripheral vision. Underfoot, the polished stone was unnervingly smooth, worn down by centuries of unseen passage.
"The floor's angle is increasing," Galit observed, his voice a low murmur that barely disturbed the heavy silence. His sharp eyes missed nothing. "We're descending deeper into the mountain's heart."
A burst of giggling shattered the solemn atmosphere. Chessa, a splash of color in her patchwork parka, was chasing a gleeful, bouncing Jelly, who ricocheted off the walls with soft bloops, leaving faint, glittery streaks on the ancient stone.
They rounded a corner and stopped before a formidable sight. The corridor ended at a massive, circular door made of a dark, brushed metal. Set into the wall beside it was an intricate panel of gleaming bronze and polished wood, etched with concentric circles of unfamiliar runes that seemed to swim in the dim light.
Galit cocked his head, a spark of recognition in his emerald eyes. "I think I know this technology," he mused, his long neck curving as he studied the mechanism. "It's similar to the old security systems in Sankhara Deep. Not identical, but… related." He looked at Marya. "It's a door."
A faint, dry smirk touched Marya's lips. "How observant of you."
Galit chuckled, a low, warm sound, and moved to the panel. "We need the code to enter. A sequence, most likely."
Marya's gaze, however, was sweeping the small antechamber they stood in. The walls here were not bare; they were lined with narrow, vertical slits—vents—carved just below the ceiling. "This looks more like a chamber, don't you think?" she said, her tone casual but her eyes sharp.
Galit followed her gaze, his own eyes narrowing as he spotted the vents. "Ah. A trap, then." He glanced back at her. "Want to try your mist approach again?"
Marya reached out and placed her palm flat against the dark metal of the door. She jerked her hand back almost instantly, shaking her fingers as if stung. "Sea Prism Stone," she stated, her voice losing its hint of humor. "Looks like someone took Devil Fruit users into account this time." The door would be utterly impervious to her intangibility.
Behind them, Chessa and Jelly continued their chaotic game, their laughter echoing. Jelly bounced off a wall with particular vigor, chirping with joy.
"I could cut it," Marya offered, her hand drifting toward the hilt of Eternal Eclipse.
"That might open the door," Galit countered, his voice grim. "And trigger whatever is behind those vents. Poison gas, perhaps. Or darts. The classics are classics for a reason."
"So then how do we figure out the code?" Marya asked, her golden eyes returning to the complex panel. "Or bypass the entire system?"
"Exactly," Galit concurred. "Can you read the runes?" He stepped aside to give her a clearer view.
Marya leaned in, her brow furrowed. The panel was a series of concentric bronze rings, each inscribed with a different set of symbols. She cocked her head. "Maybe it's not so much a code," she murmured, more to herself than to him. "But more about aligning the symbols."
"What do you mean?" Galit asked.
"I think this turns," she said, her voice gaining certainty. "Like gears. Or a very sophisticated lock."
Just then, the sound of hurried footsteps and labored breathing echoed down the corridor behind them. Vista, Dalton, Haruta, and Riggs rounded the corner, their faces flushed from exertion and the tense puzzle of the chasm.
"Found you," Haruta panted, bracing his hands on his knees.
Marya didn't even turn fully, merely raising a brow in their direction. "Oh, look. You figured out a way to get to the other side. Good for you." Her tone was dismissive, her attention already back on the puzzle.
Vista's jaw tightened. "Just as arrogant and smug as he is," he gritted out, the comparison to her father hanging unspoken in the air.
Marya ignored him, her fingers hovering over the bronze rings. Riggs, curious, wandered over and peered over her shoulder.
It was then that Jelly, in a moment of random, exuberant glee, misjudged a bounce. He ricocheted off a corner of the wall with a startled "Bloop!" and flew through the air, landing squarely on the center of the circular control panel with a wet, splattering sound.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then, everything happened at once.
The gentle hum of the light dials died, plunging them into near darkness save for the faint, panic-inducing glow of a red lens that now shone above the door. A harsh, blaring alarm shattered the silence, a sound like a wounded sea king that echoed painfully in the enclosed space. With a heavy, final THOOM, the door they'd entered through slammed shut, sealing them in. From the vents above came a sharp, rhythmic clacking sound, like gears grinding into motion, and a digital, female voice began to echo through the chamber.
"Sequence error. Containment protocol activated. Self-destruct in T-minus sixty seconds. Fifty-nine. Fifty-eight…"
"What the hell is that?!" Haruta yelled over the blaring siren.
Galit's face was a mask of grim understanding. "I think it's a countdown for us to either input the correct sequence to open the door," he shouted back, his eyes darting to the ominously silent vents, "or… experience the 'or'."
"Or what?!" Vista snapped.
"That's what we were discussing when you arrived!" Galit retorted.
Terror finally seized Chessa and Jelly. Their game forgotten, they scrambled to a corner, huddling together. Chessa buried her face in her knees, while Jelly, trembling, expanded his form to shield her. "P-protect!" he warbled, his voice shaking.
Marya cursed under her breath, her mind racing, trying to block out the blaring alarm and the calm, terrifying countdown. "Fifty. Forty-nine…"
"Marya!" Riggs yelled, pointing frantically at the panel and then back down the hall they'd come from. "Do you think they are connected?!"
"Do I think what is connected?!" she yelled back, her patience fraying.
"That thing!" he shouted, jabbing a finger at the panel. "And the mural of the other thing! There was this dragon thing with a design on it! A stripe!"
The memory flashed in Marya's mind—the intricate mosaic, the serpentine dragon coiled around the river, its body marked with a unique, intricate stripe. The countdown hammered on. "Thirty. Twenty-nine…"
"Well, there's only one way to find out!" she snarled, her hands flying to the bronze rings.
Her fingers, usually so steady, fumbled for a second before finding their grip. She began to spin the concentric circles, aligning the strange runes not to form words, but to recreate the symbol—the three-headed bearded man, the coiled dragon, the specific pattern of the stripe. The metal groaned in protest.
"Fifteen. Fourteen…"
"Come on," Galit urged, his voice tight.
"Ten. Nine…"
With a final, grinding click, the last symbol slid into place. The entire panel glowed with a soft, white light.
The blaring alarm cut off mid-wail.
The harsh red light vanished.
The rhythmic, digital voice paused on "…Two…" and then switched. "Sequence accepted. Containment protocol disengaged."
With a deep, sighing rumble, the massive Sea Prism Stone door began to retract into the ceiling. The door behind them slid open with a quieter hum, revealing the safe corridor.
A collective, shaky sigh of relief filled the sudden silence.
Galit was the first to speak, his voice returning to its usual calm cadence. "I suggest we keep moving," he said, eyeing the now-dark vents, "before something else is accidentally triggered."
Without a word, Marya strode forward through the newly opened doorway, not waiting to see if the others followed. The secrets ahead were far more interesting than the frustrated glares of her pursuers.