The silence was soon shattered by a whirlwind of orange hair and ecstatic energy.
Nami came, her face flushed with the kind of euphoria usually reserved for finding a legendary treasure map that led directly to a vault.
"Ragnar! Ragnar! You have to see this! The western residential district! The gold there is almost completely pure! We need to…."
Her sentence died in her throat, her momentum screeching to a halt as her eyes, still shaped like shimmering Berries, landed on the second, previously unnoticed Poneglyph. The golden one.
All other gold in the city was instantly forgotten.
A sound, something between a whimper and a prayer, escaped her lips. She drifted towards it as if in a trance, her hands outstretched. She completely ignored Robin, Isabella, and Ragnar, her entire world having narrowed to this single, massive block of priceless gold.
She reached it and threw her arms around the cool, hard surface, pressing her cheek against it with a sigh of pure, unadulterated love.
"Ohhhh," she cooed, her voice dripping with avaricious affection. "Look at you. You beautiful, beautiful block of perfection. How much are you worth, my little one? Hmm? So big, so heavy, so… gold."
The sheer absurdity of her calling the multi-ton, ancient artifact her "little one" while hugging it like a long-lost lover was too much. A snort of laughter escaped Ragnar first, quickly followed by a melodic chuckle from Isabella.
Robin, usually the picture of composed amusement, let out a rare, genuine laugh, the sound echoing softly in the chamber.
Nami, broken from her reverie, glared at them, her cheeks pinking.
"What? It's a very valuable 'little one'!" she defended, patting the Poneglyph possessively.
"Of course it is, my greedy navigator," Ragnar said, his laughter subsiding into a warm smile. "And it's all yours. Or rather, it's all ours, and you are our chief financial officer. Stand back."
Nami scrambled away from the stone, her eyes wide with anticipation. Ragnar raised a hand, palm facing the golden block. The air around it wavered, like heat haze on a desert horizon. Then, with a soft shimmer, the massive Poneglyph simply vanished, stored away in the infinite space of his Heavens Dimension.
Nami let out a dreamy sigh, as if he'd just slipped a diamond ring on her finger. "It's so romantic when you do that."
The next few hours were a blur of systematic looting. Under Nami's frantic, expert direction, Ragnar became a divine moving service.
Golden statues of forgotten Shandoran heroes, intricate wall panels depicting their history, ceremonial vessels, and even roofing tiles were all carefully, or in Nami's case, eagerly, stripped and sent to the warehouse.
Nojiko acted as the voice of reason, occasionally saving a particularly beautiful but non-structural piece of art from Nami's merciless calculations, arguing for its aesthetic value. Isabella helped with her gentle strength, while Robin provided historical context that Nami pointedly ignored whenever it conflicted with the item's melt-value.
As they worked, Ragnar's initial assessment of the city as a mere source of raw material began to evolve. Walking through the grand, empty boulevards, past the soaring, ornate towers, he saw past the superficial layer of wealth.
He saw the genius of the city planning, the artistry in the architecture, the sheer ambition of a people who had built their dreams in solid gold. It was a bit ruined, yes, scarred by time and conflict, but the bones were magnificent.
"This place," he mused aloud, stopping in the center of a vast, circular plaza, "if the vegetation were cleared, the structures reinforced, and life breathed back into its streets… it would be a capital worthy of a sky-bound empire."
The others paused, following his gaze. Nami looked skeptical, already mentally melting down the plaza's decorative fountains. But Robin and Isabella saw his vision. Robin nodded slowly. "It has a powerful presence. A testament to a great civilization. Restoring it would be a statement."
"It would be a beautiful home," Isabella added softly.
Ragnar filed the thought away in the growing mental ledger of his future plans. The Upper Yard would be his fortress, his military and administrative heart. But this… this Golden City could be his jewel, the cultural and residential center of his celestial kingdom.
A project for another day, when the foundations were more secure.
With the most valuable portable assets secured, they decided to head back to the palace. Their path took them through a particularly dense and confusing part of the forest, where the giant roots formed a labyrinth that seemed to shift and change with the light.
It was here, amidst a grove of trees that all looked identical, that they heard the sounds of familiar voices raised in exasperation.
"I'm telling you, it's this way! The sun was on my left before!" Zoro's voice, brimming with absolute, unshakable confidence, cut through the foliage.
"That was three hours ago, Zoro-senpai! The sun moves!" Bartolomeo's voice was a desperate wail.
"We have passed this specific, oddly-shaped mushroom six times," Kuro stated, his tone dry as dust. He was pointing at a large, purple fungus with a distinct phallic shape.
"My meticulously kept log of landmarks, which now includes this… fungal monument… confirms we are traversing a perfect, albeit large, circle."
Wyper just looked deeply confused, his brow furrowed as he glanced between the arguing pirates and the endless, identical trees.
"The Shandians do not get lost in our own forest. This is… unnatural."
Ragnar and the four women emerged from behind a curtain of vines to behold the scene. Zoro stood with his arms crossed, one foot planted on a root, looking for all the world like a conquering hero who had just discovered a new continent.
Bartolomeo was pulling at his own green hair in frustration. Kuro was consulting a hand-drawn map that was now covered in increasingly agitated notes. Wyper simply looked like he was questioning all his life choices.
"Getting some extra training in, Zoro? Exploring the local flora?" Ragnar arched an eyebrow.
Zoro turned with a scowl on his face. "These idiots can't read a landscape. I'm leading us back to the palace."
"You're leading us in circles!" Bartolomeo cried, flinging his arms out.
"When you said 'head south,' you immediately started marching directly north! When I pointed out a river, you said it was a 'trick of the sunlight'! When Kuro-senpai said we should use the position of the moss on the trees, you got offended!"
"The moss grows where it wants! It's not a compass!" Zoro shot back.
"No," Kuro interjected, adjusting his glasses. "But it does generally grow on the northern side of trees in this hemisphere. A fact you have consistently proven by walking in the exact opposite direction of its indication."
"It's almost a talent. If you were a navigational instrument, you would be the most valuable anti-compass in the world. Tell you to go south, and you will unfailingly find north."
Wyper nodded slowly, a dawning horror on his face. "He… he does. I told him the White-White River was to the east. He immediately turned west and walked straight into a patch of thorn-vines. It was like watching a man defy the gods of direction themselves."
"We leave you alone for five minutes…" Nami buried her face in her hands with a groan.
Nojiko giggled, while Isabella covered her mouth to hide her smile. Robin observed the scene with the detached interest of an anthropologist studying a strange tribal ritual.
Ragnar just shook his head, a helpless smile on his lips. He looked at Bartolomeo. "I told you to keep an eye on him."
"I TRIED, RAGNAR-SAMA!" Bartolomeo wailed, falling to his knees.
" HE'S UNGUIDABLE! HIS INTERNAL SENSE OF DIRECTION IS A MYTHICAL BEAST THAT FEEDS ON LOGIC AND SPITS OUT CONTRADICTION!"
"Tch. I know exactly where I am," Zoro grumbled, though the way his eyes darted sideways at the identical trees betrayed a sliver of doubt. "This forest just… moves when you're not looking."
"Right," Ragnar said, deciding to put an end to the farce before they accidentally stumbled into the cloud-sea. "Everyone, follow me. And Zoro… just… walks in the middle of the group. Don't think. Just put one foot in front of the other."
The journey back was swift and direct with Ragnar at the lead. Zoro trudged along in the center of the pack, muttering under his breath about "uncooperative forests" and "stupid moss." This comedic interlude had broken the solemn mood of the day, replacing it with a lighthearted camaraderie.
As they walked, the golden spires of Enel's soon-to-be-demolished palace came into view.