Shanks paused mid-bite, lifting his head to look at Shirogai.
The easygoing smile that usually rested on his face faded into something more restrained.
"Hahaha… Shirogai, by 'it' you mean…"
"Of course," Shirogai replied with a faint smile, meeting his gaze. "The one who wove this world into a cage. The one who seeks to control everything and stand above it as its creator."
His voice remained steady.
"The ruler of the Celestial Dragons… Imu."
Shanks' expression shifted, growing more complicated as he stared at him in silence.
As expected, Shirogai already knew.
"According to Imu's design, this world was meant to belong entirely to them," Shirogai continued, as if speaking of something ordinary.
"By their plan, control over the world should have been completed long ago. After all, they arrived here two eras ago, before civilization even took root."
As he spoke, smoke gathered in the air, forming a vivid scene.
A massive circular spacecraft emerged from a smoky moon, drifting toward a nearby planet. It descended and landed atop a towering mountain of red earth.
That very location was where the Red Line now stood, the same place where Mary Geoise rested.
The craft opened, and figures with wings stepped out. Their forms were made of white smoke, their faces covered by round protective helmets. Strange weapons were held tightly in their hands as they surveyed the unfamiliar land.
One of them hesitated, then removed his helmet and inhaled deeply.
After confirming the air was safe, the others followed.
Soon, their cautious stance turned into visible excitement as they looked upon the untouched world before them.
A world that belonged to them alone.
Shanks stared at the scene, his usual composure slipping.
"How do you even know this?"
He had spent years uncovering fragments of this truth, relying on what the Pirate King had left behind, yet even then, his understanding was incomplete.
This was history the World Government had erased.
The ancestors of the Celestial Dragons were not from this world.
They came from the moon.
They were invaders.
This truth had once sparked massive rebellion. Those who learned it rose against the Celestial Dragons, refusing to accept their rule.
But the rebellion was crushed.
Through force and manipulation, the World Government erased everything. Records were burned, civilizations wiped out, and anyone who knew too much was silenced.
The Void Century became a void for a reason.
Only fragments remained, hidden in poneglyphs and carried by a few survivors who lived in fear.
Ohara was one of the many tragedies born from that truth.
And yet Shirogai spoke of it so casually.
"Heh…"
Shirogai showed no reaction to Shanks' gaze. With a flick of his fingers, he sliced the food before him into equal portions from a distance. Plates appeared in the air, catching each piece effortlessly.
The dishes floated toward a table that had been arranged nearby, as if everything obeyed his will.
Above them, the smoke vision continued.
The winged figures began exploring the land, studying plants and animals. Eventually, they encountered the natives.
At first, they tried to share knowledge.
Some of the natives knelt, worshipping them.
Others kept their distance, wary.
Time passed.
The first generation aged and died, leaving behind graves.
The next generation grew, continuing their work.
But something changed.
Their forms darkened.
What was once pure white smoke became murky, then black.
Their expressions twisted, their presence turning oppressive.
"Maybe the first generation never intended to rule," Shirogai said, his tone carrying faint amusement. "Maybe they only wanted to survive and contribute something to this world."
"But their power made them appear as gods."
He gave a slight smile.
"And once that idea took root, it was inevitable."
"The second generation began to question why they should share knowledge with those they saw as inferior. They started dividing the world into nobles and lesser beings."
"By the third generation…"
His voice turned colder.
"They believed they were gods."
In the smoke, the third generation appeared as dark figures.
They slaughtered the natives without restraint.
The ones who once knelt were now cut down mercilessly, their pleas ignored.
Shirogai watched without emotion.
"They stopped being bringers of order and became destroyers instead."
"Of course, resistance followed."
The scene shifted again.
Rebels rose, uniting against them.
But the gap in power was overwhelming.
The rebellion failed.
Still, the will to resist endured.
The smoke world changed once more.
The so called descendants of gods reshaped the planet itself.
The Red Line rose like a barrier, dividing the world into separate regions.
A sphere formed in the air, displaying the planet's structure.
Unlike the current world, the seas were confined mainly around the Grand Line, while land was enclosed within boundaries.
It looked artificial.
Deliberate.
Shirogai pointed to one side of the Red Line.
"This side held the natives and the so called failures, creations they rejected."
His voice carried a trace of disdain.
"They were confined there, left in a barren land where strength ruled everything. Knowledge was restricted, and survival depended on brutality."
He then pointed to the other side.
"Here lived those deemed useful. The ones with special abilities, the servants worthy of standing closer to them."
Finally, his finger rose toward the highest point.
Mary Geoise.
"And they…"
A faint scoff escaped him.
"They stood at the top, calling themselves gods, judging the lives of everyone beneath them."