The sea above roared with storms conjured by the surface world—lightning tearing across the heavens like celestial rage. But below, in the deep blue cradle where the Byakko soared, all was still.
Victor stood in the observation deck, his gaze distant as the light from the sea forest slowly dimmed behind them. The encounter in the ancient temple weighed heavily on him—not from the violence, but the implications. The World Government was more desperate than ever. And desperation made them dangerous.
Behind him, Robin sat at the table surrounded by scrolls, fragmented glyphs, and wax-sealed documents salvaged from the temple ruins. Her fingers traced every line with care, her mind racing with translation and interpretation.
"This… Poseidon's Call," she murmured, eyes narrowing. "It's not just a concept. It's a location. Or perhaps… a gathering."
Victor turned to her. "A call… to whom?"
Robin looked up. "That's the thing. The texts suggest it's not a weapon. It's a summoning. An invitation to the ancient sovereigns of the sea. And the Fishman Island appears frequently in the margins. Every reference circles back to it."
Victor approached the table, leaning in. "Then that's where we head next."
Robin hesitated. "Victor… this isn't just another lead. This could be the cornerstone of the Void Century. What if—what if we're not ready for what's waiting there?"
He placed a hand on her shoulder. "We face it like we've faced everything else. Together."
The Journey Down
The descent to Fishman Island was treacherous. The Byakko soared beneath the Red Line, bypassing marine checkpoints and whirlpools through a series of Victor's custom vortexes and high-pressure wind corridors. Even with its stealth systems fully activated, their course skirted danger at every turn.
Robin often sat at the prow of the ship, her hands folded, the sea's crushing silence surrounding them. She no longer flinched when turbulence struck or systems hissed under pressure. She had grown—into a survivor, into a warrior, into something the world had tried to destroy but failed.
Victor watched her from the shadows of the control room, pride settling over him like a silent tide.
When the lights of Fishman Island shimmered in the distance—a luminescent dome bathed in warm blues and pinks—Victor released a quiet breath.
"We've arrived."
The Surface Illusion
They couldn't dock normally. Victor landed the Byakko outside the bubble of Fishman Island, masking it within a trench and activating camouflage. With their suits on and pressure sealed, he and Robin exited into the abyss.
Victor carried a sealed case filled with the documents. Robin clutched a hand-drawn map of the suspected site—what ancient texts had called The Sanctuary of Scales, deep within the coral groves east of Fishman Island's heart.
They entered the dome through a hidden canal, bypassing patrols and surveillance.
Fishman Island had changed since Victor had last seen it. The streets bustled with new trade, lights brighter, but eyes still wary. Fishmen moved in tightly clustered groups, and mermaids rarely swam alone. The tension was subtle but pervasive.
Robin whispered as they passed through the coral market, "There's fear here. But also… anticipation."
Victor nodded. "Something is stirring. They can feel it in their bones."
They didn't linger. They followed Robin's map through back alleys, beneath coral bridges, and down into submerged ruins beneath the palace.
The Sanctuary of Scales
What they found was not a ruin—but a cathedral.
Hidden beneath layers of living coral was a chamber untouched by time. Massive statues of ancient sea kings loomed above them, and in the center—a giant glyph-covered monolith, half-eroded, but unmistakable.
Robin stepped forward, hand trembling as she reached for it.
"This… This is a Poneglyph."
Victor raised an eyebrow. "Here? In the open?"
Robin shook her head. "Not just any Poneglyph. A guiding one."
She began reading aloud, her voice echoing across the stone.
"In the age before the great deluge, the kings of the sea answered a single voice. One who bore the Will of Poseidon, whose song awakened the tide. To her, the sanctuary was given—its song carved in stone, its oath etched in blood."
Victor frowned. "A deluge?"
Robin's eyes widened. "Victor, this references an ancient flood—one that reshaped the oceans. The Void Century didn't just bury history. It drowned it."
Suddenly, a sound behind them.
Footsteps.
The Ambush
Five figures emerged from the shadows. Not in suits. Not marine uniforms. These were robed in fish-skin leather, armed with spears and tridents. Each one bore a tattoo over their heart—the symbol of a sun crossed by chains.
Victor stepped forward, placing himself between Robin and the new arrivals.
One of them—a tall manta-ray Fishman with yellow eyes—spoke. "You should not have come here. This place is sacred. Marked."
Robin stepped beside Victor. "We didn't come to steal or defile. We came to learn."
The manta-ray narrowed his eyes. "The World Government has desecrated enough. We know their agents when we see them."
Victor said nothing. But when the Fishmen raised their weapons, he moved.
A flash.
Wind exploded outward, disarming two before they could blink. Victor ducked under a spear thrust, elbowed the wielder in the ribs, and spun into a kick that sent another crashing into a coral wall.
Robin sprouted arms across the chamber walls, slamming one into the ground and disarming another. The final attacker tried to flank Victor—but was caught mid-motion, hoisted into the air by a dozen arms and dropped with brutal force.
The room fell still.
Victor crouched low, breathing evenly. "We're not your enemy."
The manta-ray Fishman groaned from where he lay, clutching his ribs. "Then why fight?"
Victor stood. "Because you struck first."
Robin approached slowly. "Please. We need your help. The government is coming. They want to erase this place like they did Ohara."
The manta-ray looked up. His anger softened.
"You are the child of Ohara…"
Robin nodded.
"And you protect her?" he asked Victor.
"I do."
The Fishman slowly sat up, glancing at the others. "Then you need to speak to Neptune. The king must hear of this."
The Rising Storm
They left the sanctuary in silence, the injured Fishmen carrying one another as Victor and Robin followed behind.
In the distance, high above the sea, a shadow crept into view—massive, circular, humming with power.
A World Government command ship.
Robin looked at Victor. "They found us again."
Victor turned his gaze toward the distant metal leviathan.
"Let them come."
As the Byakko prepared for its next storm, and Neptune's court awaited the arrival of the survivors of Ohara, the tides of the world began to shift.
For the truth was no longer buried.
It had taken flight.