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Sky Island—known to the world as Skypiea—drifted above the clouds, resting upon a massive bed of fossilized cloud matter called the Imperial Cumulus, a dense formation that blotted out the sun from the Blue Sea far below. Travelers from the world beneath ascended to this celestial domain via the treacherous and legendary Knock-Up Stream, reaching Skypiea through Heaven's Gate, crossing into the mystic White-White Sea.
Their first destination: Angel Island, a floating haven composed of soft island-clouds. The island shimmered with serene beauty, boasting the tranquil shores of Angel Beach, the colourful bustle of Lovely Street, and various residential and market districts guarded by the ever-vigilant Divine Squad.
Among these clouds stood the home of Skypiea's protector, known to all as 'The God of Skypiea'—Gan Fall. A tall man in his late thirties, with flowing black hair tied into a low ponytail, a thick moustache, and a sharp, pointed beard. Today, he wandered Lovely Street, adorned in his customary garb—a light green robe beneath a white and gold-trimmed mantle, etched with red meander patterns. His posture was upright, hands clasped behind his back, his steps calm, purposeful. He nodded at passing citizens with the gentlest of smiles.
As the guardian deity of the sky, it was his sworn duty to safeguard these floating isles from any danger—be it foreign or domestic.
Just as he was deep in thought, a soldier dashed toward him and saluted sharply.
"My God! We've been contacted by Tina. She reports that visitors are en route—Blue Sea dwellers. They'll arrive at Angel Beach in ten minutes."
Gan Fall's eyes widened slightly.
"People... from the Blue Sea," he murmured.
It was staggering news. The last arrival from the Blue Sea had been an age ago. And now, after so long, outsiders once again sought the skies above. It was both a blessing and a potential threat.
A blessing—because he would finally meet people of the Blue Sea, a rarity in itself if one excluded the Shandorians.
A threat—because he had no idea who they were, or why they'd come.
Gan Fall turned to the soldier and gave a crisp order.
"Gather ten soldiers. Meet me at Angel Beach. We'll greet our guests—stay alert at all times."
The soldier nodded and took off, rallying the Divine Squad.
Moments later, Gan Fall arrived at Angel Beach, flanked by ten Divine Soldiers, each armoured and poised. On the distant horizon, two large vessels breached the cloudline, gliding toward the beach. As they grew closer, the grandeur of the ships became evident.
The Oro Jackson—majestic in its design.
The Moby Dick—colossal, intimidating, regal.
A hush fell over the squad. Two towering figures stood at the figureheads of their respective ships—commanding presences, surrounded by their crews. The visitors disembarked, boots sinking into the soft cloud sand.
Gan Fall stepped forward with measured grace, facing the two strangers.
"People of the Blue Sea," he said, his voice resonant with calm authority, "I, Gan Fall, welcome you all to Skypiea." He bowed low with respect.
Roger and Whitebeard exchanged a glance, raising eyebrows at the greeting, but nodded in kind. Then Robert stepped forward—eyes sharp, poised, and confident.
He bowed as well. "Mister Gan Fall, my name is Robert, and these are my comrades. On behalf of everyone, I deeply appreciate your warm reception, even though we've only just met. I sincerely hope we can get along moving forward."
Gan Fall smiled at his words and gave a nod. "Of course." He glanced at his men. "At ease, soldiers."
The Divine Squad relaxed.
"I must apologize for the tense welcome," Gan Fall continued. "But I hope you understand—I am responsible for the lives of my people. Their safety must always come first."
Robert dismissed the apology with a calm smile. "It's completely understandable. I'm actually an advisor in my home village. I know how heavy leadership can be."
Gan Fall raised a brow, surprised. "Oho! An advisor at such a young age? You must be quite capable."
Robert's grin was humble. "Everything I do is for my people."
Gan Fall chuckled. "Well said, young man. Well said." He patted Robert on the shoulder. "A man who treasures his people is already a greater man than most." Then, turning to Roger and Whitebeard, he added with a warm grin, "Well then, my Blue Sea friends... it seems we're going to get along just fine."
The news of Blue Sea visitors spread like wildfire across Angel Island. Citizens peered from behind cloud-curtained windows, buzzing with excitement and unease. But seeing their God speaking warmly with the outsiders soothed their nerves. Relief turned to joy. Hope stirred.
To celebrate the occasion, Gan Fall organized a grand feast. Cooks from both the Roger Pirates and the Whitebeard Pirates joined hands with local chefs, preparing dishes from both sky and sea.
While preparations were underway, Gan Fall led Roger and Whitebeard on a personal tour, serving as both host and historian.
"Skypiea lies 10,000 meters above the Blue Sea, suspended in the White-White Sea. It exists thanks to pyrobloin particles and refined cloud technology." He gestured toward a map board planted at a crossing. "We place maps at every junction for ease. You see, there are two sea layers: the White Sea at 7,000 meters, and the White-White Sea above."
He then guided them to a higher district of Angel Island, stopping at the edge of a vast cloud cliff.
"Over 1,100 years ago, a city named Shandora was built on Jaya Island in your Blue Sea. Four hundred years ago, a great undersea eruption—what we call the Knock-Up Stream—sent a chunk of Jaya flying into the sky. That land became what we now call Upper Yard—our sacred land."
He paused, eyes distant.
"Sadly, it also sparked conflict. The Shandians, rightful natives, wanted their homeland back. But we Skypieans, scattered across the skies, saw Upper Yard as divine. This misunderstanding led to centuries of war between us."
As they walked back toward Lovely Street, Gan Fall continued.
"We Skypieans are a peaceful people—wings on our backs, technology built from clouds. Here, Vearth—soil—is rare and sacred. We use cloud dials for communication, combat, and day-to-day needs."
They stopped at a crossroad.
"We live under a religious theocracy. Our leaders are called 'Gods'. Our faith revolves around heaven, angels, and the divine. We believe living on Sky Island brings us closer to the original God and our creators." Gan Fall ended with a sincere smile.
"That's something else..." Roger muttered in awe.
Whitebeard nodded beside him. "Who would've thought Skypiea had such depth."
Robert, meanwhile, had been scribbling everything into his logbook. He looked up and asked, "Mister Gan Fall, if I'm not mistaken, there must be a golden bell somewhere in Upper Yard. The bell of Shandora."
Gan Fall rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Yes, the golden bell should still be there—but it's protected by the Shandorians. They guard their history with utmost devotion." He sighed. "One day, I hope we can reconcile and live in harmony."
Roger patted his shoulder. "Don't lose heart, my friend. If there's conflict, there's always a solution. Sometimes, you just need patience."
Gan Fall smiled, moved. "Thank you, my friend. I truly hope your words come true."
Then he noticed Robert and Whitebeard exchanging amused looks, both pointing at Roger.
"When did you get smarter!?" they asked in unison.
A vein popped on Roger's forehead.
"WHAT THE HELL IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN!?"
And just like that, the three of them were at it—bickering and teasing like old friends reunited. Gan Fall simply watched the scene with a quiet chuckle on his lips.
Yes... this was the beginning of something special. A long, enduring friendship.