The ship burst through the final cloud barrier, soaring to 10,000 meters. Below stretched two islands, close enough to touch—one a misty kingdom of whimsical buildings, straight out of a sailor's tall tale; the other a wild, overgrown chunk of land, more untamed jungle than floating rock.
"That wild one's gotta be the lost half of Jaya Island from the legends," Gion said, eyeing the greenery. "Knocked up into the sky centuries ago."
Her Observation Haki picked up teeming life: swarms of creatures and a scattering of humans living like tribal holdouts, wary of outsiders. Reminded her of the folks on Jaygarcia District—fiercely insular, tough to parley with. But their vibes weren't threatening; no real muscle there.
"Clear Angel Island first," Ross ordered. "That jungle patch can wait."
The overgrown half was Upper Yard, Skypiea's slice of ancient Jaya, home to the indigenous Shandians. They'd been overrun by the native Skypieans four centuries back, who dubbed it the gods' domain. Angel Island, though, was prime real estate—populated by the Sky Islanders themselves, and Ross's main prize.
"No sweat," Gion replied. Crimson wings unfurled from her back, and she blurred into the sky, vanishing toward the island.
A minute later, a thick blood mist bloomed over Angel Island like a storm cloud. Gion's Devil Fruit domain at work—drawing in the blood of her fallen foes, letting her unleash razor-sharp slashes from anywhere inside. Not a game-changer against elites, but hell on wheels for crowd control.
"Moira, you and me next," Stella said with a grin, as the ship eased alongside the island.
"You got it—I'll keep you safe," Moira promised, thumping her chest with enthusiasm. Time to pull her weight. Ross had tapped her to lead before, so earning trust meant delivering.
The pair spearheaded the landing. Dozens poured off the ship, fanning out under Gion's markers to sweep the island clean.
Ross, Sora, Zephyr, and Reiju stayed aboard. Zephyr bounced Reiju on his knee, content to sit this one out. He had zero stomach for needless bullying, but Ross's ops weren't sloppy massacres. As long as civilians stayed out of the crossfire, Zephyr turned a blind eye.
And honestly? Ross didn't get off on grinding down the little guy. The Jaygarcia District purge had been brutal, sure, but now it teemed with over ten million souls—fed, safe, thriving. In Zephyr's book, that beat most spots on this rock.
Ross let the old man bow out. Everyone had their lane. Zephyr's protective streak made him perfect for shielding the innocent; his pirate hunts were personal grudges, not policy. Sakazuki, though? That hothead thrived on purging scum. Borsalino's slacker ass was better chained to HQ oversight. And Gion? She was Ross's go-to edge—sharp, loyal, always ready. He'd hone her into the world's top swordswoman, no question.
"So, what's the play?" Sora murmured, linking arms with Ross at the prow. Her Brain-Brain Fruit sharpened her mind for strategy, though she split time geeking out in the onboard lab over Redfield's pilfered cells.
"Sky Islanders run the show up here," Ross explained. "They worship 'gods' holed up in Upper Yard. Four hundred years of beef with the Shandians, and now it's all theirs."
"Hit the Shandians as our in?" Sora arched a brow. Let them claw back some power, balance the scales—smart, low-cost control.
Ross chuckled. "Nah. They're too stuck in the stone age. Stubborn holdouts like that drag down progress."
Productivity first—that was Ross's creed. Squeeze ten million modern workers over a million primitives, every time. The One Piece world was ocean-heavy, sure, but cram the Red Line with billions via tech? Game-changer. Keep the masses fed and comfy, crank out the goods—everybody wins.
Shandians and their ilk? Relics. Adapt or fade; no middle ground.
He gazed at Angel Island. "They already bow to gods? Easy. We swap one in."
Straight-up Enel's gig, but with upgrades—no pillaging, just real change for Skypiea.
"They're clannish as hell, though," Sora said, squinting at the thickening blood dome. Gion was hitting pockets of fightback.
"Show overwhelming force, and they'll kneel," Ross replied. "I'll play god, but hands-off. Pick a local puppet to front the throne."
Sora shot him a sidelong glance. "Like Vivi?"
Ross grinned. Classic bait-and-switch—effective, if a bit theatrical. Only he'd pull it off with style.
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