Totto land, New World
A heavy fog, dense as spun candy, blanketed the sea. It clung to the surface like a veil, muffling the usual cacophony of the waves. Cutting through this ethereal shroud was a monstrous behemoth of a ship, its imposing frame a testament to the strength of its crew and the name it carried.
Atop the crow's nest, a young pirate dressed in the colors of the Donquixote Pirates squinted into the fog, his vision barely piercing its depths. Without the log pose guiding their path, navigating the treacherous waters of the New World would have been a perilous, and likely fatal, endeavor.
"Captain Rosinante!" The lookout bellowed, his voice cutting through the thick air. "I see an outpost flying the colors of the Big Mom Pirates! I think we've reached the seas surrounding Totto Land!"
The message carried down to the deck, where I sat leisurely, drawing out a haunting melody on my violin. The strings sang under my fingers, their mournful tune carrying a sharp contrast to the ominous surroundings.
I had already sensed the presence of Big Mom's patrol fleet, the infamous "Tartes," well before the lookout's announcement.
These waters were guarded fiercely, and the territorial sea slugs that served as Linlin's vigilant sentinels were no match for my haki. Their efforts were but a whisper against the roar of my senses.
The journey here had been arduous. More than three weeks had passed since we departed the Elsar Kingdom. Even with my mastery over the weather, clearing our path and ensuring smooth passage, the vast expanse from the edge of Donquixote territory to Big Mom's domain demanded time and endurance.
I let the final notes of my song linger in the air before gently placing the violin back into its case. Standing, I strapped Shusui and Akatsuki to my side and walked toward the ship's figurehead, where Dora sat, her massive hands reaching out to grasp at the candy-like fog.
Beside her, Lucci meditated, his eyes closed in deep focus, his Observation Haki sharpening with every passing second.
Sensing my approach, Lucci opened his eyes and greeted me with a respectful, "Master."
I nodded in acknowledgment, stepping past him to the ship's railing. From this vantage, I scanned the horizon with a gaze that pierced through the fog, my haki spreading like an all-encompassing wave.
My perception reached far beyond the surface, delving into the depths of the ocean itself. The territorial sea slugs, spread meticulously to detect any intruders, were laid bare before my senses. For others, these waters would be a labyrinth of death; for me, they were a mere canvas waiting to be painted.
"So, despite inviting us to their tea party, they don't even bother sending an escort?" I scoffed, my voice laced with derision. "Do they expect us to sit here like obedient guests and wait for them to fetch us?"
I chuckled, the sound low and sharp, as realization dawned. This was no oversight. Linlin knew we were here. She was testing us, making a statement.
"So that's how you want to play, Linlin..." I muttered, a dangerous smile curling my lips.
Shrugging off my white trench coat, I handed it to Lucci. His eyes narrowed slightly, understanding my intent. Without hesitation, I stepped onto the railing, my blades set aside, and with a single leap, I plunged into the sea below.
Gasps and murmurs rose from the deck above. A Devil Fruit user, diving willingly into the sea? Madness. To most, the ocean was a death sentence, a prison that stripped power and rendered even the strongest helpless.
But I was not like most. I had transcended the limitations of my fruit; the sea's curse was no longer my shackle. Its grip on me had faded to little more than a mild discomfort—a mosquito's bite to a bsouth west.
"Brace yourselves," I ordered over my shoulder as I dove, my voice carrying like a commandment.
Lucci wasted no time, stepping forward and infusing the entire ship with his Armament Haki. A faint sheen of black coated the massive vessel, its surface shimmering like tempered steel under the strain of his willpower. The effort was immense, but Lucci's determination outweighed the challenge.
As I descended into the watery depths, the world below unfolded in stark, surreal clarity. The ocean was alive with movement, from the swaying kelp to the massive sea slugs and prowling Sea Kings. My haki spread outward like a floodlight, illuminating everything within a hundred miles.
"Time to make an entrance," I murmured, my voice lost to the vast expanse of the sea.
Lightning began to crackle around me, sparks of black electricity dancing along my form. The water amplified my power, conducting the energy until it hummed with lethal potential. The sea darkened, a foreboding shadow rippling outward as I drew upon my might. The currents themselves seemed to still in anticipation, the quiet before the storm.
"Raijin…"
With that single thought, the ocean erupted. Lightning exploded outward from me in a cataclysmic wave, tendrils of black and gold streaking through the water like the wrath of a god.
The shockwave obliterated everything in its path—the colony of territorial sea slugs, the Tartes patrol ships scattered for miles, and even the massive Sea Kings that dared to linger. Nothing was spared.
The sea itself seemed to recoil under the sheer force of my power, a massive lightning zone forming at the edge of Big Mom's territory. The sky above mirrored the chaos below, clouds swirling and crackling as if bowing to my will.
From the deck of the ship, the crew stared in awe as the ocean before them transformed into a battlefield. Dora whispered under her breath, her usual carefree demeanor replaced with stunned reverence. Lucci stood tall, though even he couldn't mask the awe in his eyes.
I rose slowly from the depths, lightning still dancing along my form as the water fell away.
"Let that be your warning, Linlin," I said, my voice a calm yet chilling declaration that resonated with the force of a tidal wave. "I am here."
The command center of Whole Cake Island was a fortress of vigilance, an unrelenting hub of activity where dozens of Big Mom's most trusted officers worked tirelessly. Rows of consoles blinked with indicators, dials spun, and transponder snails chattered incessantly, maintaining communication with thousands of ships and the supercolony of territorial sea slugs that served as Linlin's eyes across the expanse of her empire.
The Tea Party was imminent, and the stakes were higher than ever. Security was tighter, nerves more frayed, and the operators sharper. Each officer's gaze was glued to their station, their fingers poised over buttons, their ears tuned to the rhythmic hum of the machines. Every flicker of a warning light or unexpected blip on a monitor sent ripples of tension through the room.
Suddenly, the serenity shattered.
A red warning light flared to life on the south western sector panel. One of the officers snapped to attention, his eyes narrowing as he leaned closer to the console. The transponder snail in front of him squawked, its usually smooth voice distorted with static.
"Sector south west," the officer barked into the receiver. "Report! What's going on out there?"
No response. The static grew louder.
"Sir, the Tartes patrol in Sector south west is unresponsive," another officer reported, his voice edged with alarm.
Before the first officer could respond, another warning light began to blink on the same panel. Then another. And another. In mere seconds, more than a hundred lights blinked in unison, a glowing constellation of disaster spreading across the south western sector map. The room fell silent for a heartbeat as the gravity of the situation began to sink in.
"Impossible," someone whispered.
"The entire south western sector—" another began, his voice trailing off as realization dawned.
"The sea slugs," a senior officer interrupted, his tone heavy with dread. "We've lost the entire south western colony."
Gasps rippled through the room. The supercolony of territorial sea slugs, the very lifeblood of Big Mom's surveillance network, was gone. Vanished. Every creature that blanketed the sea for dozens of miles had gone silent. It wasn't just the slugs—the outpost ships stationed in the south western waters had also gone dark.
The lead officer slammed his fist onto the console. "Get me an immediate connection to the south western outpost command! I want answers now!"
Operators scrambled to comply, their hands darting over controls and transponder snails. One by one, they attempted to make contact with the outposts, but all they received was static.
"Still no response," a younger officer muttered, beads of sweat forming on his brow. His voice carried the growing panic that the others were trying desperately to suppress.
Suddenly, the transponder snails flared to life, their voices overlapping in a cacophony of urgent chatter as the situation was relayed to higher-ups. Reports flooded in: ships decimated, sea slugs obliterated, the south western sector reduced to a black hole of information.
"Patch it through to Minister Amande!" the lead officer roared.
One officer immediately connected to Amande's transponder snail. Her voice cut through the chaos like a blade, calm yet commanding, laced with the unmistakable authority of one of Big Mom's top generals.
"Report," she ordered coldly.
"Minister Amande," the lead officer stammered, "we've... we've lost the entire south western sector. The Tartes patrols, the outposts, the territorial sea slugs—everything has gone dark. We're blind out there!"
Amande's pause was brief but deafening. When she spoke, her voice carried an edge that could make lesser pirates crumble.
"How?"
"We don't know," the officer admitted, his voice trembling. "One moment the patrols were reporting normal activity, and the next... complete silence. Whatever happened... it was instantaneous."
Another officer chimed in, his voice shaking. "Minister, the energy readings from the sector—they're off the charts. It's like... like a storm of concentrated lightning struck the area all at once. Nothing could have survived that. It's not natural."
Amande's voice dropped to a lethal tone. "Natural or not, find the cause. Now."
But even as she issued the command, the room trembled. A deep, distant rumble resonated through the walls of the command center. The operators exchanged wary glances, their unease growing.
The lead officer hesitated before speaking. "Minister... there's more."
"What is it?"
"The sea itself is... changing. The currents around the south western sector are destabilizing. Whatever did this... it wasn't just an attack. It's reshaping the very ocean. We're dealing with something far beyond normal phenomenon."
The room fell silent as the magnitude of the situation loomed over them like a shadow. Somewhere in the south western waters, a force had made itself known—one capable of breaching Big Mom's domain, dismantling her surveillance, and leaving her forces paralyzed in its wake.
Amande's voice cut through the tension like a razor.
"Alert all ministers. The south western sector has been breached. Whatever—or whoever—did this is to be considered an enemy of the highest order. Prepare for retaliation."
The transponder snail fell silent, and the room erupted into frantic activity as officers scrambled to relay the orders. But deep down, each of them knew—they weren't dealing with a mere intruder. This was a force that could shake the very foundation of Big Mom's empire.
Charlotte Amande stood frozen, one hand gripping the transponder snail, the other wrapped tightly around the hilt of her massive Odachi. A strange, suffocating unease wrapped itself around her chest, tightening with every passing second.
Her eyes were fixed on the horizon, though the south western quadrant of Totto Land lay hundreds of nautical miles away. She could feel it—a darkness, a void unlike anything she had ever encountered, creeping steadily toward them.
Her instincts screamed, but her mind wrestled with disbelief. What could possibly create such a disturbance? Amande was no stranger to the chaos of the New World—violent storms, Sea Kings of unimaginable size, even natural disasters—but this felt different. This was not nature's wrath. This was deliberate. This was coming for them.
Shaking off her paralysis, she debated her next move. Who should she inform first? The weight of the decision pressed down on her. Finally, with no time to waste, she turned on her heel and sprinted toward the central hall where the top ministers had gathered for a strategy meeting under Katakuri's leadership.
The streets of Whole Cake Island bustled with life, utterly oblivious to the impending calamity. The residents laughed and sang, delighting in the vibrant preparations for the evening's grand Tea Party.
Decorations lined every corner, and the aroma of sweets wafted through the air. For them, it was a day of celebration. For Amande, it was the edge of catastrophe.
The thought that this disaster might be tied to someone invited to the Tea Party didn't even cross her mind. No one would dare disrupt an event under Big Mom's nose. No one could. She assumed it was some freakish natural event—a possibility common in the volatile seas of the New World. But even as she clung to that explanation, unease gnawed at her resolve.
By the time she reached the meeting hall, her breath was short. The ministers were already stepping out, their faces painted with worry. It was clear the monitoring station had relayed the situation to them.
"Katakuri!" she called out, her voice strained as she tried to relay her concerns.
Katakuri raised a hand, silencing her mid-sentence. His emergency transponder snail was ringing, its tone sharp and insistent. Without hesitation, he answered.
"Report," he ordered, his voice steady, commanding.
The voice on the other end was panicked, words spilling out in gasps.
"Commander Katakuri... this—this can't be real! The entire... the entire Cacao Island has vanished! The sky above it—it's nothing but lightning! For miles, sir, it's all we can see! We can't even get close—the zone is moving inland, cutting a straight line through the islands! It's heading directly for Whole Cake Island!"
The transponder snail crackled, and Katakuri's brows furrowed deeply. His Observation Haki, vast as it was, couldn't stretch far enough to see the phenomenon himself. But he didn't need to. He could feel it—an oppressive weight in the air, a storm brewing that threatened to consume everything.
Then, he noticed something peculiar. His siblings, usually composed even in the face of danger, were staring blankly into the distance. One by one, their eyes turned to the same point on the horizon, where an ominous, otherworldly sight was unfolding.
Amande followed their gaze, and what she saw made her blood run cold.
The south western skies, once bright with the light of day, were swallowed by an unfathomable darkness. Rolling black thunderclouds stretched as far as the eye could see, crackling with veins of vivid, malevolent lightning.
The storm moved with a purpose, an unstoppable tide that crawled toward Whole Cake Island with grim finality. It was no mere weather pattern—it was a living, breathing force, consuming everything in its path.
From the distant islands to the sea itself, the horizon was a seething, writhing canvas of destruction. Every flash of lightning illuminated the devastation it left behind: crumbled outposts, shattered ships, and seas turned into churning maelstroms. The lightning didn't strike at random; it hunted, precise and merciless.
Katakuri, usually unshakable, inadvertently dropped the transponder snail. The snail continued to crackle with the terrified voice of the scout, but no one in the room paid it any mind.
The ministers, the soldiers, the citizens of Whole Cake Island—all of them stood transfixed, their gazes locked on the apocalyptic vision crawling toward them. The sheer scale of the phenomenon dwarfed anything they had ever faced. Hundreds of miles away, and yet it felt as though the storm was already upon them.
The air grew heavy, crackling with an unseen energy that pressed down on the island like an invisible hand. Even the sea seemed to recoil, its waves pulling back as though in fear.
For the first time in their lives, those loyal to Big Mom felt the icy grip of helplessness. This wasn't an invader, a fleet, or even an army. This was something far greater.
It was the herald of ruin, a force so vast and overwhelming that it threatened to rewrite the natural order.
Amande clutched her Odachi tighter, her knuckles white against its hilt. Her voice came as a whisper, barely audible over the deafening silence of awe and terror.
"It's not just a storm. It's... it's an apocalypse."
Katakuri's composure faltered for only a moment before his sharp mind snapped back into focus. His thoughts raced to make sense of the chaos, piecing together fragments of information.
The magnitude of the event was too overwhelming, too precise, to be random. As his piercing gaze locked onto the creeping apocalypse in the distance, a single name surfaced in his mind, clear as day.
"Rosinante..." he muttered under his breath.
Everything fell into place, like the final pieces of a puzzle snapping together. The timeline, the direction of the chaos, the invitation to the Tea Party—it all pointed to one person. But as realization struck, his expression darkened. Smoothie. He had explicitly arranged for Smoothie to intercept Rosinante and guide him through the treacherous waters of Totto Land.
An icy dread clawed at him. If Rosinante was indeed the source of this cataclysm, Smoothie's safety could be in jeopardy. His instincts screamed at him to act, and he pivoted, ready to sprint toward the docks.
But just as his legs coiled to launch him forward, a familiar figure appeared in his peripheral vision, rushing toward the gathering ministers.
Katakuri skidded to a stop mid-sprint, his brows furrowed in confusion. It was Smoothie.
"What are you doing here?!" he barked, his frustration spilling out. "You were supposed to leave hours ago to receive Rosinante!"
Smoothie, visibly disheveled, came to a halt before him. Her breathing was heavy, her usually calm demeanor shattered by the growing tension in the air.
"Mama stopped me," she said quickly, her voice tinged with unease. "She said it would teach him... humility." Smoothie's words faltered as she processed the implication. Her eyes widened in horror, the realization sinking in like a stone.
"Brother Katakuri... are you telling me this—this thing—is being caused by Rosinante?"
Her disbelief was palpable, and for a fleeting moment, Katakuri didn't respond. Could even Big Mom produce something of this magnitude? A calamity so vast it blurred the lines between natural disaster and godlike power?
The creeping storm was no ordinary phenomenon. Its scale dwarfed anything they'd ever encountered—even their mother's own legendary wrath paled in comparison.
Katakuri's silence was all the answer Smoothie needed.
Her face turned pale, her lips parting slightly in shock. "This isn't possible," she whispered. "No one—no one—has that kind of power. Not even Mama!"
But Katakuri had no time for explanations or reassurances. His jaw clenched as he made his decision. He turned sharply, his scarf trailing behind him like a comet's tail.
"I'll handle this," he said with quiet determination, his voice leaving no room for argument.
Without waiting for a reply, he launched himself toward the pier. The ministers and Smoothie called out after him, but their words were drowned by the pounding of his boots against the ground. His mind was a flurry of calculations, urgency driving him forward.
Reaching the edge of the pier, Katakuri didn't hesitate. He thrust his hands outward, and tendrils of mochi shot from his palms, forming thick, insulated paths across the surface of the sea. He leapt onto the makeshift walkway, his steps swift and unerring as he raced across the waves.
His Observation Haki pulsed, stretching its reach as far as it could go, but even his finely honed senses struggled to pierce the abyss of chaos ahead.
The air itself seemed to grow heavier as he closed the distance. The distant rolling stormclouds crackled ominously, their jagged edges glowing with bursts of violet lightning that split the sky like scars. The seas churned violently, yet the center of the disturbance was eerily calm—like the eye of a storm, biding its time before unleashing its fury.
Katakuri's jaw tightened further. If Mama becomes aware of this before I reach Rosinante... there won't be a Tea Party. There won't even be negotiations. It will be war.
The thought spurred him on, his strides growing longer, faster. His mochi path extended seamlessly beneath his feet, insulating him from the treacherous waves and the electric charge filling the air. He needed answers. He needed to contain this—before everything descended into chaos.
I stood poised on the prow of the colossal ship, the embodiment of wrath and power, the very seas bowing to my will. Lightning danced and crackled in a symphony of destruction, illuminating the skies and seas in a dazzling display of raw energy.
The first island—a peculiar confection of chocolate structures—had offered no resistance, crumbling to ash under the relentless barrage of my lightning. Now, the second island, its crystalline formations of rock candy shimmering like a fragile dream, faced the same merciless fate.
Bolts of lightning as thick as ancient tree trunks descended in an unrelenting storm, each strike carving into the candy-like terrain with explosive force. Thunder roared across the heavens, a chorus that echoed my dominion over the elements, shaking the very air.
Beside me, Dora, her towering form dwarfing even the massive figurehead of the ship, sat with her legs crossed, gazing at the devastation with awe-filled eyes. As a giant, she had grown up on tales of gods and legends, of beings who wielded the forces of nature as their own.
"Thor..." she whispered reverently, her voice carried away by the storm's howl. Her gaze was locked onto me, and in her mind, I was no less than the mythic God of Thunder himself.
Her murmur did not escape my ears, and a flicker of mischief sparked in my eyes. Turning slightly toward her, I smirked. "Thor, you say?" My tone carried a playful edge, though the energy rippling through me was anything but gentle.
I raised my hand to the storm-laden sky, summoning the tempest's fury into a single, cataclysmic bolt. Lightning coiled around my arm like serpents, their violet brilliance crackling with anticipation.
"El Thor!" I roared, my voice carrying the weight of the storm itself.
The heavens answered my call. A colossal pillar of lightning descended, brighter and more furious than anything before. It struck the heart of the second island with an earth-shaking explosion, vaporizing its candy-like core in an instant.
Shards of molten sugar were hurled into the sea, hissing and dissolving as they touched the water. What remained of the island was nothing but a glowing, smoldering crater rapidly filling with the boiling ocean.
Dora's eyes sparkled with unbridled wonder as the echoes of the strike rolled across the sea. Her hands clenched the edges of the figurehead as if to steady herself against the sheer power on display. Her lips parted in amazement, and for a moment, her usual stoic demeanor was replaced by the unrestrained joy of witnessing a myth brought to life.
She turned to me, her voice carrying a rare excitement. "Once more! Once more—let's sink another island!"
Her enthusiasm was infectious, and I let out a low chuckle, the electricity still humming through my veins. I stretched my arms wide, as if embracing the storm itself, and the skies above responded with a renewed ferocity.
"Why not?" I said, my grin widening. "Let's see how many more of Big Mom's playthings can withstand the wrath of the true thunder!"
The storm grew darker, more violent, as if feeding off my intent. The ship beneath us surged forward, its massive hull parting the treacherous waters with ease. Lightning twisted and curled in the sky like living entities, awaiting my command to unleash their fury.
This was not just destruction. This was a declaration—a testament to the power that would reshape the New World.