"You said you'd let me go if I fired!"
Pagaya's voice trembled, his eyes locked on Ross in sheer terror.
"What I said was, you shot your friend—so now I'm keeping you from the Upper Yard."
Ross's smile remained gentle as he repeated himself calmly. With a casual flick of his finger, he sent the bullet Pagaya had fired spinning back toward him.
Thwip!
The sound was soft, like a whisper from the grave. The bullet streaked through the air faster than the eye could follow, piercing Pagaya's heart in an instant—the exact spot where he'd wounded Conis.
"First off, you didn't kill your friend," Ross continued, his words carrying to every stunned Sky Islander in the square. "Second, I hate that you tried to shoot her—hate it with every fiber of my being. And finally, you're a traitor to Sky Island. If Conis hadn't spoken up, you'd all be dead right now. No survivors."
Pagaya slumped to the ground like a broken puppet, his body twitching once before going still. Stella stepped forward quietly and retrieved the platinum pistol from his limp hand. She'd clean it before handing it back to Ross.
That was the end of Pagaya.
Ross turned to Conis, who stood frozen, her expression unreadable. He nodded with quiet satisfaction. She'd seen the truth now—Sky Island wasn't worth her blind loyalty anymore. She'd protect it, sure, but never with the same innocent fire.
"Let's move," Ross said softly, reaching out to brush a hand through Conis's golden hair. His touch was tender, like a lover's, snapping her back to the moment. "To that sacred place you mentioned."
Conis exhaled shakily, avoiding the crowd's frozen stares and Pagaya's corpse. She turned and led the way toward Upper Yard without another word.
Pagaya had sealed his own fate with his cowardice. Even Conis could see Ross didn't give a damn about their lives. It all came down to them—whether they fit his plans or not. If Pagaya had rebelled out of defiance, she'd have respected him more. But he'd only been scrambling to save his own skin.
"Gion, on your feet!" Ross called, cradling a drowsy Sora in his arms as he followed Conis.
"Coming!"
Gion flashed a grin and vaulted down from the towering stone idol she'd been perched on. The moment her boots hit the ground, the statue groaned in protest. Cracks spiderwebbed across its surface, racing upward with sharp snaps. Under the wide-eyed horror of the Sky Islanders, the revered effigy toppled in a thunderous crash, shattering into rubble and kicking up clouds of dust.
By the time the echoes faded, Ross and his group were gone.
"Aren't you worried they'll stir up trouble back there?" Gion asked, glancing over her shoulder with mild curiosity as they walked.
She wasn't expecting a full uprising—not from this lot. But after that display, it seemed impossible they wouldn't at least think about fighting back.
Ross chuckled. "Nah. They won't lift a finger until they see how this plays out."
He'd seen it a hundred times: folks too broken by fear to act. Survival meant blending in, dodging the storm. When disaster hit those around them, their first instinct wasn't solidarity—it was blame.
"Why'd they pick on you?"
"If you hadn't crossed paths with 'em..."
"You're the bad luck charm here."
No one escaped unscathed in an avalanche. Besides, with dozens of his crew scattered across the island—not to mention powerhouses like Moira and Stella—watching ten thousand sheep was child's play. What had just gone down in the square proved it. Apart from Conis, not a single Sky Islander had the guts to resist. Even outnumbering Ross's group a hundred to one, they'd never dream of it. And they weren't even strong enough to make it matter.
Gion shrugged. "Fair enough. If things get dicey, they can handle it anyway."
She hadn't given it much thought—just tossing the question out there. Back on Angel Island, she'd faced a few scattered holdouts, mostly from the God's Guardians and divine soldiers. But the everyday Sky Islanders? They were eerily compliant, like they'd never known anything but obedience.
Round them up in the square? They'd shuffle right over, no questions asked. No fear that the strangers were herding them for an easier massacre.
It reminded her of Alabasta. If they'd pulled something like killing King Cobra in public there, the streets would've erupted in rebellion. That's why Ross had played it soft in Alabasta—diplomacy over the boot. She'd heard him explain it once, but seeing the contrast here drove it home.
"Um... miss? Can I ask you something?"
Conis bit her lip, stealing a cautious glance at Gion. Her eyes held a flicker of hope, like she was testing the waters.
The two hadn't bothered hiding their chat from her, and from Gion's easy tone, Conis could tell she wasn't the monster Ross seemed to be. Kinder, at least—less unpredictable.
But the fresh memory of that divine soldier's execution lingered, making her hesitate. Gion's casual banter with Ross screamed high status, too. This might be Conis's one shot to learn something useful—for herself, for Sky Island's future.
Asking Ross directly? His aura alone made her chest tighten. No way she'd risk it.
—
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