CHAPTER 641: CHAPTER 160: ALL NATIONS GATHER, WEDDING IMMINENT

Fish-Man Island—this fantastical undersea paradise—blazed with celebration. Lanterns lit every street, ribbons in a riot of color fluttered, and bright balloons bobbed in gentle currents. Official vessels from World Government member nations rose one after another from the deep, each escorted by Ryugu Palace guards astride sea beasts, gliding in orderly lines through the entrance channel toward the harbor.

"What a spectacle!"

"Is this the legendary Fish-Man Island?"

"King Neptune’s wedding must have drawn representatives from half the world..."

Aboard Alabasta’s official vessel, King Cobra stared, voice hushed with awe. Long black hair framed his open, approachable face, and his desert robes shifted softly with the breeze. All around, coral forests bloomed in luminous color; fountains and falls cascaded in dazzling hues; a faint rainbow arced far above. Graceful mermaids darted and played, some stealing shy, curious glances at the visitors from the surface.

"This place is paradise..." Cobra murmured, eyes fixed—rather too fixed—on the scantily clad mermaids. He trembled with excitement, hearts practically popping in his gaze.

"Oh? My husband seems quite taken with the scenery..." teased a gentle voice behind him.

"Of course! It’s the mer—Fish-Man Island!" he blurted, then realized. He whirled, forcing an awkward smile.

A woman of serene elegance stepped from the cabin, sea-blue hair shimmering like waves, sapphire eyes amused. If Darren had been present, he would have been struck speechless by the resemblance—almost a perfect match—to Alabasta’s future princess.

She was Nefertari D. Titi, current queen of Alabasta.

"Why stop looking, dear?" Titi asked, lips curving. "See? Some of the mermaid girls are waving at us..."

Cobra shivered, a chill sprinting down his spine. His face ran through a parade of expressions before settling into noble resolve. "So what! In my eyes, my queen, you are the most beautiful woman in the world!"

Noting the sharpening glint in her gaze, he pivoted abruptly and called across the water, "King Riku! Long time no see! What’s that? Catch up? Absolutely!" Without waiting for an answer, he sprang lightly to Dressrosa’s vessel and fled like a man escaping certain doom.

Titi watched him go, both exasperated and fond, then turned her gaze outward. In the distance, faint within Gyoncorde Plaza, a towering bronze statue stood sentinel.

"Vice Admiral Rogers Darren of Marine Headquarters... the ’King of the North Blue’." Her lovely eyes narrowed in thought. "So Neptune is staking everything on the Marines this time?"

Across the harbor, representatives from many nations had also noticed the statue. Reactions were mixed: sneers, scoffs, thoughtful silence. Relations between Fish-Men and humans had always been strained, oil and water. On any other day, these same dignitaries would likely be refused entry. Today’s glimpse of this undersea paradise was granted on the strength of Neptune’s wedding—but the king’s intent clearly reached beyond ceremony.

At the island’s most symbolic landmark, a human stood immortalized—and not just any human, but one of Marine Headquarters’ most influential figures. The message was impossible to miss.

"Neptune doesn’t seem the type to craft such a gambit."

"Then Queen Otohime?"

"Likely."

"If so, perhaps the queen so revered here is playing a larger game than we realized..."

Speculation flickered in murmured knots of diplomats. Others, however, had no patience for politics.

In a shadowed corner of the harbor, aboard a Chinese-style ship trimmed in antique wood and gilt, a hulking figure scanned the guest list, fury building like a storm.

"Garp. That bastard Garp is attending."

Muscles bunched beneath a dark green cloak; a black beard whipped though no current stirred it. Most striking of all was his flattened brow—once a pointed weapon, now crushed inward by a force beyond belief.

Chinjao the Drill, twelfth-generation pillar of the Happo Navy of the Flower Country. A great pirate with a 542 million berry bounty.

"Damn Garp. I’ll settle old and new scores both—this time, he pays."

His eyes burned crimson as he glared at the page, veins throbbing at his temples; his thrashing beard made him look like a demon unbound. Killing intent rolled off him in waves, and nearby guests scattered in fright.

"What in the world..."

"Why invite thugs from the Happo Navy..."

"Just our luck..."

Elsewhere, a grand merchant vessel glittered with wealth. A figure of decadent grace descended to the deck: golden hair rippling like sunlit water; a white fishtail gown hugging voluptuous lines, its long train whispering behind; satin-black peep-toe heels with crimson soles tapping smartly. She raised a parasol, narrowed her eyes toward the distant plaza, and shifted restlessly beneath her fishtail skirt.

"I didn’t expect that bastard to show up..."

Stussy bit her lip, heat creeping up the tips of her ears at the memory of a particular humiliation. "In public, he wouldn’t dare... He shouldn’t."

She exhaled, steadied herself, lit a cigarette, and glided toward the gathered dignitaries. A coquettish smile bloomed; practiced ease returned. Eyes followed her hungrily, but she slipped past them as if born to this—wading through intrigue like a fish in water.

To be continued...