On the seventh day of the Reverie, the resolution passed unanimously.
The shadow of the old regime was formally consigned to the darkest page of history, and the plan for a colossal bridge spanning the Red Line won unanimous approval from every race. The chief of the Fish-Man Race pressed his right hand to his chest and bowed deeply toward every throne in the hall. When he straightened, tears streamed down his face.
No one knew how many years the bridge would take to build.
But everyone understood that when the final foundation stone was laid, the impassable gulf between the Four Blues and the Grand Line would become nothing more than legend.
After the signing ceremony, Doflamingo casually tossed the quill behind him, grinning like a sated fox. He walked to the window and gazed at the coral city-states flourishing under artificial light deep within the strait, murmuring something.
The guard nearest him caught only a few words-"Old man... you can finally rest in peace now, can't you?"
The moon.
The first domed greenhouse had risen on the barren plain.
Ryokugyu's Devil Fruit power took the form of an immense, tangled network of tree roots, slowly converting minerals sealed within the lunar soil for hundreds of millions of years into a thin, breathable atmosphere. Aramaki himself squatted at the edge of the greenhouse, covered in dirt, and grumbled, "I've never done such exhausting farmwork in my life..."
Conis handed him a cup of water from behind, her smile gentle yet impossible to refuse.
In the distance, the sunlight prism array slowly adjusted its angle, turning the solar wind into a flowing river of light. Dr. Alan stood atop the observation tower, his graying hair lifted by the circulation system, the newborn veins of green on the silver-white plain reflected