The First Half of the Grand Line, The Stratosphere.
At an altitude of twenty thousand meters, the massive black steel dreadnought, the Eclipse, sat entirely obscured above an immense, unbroken sea of white clouds. The ventral vector thrusters emitted a low, rhythmic drone that vibrated through the hull, allowing the multi-ton iron behemoth to hover perfectly motionless within a thin atmospheric layer that offered almost zero friction.
Natural sunlight streamed through the clean glass portholes, illuminating the expansive conference deck where the officers of the Eclipse Pirates sat gathered along a long mahogany table.
"Ace, define the parameters of this delay. What is the operational purpose of floating in the clouds like a patch of vapor?"
Enel sat with his long legs kicked up onto the wood, idly tossing a crisp green apple in his palm, his sharp jawline set in a distinctly displeased pucker. "My tracking calculated we were heading straight into the ports of the Sabaody Archipelago to systematically vaporize those self-righteous blue-sea branch soldiers. Instead, you've ordered the hull to linger in the upper air like a common mud turtle hiding inside its shell?"
"The Lightning Sovereign tracks the argument perfectly, Captain!"
Urouge, casually lifting a massive, high-density iron dumbbell with a single arm, let out a low grunt as his chest muscles flexed with eager combat readiness. "The vanguard has just cleared the Limit Breaker serum and integrated our upgraded custom gear. The crew is looking for an active arena to verify our new thresholds. The defenses down along the archipelago are standard marine detachments; even if we beach the hull directly in the primary harbor, clearing their lines through sheer physical mass shouldn't consume much effort, correct?"
Ace sat anchored at the head of the table, listening to the boisterous demands of his vanguard with a calm, unbothered expression. He slowly peeled an orange, popped a segment past his lips, and chewed deliberately before leaning forward.
"Do your calculations carry a fundamental misunderstanding regarding the nature of a total conquest?"
Ace dropped the remaining orange rind onto the table, his dark pupils narrowing as his gaze cut cleanly across the faces of his officers.
"Sabaody is indeed managed by a standard garrison during common patrol hours. But your memory appears remarkably thin regarding the events of two winters ago. We cleared Zone 1 by cold-bloodedly executing three individual World Nobles within the open streets and driving a baseline punch through Admiral Borsalino's liver."
Ace leaned back into his leather cushions, a slow, mocking smile touch his lips.
"The microsecond the conspicuous silhouette of this black hull breaks the visual horizon of those harbors for more than ten minutes, the data will hit Fleet Admiral Sengoku and the Five Elders' desk in a single frame. To erase the political shame of the Celestial Dragons being used as sandbags, exactly what level of physical weight do you calculate the World Government will deploy to our grid this time?"
"Borsalino will absolutely target the perimeter to clear his personal ledger, and Kuzan will be deployed alongside him, backed by the specialized CP0 execution details that report directly to the Holy Land. The main naval headquarters at Marineford sits only a short distance from the archipelago's coast."
Carina, who had been monitoring the lower atmospheric bands through her radar relays, took over the tactical brief, her features tightening into a serious line.
"If we drop the anchor in a civilian port for several consecutive days to execute a standard deep-water coating operation, we will be forced into a dead-lock engagement against two or more Admirals simultaneously. Though our baseline metrics have expanded through the serum, being pinned to a landmass in an unmitigated war of attrition against that tier of combat mass—or sustaining a fully mobilized Buster Call—is a variable that carries zero strategic utility and extreme physical hazard."
As the cold, realistic metrics of the theater settled over the table, the boisterous clamor that had rippled through the vanguard dissolved into a quiet, heavily guarded silence.
Even Buggy went visibly pale, his shoulder segments disconnecting in a sudden panic as his torso cowered beneath the edge of the mahogany table. "Two... two absolute Admirals?! This ship was engineered to hunt the Emperors of the New World! The Captain's logic is flawless—we stay anchored in the stratosphere!"
"Do you comprehend the vector now?"
Ace interlaced his fingers, resting his hands on the polished wood.
"Our primary course targets the New World to locate Vegapunk—the absolute technological pipeline of the World Government. Do your calculations state it is a glorious achievement to display every hidden card in our hand within a provincial harbor, or to leave two of our primary officers dead in the sand before we even clear the gateway?"
"Pardon the intrusion, Captain."
Kuma, who had been sitting motionless in the corner of the deck, adjusted his spectacles, his deep voice cutting through the stillness to anchor a critical biological detail.
"If our hull refrains from dropping into the specialized dry docks of Sabaody to process the resin coating, the structural shell of the Eclipse will lack the capacity to withstand the crushing physical pressure present at a depth of ten thousand meters. If our intention is to maintain our navigation strictly within the upper air currents, what prevents us from simply crossing the Red Line from this altitude, flying directly over the stone barrier into the New World? The vessel's engine output and altitude thresholds can clear that red ridge without a single point of resistance."
"Exactly!" Chopper nodded his small head with immense enthusiasm, his blue nose twitching with academic curiosity. "Why don't we just maintain the flight path over the top?"
Hearing the giant's inquiry, Ace pulled his frame upright from his seat, walking slowly over to the massive, floor-to-ceiling observation window tracking the western horizon. Through the glass, his eyes monitored the thick, unbroken plains of white vapor rolling below like frozen cotton, hiding the blue sea far in the deep trenches.
"Executing a high-altitude crossing is indeed the fastest vector. It represents an absolute, mathematically safe transit."
Ace's voice dropped its clinical coldness, acquiring a rare, resonant touch of the wild romance and uninhibited freedom that defined the kings of the sea.
"But I didn't commission this iron hull and set sail simply to drive a standard machine from port to port to execute bounties."
Ace turned his head, his dark eyes flaring with a fierce, burning light as his gaze swept across the gathering of monsters.
"Ten thousand meters beneath the surface of the lower sea sits Fish-Man Island—a territory logged across the ancient logs as a literal wonderland. If our journey skips the experience of that underwater sunlight, and our scouts fail to witness the visual elegance of the mermaids that common sailors only read about in myths..."
"If this crew has to bypass the most magnificent parameters this ocean can manifest simply because we are rushing to clear a route... then what is the purpose of our outlaws calling themselves pirates?"
The statement hit the room with absolute weight.
Across the conference table, whether it was the arrogant Lightning Sovereign, the stoic Fish-Man vanguard Shark, or the disciplined Sabo—every eye on the roster shifted as a deep, understanding nod ran through their ranks.
The logic was absolute.
They were outlaws! Though this iron dreadnought had compiled a collection of monsters brought together by individual ambition, political trauma, and vengeance, deep within their bones, the primitive spark of raw curiosity and maritime romance remained uncorrupted.
Enel rose from his seat, hovering short inches above his drums as a wide smile split his face. "Remarkably entertaining! My lineage emerged from a Sky Island ten thousand meters above the blue, and now our prow is targeting an empire ten thousand meters beneath the surf? Yahahaha! This aligns perfectly with my standards!"
"Framed in that light, the argument is flawless," Sabo chuckled, his hand resting along the grip of his staff. "The absolute thresholds of the sky and the deep trenches? This crew has tracked across the lunar dust, and now we target the lowest baseline on the world map. Perhaps that is the absolute definition of a maritime selection."
Shark's triangular features softened with a rare trace of movement. He had been separated from his ancestral trenches for years, and the prospect of returning to his birthplace alongside a vanguard of this caliber stirred his blood.
"Yo-ho-ho-ho... the Captain's clinical metrics are beautiful," Brook murmured, drawing his bow smoothly across the strings of his violin. "Had our navigation bypassed the linen choices of the local mermaid ladies... pardon, I mean the magnificent acoustics of the mermaid choirs, my soul would have sustained a permanent regret, despite having already crossed the boundary of death once."
"Under those parameters..."
Leona, her twin blades—one light, one heavy—anchored securely to her sash, rose from her chair, her amber vertical eyes locking onto Ace's position.
"We refuse to force a beachhead at Sabaody, yet we require the resin coating to negotiate the deep water leading to Fish-Man Island. Are we simply going to maintain our position at twenty thousand meters in the air until the seasons turn?"
"Who specified we were going to stall the clock?"
Ace let out a loud roar of laughter, turning his boots toward the heavy iron exit doors.
"No matter how many lookouts the naval headquarters maintains along the shipping lines, their surveillance grids monitor only the sea surface and legitimate trade ports. But down inside that chaotic garbage dump they call the Lawless Zone of Sabaody, there happens to remain an old relic whose manual dexterity with a coating brush outclasses any shipyard on the world map."
"Leona. Align your trajectory with my department."
Ace paused, casting a sharp look back toward the female swordswoman.
"Utilize the weightless authority of your Float-Float Fruit; we are going to go down and invite the top coating craftsman on the high seas to board our ship. By the way, instruct Jeno to have his terminal arrays prepared to record the data."
"Once the Eclipse clears this quadrant, this critical technology will be managed manually by our own hands."
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