Chapter 38

30th March 1522
Thriller Bark

Lyra stood near Moria, her breath visible in the chill air. He was in his handsome two-meter form, the tailored suit fitting perfectly, the dark fabric accentuating his pallid skin. Apparently, he was getting married today. Nearby, Nami stood, dressed in a light blue bridesmaid dress that flowed like liquid silk. The dress hugged her curves, contrasting beautifully with her fiery red hair, which cascaded in soft waves around her shoulders. She exuded confidence, her eyes sparkling with intelligence.

"Are you sure we are just below the isle?" Moria asked, his voice smooth and commanding.

Nami nodded confidently. "Yes, I've done all the calculations. We're in the perfect position."

Moria took out a polished pocket watch, its silver surface gleaming. He glanced at it briefly before turning back to the rank of statues Lyra had meticulously crafted. The towering Necrosphinx dominated the landscape. Colossal wings, etched with arcane symbols, seemed poised to unleash a tempest at any moment, while its glowing eyes, set deep within its stone visage, burned with a malevolent light that chilled the air. Nearby, the ranks of Winged-Ushabtis stood poised for battle, their slender humanoid forms and majestic wings both beautiful and terrifying. The two Winged War Sphinxes, massive and imposing, promised swift and devastating mobility with their powerful, leonine bodies and enormous wings. Sinister Sepulchral Stalkers, with their elongated, serpentine forms, coiled with latent malice.

A satisfied smile spread across his face as he turned to Lyra. "You've outdone yourself, Lyra. Excellent work," he praised, his voice warm yet authoritative.

Lyra felt her cheeks flush under his gaze. She stammered, "Th-thank you, Master Moria. I... I worked very h…hard on them."

Moria's smile widened. "Tell me, what would you like as a reward?"

Lyra hesitated, then said, "I heard one of your subordinates has painting-based powers. I'd like to meet her."

Moria nodded. "Miss Goldenweek, yes. I'll summon her for you. You'll be able to make her your subordinate."

Lyra's eyes widened in surprise. "Me, a b…boss?"

"Yes, you. You've earned it."

With a gesture, Moria commanded a wave of shadows to envelop her sculptures. The warriors surged forward, slipping into the depths of the statues' shadows.

Moria then turned to his assembled team, each a vital part of the impending operation. Absalom stood firm, his rubber boots planted solidly, a large, mysterious bag slung over his shoulder. Selena, an imposing figure in heavy plate armor reinforced with rubber, her pale skin contrasting sharply with the dark metal, gripped her enormous, gleaming axe. Monet, with her green hair cascading down her back, grovelled at the feet of Moria. Before they departed, Isabella, dressed as a bridesmaid with her pale skin almost luminescent and her ample bosom barely contained by the bodice, glanced at Monet one last time, her red eyes ensuring the hypnosis would hold.

Clearing his throat, Moria addressed them. "You will succeed, I trust you. And remember: I do not care about the people or the island—I only need more Shadows, and my soldiers can absorb them themselves," he declared. Absalom and Selena straightened, smiling and proud.

He reached out, grabbing Nami and Isabella, putting his arms around their waists. With a final nod to his crew, Moria enveloped Nami and Isabella, the world around them darkening as the shadows wrapped around them like a cloak, and they disappeared, leaving Lyra amidst her now-animated creations.

"Well… time to go, I guess?" Lyra muttered as the wings of her statues began to flap at Moria's command.

"Fly! To Skypiea!"

30th March 1522
Alabasta

Capone Bege took a measured look at his watch, the polished silver reflecting the morning sun. It was 12:00 AM. The wedding ceremony was set to commence in two hours, and Moria was nowhere in sight. Yet, Bege wasn't troubled. His boss had a flair for dramatic, last-minute entrances, often materializing out of thin air when least expected.

Bege's keen eyes scanned the opulent palace gardens, a haven of ancient luxury. Date palms swayed gently in the breeze, their fronds whispering secrets to the almond trees that stood sentinel beside them. Exotic flowers, resplendent in hues of crimson and gold, filled the air with their heady perfume, mingling with the crisp scent of the fountains that gushed clear, cool water into meticulously carved basins. Marble statues of forgotten gods and heroes added an aura of timeless grandeur to the landscape. The pathways were lined with intricate mosaics, their tesserae forming elaborate geometric patterns and mythological scenes. One particularly striking mosaic depicted the legendary Nika battling a ferocious Cerberus, their figures locked in eternal combat at the edge of a yawning abyss with ominous eyes peering from its depths. The artistry was exquisite, each tile painstakingly placed to capture the intensity and drama of the scene.

The gardens were alive with the hum of conversation, a symphony of cultured voices. Aristocrats and bourgeois from Alabasta and distant kingdoms had gathered, their attire a kaleidoscope of silks and satins, adorned with jewels that caught and refracted the sunlight in dazzling displays. The men wore intricately embroidered robes, their patterns telling stories of their lineage and power. The women's gowns flowed like liquid silk, adorned with pearls and gemstones.

"Princess Vivi's dress is rumored to be a masterpiece," murmured a duchess, her fan fluttering delicately as she spoke. "Handcrafted lace and the finest silks, they say."

"And to think, a Warlord as her groom! Quite the surprising union," responded a nobleman nearby, his tone a blend of admiration and envy. "I hear the alliance is strategic. Strengthening ties between Alabasta and the Warlords can only bode well for our future - it's an omen of a stable world."

Another guest, a woman draped in luxurious silks, chimed in. "Rumors have been circulating for months about the decline of the Royal Family of Alabasta, but seeing this opulence, one would never believe it. The grandeur of this event speaks volumes."

A portly gentleman nodded in agreement. "Indeed, the royal coffers must still be deep. Look at the splendor around us. This is not the display of a kingdom in decline."

Nearby, a group of ladies-in-waiting giggled behind their fans, casting glances at the formidable figures milling about. "Did you see the diamonds on Lady Marigold's necklace? They must be worth a king's ransom," one whispered.

"Indeed," replied another, her eyes wide with awe. "And I heard that King Cobra has spared no expense for the festivities. The finest wines, the most exquisite dishes… nothing but the best for his only daughter's wedding."

Bege's gaze sharpened as he observed the mingling guests. King Cobra held court in the VVIP area, his robust laughter mingling with the clinking of crystal glasses. His eyes, though, betrayed the shrewd mind behind the genial façade. It was an event to prove the stability of his reign, to prove wrong the rumors. Not far off, King Wapol indulged himself at a lavish banquet table, his appetite legendary and insatiable.

Yet, among the noble faces, there were also surprises. Three of the Underworld emperors had made their appearance. Stussy, with a stylish hat and an enigmatic smile; Morgans, towering and his beak ever-hungry for news; and Giberson. Their presence underscored the significance of this union, a marriage that bridged the world of pirates and the World Government - well, between a Warlord and a Princess.

Bege's attention was drawn to Vinsmoke Judge, imposing and stern, flanked by one of his sons and his daughter. Their presence was unexpected but not entirely surprising. The Vinsmokes were royalty, and Bege had seen the national accounts; their commercial exchanges with Alabasta were substantial, making them indispensable allies. Next to him, Prince Fukaboshi of Fishman Island, with his two guards, moved with an air of quiet dignity. His presence had caused a stir.

However, it was the scene unfolding before him that commanded Bege's full attention. Admiral Kizaru and Doflamingo stood in a tense standoff, their eyes locked in a silent duel of dominance. Kizaru's lazy demeanor masked his deadliness, while Doflamingo's smile was a sharp blade. The air literally crackled with tension, and Bege felt a sudden weakness in his knees. Despite his rugged exterior and hardened demeanor, the sheer power radiating from the two combatants was enough to make even him falter.

"Sirs…" he stammered, trying to find his voice amidst the oppressive atmosphere.

To his immense relief, the air around him seemed to shift and cool. A shadow flickered at the edge of his vision, and Moria materialized beside him with a flourish, his presence commanding and undeniable. He was all smiles and courtesy, his demeanor a stark contrast to the electric hostility that had gripped the gardens.

"Gentlemen," Moria greeted warmly, his voice smooth and inviting. "What a pleasure it is to see you both here. Such esteemed guests at this joyous occasion truly honor us."

30th March 1522
Skypeia

Enel had never encountered such fervent veneration in all his days. The green-haired creature—a human with talons for hands and wings in place of arms—had appeared, plummeting from the heavens into the periphery of his Haki field. Intrigued, he descended from his lofty perch to inspect this curiosity. Her mind, a swirling tempest of unwavering devotion, was nearly unsettling in its intensity. As he approached, the creature prostrated herself before him, her wings spread wide in supplication, her eyes filled with an adoration that Enel found both amusing and gratifying. He, the only god, deserved nothing less than such profound reverence from his followers.

The creature crawled toward him, her every movement a testament to her worship. She reached his feet, her hands—those peculiar talons—trembling as they touched his divine form. Enel felt no malice, no deceit within her; only a raw, unadulterated devotion. He allowed her this proximity, reveling in the affirmation of his godhood. But in a swift motion, she lunged. How? How could he not have perceived that through his Mantra? Shackles, crafted from a strange, ominous stone, clamped around his ankles. A sickening wave of weakness surged through him. Enel, for the first time in his life, felt something akin to panic. His connection to his divine powers was severed; the familiar hum of electricity within him silenced.

Rage and fear mingled in his eyes as he raised his staff, intending to smite the treacherous creature. But his attack passed through her as she transformed, her body becoming an ethereal, strange white solid mist. He swung again, but his staff met only the biting cold of her new form. Enel staggered, his breath visible in the frigid air, and for the first time, the god of Skypiea felt a chill of mortal dread.

As he struggled, Enel saw her eyes go from their crimson hue to a more normal brown. Diving into her mind, he glimpsed an image. The vision of himself, once radiant and divine, flickered and morphed into the form of a strange, tall, very pale monster. This grotesque figure loomed in her thoughts, supplanting his once-glorious visage as the objects of her intense devotion. How…How could Haki fail him? In that horrifying moment, the white mist that was Monet surged around him, enveloping him completely. The cold was like nothing he had ever experienced, piercing to his very core. The god of Skypiea was engulfed by a relentless, bone-chilling frost.

A few seconds later, Enel passed out, as he felt entering from above his Mantra field…Were those the souls of dead people?

In the nearest city, the massacre began.

30th March 1522
Alabasta

Moria materialized at the edge of the grand gardens. As he stepped fully into the light, he exchanged a brief, silent communication with one of the Shadows attached to Capone Bege. Receiving the mental image, he swore under his breath, his voice a guttural growl. "The fuckers! What assholes! Can't I have some peace for a day?". He moved quickly to the entrance, and appeared behind Bege.

Before him stood Doflamingo, with his perpetual smirk, and fucking Borsalino. Their presence at the wedding set his nerves on edge. Steeling himself, Moria adopted a warm smile and approached them with an air of practiced grace.

"Gentlemen," he greeted smoothly, his voice rich and inviting. "What a pleasure it is to see you both here. Such esteemed guests at this joyous occasion truly honor us."

Doflamingo's grin widened, a flash of white teeth under the glaring sun. "Well, well, Moria," he drawled, his tone dripping with amusement. "You almost look human today. What's your secret? A new diet, perhaps?"

Kizaru's slow drawl followed, his voice carrying a strange, almost eerie resonance. "Ooooh! Nice! Looking, I mean. Not the joke. Well…It was fun"

[Borsalino]

Class: Marine
Job: Admiral Kizaru, the Yellow Monkey
Fruit : Pika Pika no Mi

Dourikis: 22 152
Potential: SSS
Fate: S

The words were stretched out in a manner that seemed almost stupid. Moria forced himself to maintain his genial façade, though his mind raced. He knew better than to underestimate Kizaru. The man's seemingly languid demeanor concealed a mind that operated at light speed, processing information and potential threats faster than anyone Moria had ever encountered. If not for his peculiar personality, Kizaru would undoubtedly be the successor to Sengoku as Fleet Admiral.

"Ah, Doflamingo," Moria responded with a chuckle that masked his irritation. "It's all about good company and fine events such as this one. The happiness of a union can do wonders for one's appearance."

He turned to Kizaru, his eyes narrowing slightly as he assessed the Admiral. "And Admiral Kizaru, it is an honor. Your presence adds a certain… brilliance to the occasion."

Kizaru's eyes half-laughed. "Just here to enjoy the festivities, Moria," he replied, his tone light yet carrying a hidden weight.

Moria nodded, sensing the undercurrents of tension still simmering beneath the surface. "Indeed, let's all enjoy this beautiful day."

Kizaru's expression remained inscrutable as he shifted slightly, a lazy drawl seeping into his words. "Ah yes, just one thing." He paused, his gaze locking onto Moria with a hint of lethality. "I won't stay for long. I'm only here to check that the wedding proceeds smoothly. You know, the Nefertari family is quite important to the World Government. The Five Elders themselves asked me to ensure that both King Cobra and Princess Vivi are here willingly, that they weren't coerced into this union. So, if you did anything to force them, Moria… well, you understand. It wouldn't end well for you. And by that, I mean that you will be tortured before being executed."

Doflamingo let out a sharp laugh, the sound slicing through the tension like a knife. His amusement was palpable, a cruel mockery of the situation.

Before Moria could respond, Kizaru's form began to shimmer, his body dissolving into particles of light. In an instant, he was gone, leaving a faint trail of luminescence in his wake.

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