Solo Pirating - Chapter 85

Chapter 85

28th of April 1522

Kuraigana

Lyra’s cheeks burned with a deep crimson, a stark contrast to her skin, as Moria's large, rough hand grasped her shoulder. She trembled slightly, her shyness overwhelming her. Selena, standing on her other side, leaned into Moria’s embrace with a confident ease that Lyra could only envy. As the shadows swirled around them, pulling them into the inky void, Lyra’s heart pounded with a mix of trepidation and anticipation.

In an instant, the sweltering heat of Alabasta gave way to the chill, gloomy ambiance of Kuraigana Island. The moon hung low in the sky, casting eerie silver light over the desolate landscape. The ancient trees, gnarled and twisted, loomed like silent sentinels, their branches reaching out like skeletal fingers. A dense mist clung to the ground, swirling around their feet as they materialized on the island’s dark soil.

Lyra’s eyes widened in awe and excitement despite the oppressive atmosphere. An entire island to build from scratch? The prospect was both daunting and exhilarating. She could feel the possibilities unfolding before her, each one more tantalizing than the last. Her shyness momentarily forgotten, she allowed herself a small, eager smile.

Moria’s deep, commanding voice cut through the mist. “This way.” He led them through the twisted forest, his presence as formidable as the island itself. Lyra followed closely, her steps quickening with each heartbeat. Selena walked beside her, a fierce determination in her eyes.

They emerged from the forest to find the castle of Mihawk looming before them. Moria gestured to the castle with a sweeping motion. “This will be our new stronghold,” he declared, his voice filled with dark triumph.

“And you, Lyra, will help shape it into a fortress worthy of our reign.”

Lyra’s heart soared at his words. She nodded eagerly, her shyness giving way to the thrill of the challenge. Moria’s power and ambition were intoxicating, and she was determined to prove herself worthy of his trust.

With a wave of his hand, Moria summoned his shadow soldiers. Half a thousand builders and engineers materialized from the darkness, their forms shifting and solidifying into eerie, silent figures. They stood at attention, awaiting their master’s command.

The shadows moved with an eerie precision, their eyes empty but their movements purposeful. They carried tools and materials, ready to begin the monumental task ahead. Lyra watched in fascination as they began to assess the castle, their silent efficiency both unsettling and awe-inspiring.

Moria turned to Lyra, his gaze piercing. “You have your army of builders. Use them well.”

Lyra swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his expectation. She took a deep breath, steeling herself. “I won’t disappoint you, my lord,” she vowed, her voice trembling but resolute.

Moria’s lips curled into a dark smile, a glint of approval in his eyes. “See that you don’t”, he murmured.

— — —

28th of April 1522
Fishmen island

King Neptune stood, his immense frame silhouetted against the shimmering bioluminescence of Fishman Island. Before him lay a scene of devastation—the once vibrant coral streets now littered with debris, shattered remnants of homes, and the lifeless bodies of his people. The scent of salt and blood hung heavy in the water, a grim reminder of the recent carnage. His son, Fukaboshi, stood among the fallen pirates, his trident still dripping with their blood, his shoulders heaving with exertion and sorrow.

Neptune's heart ached as he surveyed the destruction, fear gnawing at him. This was the third attack since Whitebeard's death, each more vicious than the last. The protection they once took for granted had vanished with the legendary pirate's demise, leaving them vulnerable. The weight of his crown felt heavier than ever as he grappled with the grim reality—they would need a new protector or face annihilation. His eyes traced the path of ruin from Coral Hill to the darkened windows of Ryugu Palace, deepening his resolve.

"Father," Fukaboshi's voice broke through his thoughts, steady but laden with grief, "we need to strengthen our defenses. We can't rely on the past. We must find a new way to protect our home." Neptune nodded, meeting his son's determined gaze. "You are right, my son. We must find another protector." Taking a deep breath, Neptune felt the weight of responsibility settle upon his broad shoulders like an anchor. For the sake of Fishman Island, they would find a way to endure.

— — —

30th of April 1522

Alabasta

Aramaki, the new Marine Admiral, descended into Alubarna with the grace of a falling leaf, his body morphing from a cascade of vibrant foliage that touched down lightly on the cobblestone streets. Straightening up, he surveyed the bustling capital of Alabasta, a sigh escaping his lips. This was one of his first official duties: attending the coronation of Gecko Moria. "A wedding," he muttered, "why do I have to waste my time on this? And the wedding of a fucking Pirate?"

Aramaki scowled, annoyance simmering beneath his calm exterior. Fucking Pirates. And Moria…Moria ruled over two of the twenty kingdoms of the World Government…and was Prince to a third one. That was ten percent of their dominion. A Pirate !

He had hoped to lose himself in the city's winding streets, to see for himself if the people were as happy as Moria claimed. But his plans were quickly dashed. No sooner had he set foot in the city than three Shadow Warriors emerged from the darkness, their forms dark and menacing. "Impressive security," he mused, though he paid them little mind and began to walk, his steps unhurried and confident. If Shadows Warriors could patrol the streets like that, why were there still criminals in Alabasta ? Did Moria want to wait wo he could create another "miracle"? He lasted barely thirty seconds before Absalom, one of Moria's lieutenants, appeared before him, dressed in a sharp formal suit and wearing a smirk.

"Lost, Admiral? I guess you're the one answering the invitation to grace the Marine HQ," Absalom's tone dripped with mockery, his eyes glinting with amusement.

Aramaki nodded, his expression impassive. "Indeed, I am."

Absalom's smirk widened as he studied Aramaki more closely. "I recognize the epaulettes, and I've heard the information of admirals increasing from three to five. So, which one are you? Your face doesn’t ring a bell."

Aramaki's gaze remained steady, his voice calm and measured. "I am Admiral Aramaki, also known as Ryokugyu. Newly appointed."

Absalom's eyebrows lifted slightly, a flicker of interest passing through his eyes. "Ah, the Green Bull. Quite the moniker."

With a curt nod, he followed the beast man, who moved with surprising speed through the labyrinthine streets. Aramaki couldn't help but think that with his physique, Absalom could have easily mastered Rokushiki, the Navy's elite martial arts techniques. To bad he could not train in them.

The palace loomed ahead, an edifice of dreams and grandeur that seemed to rise from the sands themselves. Its facade was a spectacle of opulence, adorned with soaring domes and slender towers, each encrusted with intricate mosaics of turquoise and gold that caught the desert sunlight and scattered it like a thousand dazzling stars. The outer walls, gleaming in the radiant Alabastan sun, were lined with colorful silk banners that fluttered gracefully in the breeze. Colossal pillars framed the entrance, their surfaces carved with elaborate patterns and ancient hieroglyphs, telling tales of forgotten epochs and immortal legends.

As they approached the grand gate, Aramaki could not help but marvel at the craftsmanship of the massive wooden doors, each inlaid with precious metals and studded with gemstones that sparkled like captured celestial bodies.

"Tch…", he scowled.

Stern-faced guards stood at attention, their armor polished to a mirror finish, adding a sense of solemn majesty to the scene. Passing through the grand archway, they stepped into a magnificent entrance hall. The air inside was cool and fragrant, suffused with the rich scent of exotic spices, frankincense, and blooming jasmine. Polished marble floors, inlaid with shimmering gold and silver geometric patterns, seemed to come alive beneath their feet, leading them further into the palace's heart.

At the core of the palace laid an enchanting oriental garden, a paradise of lush greenery and fantastical flora. Giant palms and delicate orchids flourished alongside flowers of impossible colors, their petals glowing with an inner light. Crystal-clear streams meandered through the garden, crossed by arched bridges adorned with intricate mosaic tiles. Lanterns hung from the trees, casting a magical luminescence that made the garden feel like a realm out of a fairy tale. The upcoming coronation ceremony would be broadcast from the palace balcony to the gathered populace, and then the newly crowned king and queen would join the elite for a speech and celebration in the gardens. Aramaki stood at the edge of the garden, his dark green eyes scanning the crowd. Nobles in rich silks and ornate jewelry chatted animatedly.

The Alabastan nobles were a vision of splendor, draped in flowing robes of brilliant hues adorned with intricate gold embroidery. Their attire was complemented by heavy, elaborate jewelry—broad gold collars, bracelets set with gemstones, and headdresses that gleamed under the lantern light. The men wore tunics and kilts of fine linen, while the women’s gowns were long and graceful, trailing elegantly on the marble floors.

Aramaki’s eyes scanned the crowd, taking in the remarkable assembly. He let out a low whistle. "Amazing lineup," he muttered. "Moria knows some people."

Near the center of the garden, a particularly striking group caught his attention. Standing with a regal air was King Judge, a formidable figure in his own right, known for his scientific prowess and martial strength. Beside him stood his daughter, Princess Reiju, Moria's second wife - well, third if the history about the princes-turned-queen Viola was true. Reiju was stunning in a sleek black cocktail dress that clung to her curves, highlighting her hourglass figure. The dress was simple yet elegant, with a plunging neckline and a high slit that revealed her toned legs. Her pink hair cascaded down her back in soft waves, and her eyes, sharp and intelligent, were accentuated with a touch of smoky makeup. She chatted with ease, her full lips curling into a confident smile as she conversed with the nearby guests.

Beside Reiju stood Queen Viola of Dressrosa, a vision of fiery sensuality in a vibrant red dress that contrasted beautifully with her tanned skin. The dress was crafted from rich, flowing fabric that wrapped tightly around her torso, accentuating her hourglass figure. The bodice, adorned with intricate lace patterns, dipped daringly off her shoulders, exposing the smooth skin of her neck and collarbones. The skirt flared dramatically at the hips, cascading down in layers of ruffled lace that swayed with every movement, reminiscent of a flamenco dancer's attire. Viola's dark hair cascaded in loose, luxurious waves, framing her face and enhancing the allure of her striking, expressive eyes. A vibrant red rose was tucked behind her ear, adding a touch of passionate elegance. Her eyes sparkled with a mix of intelligence and fiery passion, and her full lips, painted a bold red, curled into a seductive smile as she engaged with those around her.

Aramaki discreetly leered at her from behind his glass, his gaze lingering on the way the dress hugged her ample breasts, pushing them up into an enticing display of cleavage. The tight fabric emphasized the roundness of her hips and the firm, shapely curves of her ass, the ruffled layers accentuating her every movement. Each step she took caused the dress to cling even tighter, highlighting the erotic sway of her hips and the sensual contour of her backside. The high slit in the skirt revealed her long, toned legs, adding to the tantalizing display. Her presence was magnetic, commanding attention and admiration, her erotic allure impossible to ignore. Aramaki marveled at the scene, appreciating the effortless blend of beauty and power that Viola embodied, each movement a testament to her captivating charm.

Aramaki turned away from Viola and surveyed the other guests, his scowl deepening. Too bad he had strict orders about not making a fuss at a noble's wedding. The Five elders had been very clear, though he could not guess why. Many powerful figures were present, including notorious criminals. The gathering was a who's who of the underworld, and he couldn't help but feel frustrated at the lack of opportunity to clean house.

Among the guests were the Emperors of the Underworld: Du Feld, the "God of Fortune," a rotund man with a perpetual smirk and a penchant for expensive cigars, dressed in a tailored suit; Morgans, the bird-like president of the World Economic Journal, in a sharply cut tuxedo, his beady eyes constantly scanning for a story; Stussy, the Queen of the Pleasure District, stunning in a form-fitting evening gown that highlighted her hourglass figure, her blonde hair styled in soft waves, and a sultry smile that could charm the most hardened criminal; Drug Peclo, the deeply scarred drug merchant in an impeccably tailored black suit; Giberson, the "Warehouse King," with his massive frame and piercing gaze, looking formidable in a dark, well-fitted suit; and Umit, the "Deep Sea Current," a shrewd shipping magnate in a crisp white suit, exuding authority.

Aramaki couldn't help but marvel at the audacity of the criminal elite, dressed as if they had no need to hide their true nature. But it was not like he wasn't used to it…The nobles and kings from various countries mingled with the criminal elite.

And…What? What were they doing here? Aramaki tensed.

A bead of sweat formed on Aramaki’s brow as he recognized, to his surprise, Baron Tamago, a knight-ranked combatant of the Big Mom Pirates, easily recognizable with his elongated legs typical of the Longleg Tribe and his aristocratic air.

Aramaki scowled. He understood the necessity of the rules the Marines followed—not to engage a member of a Yonko's crew unless they were engaged first or had specific orders to - like they apparently did back in the days for Rocks D Xebec. It was essential to not enter a frontal conflict with a Yonko that would leave them vulnerable to the other Yonko. But with the death of Whitebeard, now that they had five admirals, why keep the rule? They could assert their dominance over the seas! Stop being afraid! He recalled when he had, as a younger Rear Admiral, captured one of Shanks' underlings and had to "let him go" so Red-Hair would not come after them... Fuck.

His fists clenched at the memory, the frustration of having to bow to pirate demands gnawing at him. He glanced around the garden, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene of opulence and power. The nobles and criminals mingling so freely made his blood boil. This was not how justice should be served.

But his orders had been clear: play the diplomat and the enforcer simultaneously. Ass kissing and intimidation. He was to flatter Moria, one of their technically new boss, while "subtly" reminding him that, in the eyes of the Marines, he was insignificant and reliant on their protection. It was a schizophrenic act, to say the least. Why couldn’t they have sent Kuzan or Sakazuki? They would have handled this far better. But Kuzan was on a secret mission, and Sakazuki had been dispatched to initiate a large-scale hunt of the New World’s veterans, preparing for the Marine HQ's move to the New World as a show of force.

Aramaki’s thoughts were interrupted by the clear, musical clink of a glass. He turned to see Viola standing at the center of the garden. She raised her glass high, the movement causing her ample breasts to sway gently, the red dress hugging her curves in all the right places.

"Attention, everyone," Viola's voice rang out, smooth and confident. "The coronation of my husband Moria and my fellow wife Vivi is about to begin."

The garden fell into a hushed anticipation, all eyes turning towards Viola. Aramaki felt a flicker of something deeper than frustration—a dark, reluctant admiration for the scene unfolding before him. Despite the hypocrisy and the twisted alliances, there was an undeniable beauty in the power play.

Viola's gaze swept across the crowd, her eyes lingering momentarily on Aramaki, a knowing smile playing on her lips. She turned gracefully, her dress swirling around her, and led the way towards a large screen set up to transmit the coronation ceremony taking place in the Main Plaza of Alubarna. The citizens of Dressrosa and other cities in Alabasta were also watching the live broadcast, creating a sense of unity and shared spectacle.