The Invitation to God Valley, Currents Stir

Rektol's gaze cut across the horizon as he watched the phantom image of God Valley.

He slowly withdrew his gaze.

His chubby fingers pressed against the rough stone railing, leaving several deep indentations. Gray-white stone dust trickled through his fingers and struck the surfaces of his black military boots.

A dull flapping sound suddenly came from the sky overhead.

It was loud enough to drown out the crashing waves.

A giant news bird twice the size of an ordinary seagull tore through the dark clouds above. A specially made leather pair of wind goggles hung around its neck, and its feathers were as hard as iron plates, gleaming with a metallic sheen.

It did not circle in midair.

As it flew directly over the main deck of Rocks's flagship, its two sturdy claws loosened.

A heavy kraft-paper envelope dropped straight down.

"Smack."

The envelope slammed onto the oil-stained wooden deck, still marked with dried blood. The impact sounded dull and kicked up a small cloud of dust.

A dark-red crossed-star seal had been stamped onto the envelope's surface.

This was the World Government's highest-level official notice.

Rocks sat on an ammunition crate in the middle of the deck.

His withered hand snatched up the envelope. His rough thumb dug straight into the wax seal and violently pried it open.

A thick sheet of parchment was yanked out.

Rocks lowered his head. His dead-fish eyes swiftly swept over the bold black characters on the page.

"Indigenous Massacre Tournament."

Rocks read the words aloud. His voice sounded like rusted gears grinding dryly, making the scalps of several pirates nearby go numb.

The contents of the official notice were blunt.

The Celestial Dragons would soon hold their triennial hunting game in God Valley. The targets were the island's Indigenous people and slaves gathered from around the world.

And this time, the prize was a God-tier Devil Fruit—even the Navy Admirals coveted it.

Rocks's shoulders began to tremble.

At first, the movement was slight, but it grew more pronounced by the second.

"Gyahahahaha!"

He suddenly threw back his head and roared with laughter. His laughter carried a penetrating force that made the rigging on the mainmast hum. Several seabirds perched on the rail shrieked and fell into the sea.

Droplets of spittle sprayed onto the parchment, smearing several black letters.

"The Celestial Dragons... the God's Knights."

Rocks slammed one hand onto a heavy cannon beside him.

The cannon barrel, forged from pure iron, let out a wail as a clear handprint was forcibly stamped into its surface. The gun carriage sank, crushing the deck beneath it.

"A bunch of idiots begging to die! They're all gathering in one place, so I won't have to hunt them down one by one across the island!"

He abruptly rose to his feet.

His dark-red captain's coat snapped violently in the wind.

"Hard to starboard! Full speed ahead!"

The veins on Rocks's thick neck bulged like winding tree roots.

"Charge God Valley! Wipe out those pigs with bubbles over their heads and that damn knight order in one fell swoop!"

The thousands of pirates aboard the flagship raised their swords and sabers, unleashing beastlike howls. Deafening cheers instantly echoed throughout the entire bay.

Whitebeard Newgate sat in a corner and gulped down a mouthful of liquor. The drink dripped down along his crescent-shaped mustache.

Golden Lion Shiki held a cigar between his teeth, drew his famous sword halfway, and tested the blade with his thumb.

Rektol crossed the heavy steel gangplank and returned to the warship belonging to the Charlotte Family.

His military boots landed on the Wapometal deck with dull metallic echoes. The air was thick with the smell of engine oil and a faint trace of ozone.

A messenger wearing an eyepatch came running over, drenched in sweat.

His legs trembled slightly as he held out a sheet of parchment bearing a blood-red skull seal with both hands.

"Y-Young Master Rektol... Captain Rocks's assault order." The messenger swallowed. "He requires our first wave to land through the frontal harbor and forcefully tear open the Navy's defensive line."

Rektol reached out and took the parchment.

He did not even glance at the writing.

His two chubby fingers squeezed hard. The tough parchment was like rotten tofu in his hands, crumpling into a wrinkled ball of wastepaper.

A flicker of blue-white electricity flashed across his fingertips.

"Crackle."

The paper ball instantly caught fire and turned into a pinch of black ash. The sea wind carried it into the churning waves.

The messenger shrank his neck in fright and did not dare to breathe loudly.

Rektol strode into the iron-built command room on the bridge.

The heavy iron door automatically shut behind him, blocking out the sound of the wind and waves.

Katakuri was sitting on an iron chair.

His upper body was bare, and thick white bandages were wrapped around his sturdy muscles. Fresh blood seeped from the edges.

He was biting down on one end of the bandage and using one hand to tighten the knot.

The movement tugged at the penetrating wound in his back, making him suck in a sharp breath from the pain. Cold sweat dripped from his chin onto the iron floor.

Cracker was crouching beside a piece of equipment in the corner.

He held a hard black loaf of bread and gnawed at it with force. Crumbs littered the floor, attracting several scurrying sea cockroaches.

Rektol walked over and kicked aside an empty iron barrel blocking his path.

The barrel crashed into the bulkhead with a resounding clang.

Both men looked up at the same time.

"Pass it down. Change our course." Rektol stopped before the controls and looked at Katakuri.

Katakuri released the bandage from his teeth and stood straight. The movement pulled at his wound, making him frown slightly.

"Big Brother, Rocks's order is to launch a frontal assault."

"That is his order to throw his life away, not mine." Rektol snorted coldly.

He tapped the rough nautical chart on the controls with his short fingers. His fingernail scratched a white mark across the chart.

"The frontal harbor has at least three Admiral-level combatants stationed there by the World Government, along with the elite defensive line of the God's Knights."

Rektol turned his head. His voice echoed coldly inside the enclosed iron shell.

"The Navy and Rocks can go throw their lives away. We're going to take out their nest."

The half-eaten piece of black bread fell from Cracker's mouth. He forgot to pick it up and stared blankly at Rektol.

"We're going to circle around to the back of God Valley."

Rektol pointed to the cliffs behind God Valley on the nautical chart.

"That is where the Celestial Dragons' treasury is."

"Eight hundred years of accumulated wealth, plus that Azure Dragon Fruit. It's all waving at us."

Rektol looked at Katakuri and tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Ready to live a different kind of life, little brother?"

Katakuri's Adam's apple bobbed.

He glanced at his bandage-wrapped hands and felt the dormant power of Conqueror's Haki within him.

Then he nodded heavily.

"I'll follow your lead, Big Brother. Kill the gods if gods stand in our way."

The next three days.

The seas of the New World descended into a frenzy of storms.

Gales whipped up waves dozens of meters high and smashed them brutally against the armor of the steel warship. The Wapometal hull emitted a deep hum, yet remained as solid as a rock.

On the morning of the third day.

A biting chill swept across the sea.

The thick fog covering the waters ahead was torn apart by an invisible, eerie current of air.

A massive island slowly revealed its true form along the horizon.

The vegetation was so dense that it looked black. Huge ancient trees pierced the clouds, their crowns resembling clusters of lifeless dark clouds.

The entire island exuded a suffocating stillness. Even the birds and schools of fish in the surrounding waters had vanished.

God Valley.

Blue flames spewed from the plasma thrusters at the rear of the warship, cleaving through the black waves.

Rektol stood barefoot on the thickest Fine Steel ram at the bow.

The cold sea wind pressed his clothes tightly against his body. His short pink hair streamed backward.

He closed his eyes.

A faint azure glow lit up beneath his eyelids.

The All-Knowing Eye opened instantly.

His vision became an invisible blade that pierced through the dense forest and crossed over the trenches where fighting had broken out around the perimeter.

It stabbed straight into the very center of the island.

There, a massive domed structure flashing with dazzling golden light locked firmly onto Rektol's retina.