The air in the God's Knights' command center thrummed with sterile tension, thick with the scent of cold iron from the humming Void Century machinery. Saint Figarland Garling stood before the polished obsidian table, his crescent-moon beard casting sharp, dagger-like shadows under the glacial blue light of seastone-powered lamps. Behind him, his son Shamrock stood rigid in his knight's regalia, the Abyss mark on his arm pulsing like a captive star against the dark leather of his gloved hand. The silence fractured as the central Den Den Mushi – a biomechanical horror of flesh fused with crystalline circuitry – convulsed to life. Its shell warped into the visage of Saint Jaygarcia Saturn, the Elder's scarred face magnified, his eyes unsettling voids behind cracked spectacles.
"Figarland," Saturn's voice crackled, thin as ancient parchment yet weighted with centuries of authority. Holographic tendrils flickered from the device, casting spectral patterns over Garling's golden knuckle-bow guarded saber resting against a wall etched with World Government sigils. "Elbaph's inner wards have been breached. Seismic activity near the primary containment zone has spiked thirty-seven percent beyond operational thresholds. Adam's roots resonate with… disturbances."
Garling's gloved hand tightened almost imperceptibly on the obsidian edge. "Disturbances, Lord Saturn? Geothermal instability, perhaps. The island's volcanic core—"
"Do not," Saturn interrupted, the hologram flaring a warning crimson, "presume my understanding of planetary mechanics is deficient. This signature is Haki. Concentrated. Hostile. It bypassed the Abyss seals as if they were brittle parchment." His image leaned closer, the deep lines on his face carving deeper shadows. "Investigate. Report back. Do not engage. Elbaph is a keystone in the structure of silence. Its equilibrium is… precarious." The transmission severed abruptly, leaving only the low hum of machinery and the sharp tang of ionized air.
Shamrock stepped forward instantly, the Abyss mark under his glove glowing brighter, a visible echo of his eagerness. "Father, dispatch me. I'll take a vanguard unit, penetrate the perimeter—"
Garling turned, the movement swift and silencing. His gaze, colder than the abyssal trenches, pinned Shamrock. "You will go alone, Shamrock." His voice cut through the sterile air, leaving no room for debate. "Saturn's directive is reconnaissance, not conquest. Elbaph is not a pirate haven to be razed on impulse." He gestured sharply towards a flickering star-chart on the wall – the Grand Line rendered in cold light, Elbaph marked by a pulsing, diseased amber glow. "The roots of the World Tree tap into forces older than the Void Century. One misstep, one spark of conflict, and you risk unraveling chains that bind realities far older than Marijoa. Your mission is eyes only. Observe the source of the Haki tremor. Assess the integrity of the wards near the primary root structure. Report back everything you witness. No detours. No engagements. Is that understood?"
Shamrock bristled, his hand instinctively twitching towards the hilt of his sword. "Observe? While something potentially unravels the very seal we—"
"A strategic mind observes before it acts," Garling stated, his voice lowering to a dangerous timbre. He placed a hand on Shamrock's pauldron, the gesture devoid of paternal warmth, purely commanding. "Remember God Valley. Rocks D. Xebec charged the tempest headlong, and the tempest consumed him. We prevailed through calculation, not carnage. Elbaph's fate is interwoven with plans you do not yet fully grasp. Your role is to gather intelligence, nothing more. Go. Swiftly. Quietly. Report the moment you have actionable intelligence. That is your order."
Shamrock's jaw clenched, the muscles standing out like cords. The glow of the Abyss mark faded slowly, retreating but not extinguished, simmering beneath the surface like banked coals. He met his father's unyielding gaze, the frustration warring with ingrained obedience. Finally, he gave a single, sharp nod, the movement stiff. "Understood, Supreme Commander. Observation and report only." Without another word, he turned on his heel, his cloak swirling as he strode from the command center, the heavy doors sealing shut behind him with a final, echoing thud.
Garling watched him go, then turned back to the star-chart, his fingers tracing the ley lines converging beneath the pulsing amber mark over Elbaph. The air hung heavier now, thick with the unspoken weight of ancient powers stirring beneath sacred oaks and frozen earth. The World Government's most lethal instrument had been sent not to destroy, but to watch – a silent vanguard for a flood they sought not to stop, but to channel.
*****
The cool blue light of the tunnel walls guided Marya deeper, the rhythmic hum of ancient machinery vibrating through the soles of her boots. The air grew colder, drier, carrying the faint scent of ozone and something else – polished stone and long-dried pigments. The tunnel ended abruptly, opening into a space that stole the breath.
The Hall of the Vanir Shieldmaidens.
Cathedral-high ceilings vanished into shadow, far beyond the reach of the blue light emanating from veins in the floor and walls. The scale was dizzying, built for beings far larger than even Elbaph's giants. The walls weren't merely carved; they were alive with history. Towering bas-reliefs depicted winged Valkyries in mid-flight, their stone faces fierce and noble, spears aimed at unseen foes. Between them, vast painted murals, faded but still vibrant, showed Freyja herself – resplendent in her chariot pulled by great cats, wielding Seidr like golden lightning, standing defiant against swirling darkness. The sheer artistry was breathtaking, yet the atmosphere was thick with age, silence, and an unnerving sense of watchfulness. Dominating the far end of the cavernous hall was a monumental staircase, wide enough for a dozen giants to ascend abreast, leading up into deeper shadow.
Marya approached the base of the stairs, her gaze sweeping the Valkyrie reliefs. Her boot touched the first step.
THOOM.
The entire chamber trembled. Not violently, but with a deep, resonant shudder that vibrated the air in her lungs. The blue light in the floor flared intensely. From the gloom flanking the staircase, two colossal forms that Marya had taken for intricately carved pillars detached themselves. Stone groaned and cracked as they unfolded, shedding centuries of dust. They weren't inert statues anymore. They were Valkyrie Guardians, each easily fifty feet tall, their forms shifting from rough-hewn rock to seamless, polished obsidian that gleamed like wet onyx under the blue light. Intricate golden circuits pulsed beneath their surface, tracing patterns like veins of liquid fire. Their eyes snapped open, blazing with cold, blue-white light that locked onto Marya with unnerving accuracy. They hefted massive stone swords that shimmered with the same golden energy.
An ominous, synthesized voice, devoid of inflection yet resonating with impossible power, boomed from everywhere and nowhere: "STATE YOUR PURPOSE."
Marya didn't flinch. Her golden eyes met the burning gaze of the nearest guardian. "I seek Freyja," she stated, her voice calm and clear in the vast space.
"ENTER THE KEY." the voice commanded.
Marya sighed, a soft exhalation of exasperation. "And what," she asked, hand drifting towards the hilt of Eternal Eclipse, "would that be?"
Silence. The only sound was the deepening hum and the crackle of energy around the Valkyries' weapons. Then, with terrifying speed for their size, they moved. The one on her left lunged, its sword carving a horizontal arc through the air with a sound like tearing silk, aimed to bisect her. The one on the right stabbed forward, its point driving towards her center like a colossal piston.
Marya flowed. She didn't leap back; she stepped into the horizontal swing, ducking under the whistling blade by a hair's breadth. As she straightened, Eternal Eclipse flashed from its sheath, a streak of darkness against the blue light. Her blade met the stabbing sword not with a block, but with a precise, Haki-infused deflection, a sharp CLANG! Ringing out as she redirected the massive point harmlessly into the stone floor beside her, shattering flagstones. She spun, a whirlwind of dark fabric and gleaming steel, her sword lashing out in a blinding arc. SHINK! The razor edge of Eternal Eclipse, empowered by her will, sheared clean through the wrist joint of the first Valkyrie's sword arm. The obsidian hand and the massive stone sword it held crashed to the floor with a thunderous impact.
But there was no spray of stone shards, no cry of pain. Golden circuits flared violently at the stump. With a grinding hum and a shower of sparks, new obsidian flowed and solidified, rebuilding the forearm and hand in seconds. Another stone sword materialized in the newly formed grasp, humming with energy. Simultaneously, the second Valkyrie recovered, swinging its sword in a devastating overhead chop. Marya dissolved into mist, the blade passing harmlessly through her, and reformed behind it. She thrust Eternal Eclipse deep into its back, aiming for a power node. The blade sank in, dark energy crackling, but the circuits merely rerouted, glowing brighter. The Valkyrie twisted, swinging its elbow back like a battering ram. Marya yanked her sword free and mist-stepped again, reappearing yards away.
She shattered the second Valkyrie's sword with a concentrated Haki burst channeled through her blade, the stone exploding into fragments. Undeterred, golden light coalesced in its hand, forming a massive, crackling spear of pure energy. The first Valkyrie charged, its newly formed sword leading.
Marya's lips thinned. Her initial analytical curiosity was giving way to impatience. "Tedious," she murmured, parrying a spear thrust with a shower of sparks, her boots skidding on the polished floor from the impact. She danced between them, a shadow against their titanic forms, her blade a blur of darkness deflecting crushing blows, shattering weapons, severing limbs – only to watch them regenerate instantly, weapons rematerializing. It was a dance of endless attrition, the guardians fueled by the ancient power humming through the hall.
Then, her gaze sharpened. During a mist-dodge, she saw it – a particularly dense cluster of golden circuits pulsing within the thick obsidian column of the first Valkyrie's neck. A central nexus. A vulnerability.
The next time the first Valkyrie swung, she didn't dodge the blade. She met it. Eternal Eclipse slammed into the stone sword with a concussive CRACK!, not to break it, but to arrest its momentum. Using the colossal weapon as a platform, she pushed off it with impossible strength, launching herself vertically like a dark comet. She soared past the guardian's swinging arm, past its burning eyes, aiming for the neck. Eternal Eclipse became a single, focused point of devastating Haki. "Shatter."
The blade struck the nexus. Not with a clang, but with a sound like shattering crystal. Obsidian exploded outwards in a shower of dark fragments. Golden circuits flared wildly, then sputtered and died like severed wires. The Valkyrie's head, severed cleanly, tumbled from its shoulders, trailing sparks. It hit the ground with a heavy THUD and rolled, coming to rest near Marya's feet. Inside the stump of the neck, she saw it – not bone or stone, but intricate, glowing crystal matrices and conduits of spun gold, now fractured and sparking erratically. Animation. Ancient technology. Not life, but sophisticated artifice.
The headless body shuddered, took one staggering step, then collapsed in a heap of inert obsidian, the golden light within fading completely.
The second Valkyrie, momentarily stunned by the demise of its counterpart, let out a synthesized roar of pure fury, leveling its energy spear. Marya landed lightly, already turning towards it, a faint, cold smirk touching her lips. "Your turn."
She didn't wait for its charge. She became mist, flowing across the distance in an instant, reforming directly before the guardian. It thrust the spear. She flowed around it like water, reforming on its massive forearm, running up its limb towards the neck as it tried to shake her off. Its free hand swatted at her; she mist-stepped through the fingers, reappearing perched on its shoulder plate. She saw the identical circuit nexus pulsing in its neck. Eternal Eclipse flashed down in a single, brutal strike.
CRACK-SHATTER!
The second head joined the first on the floor, sparking and smoking. The massive body froze, then toppled forward like a felled tree, hitting the ground with an earth-shaking crash that sent tremors through the hall and made the murals shiver.
Silence descended, heavier than before, broken only by the fading hum of the hall's lights and the sizzle of dying circuitry in the Valkyrie heads. Marya stood amidst the ruins of ancient guardians, not a hair out of place. She flicked a speck of obsidian dust from Eternal Eclipse's dark blade with a soft ting. The familiar rasp of steel sliding into its black lacquered sheath echoed in the vast space. She didn't spare the fallen constructs another glance. Her golden eyes lifted to the monumental staircase, now unobstructed, leading upwards into the shadows where the presence of something immeasurably older and more powerful waited. She ascended the first step, the blue light flaring softly beneath her boot once more, this time without resistance.
The monumental staircase swallowed Marya's solitary footsteps, each blue-lit step flaring softly under her boots like submerged stars. The air grew denser, colder, carrying the unmistakable scent of deep earth, petrichor, and a faint, ancient incense. The humming deepened, vibrating in her bones—the very pulse of the World Tree's roots. At the summit, the stairs ended before an archway that dwarfed the tunnel entrance below.
This was no simple stone frame. It was a masterpiece of Vanir craftsmanship, the dark volcanic glass intricately inlaid with swirling patterns of gold and moonstone, forming stylized images of Freyja: her chariot cats leaping, the Brisingamen glowing at her throat, her hands weaving strands of golden Seidr light. Etched across the lintel in flowing, angular script—the lost language of the Ancient Kingdom—were words that seemed to pulse with their own inner light:
They alone stand under starry skies, who bear the blood of heaven. The key is in the lineage.
Marya's brow furrowed, a rare crease of deep concentration marring her stoic expression. Celestial heredity? The phrase echoed uncomfortably. She scanned the archway's surface, searching for seams, pressure plates, hidden mechanisms – anything physical. Her gloved fingers traced the cool, smooth moonstone inlays depicting Freyja's gaze, finding only seamless artistry.
As her fingertips brushed the central motif of the Brisingamen necklace, a beam of pure, golden light lanced down from the apex of the arch. It wasn't harsh, but warm, enveloping her entirely in a sudden, silent radiance. It felt like standing in a shaft of concentrated moonlight, humming with a gentle, probing energy. It scanned her from head to toe, lingering for a heartbeat on the faint, invisible resonance of her own Haki, the echo of her parents' heritage buried deep within her cells.
HISSSSS… CLUNK.
With a sound like ancient gears grinding after millennia of stillness, the massive, seamless door within the archway split down the middle. Thick panels of fused volcanic glass and Adam Wood retracted smoothly into the walls, revealing impenetrable darkness beyond. No fanfare, no guardian's challenge. Just open passage.
Marya's golden eyes narrowed, sharp and analytical. The implications hung heavy in the suddenly still air: It recognized something. Something in me. A cold thread of unwelcome possibility – her parents' unknown past, whispers of celestial lineage she'd spent a lifetime dismissing – tried to coil in her mind. She crushed it instantly. Rabbit holes led nowhere useful. The why was irrelevant; the path was open. Purpose overriding introspection, she stepped through the threshold without hesitation.
The darkness beyond wasn't absolute. As her eyes adjusted, faint, ambient light sources revealed themselves. She stood in another vast chamber, but unlike the grand hall of the Valkyries, this felt… older. More intimate, despite its scale. Dozens of massive pillars, each easily thirty feet wide, rose like petrified giants to support a vaulted ceiling lost in shadow. The air here was cooler, tasting of stone dust undisturbed for centuries. The faint, ever-present hum was stronger, resonating within the pillars themselves.
The walls and every surface of the pillars were adorned not with carvings, but with paintings. These weren't the grand battle murals below; these were intimate, sacred scenes rendered in faded yet vibrant pigments that still glowed with subtle life. Freyja teaching young giantesses the weaving of Seidr light. Freyja communing with the great cats beneath a star-strewn sky. Freyja weeping amber tears that crystallized into glowing stones. The artistry was breathtaking, capturing moments of profound sorrow, fierce protection, and deep connection to life and the World Tree.
Marya moved deeper into the forest of pillars, her boots silent on the smooth, seamless floor. It was then she noticed the pillars weren't uniform. They fell into three distinct types, each humming with a different energy:
The Luminous Pillars: These glowed with a soft, internal golden light, reminiscent of Freyja's Seidr. The light pulsed gently, like a slow heartbeat, casting warm pools on the floor. Touching one, Marya felt a resonant warmth spread up her arm, a soothing energy that whispered of life and growth. The painted scenes on these pillars showed Freyja nurturing crops, healing wounded giants, and weaving protective wards.
The Ore Pillars: Veined through their dark stone were thick seams of a sparkling, iridescent ore that shimmered like captured starlight. It wasn't metal; it looked more like crystallized moonlight or solidified nebula. A low, powerful thrum emanated from these, vibrating the air and making Marya's teeth ache slightly. The scent near them was sharp, metallic, like cold iron and ozone. The murals here depicted Freyja forging the Brisingamen, shaping mountains with a gesture, and standing defiant against storms and earthquakes – raw, elemental power.
The Vapor Pillars: These emitted a constant, gentle stream of pure white vapor from fissures near their bases. The vapor was icy cold, smelling of frost and deep, clear water. It pooled around the pillars' feet before dissipating into the chamber air, leaving a refreshing chill. Touching the stone here felt like touching glacial ice, and the painted scenes showed Freyja calming turbulent seas, weaving mists to conceal Elbaph, and shedding tears that turned to snow – themes of water, cold, concealment, and sorrow.
Marya moved methodically between them, her analytical mind cataloging the differences. The luminous pillars felt like the World Tree's lifeblood. The ore pillars resonated with the deep, tectonic power of the earth and sky. The vapor pillars sang of water, ice, and the hidden depths. Each seemed to embody a fundamental aspect of Freyja's domain, a facet of the Vanir magic that sustained and protected Elbaph.
Her gaze swept the chamber. The pillars weren't arranged randomly. They formed concentric circles or specific geometric patterns around a central point at the far end, obscured by the forest of stone. And beneath the hum, the scents, and the visual spectacle, Marya felt the faintest, unmistakable pull – a resonance not unlike the Volva's amber, but infinitely purer and more potent. The Celestial Tideglass fragment was here. Somewhere amidst this sacred geometry of Freyja's power, the key to mapping the world's hidden fruits awaited. The true trial, she sensed, was just beginning – not of combat, but of understanding.