Chapter 40
30th March 1522
Alabasta
The high-vaulted ceilings, awash in deep lapis lazuli, sparkled with golden stars that mirrored the night sky. Rich tapestries in hues of turquoise, amber, and gold adorned the walls, depicting scenes of desert landscapes and mythical creatures that shimmered in the flickering torchlight, casting dancing shadows across the assembly. The air was thick with the intoxicating scent of blooming lotus and sandalwood incense, mingling with the earthy fragrance of aged stone and the faint, metallic tang of ceremonial armor.
Rows of guests filled the hall, a resplendent sea of linen and silk, jewels and precious stones, each individual a living testament to the grandeur of Alabasta. Aristocrats and dignitaries, their robes embroidered with symbols of power and prosperity, whispered amongst themselves, their conversations a soft murmur reverberating off the ancient stone walls.
At the far end of the hall, elevated on a dais, stood the Priest of Nika and the three other old gods. His robe, a deep indigo adorned with golden ankhs and symbols of forgotten deities, marked him as a relic of a bygone era. His eyes, sharp and knowing, scanned the room before he began to speak.
"Honored guests," he intoned, his voice resonating through the hall, silencing the guests. "We gather here to witness the union of Princess Nefertari Vivi and Warlord Gecko Moria, a union that promises to bring strength and prosperity to our land."
Spontaneously—well, apparently—the guests from Alabasta cheered and clapped to show their appreciation of the union. The sound swelled through the hall, a wave of approval and hope. Beyond the palace, the ceremony was projected onto the main cities of Alabasta through Den Den Mushi, the snails transmitting the scene to the farthest reaches of the kingdom. Ordinary citizens, who had seen their thirst quenched and bellies filled by Moria and his men, cheered in appreciation, their voices rising in a collective exultation that echoed through the streets and alleyways.
The priest continued, his voice cutting through the joyous noise, drawing the room's attention back to the ceremony. "In this union, we see the convergence of two powerful lineages, two souls brought together by destiny and purpose."
Standing before him, with his back to the guests, was Gecko Moria. Moria's shoulders were broad and strong, his posture regal. The high collar of his tunic framed his face, drawing attention to his aristocratic features. His skin was pale, almost ethereal, a stark contrast to the richness of his attire. His hair, a deep ebony, was neatly tied back, emphasizing the sharp lines of his jaw and the intensity of his gaze. His eyes, dark and piercing, held a depth of emotion that belied his stoic expression. He wore traditional garb inspired by the ancients—an elegant tunic of the finest white linen, embroidered with intricate patterns of gold and silver that told stories of valor and eternity. A wide, gem-studded belt cinched his waist, from which hung a ceremonial scimitar, its hilt encrusted with precious stones and its blade etched with symbols of protection and power. This was the very attire worn by King Cobra at his own wedding, adding a deep layer of symbolism.
The hall fell silent once more as the priest raised his hands, calling for quiet. "Let us honor this moment and the promises it holds. May this union be blessed by the old gods, and may it bring forth a new era of peace and prosperity for Alabasta."
As he spoke, the guests remained enraptured by the sight of Gecko Moria, their future ruler by marriage, a man who had already shown his strength and benevolence to their land. The weight of the occasion settled upon them, binding them in shared hope and anticipation for the future that this union symbolized.
"And by this union," the priest continued, his voice echoing through the grand hall, "Gecko Moria shall be crowned Prince of Alabasta."
A wave of cheers erupted from the assembly, a joyous clamor that filled the hall. As the applause subsided, a profound silence followed. The strains of traditional wedding music began to fill the air, a harmonious blend of strings and percussions. The rhythmic beats of the doumbek mingled with the haunting melodies of the ney. The grand doors of the hall slowly opened, revealing King Cobra, regal in his ceremonial attire. His robes, woven from the finest silks, were adorned with intricate patterns of gold and turquoise. His crown, a symbol of his sovereignty, glimmered in the light. His face, though marked with the lines of age and wisdom, held a look of pride and solemnity.
At his arm was Princess Vivi, the bride. She was a vision of grace and beauty, her wedding dress a masterpiece of elegance. The gown, crafted from the finest white linen, featured intricate gold embroidery that highlighted her regal bearing. Her azure hair, styled meticulously, shimmered like a cascade of blue silk, adorned with delicate jewels that caught the light with every step. Her wide, expressive eyes, a deep cerulean, held a blend of timidity and eager anticipation, reflecting the weight of the moment and the promise of the future.
Vivi's cheeks were flushed with a soft blush, her lips slightly parted as she took in the grandeur of the hall and the eyes upon her. Her slender neck was adorned with a simple yet elegant necklace, drawing attention to her delicate collarbones. The gown's fitted bodice accentuated her graceful figure, while the flowing skirt swayed with each step, adding to her ethereal presence.
Together, they advanced down the aisle, their steps synchronized with the rhythm of the music. The guests watched in silent admiration, their eyes following the father and daughter as they made their way towards the groom. King Cobra's grip on Vivi's arm was firm yet gentle, guiding her with the dignity befitting a princess, his own pride and emotion evident in the way he carried himself.
As they reached the dais, King Cobra paused, his eyes meeting Moria's. Gecko Moria smiled at Vivi, a smile that was both reassuring and warm. Vivi's heart fluttered, and she felt herself melt under his gaze. The priest, momentarily distracted, found himself lost in the red eyes of one of the bridesmaids. Her gaze was piercing and mesmerizing, almost hypnotic. Beside her, the orange-haired bridesmaid smiled, her lips curving into a knowing expression as she softly sang a slow, guttural melody under her breath, a hauntingly beautiful counterpoint to the ceremony.
30th March 1522
Skypeia
Gan Fall had smelt the smoke before hearing the screams. The acrid scent, sharp and suffocating, snaked through the serene air of Skypiea. As he soared above the treetops on Pierre, his trusty steed, the horizon darkened with billowing clouds of ash. His heart quickened its pace. The cries of panic and despair, muffled by the distance, soon reached his ears, urging him to descend toward the city center.
To his horror, everything was burning. The once-vibrant streets were now engulfed in a hellish inferno. Amidst the chaotic tapestry of flames and shadows, monstrous figures loomed—stone titans with the faces of animals. Their bodies, etched with ancient hieroglyphs, dripped with blood and gore, chunks of flesh clinging to their massive weapons. The snarling jackal-headed beast swung its blade, severing limbs with sickening ease, while a falcon-headed titan crushed skulls underfoot, their beaks stained crimson. The crocodile-faced horror, its maw open in a perpetual, silent roar, flung corpses aside like ragdolls.
Gan Fall's resolve solidified as he prepared to strike the stone titans ravaging his city. But before he could move, a colossal dragon of shadows erupted from the darkness. The beast lunged, its maw a nightmare of jagged obsidian teeth dripping with blood. With terrifying speed, it clamped down on Gan Fall, severing his arm in a burst of blood and searing pain.
30th March 1522
Alabasta
Vivi took Moria's hand in hers, the connection sending a warm thrill through her. Moria gently ran a finger along her palm, the subtle touch sending shivers down her spine. Her hand fit perfectly in his.
The priest, recovering from his momentary distraction, began the ancient rites. "By the old gods and the news, we witness the joining of Princess Nefertari Vivi and Warlord Gecko Moria. May their union be blessed and bring forth an era of peace and prosperity."
Moria and Vivi turned to face each other, their hands still intertwined. With a deep, resonant voice, Moria began his vows. "Nefertari Vivi, I vow to stand by your side, to protect and cherish you, and to bring strength and prosperity to Alabasta. In unity, we will face the future together."
Vivi's eyes shimmered with emotion as she responded, her voice soft yet resolute. "Gecko Moria, I promise to support and honor you, to walk beside you through all challenges, and to share in the joys and burdens of our people. Together, we will build a future of peace and prosperity."
Moria reached into a small, ornately decorated box and took out a ring. It glimmered with an almost ethereal light, the gold band intricately forged and enchanted. Unbeknownst to her, the ring contained a mix of their blood and had been crafted by Nami. As she accepted it, it minded Vivi to Moria in ways she could not imagine. He slid the ring onto her finger, and as the metal met her skin, she felt a faint warmth spread through her hand. He smiled.
King Cobra stepped forward, his face a mixture of pride and solemnity. "My son," he proclaimed, placing a richly adorned crown upon Moria's head. The crown glinted in the torchlight, a symbol of his new status and the responsibilities that came with it.
"With this crown, I name you Prince of Alabasta. May you rule with wisdom and strength, and may your union bring prosperity to our land."
The hall erupted in applause, the sound filling the grand space. The guests cheered with fervor, their voices a cacophony of joy and approval. Outside the palace, the projections of the ceremony were broadcast to the main cities of Alabasta through Den Den Mushi. As the image of Moria being crowned appeared, a wave of cheers and applause erupted from the crowds. Moria, feeling through his Haki Doflamingo growing bored, saw him leave with his devil fruit's power. He snorted : the amusement Doflamingo had hoped for - him being destroyed by the marine sent to check wether he had coerced Vivi into the marriage - definitely would not happen.
30th March 1522
Skypeia
The priests of Enel, their once cruel faces now contorted with terror, looked up as the sky darkened. From the heavens, the monstrous constructs dropped like vengeful deities, their stone bodies crashing into the ground with bone-rattling force. Satori, his usual smugness replaced by dread, swung his staff desperately at a descending jackal-headed behemoth. The staff shattered on impact, and the beast's massive blade followed through, cleaving Satori in two. Panic spread as the priests realized their Mantra, their trusted ability to read thoughts and anticipate attacks, was useless against these soulless constructs. Blood sprayed across the ground.
"Enel, save us!" Shura screamed, his voice cracking with desperation as a falcon-headed titan descended upon him. He tried to ensnare the beast with his wires, but its stone wings sliced through them effortlessly. In a swift, brutal motion, the titan's claws tore into Shura's flesh, ripping him apart. His blood splattered across the battlefield, mingling with the dust and debris. Gedatsu, eyes wide with fear, summoned his swamp traps in a frantic attempt to slow the relentless advance of a crocodile-faced horror. "God Enel, protect us!" he cried, but the beast's stone jaws clamped around Gedatsu's torso, crushing bone and flesh with sickening ease. His screams were abruptly silenced, drowned by the gurgle of blood filling his throat.
Ohm, the last standing priest, fought valiantly with his iron ordeal, managing to destroy one of the statues with a powerful strike. But even his formidable swordsmanship was no match for the relentless onslaught. A lion-headed construct dropped from above, its massive hammer crashing down and catching Ohm in the chest, sending him flying. He landed in a broken heap, his life's blood pooling beneath him as his breaths grew shallow. Around him, the constructs continued their merciless massacre, indifferent to the priests' once-vaunted powers. The air grew thick with the scent of blood and the echo of dying screams.
"Enel, where are you?" Ohm whispered, his voice barely audible. The silence that answered was deafening, the dawning realization of their god's impotence or indifference sinking into his soul. As he passed away, his shadow was absorbed by the statue's shadow. With his last breath, he uttered a bitter realization, "We prayed to the wrong god."
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