The ethereal beauty of Angel Island was a disarming facade, a paradise carved from fear. The streets, paved with springy, solid cloud, wound between buildings of flowing, pearlescent architecture adorned with mother-of-pearl and chiming shells.
The air itself seemed to hum with a latent energy, a constant, subtle reminder of the Logia user who claimed dominion over it all. For the crew of the Sea Scourge, it was a landscape both alien and captivating.
It didn't take long for the familiar dynamic to reassert itself. Nami's eyes, which had been wide with awe, quickly sharpened with a merchant's calculating gleam as they passed stalls displaying exquisite sky-island fabrics, delicate dial-work, and jewelry crafted from unknown, luminous metals.
"Captain," she said, her voice taking on that particular tone of irresistible persuasion. "A change of clothes would be prudent. We need to blend in, at least a little. And look at these materials! I've never seen anything like them."
Robin offered one of her calm smiles. "Cultural immersion often begins with sartorial adoption. It would be a valuable opportunity to learn more about Skypiean society from its artisans."
Isabella, ever practical, nodded. "Our current attire does mark us clearly as outsiders. A degree of camouflage could be tactically advantageous."
"Come on, Ragnar. You can't expect us to pass up a shopping trip in a literal sky city." Nojiko simply grinned, linking her arm with Nami's.
Ragnar, who had been observing the flow of fearful citizens with a detached analytical eye, let out a nearly imperceptible sigh. He knew this dance. Resisting was a futile expenditure of energy that would only lead to more protracted negotiations.
With a curt nod, he allowed himself to be steered away from his study of the island's defensive layout and into the bustling, if hushed, marketplace.
The four women descended upon the stalls with a focused intensity that could rival any naval battle plan, examining fabrics, bartering with nervous shopkeepers, and generally causing a ripple of bewildered excitement in the otherwise subdued atmosphere.
This left the other three members of the crew to their own devices. Zoro, Kuro, and Bartolomeo stood together, a trio of formidable power looking distinctly out of place amidst the delicate beauty.
"Priests," Zoro grunted, his savage like eyes scanning the elevated pathways and distant, temple-like structures.
"The captain said this 'god' has priests. They're supposed to be strong, right?"
"Indeed. The enforcers of this celestial dictatorship. It would be… informative… to test their mettle. To see what passes for strength in this cloud-bound kingdom." Kuro adjusted his glasses, a predatory smile playing on his lips.
"Anything for you, Zoro-senpai! Let's go find these holy guys and show 'em what real power looks like! Ragnar-sama said no Haki, but we don't need it to crush a few flying fakes!" Bartolomeo's face split into a wide, unhinged grin.
Their intent was clear. While the others shopped, they would hunt. They moved with purpose, leaving the main settlement behind and heading towards the wilder, more forested regions of the island, where the dense, candy-floss-like trees and strange rock formations of solidified cloud offered perfect ambush territory.
They didn't have to search for long.
They were crossing a wide clearing when four figures descended from the sky, landing before them with practiced, arrogant grace. These were Enel's priests, each radiating a distinct brand of menace.
"I am Ohm, Priest of Iron," declared a large, stern man with a pet holy fox, Shura, perched on his shoulder. He held a long, heat-bladed sword as he confidently looked at the trio.
"Gedatsu, Priest of Ball," said another, his speech slurred and his movements oddly clumsy, yet his hands were covered in explosive Impact Dials.
"Satori, Priest of Ordeals," announced a fat, jovial-looking man with a grotesque, permanent smile, flanked by his two brothers, Hotori and Kotori. His entire body was a network of Cloud Dials, making him a master of tricky, indirect attacks.
The fourth, a slim, effeminate man with a long braid, simply smirked. "I am Shura, Priest of String. You illegal trespassers have the honor of being our entertainment today. You will submit to the Ordeals and face divine judgment."
Zoro's hand was already on the hilt of Wado Ichimonji. "We're not here for your games," he said, his voice dropping to a low growl. "We're here for a fight."
"Judgment is a two-edged sword, priest. You seem woefully unprepared to wield it." Kuro's Cat's Claws slid silently from his sleeves.
"You wanna play? Let's play! But we're making the rules!" Bartolomeo cracked his knuckles, a barrier already shimmering faintly at his fingertips.
The battle erupted without further ceremony. It was not a contest; it was a demolition.
Zoro moved against Ohm. The Priest of Iron swung his hot blade with crushing force, but Zoro didn't parry. He flowed around it, his movements a blur of impossible angles.
Wado Ichimonji flashed, not with the black sheen of Armament Haki, but with pure, peerless skill. He didn't try to break the iron cloud sword; he targeted its wielder. A swift, precise slash severed the strap of Ohm's shield.
A second flick of the blade cut the cord connecting him to his Cloud Dial-powered "Iron Cloud." Before Ohm could even comprehend the speed, Zoro was inside his guard, the pommel of Sandai Kitetsu smashing into his jaw with a sickening crack. Ohm crumpled, his divine authority shattered in less than ten seconds.
Kuro engaged Gedatsu. The Priest of Ball lobbed glowing orbs of energy, but Kuro was a phantom.
Using his Shakushi technique, he became a whirlwind of motion, the bladed claws of his weapon deflecting the balls with sharp, metallic pings, sending them harmlessly into the cloud-trees where they detonated with muffled thumps.
Gedatsu, relying on his Dials and his bizarre, unpredictable movement, was utterly outclassed by Kuro's cold, analytical precision. Kuro feinted left, then dropped low, his claws slicing through the straps holding Gedatsu's Impact Dial gloves.
As the priest stared dumbly at his now-useless hands, Kuro delivered a devastating kick to his solar plexus, driving the air from his lungs and sending him flying backward into a tree, where he slumped, unconscious.
Bartolomeo faced Satori and his brothers. The fat priest laughed, creating a maze of cloud walls and launching surprise attacks with his Cloud Dials. "You cannot win! My Mantra sees all your moves!"
"Mantra? Don't make me laugh!" Bartolomeo cackled. He didn't try to navigate the maze. He simply raised his hands. "Barrier Barrier Pistol!" A massive, invisible wall shot forward, plowing through Satori's cloud constructs as if they were smoke. Hotori and Kotori lunged from the sides, but Bartolomeo didn't even look at them.
"Barrier Barrier Ball!"
Two spherical barriers instantly formed around the charging brothers, trapping them like flies in amber, their fists and feet pounding uselessly against the impenetrable walls.
Satori's eyes bulged, his Mantra telling him the attack was coming but offering no way to avoid it. The barrier fist slammed into his bloated stomach, lifting him off his feet and sending him crashing down in a heap, his grotesque smile finally wiped away.
Shura, the Priest of String, watched in stunned horror as his comrades were dismantled with insulting ease. He mounted his giant bird, Pierre, and took to the air, firing razor-sharp strings of iron cloud down at them.
"You monsters! Face the wrath of God!"
Zoro merely looked up, unimpressed. He sheathed Wado and drew Sandai Kitetsu and Yubashiri.
"Three Thousand Worlds." He didn't leap. He simply swung. The air pressure slash wasn't meant to hit Shura; it was aimed at Pierre's wings.
The compressed air sliced through the cloud-stuff of the bird's pinions, sending it into a spiraling, squawking nosedive.
Shura was thrown from his mount, landing hard just in front of a smirking Bartolomeo, who placed a barrier-encased foot on his chest, pinning him to the ground.
In under two minutes, all four of God Enel's chosen priests lay defeated, broken, and humiliated. Not a drop of Armament Haki had been used. It was a victory of sheer, overwhelming skill, speed, and power over gimmicks and false divinity.
…..
High above, in the grand hall of his temple, Enel observed it all through his Mantra. His usual expression of lazy, omnipotent boredom first shifted to mild interest, then to sharp annoyance, and finally to a cold fury.
The lazy rhythm of his fingers tapping the arm of his throne stilled. His priests, his enforcers, the symbols of his power on Angel Island, had been crushed like insects. These Blue Sea rats were stronger than he had estimated.
His body began to crackle with blue energy, the air in the temple growing heavy with ozone. He would smite them himself. A lesson in divine wrath was in order. He would reduce that entire clearing to glass and ash.
But just as he was about to unleash his judgment, his expanded senses picked up another disturbance. A familiar one.
A group of warriors, fueled by generations of righteous anger, was launching another futile assault on the Upper Yard. The Shandian warriors, led by the tenacious Wyper, were attacking again.
A slow, amused smile spread across Enel's face, his anger at the pirates momentarily forgotten. The Shandians were his favorite toys, his persistent little mice.
Their endless, hopeless struggle against his godhood was a source of endless entertainment. Crushing the pirates could wait. They weren't going anywhere. Let them savor their petty victory for a few moments longer.
He leaned back on his throne, his form dissolving into a cascade of lightning. He reappeared moments later, hovering above the forest of the Upper Yard, looking down at Wyper and his men as they charged a squad of his automaton guards.
"Yehahaha," Enel's laugh echoed from the heavens, a sound of pure, unadulterated schadenfreude.
"Still fighting, my little mice? Your determination is as pathetic as it is amusing." He raised a hand, and a single, precise bolt of lightning lanced down, not to kill, but to destroy the weapon in Wyper's hand, forcing the warrior to dive for cover.
"Run along now. Your god is feeling merciful today. The game continues."
His attention was diverted. The demolition of his priests was a stinging slap, but the Shandians were a chronic, entertaining itch for Enel.