The skies above Upper Yard remained completely, breathlessly still.
High amidst the cloud canopy, Arthur Pendragon did not revert to mortal flesh.
The sixty-meter crimson dragon remained coiled in the heavens, a colossal sovereign forged of deep scarlet scales and ancient myth.
His imperial crimson armor caught the high-altitude sunlight like burnished rubies, crowned by twin golden horns that carved proud arches into the sky.
To the thousands watching from the forest floor, the sight was nothing short of overwhelming.
The priests of the God’s Guard lay trembling in the dirt, their hands digging into the soil in abject terror.
The Shandian warriors stood paralyzed, arrows notched but fingers frozen against bowstrings.
Yet within the colossal anatomy of the dragon, an unprecedented metaphysical harmony was unfolding.
For the first time since Arthur had crossed the threshold of this world, all three cores within his unnatural vessel were active, occupied, and feeding into one another.
The Goro Goro no Mi had taken root in his soul.
In this titanic beast form, the Logia’s elemental essence did not merely circulate through human veins; it flooded a nervous system spanning sixty meters of mythical draconic muscle.
The result was instantaneous synaptic acceleration.
Despite his immense mass, Arthur’s reflexes and cognitive processing accelerated by an entire magnitude.
His mind operated with cold, crystalline precision, processing every draft of wind, every thermal current, and every heartbeat across Upper Yard before normal men could blink.
Through his draconic eyes, the world shifted into a web of electromagnetic currents.
His Advanced Observation Haki, already sharpened into the razor certainty of Future Sight, expanded naturally along the electrical frequencies of the atmosphere.
The bio-electric pulses of every warrior, bird, and priest registered against his consciousness like individual sparks in the dark.
It was Mantra, yet refined into absolute prescience.
Furthermore, the anatomical harmony between his cores was staggering.
The dragon’s crimson-armored hide conducted raw plasma without the slightest friction.
When Arthur focused the gravitational reach of the Fuwa Fuwa no Mi, the electromagnetic fields generated by the Logia began to interlock with his levitation vectors, offering a degree of microscopic, telekinetic refinement that Shiki had never dreamed of.
Even his Conqueror’s Haki, humming deep within his chest, now crackled with faint, dangerous threads of true blue-white plasma amidst its crimson-black fissures.
Yet Arthur remained completely detached from vanity.
He knew his limits with absolute clarity.
His mastery of the Goro Goro no Mi sat at roughly twenty percent.
It was an unrefined, volatile wellspring of apocalyptic firepower.
True supremacy was not born of raw power alone; it required discipline, methodical conditioning, and ruthless tactical application.
To gauge that baseline, Arthur extended a single, massive crimson talon toward the western horizon.
Miles away, far across the expanse of the White-White Sea, an uninhabited ridge of calcified, ancient cloud-rock rose like a jagged fortress against the sky.
At the very tip of the dragon’s talon, a tiny bead of cerulean lightning condensed.
It was no larger than a cannonball, spinning with terrifying, silent density.
With a subtle flick of the claw, the bead was released.
There was no preliminary roar.
A blinding lance of concentrated plasma bored through the sky, vaporizing the intervening clouds in an instant.
A fraction of a second later, the lance struck the distant ridge.
The detonation was cataclysmic.
A pillar of white-hot lightning surged into the stratosphere, followed by an earth-shattering thunderclap that rattled Upper Yard down to its bedrock.
When the blinding brilliance cleared, the entire mountain of cloud-rock had vanished, reduced to a drifting fog of superheated vapor.
The dragon’s violet eyes narrowed in quiet assessment.
Twenty percent mastery…
and already this level of destruction, Arthur mused internally.
A weapon of pure annihilation.
In time, it will obey my will as smoothly as the edge of a sword.
He lowered his claw, turning his colossal gaze back upon the clearing.
The demonstration had extinguished whatever lingering thoughts of resistance remained in Enel’s followers.
The priests pressed their faces deeper into the mud, convinced that an ancient calamity had descended upon them.
Only Wyper remained on his feet.
The Shandian Berserker leaned against his burn bazooka, blood dripping from his brow and painting the tribal markings on his shoulder.
His ribs were cracked, his breath was a ragged gasp, and the titanic aura pressing down from the dragon above felt like an anvil upon his back.
Yet his teeth were clenched to the point of splintering, and his eyes burned with unyielding, stubborn defiance.
Four hundred years of ancestral sorrow refused to let him bend.
The colossal crimson dragon descended, coiling its serpentine body through the air until its horned head hovered just twenty paces before the battered warrior.
The heat radiating from the dragon’s breath smelled of crisp ozone and ancient earth.
When Arthur spoke, his voice did not sound like a beast’s roar; it was the deep, resonant, cultured baritone of a sovereign, vibrating with iron authority that resonated in the chests of every man, woman, and child across the forest.
“A warrior whose spine remains unbroken in the presence of true majesty,” the dragon spoke, its gaze fixed upon Wyper.
“Four centuries of bloodshed have not dulled your steel.
What is your name, warrior of the sky?”
Wyper forced air into his bruised lungs, his knuckles white against the grip of his weapon.
“Wyper.
Berserker of the Shandian tribe.
If you have come to claim our soil as another tyrant, strike.
We have bled for four hundred years to reclaim our home.
We do not kneel to monsters.”
“I have no need for your slaughter, Wyper,” the dragon responded, his voice rolling like distant thunder.
“Petty tyrants rule through terror because their minds are weak.
A sovereign builds through order, law, and undeniable strength.”
The dragon rose slightly higher, allowing his voice to encompass the entirety of Upper Yard, echoing across the ruins of Shandora and reaching the ears of the sky citizens huddled in the distance.
“Hear the decree of the Sovereign,” Arthur proclaimed.
“First: Slavery, forced labor, and arbitrary execution are abolished across all territories of the sky.
Those toiling under Enel’s vanity are freed immediately and restored to their homes.
“Second: The four-hundred-year war between the people of Angel Island and the Shandian tribe is declared permanently ended.
Blood shed in the past remains in the past.
Any man who draws steel under the banner of ancestral hatred answers directly to my judgment.
“Third: The corrupt priesthood is dissolved.
Their martial authority is revoked, and their weapons are confiscated.
They shall not be executed, but shall spend their remaining years laboring to rebuild what Enel damaged, answering to the civil oversight of Gan Fall.
“Fourth: The people of Skypiea shall preserve their customs, their dials, and their peace.
The Shandian tribe shall retain uninhibited, permanent possession of their sacred homeland, the ancient ruins of Shandora, and the earth of their forebears.
“And finally: You shall no longer exist as forgotten exiles trapped in an isolated sea.
With the power of my domain, Upper Yard and the realm of Skypiea shall be physically annexed into my floating territory.
Your sacred soil, your forests, and your people shall rise alongside my sovereign realm, united as an unassailable nation under my protection.”
Silence gripped the ancient forest.
Wyper’s bazooka slowly lowered.
His chest heaved as four hundred years of inherited grief, fury, and endless warfare collided with the incomprehensible reality of the dragon’s words.
This being had obliterated Enel in seconds, possessed the power to turn their island to ash with a flick of his claw, yet had handed them their land, their dignity, and their freedom—elevating their home into a part of his sovereign empire.
Farther in the treeline, Gan Fall dismounted his winged steed, his aged eyes glistening with profound relief as he bowed his head in solemn reverence.
Arthur did not linger for applause.
With a powerful undulation of his crimson coils, the dragon surged upward into the heavens, cutting through the vapor of the canopy.
The wind generated by his passage parted the clouds, clearing a direct avenue toward the crown of the Giant Jack—the colossal beanstalk that pierced the highest reaches of the atmosphere.
There, resting upon the ancient clouds at the summit of the world, stood the mythical relic of the sky: the Great Golden Bell of Shandora, flanked by the massive Golden Belfry.
Coiling around the massive structure, the crimson dragon gazed upon the ancient masterpiece, its polished surface untouched by centuries of conflict.
Arthur drew back his massive tail, cloaking the deep red scales in a controlled, resonant layer of Advanced Armament Haki.
He struck the clapper with measured, immense precision.
CLANGGGGGGGGG!
The sound that erupted from the golden bell was not merely a ring; it was a pure, transcendent song of celestial brass.
The tone rippled across Upper Yard, washing over the weeping Shandian warriors who collapsed to their knees as the ancestral vow of their great forefather, Calgara, was finally fulfilled.
The sound cascaded across Angel Island, filling the homes of the sky dwellers with a peaceful, majestic resonance.
Yet the sound did not stop at ten thousand meters.
Dense, pure, and carrying the kinetic weight of draconic Haki, the magnificent chime plunged downward.
It tore through the sea-clouds of the White-White Sea, pierced the White Sea at seven thousand meters, and cascaded through the cloud ceiling into the open skies of the Blue Sea below.
Ten thousand meters directly below, on the battered shores of Jaya, the wind suddenly carried a deep, celestial tolling.
Mont Blanc Cricket froze where he stood outside his half-timbered house, a cigarette slipping from his lips and falling into the sand.
Behind him, Masira and Shoujou dropped their salvage tools, their eyes widening as the impossible, divine music drifted down from the clear blue sky.
Cricket’s hands began to shake.
Tears welled in the eyes of the weathered diver, spilling over his scarred cheeks as he fell to his knees in the dirt.
The Golden City was not a myth.
His ancestor, Mont Blanc Noland, had never been a liar.
The Bell of Shandora was singing in the heavens.
Meanwhile, across the vast expanses of the Grand Line and the four blues, a storm of an entirely different nature was breaking across the world.
Aboard his grand aerial vessel, the President of the World Economic Journal, “Big News” Morgans, was laughing with wild, hysterical delight.
Feathers ruffled on his wings as he slammed a massive stack of freshly printed broadsheets onto his mahogany desk.
“Gwahahaha!
Print them!
Print every single copy!
Send the News Coos to every corner of the four blues, the Grand Line, and the New World!
Don’t spare a single bird!”
The front page of the world’s most influential paper bore a massive, stark photograph captured from the waters outside the Baratie—the imposing silhouette of an uncatalogued, crimson dragon descending through fractured storm clouds, the unmistakable twin blades of the Golden Lion Shiki visible at his waist, clashing blade-for-blade with the World’s Greatest Swordsman, Dracule Mihawk.
The headline screamed in bold, sensational print:
THE SKY SOVEREIGN!
AN UNCATALOGUED CRIMSON DRAGON WIELDING THE GOLDEN LION’S TWIN BLADES DUELS “HAWK-EYES” MIHAWK TO A DEAD STANDSTILL!
A ZERO-BOUNTY PHANTOM SHAKES THE WORLD HIERARCHY—WHO IS THIS UNKNOWN TITAN?!
From the desks of Marineford to the shadowy halls of Mary Geoise, naval admirals and cipher pol agents stared at the paper in stunned, anxious disbelief.
A complete enigma—a phantom without an identity, without a criminal record, and without a single Berry to his name—had emerged from the calm waters of the East, carrying the legendary blades of the dead pirate Shiki and trading blows as an equal with the pinnacle of the world’s swordsmanship, before vanishing into the clouds beyond the reach of their fleets.
And high above their grasp, bathed in the blinding light of the heavens at ten thousand meters, the crimson dragon coiled peacefully beside the singing bell, his empire quietly taking shape.
[Status Panel]
Name: Arthur Pendragon
Age: 20 (Year 1520)
Height: 2.00m (Human Form) / 6m (Hybrid Form) / 60m (Full Beast Form)
Classification: Great Swordsman / Sovereign of Merveille
Overall Combat Tier: Threshold of High Admiral Class
Devil Fruit Cores (Vessel Integrity: 3/3):
Core 1 (Mythical Zoan): Ryu Ryu no Mi, Model: Imperial PendragonMastery: 95% (Near-Awakened; Complete physiological integration, crimson armor scales, immense physical endurance, draconic thermal authority, 60m Full Beast Form fully unlocked)Core 2 (Paramecia): Fuwa Fuwa no MiMastery: 62% (Continental Levitation, atmospheric envelope stabilization, microscopic vector precision enhanced by bio-electric synergy)Core 3 (Logia): Goro Goro no MiMastery: 20% (Acquired; Bio-electric synaptic acceleration, atmospheric electromagnetic perception, raw concentrated plasma discharge)
Haki:
Observation Haki (Kenbunshoku): Advanced (Future Sight: 3–4 seconds; integrated with electromagnetic Mantra resonance)Armament Haki (Busoshoku): Advanced (Internal Destruction / Emission / Hardening)Conqueror’s Haki (Haoshoku): Advanced (Haoshoku Infusion / Sky-Splitting Class; subtle resonance with bio-electric plasma)
Swordsmanship:
Rank: Daikengou (Grandmaster Swordsman)Equipped Blades: Twin Meito Oto and Kogarashi (O Wazamono Grade)
Assets & Territory:
Flagship / Realm: Merveille (Floating Continental Archipelago)Territorial Annexation: Skypiea (Upper Yard / Shandora and Angel Island integrated via Fuwa Fuwa no Mi)Public Perception / Infamy: “The Sky Sovereign” (Uncatalogued Crimson Dragon, Zero Bounty, identity & Merveille base completely unknown to the World Government)Round Table Seats:1st Seat: Open (Reserved for Dracule Mihawk)12th Seat: “The Jester” Buggy (Artillery & Micro-Segmentation Tactics)Inner Circle Retinue:Makino (Chief of Retinue / Household Governance)Kaya (Chief Physician / Draconic Bio-Alchemist)Merry (Master Shipwright / Logistical Quartermaster)