The Oro Jackson sailed beneath a sky the color of burnished gold, its sails swollen with the wind. Weeks had passed since the battle at Hachinosu, and the crew's spirits were high. They had survived another war, secured another stone, and for once — the sea was calm.
Ada stood near the railing, her coat brushing the deck, eyes set on the horizon. The air ahead carried a scent unlike any other — pine, frost, and thunder.
"Elbaf," she murmured. "It's been a long time."
Roger leaned beside her, arms folded, that irrepressible grin still lingering. "You've got that look again — the one you get before stepping into the past."
She didn't smile. "You could say that."
The wind tugged at her dark hair. She had been quiet for much of the voyage, watching the sea as if she were seeing ghosts walk upon it.
Rayleigh joined her at the bow, arms crossed, grin bright even beneath the cold. "You've been staring at that horizon since morning."
"It's been a long time," Ada murmured. "I didn't think I'd ever return here."
Rayleigh gave a faint chuckle, tapping ash from his pipe. "Well, here you are now. Maybe it's fate — bringing you back to finish what was left undone."
Ada's lips curved into a small, almost wistful smile. "Or maybe fate just enjoys watching old ghosts meet again."
Gaban crossed his arms, glancing toward the towering silhouettes that moved between the mist and trees. "So, what are they really like? The giants, I mean."
Ada's eyes softened with something like nostalgia. "Proud. Honest. Brutal, when they have to be — but they laugh louder than thunder and mourn longer than storms. They live by strength, but they respect heart."
Roger let out a low whistle. "From the way you talk about them, sounds like they got a spine tougher than seastone."
Ada's lips curved faintly, that knowing glint returning to her eyes. "You'll see for yourself soon enough."
The crew burst into laughter, the tension breaking.
But Ada's eyes stayed fixed on the horizon, where dark peaks began to emerge — mountains shaped like spears, trees as wide as towers, and waterfalls that glowed like silver in the dawn. The Island of Giants had appeared, vast and ancient, its cliffs carved with faces that seemed to watch the sea.
As they approached the shoreline, the crew could already see movement — vast figures walking among the trees, their steps shaking the ground.
Rayleigh lowered his pipe. "They've seen us."
"Good," Roger said. "Let's meet them head-on."
Ada's eyes flickered to him, a mix of warning and reluctant amusement. "You don't plan to be diplomatic, do you?"
Roger's grin widened. "I'll let my smile do the talking."
Buggy groaned. "We're going to die."
——————-
When the Oro Jackson anchored at the base of the fjord, the crew stared in awe. Everything around them was colossal — the docks were made for ships the size of castles, and the ropes were thicker than a man's torso.
"What the heck…" Buggy whispered, craning his neck. "Even their fish are huge!"
One swam past — the size of a house — and he nearly fainted.
Shanks grinned and patted his shoulder. "Maybe we can roast one for dinner."
"Over my dead body!" Buggy squeaked.
Rayleigh was already studying the terrain. "They'll know we're here. Giants don't miss much."
As if on cue, a deep horn bellowed across the cliffs, echoing like thunder. Moments later, shadows emerged from the tree line — towering figures clad in fur and iron, their weapons taller than the Oro Jackson's mast.
At their front walked Harald — older now, his beard streaked with gray, his armor cracked but still imposing. His eyes, like two shards of frozen sky, fixed on the small figures approaching the shore.
When he saw Ada, he stopped.
For a long moment, neither spoke. The wind moved between them, carrying the weight of years.
Then Ada stepped forward. The air around her seemed to still.
"Harald," she said softly.
The giant's gaze fixed on her. His expression shifted — shock, then disbelief, then something like nostalgia. "…Ada?"
She inclined her head. "It's been a while."
The murmurs of the giants rumbled like thunder. Harald's hand tightened on his axe.
The giant's gaze hardened. "You still walk the seas, then. I thought you vanished after God Valley."
Ada's tone was even, but her eyes carried memory. "I almost did."
His gaze turned to Roger, who stood beside her, unfazed by the giant's imposing presence. "And this man?" Harald asked.
Roger laughed, planting his hands on his hips. "Gol D. Roger, captain of the Roger Pirates! We're not here to fight — only to see the red stone your people guard."
The crowd of giants erupted in anger, their voices booming.
"The sacred stone is not for outsiders!"
"He dares speak of it?"
Ada stepped between them. "Enough. He's not like Rocks."
Harald studied Roger again. "So you've told him."
"I told him what he needs to know," Ada said. "He seeks truth, not power."
For a long moment, Harald said nothing. Then, slowly, he lowered his axe.
"Very well," he said at last. "If your heart is true, the stone will decide for itself."
Roger grinned. "That's all I ask."
——————-
They followed Harald through the great forest of Elbaf, where the trees grew so wide that even the Oro Jackson could have sailed between their roots. Snow clung to their branches like silver, and light streamed down in gold shafts, revealing carvings etched into bark — histories of giants long gone.
They were led through the towering forest of Elbaf — trees so large that their roots formed tunnels, rivers running through them like veins. The air was thick with frost and sap and the faint scent of iron.
Children watched from the trees, wide-eyed at the sight of the humans. Some waved. Buggy waved back nervously, earning a laugh from Shanks.
"Relax," Rayleigh said. "They only eat people on holidays."
"WHAT?!" Buggy shrieked, tripping over himself as the others burst into laughter.
Ada walked quietly, her steps echoing softly. Every tree, every carving, felt like a memory.
"You were here before," Rayleigh said quietly beside her.
"Yes," she murmured. "Rocks came to take what he couldn't understand. I came to see what he couldn't see."
"And what was that?"
Ada's eyes lifted toward the distant mountain peak rising over the trees. "That some truths aren't meant to be owned — only remembered."
When they reached the heart of the island, the forest opened into a vast clearing. There stood a temple carved into the mountain itself, its gates etched with runes that shimmered faintly with light.
Inside, the air was cold and still. Torches burned with blue flame, illuminating a monolithic red stone — towering, scarred, ancient. It pulsed faintly, like a heart that had never stopped beating.
Roger took a slow step forward. "That's it…" he whispered. "The Road Poneglyph."
Ada watched him carefully. "It's been waiting for a long time."
Harald's voice echoed through the chamber. "This stone does not yield to words. It yields to will. If your purpose is pure, it will answer."
The crew fell silent, even Buggy.
Harald's deep voice filled the chamber. "This stone is not for mortal men. It remembers everything — and it judges those who seek it."
Roger didn't move closer yet. He stood before the massive red stone, its surface glowing faintly under the torchlight, and let out a slow breath. His voice was calm — almost reverent.
"I'm not here to conquer anything," he said, eyes reflecting the crimson hue. "Being a pirate… it's not about ruling the seas. It's about living free — doing what no one else dares to do."
Harald studied him for a long moment before shifting his gaze to Ada. His deep, gravelly voice carried the weight of memory.
"You told me once," he said, "that history has no masters — that even Rocks couldn't own the past. Do you still believe that?"
Ada's expression softened, her eyes flickering with old conflict. "I believed in Rocks' dream once," she admitted quietly.
"But somewhere along the way, he lost sight of what he was chasing," Ada said softly. "Rocks wanted to reach the truth — but he couldn't make it. Not him, not that crew." She lifted her gaze to Harald, her voice steady now. "The world's truth isn't something you conquer. It's something you find — and accept."
"Then," Harald said, stepping aside, "let's see if your words still hold weight with the gods."
Roger approached the poneglyph, the air growing heavy around him. The closer he got, the more it felt alive — the stone's surface thrummed like a pulse, its markings glimmering faintly.
Ada watched closely. She could hear it again — faint whispers in a tongue older than the sea, like voices buried beneath the waves.
Roger reached out, resting his hand on the stone. For a moment, nothing happened — then the whispers grew louder.
The air shimmered, invisible pressure radiating outward. The others felt it — a pull, not of gravity, but of presence.
Rayleigh felt it under his feet. Crocus exhaled sharply. Shanks and Buggy clung to each other, unsure whether to be afraid or amazed.
Ada felt it most of all. The whispers were back — the same voices she'd heard in Alabasta. But this one… this one recognized him.
Ada's eyes then widened. "It's responding…"
Roger's eyes were closed now. The glow from the stone reflected off his face, and for the first time, he looked not like a pirate, but like a man standing before eternity.
Then, the light faded.
He stepped back slowly, smiling — but this time, it wasn't the wild grin of adventure. It was quieter, gentler. "It showed me something," he said softly. "Not words — just… feeling. The path is still there."
Harald's eyes widened slightly. "It accepted you."
Roger turned toward Ada. "It's like you said — the world wants to be remembered."
Ada nodded, her voice low. "The stones carry the truth of the forgotten age. They don't speak to those who seek to own it… only those who are ready to bear it."
Roger's grin returned, fierce and bright. "Then we'll carry it. All the way."
Harald's expression softened, almost fond. "You have the same madness as Rocks once did… but not the same hunger."
Roger laughed. "Maybe I'm hungrier for freedom than for power."
Ada smiled faintly. "A dangerous appetite."
He winked. "The only kind worth having."
Roger smiled, not his usual wild grin but something gentler, reverent. "Then let's make sure the world remembers."
He turned to Rayleigh and Gaban. "Get the parchment ready."
Gaban immediately unrolled a large sheet of paper while Rayleigh melted a block of black wax ink in a small metal pot over a torch. The smell of the ink mingled with the faint salt of their clothes and the cool, earthen scent of the cavern.
Roger crouched beside the massive red stone, pressing his palm against it — the air seemed to crackle faintly, a low tremor echoing through the floor. His voice softened. "We came all this way… you've been waiting for someone, haven't you?"
Ada watched in silence as the rub rubbing began — the soft sound of waxed ink rollers moving over the grooves of the stone, leaving behind perfect black impressions of the ancient text.
Shanks and Buggy whispered at the edge of the group, both trying to peek.
"Oi, Buggy, move over! I can't see!" Shanks hissed.
Buggy glared. "You're taller, idiot, how can you not see?! You're gonna jinx it—what if it's cursed or something!"
Ada couldn't help the faint smirk tugging at her lips. "Relax, Buggy. The curse usually waits until the rubbing's finished."
Buggy froze, pale. "Wh-what?!"
Shanks burst out laughing until Gaban swatted both of them with a cloth. "Quiet, you two. This isn't a tavern."
When the rubbing was finally complete, Rayleigh held it up carefully to the torchlight — rows of precise, ancient symbols captured in black ink.
Roger stared at it for a long moment, his face unreadable. "One down… three more to go."
Crocus folded his arms. "And then what, Captain? You really think these stones will hand you the answer?"
Roger's grin returned, wide and defiant. "No. But they'll show us the way. The world's been silent too long — maybe it's time someone finally listened."
Ada looked at the red stone one last time, her hand brushing its surface lightly. The faint hum beneath her skin thrummed in response — an acknowledgment.
She whispered, "You've been waiting for centuries… we'll finish what the world started."
As they left the cavern, the torches flickered — and for a brief moment, the crimson stone seemed to glow, as if alive, watching them go.
———————
That night, the giants hosted a feast in their honor. Bonfires roared high as towers, and tables carved from stone groaned beneath the weight of roasted beasts. The stars hung low and bright, and the sound of laughter carried through the cold air.
Buggy sat frozen, staring at a mug bigger than his head. "Do they expect me to drink this?"
Shanks elbowed him, grinning. "You're a pirate, aren't you?"
"I'm a survivor!" Buggy hissed, clutching the mug as if it might explode.
Roger was already laughing with Harald, trading stories like old warriors. Ada sat quietly nearby, listening, a faint smile touching her lips.
Harald turned toward her. "You've changed, Ada. When you came here with Rocks, your eyes burned like his. Now they look tired."
"I was younger then," she said simply. "I thought knowledge would save us. That if we understood the past, we could fix the future."
"And now?"
Ada looked into the flames. "Now I think the past is a mirror. It shows us what we are, not what we want to be."
Harald nodded thoughtfully. "And what do you see in Roger?"
She smiled faintly. "A fool."
Harald chuckled. "A dangerous fool?"
"The best kind. But maybe they're the kind of fools who'll find the truth."
Harald's laughter shook the ground. "Then perhaps fools are what the world needs."
Ada smiled faintly. "Perhaps."
Across the fire, Roger was telling a story so ridiculous even the giants were laughing. The sound carried far into the night — loud, free, alive.
For a moment, Ada let herself laugh too.
——————
Morning came cold and bright. The Oro Jackson was loaded with supplies — barrels of ale, meats, and a large parchment rubbing of the Road Poneglyph.
Harald stood beside Ada. "So the stones have chosen again," he said quietly. "I didn't think I'd live to see the day."
"Neither did I," she admitted.
He looked down at her, a hint of sadness in his smile. "You've walked through more ages than most will ever dream of. Be careful, Ada. The truth you seek may not be kind."
She met his gaze steadily. "The truth rarely is."
Roger approached, the parchment rubbing of the Road Poneglyph tucked safely under his arm. "Thank you, Harald. I won't forget this — or your people."
The giant chuckled, his voice rolling like thunder. "Then go, pirate. Chase your dream. But remember — the world will not forgive those who uncover its scars."
Roger's grin widened. "Then let it curse me. I'll still laugh."
As the ship pushed off, the giants raised their weapons in salute. The wind caught the sails, and the Oro Jackson drifted toward open sea.
Roger stood at the bow, laughing that great, unrestrained laugh that seemed to echo across the world.
"Elbaf!" he shouted. "Another step closer! Another road found!"
Ada stood beside him, looking back at the receding cliffs.
Quietly, she murmured, "Four stones. Four roads. And when they meet… the world will change."
Roger looked at her, eyes alight. "Then we'll be there to see it."
The Oro Jackson sailed on, cutting through silver waves beneath a sky of fire and cloud — toward the next island, the next truth, the next dream.
And on the cliffs of Elbaf, Harald watched until the ship was gone, the faint echo of Roger's laughter still rolling across the sea.