The old lion's figure fell away, vanishing into the sea of clouds below.
The wind still howled, but it no longer cut like knives—only the cold remained.
Zaraki lowered his gaze to the two famous swords embedded in the cracked rock. The blades of Oto and Kogarashi retained the old man's warmth and the lingering pressure of his Haki. The edges were covered in gaps and notches, left from their clashes with Sandai Kitetsu.
"Thanks." Zaraki's voice was hoarse.
He reached out with a trembling hand and grasped the hilts. A weight traveled up his arm and spread through his body—more than just the weight of forged steel.
The moment his fingers tightened around the hilts, the translucent blue panel flickered in the corner of his vision.
[Defeated the legend of the old era, Golden Lion Shiki. Witnessed the fall of a tyrant.]
[Kenpachi Zaraki Template Synchronization Rate increased...]
'Oh? How much this time?'
The thought had barely crossed Zaraki's mind when the rock beneath his boots cracked open.
Crack—Rumble!
With the loss of Shiki's Fuwa Fuwa no Mi power, physics reclaimed dominion over the sky.
The floating islands lost their ability to defy gravity.
Fissures spread across the land. Rocks broke away, and soon the foundation began to collapse.
The feeling of solid ground vanished, replaced by weightlessness.
"...Damn."
Zaraki only had time to utter a single curse before falling alongside the disintegrating rock layers.
The wind in his ears turned into a shriek, the airflow distorting his face.
Around him, falling boulders and palace debris—some larger than warships—collided in mid-air as they plummeted toward the sea of clouds below.
If he hit the ground at this speed, even with his Kenpachi Zaraki's template, his body would be reduced to pulp.
There were no points to leverage, only chaotic air currents.
Zaraki's heart pounded in his chest. He tried to grab a nearby falling rock, but it was useless—everything was in free fall, leaving no way to gain leverage.
He had to slow down.
His instincts screamed a warning.
The sense of danger felt even greater than when he faced the Golden Lion. Zaraki gritted his teeth, his gaze fixed on the twin swords in his hands.
'If brute force could split the sea and carve apart the sky... then it could tear through the air itself too.'
"Stop... now!"
Zaraki twisted his torso in mid-air, assuming an awkward stance.
The golden aura within him surged, pouring into Oto and Kogarashi. The two famous swords erupted with a blinding golden light.
Zaraki aimed the broad sides of the blades downward, unleashing his raw power in a desperate attempt to create reverse propulsion.
Hiss—!
The blades scraped against the rushing air, emitting a piercing noise.
The high-density Reiatsu and atmospheric resistance collided, generating heat that turned the blades a glowing red.
The resistance made the bones in his arms creak, as if they were about to be torn from his shoulders.
Pain pierced his heart, but his descent slowed.
'It worked.'
Zaraki kicked apart a falling rock, slowing his speed further.
He sliced through an air current, decelerating once more. Even so, the speed of his fall remained rapid.
The cloud layer below expanded—a dazzlingly white sea.
Before Zaraki could react, that white sea slammed into him with a crushing force.
Plop!
The impact sounded muffled and dull.
Zaraki felt as if he had crashed at high speed into a pile of cotton, with no icy seawater flooding his mouth and nose.
The recoil jolted his internal organs, and a mouthful of blood surged to his throat.
His body penetrated three or four layers of clouds before crashing onto a somewhat solid surface.
"Cough, cough, cough..."
Zaraki lay sprawled in a crater, surrounded by damp, white, cotton-like matter.
He tried moving his fingers, confirming his bones weren't shattered, before struggling to prop up his upper body.
'Where is this?'
Looking around, it was an endless expanse of pure white cloud sea.
The wreckage of Golden Lion's floating islands scattered across this cloud sea—some pieces burning, others half-sunken.
The remnants of the main island were embedded diagonally into a nearby cloud mountain.
Zaraki wiped the sweat off his face, grabbed the twin swords, and staggered to his feet.
The sensation underfoot felt unusual—soft yet weight-bearing, as if stepping on high-density gel.
The air felt thin, and each breath made his lungs ache.
"White Sea..."
As a transmigrator, the term quickly surfaced in Zaraki's mind.
'Lucky! If I had fallen directly into the Blue Sea ten thousand meters below, I probably would go meet Roger in the afterlife.'
This was Skypiea, the land of miracles ten thousand meters above sea level.
Just then, his Kenbunshoku Haki detected something unusual.
It was a fervent sensation.
Zaraki frowned, held his breath, and concealed his presence in the shadow of a falling rock fragment.
Through a crevice in the rock, he saw a group of people wearing animal hides with small wings on their backs rushing out from the jungle onto a distant white beach.
Their skin was dark, adorned with tribal totems, and they carried spears and bazooka-like weapons.
The burly leader had red war paint smeared on his face and fierce eyes.
But he wasn't looking at Zaraki—he was staring intently at the rock fragments that had fallen from the sky—the pieces of Golden Lion's islands, bearing rich soil and green trees.
"Vearth! It's Vearth!"
"This is the ancestors' blessing! Such vast Vearth!"
These seemingly ferocious warriors threw down their weapons and knelt before the smoking ruins.
Tears welled in their eyes, and some buried their faces in the dirt, greedily inhaling its scent.
The burly leader raised his hands toward the sky and roared, "This is a miracle! Only the true God of War can reclaim such vast Vearth for the Shandia Tribe!"
Zaraki tightened his grip on the sword hilts.
'Vearth. Soil.'
He remembered—for a tribe living high up in the clouds, soil was more precious than gold.
But these people's reactions seemed far too fervent.
Zaraki looked down at his tattered, blood-soaked clothes, then at the two famous swords in his hands—both carrying the lingering pressure of the man who had wielded them for a lifetime.
If he were discovered right now as the creator of this miracle, would he be treated as a benefactor or an invader?