Rocks' solitary silhouette was eventually swallowed completely by the smoke and flames rising from the island's depths.
He had entrusted everything behind him… to a man he had known for less than half a day.
As the Davie Clan watched his departing figure fade into the chaos, their hearts churned with conflicting emotions.
A cold sorrow flooded every chest.
Where was the road ahead?
No one could see it.
More than anything, there was fear.
Their home shattered.
Their future uncertain.
Rocks' father clenched his fists tightly, nails digging deep into his palms.
He stared unblinkingly toward the direction his son had disappeared, lips trembling—but unable to utter a single curse.
In his clouded old eyes were anger, worry… and regret.
Some clan members stood frozen, eyes empty.
This land—fresh from purification and massacre—felt colder now than ever.
Grief spread silently through the crowd.
Then a voice broke the stillness.
"Stop standing around. Move. I'll get you out of here."
The voice wasn't loud, yet every Davie clansman heard it clearly.
Lucian didn't seem willing to wait even another second.
He straightened his posture.
No extra movements.
Not even a finger lifted.
A thought alone—
Buzz.
In the next instant, a miracle descended.
Every single Davie clansman present—
Men and women, young and old, standing, sitting, or leaning—
Found a golden circle of light suddenly appearing beneath their feet.
"W-What… what is this?!"
"Under my feet—gods above!"
After a moment of stunned silence came screams of sheer panic.
They didn't even have time to react.
A gentle yet irresistible force rose from the golden circles.
"Ahhh—! I'm… I'm flying!"
"Help! I'm floating!"
Amid terrified shrieks, the force lifted them steadily into the air.
One meter.
Two meters.
Ten meters…
Dozens of Davie clansmen floated helplessly above the ground.
They flailed wildly, faces pale, screaming like pigs being slaughtered.
Even Rocks' father and mother were lifted by the divine power.
Axe, who had just been drowning in grief moments ago, stared down at his feet hovering off the ground—then at the golden halo beneath him radiating overwhelming authority.
He slowly raised his head and looked toward the white-masked man in the distance.
His mind went completely blank.
What… what kind of power was this?!
A Devil Fruit?
No.
There was absolutely no Devil Fruit capable of controlling dozens of people simultaneously with such precision.
Haki?
Impossible.
His entire body trembled.
The scrutiny and confusion in his gaze turned instantly into awe and fear.
Rocks… you brat… where the hell did you find someone like this and call him brother?!
Rocks' mother recovered from her initial fear and covered her mouth tightly.
As she watched that calm, detached figure, a spark of hope ignited within her eyes.
Perhaps…
Perhaps this man… could save her son.
Hearts stirred violently.
Floating in midair, Lucian casually waved toward the coastline.
The gesture was effortless.
"Let's go."
Two simple words.
Whoosh—!
A massive force surged from behind.
All the floating Davie clansmen were instantly guided into a neat formation midair.
This airborne formation of dozens followed behind Lucian like a stream of light, racing toward the shoreline.
Wind roared past their ears.
Mountains and valleys rushed beneath their feet.
The surreal experience of flight drew another round of screams.
But this time, fear had lessened.
What remained was stunned numbness.
Lucian clasped his hands behind his back, flying leisurely at the rear of the formation.
His posture relaxed.
What should have been a frantic battlefield evacuation looked like a peaceful stroll through a garden.
He even spared occasional glances toward the raging battle deep within the island.
Flying at the rear, he both guarded and guided.
…
Moments later—
They reached the coastline of God Valley.
Rocks had been right.
The intense fighting inland had drawn away all attention from the World Government and the Navy.
The outer defenses were empty.
At the harbor, a massive Marine battleship sat quietly at anchor.
Its prow bore the snarling visage of a dog's head.
The deck was completely deserted.
Lucian's gaze swept once—and locked onto the target.
Another thought.
The flying formation halted instantly, hovering above the deck.
The clansmen, just recovering from the dizzying flight, barely had time to feel relief before witnessing a decision they would never forget.
Lucian glanced down at the chaotic group below.
He seemed to think lowering them one by one was too troublesome.
So he chose the most efficient—and perhaps most entertaining—method.
He snapped his fingers.
Snap.
A crisp sound.
All the golden circles vanished instantly.
The lifting force disappeared without a trace.
"Huh?"
"Eh—ehhhh—?!"
"Help—THUD!"
"My back—!"
"Whose foot just stepped on my face?!"
Thump.
Crash.
Groans filled the air.
Dozens of Davie clansmen dropped from more than ten meters high, slamming onto the hard deck.
In all kinds of positions.
Some landed on their backs, tears springing from their eyes in pain.
Others face-planted, chewing splinters of wood.
Some unlucky souls crashed directly onto others, rolling into a tangled pile.
The scene became pure chaos—embarrassing beyond words.
This was the most efficient method.
In the face of absolute power, dignity was the cheapest currency.
At the center of the chaos, a figure descended gently.
Feet touching the ground without a sound.
Lucian.
He surveyed the groaning clan members and issued an order in his usual calm tone:
"Anyone know how to steer a ship?"
"You. Go."
The voice wasn't loud—but it carried unquestionable authority.
The groaning clansmen jolted upright, forcing themselves to stand despite the pain.
Among them, several experienced sailors reacted immediately.
Ignoring their injuries, they scrambled forward.
One rushed toward the helm.
Others ran into the control room and engine compartment below deck.
"Quick! Raise the mainsail!"
"Preheat the engine! Move, move!"
"Check the heading—southeast!"
Under the direction of the seasoned sailors, the surviving clan members sprang into action.
Moments later—
Vooooom…
A deep engine roar echoed.
The dog-headed warship trembled as life returned to it.
The massive anchor was raised.
The ship slowly turned.
Carrying a deck full of shaken, exhausted survivors, the commandeered battleship finally departed from the hellish island.
Sea breeze swept across the deck, dispersing the scent of blood.
Everyone turned back, gazing at the sky above the island, painted red by war.
Their hearts were heavy with countless emotions.