West Blue. God Valley.

  A fleet of warships had already encircled the isnd, their sails unfurling the world government's banner. The bck-and-blue cross insignia bzed sharply under the gre of the sun.

  Two towering mountains stood sentinel on the isnd, their steep cliffs sheer as if carved by sword and axe.

  The sky hung heavy and dark, thick with storm clouds that threatened to burst at any moment. In that dimness, a sudden fsh of light tore across the horizon.

  Then the air twisted.

  A strange brilliance burst into being.

  From within that glowing veil, a massive ship slowly emerged—its hull forged from bck metal, smooth as a mirror yet without the slightest reflection, radiating a mysterious and solemn aura.

  Boom!

  The light in the sky blinked out, and with the thunderous crash of something immense striking the earth, the bck ship ran aground in the canyon.

  Upon closer inspection, a gear-shaped emblem was etched into its side, marking the vessel's origin.

  Cough, cough... that entry was a bit too dramatic this time...

  Amidst the dust, a figure stepped out from the cabin. The haze couldn't obscure the gleam of his pale blue eyes.

  His short, tousled hair was a lively shade of pink—bold and vibrant. A pair of gsses gave him an air of schorly charm.

  "But at least the impact experiment was a success. A crash like this doesn’t even scratch the surface anymore. Time to test the next phase."

  A smirk tugged at his lips. Satisfied, he patted his chest—where a glimmering blue light flowed across a suit that looked like a sleek exoskeleton. The system seemed to shift into a new mode.

  But before he could begin the next test, he noticed something off.

  This pce was not where he had st docked his ship.

  “Again?”

  It clearly wasn’t his first time dealing with a situation like this. Rather than panic, the man gnced down at the dispy strapped to his wrist, confirming his vitals. Not a dream.

  He began checking the ship’s systems.

  “Compass destroyed. Power grid partially damaged. Defense systems holding. Supplies intact... Could be worse.”

  Still, he frowned.

  “This isn’t Bilgewater… Don’t tell me... Ionia?”

  He muttered in confusion as he fiddled with the shattered compass, trying to recalibrate it—until a shout rang out from afar.

  “Hey, buddy! Trying to sail out of here? Forget it—impossible! The Navy’s got God Valley on lockdown. No ship’s getting out of here! Hee-haw!”

  The voice came from a rocky outcrop on a steep cliff. Several natural stone ptforms jutted from the face, and on one of the lower ledges, a ridiculously rge face had popped into view.

  A man with a wild afro and an exaggerated grin was lying on his belly, waving enthusiastically. Behind him, a small figure clung to his leg, keeping him from tumbling over the edge.

  As the words God Valley echoed in his mind, the man’s expression shifted. This pce wasn’t just foreign—the nguage spoken here wasn’t one he typically used.

  But that wasn’t an issue. He was fluent in more tongues than most.

  His name was Cidriel Oran. No parents. No attachments.

  He’d barely finished his postgraduate exams when fate smmed the reset button.

  His soul had nded in the world of League of Legends—on the continent of Runeterra, in the city of Piltover: a bustling metropolis of commerce and technology.

  As if being reborn wasn’t enough, he got spped with the orphan buff again.

  In this strange new nd full of magic and mystery, Oran discovered his talent one night—Dreamwalking.

  That was why he’d first suspected this was a dream.

  Every night, without fail, he would dream. But unlike ordinary dreams, his were gateways—portals to wondrous and impossible realms, sometimes even transcending time and space.

  Through countless dream-nights, his knowledge exploded. He quickly rose through Piltover’s academic ranks, becoming a rising star whose name was mentioned in the same breath as Heimerdinger’s.

  And in Piltover, that was the highest praise possible.

  Recently, Oran had personally captained a voyage to Bilgewater, aiming to purchase some rare materials and negotiate a new contract. But during some downtime, he ran a little experiment—and wound up in the middle of yet another mysterious event.

  Even his body had changed—he was younger again, barely sixteen or seventeen by appearance.

  Thanks to his dreamborn memory, Oran’s recall was fwless. Even after over two decades in Runeterra, fragments of his original life remained crystal clear. God Valley was one of those fragments.

  Not the details—those had faded. But the major events? They stuck.

  Down on the ledge, the loudmouth wasn’t alone. Beside him was a filthy, scrappy little girl with a crude bullseye painted on her shirt.

  “Don’t just stand there, man! My goal is to stay alive. You’re not pnning to die here, are you? Because if that’s the case, I ain’t wasting time hanging around! Hee-haw!”

  The big-faced man stood up and struck a bizarre pose once he saw Oran was paying attention, waiting for a response.

  “Let me ask something first—what are your names?”

  “I’m Ginny. This here’s my big bro, Ivankov. Why? Is that important or something? And hey, shouldn’t you tell us your name? Or are we supposed to call you Mister Stranger?”

  Ginny mumbled through a mouthful of some bckened food. It looked awful—but she was eating like it was the best thing in the world.

  “Call me Oran,” he replied. “Come down here and we’ll talk. If you’re trying to survive, I assume there’s a pn?”

  The familiar name, the location—everything clicked.

  Oran now had a solid grasp on both when and where he was.

  Compared to his previous assumption—that he was somewhere on Runeterra’s mystical frontiers—this was far worse.

  Ivankov hadn’t become the queen of the okama yet, but his face was unmistakable. From what Oran remembered, Ivankov had made it out alive. Otherwise, there would be no future Okama King.

  Still, Oran had no intention of relying on him.

  Trusting others was a gamble. Trusting himself? That was strategy.

  His appearance here was already a deviation from the original timeline—pcing his fate in someone else’s hands would be foolish.

  God Valley was a historical powder keg. Rocks D. Xebec, Gol D. Roger, Monkey D. Garp, even Saint Jaygarcia Saturn from the Five Elders—so many legendary names would soon converge on this isnd.

  And not one of them cared about the ordinary people caught in the crossfire.

  If Oran wanted to avoid being wiped off the map by the World Government, he’d have to count on himself.

  For now, he needed intel. Ivankov and Ginny might know the local yout. If time allowed, the gear and tools aboard his ship could help him build a survival strategy.

  Ivankov’s motivations were simple enough. He knew he and Ginny couldn’t escape on their own. He needed help. A team.

  Sves. Locals. Strays. Anyone not a Celestial Dragon was fair game for extermination—so it wasn’t hard to form a natural alliance.

  Drawn by the sounds coming from the area, they had arrived while searching for allies. When Ivankov and Jhinny reached the scene, they were met with the imposing sight of the Bck Ship—already fully manifested through its dimensional crossing.

  Using the surrounding trees and vines, Ivankov and Jhinny slid down a gentle slope, nding right beneath the vessel where Cidriel Oran stood.

  The ship’s hull, a sleek bck unlike anything typically seen sailing the seas, gleamed faintly with a metallic sheen—an exceedingly rare sight.

  Before they could dwell on it, Oran tossed down a rope dder. Sharing a gnce, the two quickly climbed up to the deck.

  But their first meeting was far from welcoming. The moment their feet touched the deck, what looked like a perfectly seamless floor flipped open. Two pitch-bck cannons emerged, locking onto them.

  “Rex. Just the ship’s automatic defense system. As long as you don’t do anything hostile, it won’t attack,” Oran said, motioning for them to ease up as he watched their tense expressions.

  The seas around Valoran were anything but peaceful. Naturally, Oran had outfitted his ship with more than a little firepower. It was the only reason he dared allow outsiders aboard. In a way, it was also a silent warning: Don’t try anything funny.

  Ivankov’s panic fshed briefly across his face before giving way to something else—excitement. Running into someone this heavily armed in a pce like this? That could only be a good thing.

  “No need to stare. If I need those weapons, I’ll make sure they’re put to proper use. For now… why don’t you tell me what intel you’ve gathered?”

  Oran could tell what Ivankov was thinking. The weapons weren’t sacred relics to him. As long as they served a purpose, that was enough. Sharing a bit of firepower in pursuit of a rger goal? No issue there.

  “Let me expin,” Jhinny cut in. “You probably don’t know about this, but the Celestial Dragons hold these kinds of ‘events’ every so often.

  They choose a location—usually a whole isnd—and make it their personal hunting ground. Sves who’ve misbehaved, criminals they don’t like the look of, even the native popution of the selected isnd… they all become prey.

  Three weeks of sughter. At the end, the isnd is wiped clean and annexed into the World Government’s territory.”

  The Celestial Dragons’ pnning wasn’t instant. Choosing a site and organizing the event took time. Traveling to the location took even more. And that brief window—that’s where Jhinny and Ivankov had seen their opportunity.

  “There’s a prize for whoever ‘wins’ the event,” Jhinny added. “And that prize is our ticket out.”

  “Prize?” Oran echoed, checking over the ship’s gear as he listened. In a situation like this, he needed to know exactly what assets were still operational—leave nothing to chance.

  “Exactly. I’m a specialist in theft and surveilnce. Two of the prizes this time are…”

  She paused for effect.

  “One, a Mythical Zoan-type Devil Fruit that turns the user into a divine Azure Dragon—top-tier power.

  Two, the Nikyu Nikyu no Mi, the Paw-Paw Fruit. You know, the one that can send someone—or something—flying to a distant isnd in a fsh. With either of those, we could escape. With both? We might even be able to get dozens of people out.”

  Jhinny gave a small, hopeful fist-pump to the sky, like she could summon her own confidence through sheer optimism.

  “Shiburu~ That’s our pn, little brother,” Ivankov chimed in, grinning. “So… can those cannons of yours be dismounted? The prize is smack in the center of the isnd. We can’t just stroll in unprepared.

  We’ll need more manpower…”

  Ivankov’s eyes scanned the deck, taking in everything. The unfamiliar materials, the unknown systems—it was all brand new to him. Jhinny was less overt, but the curiosity in her gaze was impossible to hide.

  “Those guns aren’t built for mobility,” Oran replied. “But come with me. I’ve got a few tools that might be useful. I’ll show you what I have in mind.

  And fair warning—don’t touch anything unless I say so. Some of this stuff can hurt.”

  Leading them below deck, Oran headed toward the ship’s interior, with Ivankov and Jhinny cautiously following. The earlier cannon incident had left an impression—even if curiosity gnawed at them, they kept their hands to themselves for now.

  The corridor was dim, the lighting weakened by damage to the ship’s power system. The murky atmosphere made Jhinny visibly nervous, but she pressed on.

  “I already sent out the message,” she said quietly. “If we’re lucky, the prize might lure others in. That’s it for now. Got anything to add?”

  Their pn was still vague—just a rough outline. The two of them alone could never pull this off. They needed allies, badly.

  “First off, I assume a regur ship can’t get out of here,” Oran said.

  “No. The pce is surrounded by battleships. I don’t know exactly how powerful the people on board are, but… even flying out might be impossible.

  Your ship looks tough, but it wouldn’t survive a direct hit from their main guns.”

  Ivankov’s expression was grim. Their pn was a desperate bid for hope—it didn’t truly change the odds.

  “Well then… how about this?”

  They reached Oran’s workshop. He walked over to a small box on the table, opening it to reveal two metallic spheres. He set them carefully on the table.

  These weren’t just smooth orbs of metal. Their surfaces were adorned with intricate gold patterns—mechanical etchings that told a story in a nguage neither Jhinny nor Ivankov could understand.

  Oran pressed a switch.

  Thin cracks spread across one of the spheres, revealing a dim, ghostly blue glow from within.

  Ivankov and Jhinny watched in confusion as Oran casually picked up a screwdriver from the table and pced it against one end of the sphere.

  A soft whir of gears filled the room. The glow intensified, pulsing like a heartbeat. The screwdriver began to dissolve—no, transform—into light.

  At the same time, the other sphere activated. Its gears rotated, and its port lit up.

  With a shimmer of blue, the screwdriver materialized on the opposite end of the second sphere—completely intact.

  【Transtor's Note: This novel is really a great read, but I feel like I keep messing up the character names, which ends up making an amazing story look terrible. Also, the author has written another novel where the main character is Arceus — the Pokémon god — living in the world of One Piece. That was honestly the best novel I read in 2022! I'll try to transte it for you all when I have time.】