Chapter 18:The Islands Finale 1/2

Chapter 18:The Islands Finale 1/2

Marie's eyes widened in anticipation as she asked, "Is that you?"

The figure tilted its head, studying her with an intensity that made her skin crawl.

Its form, a distorted reflection of John, shifted and flickered, one moment a familiar face, the next a terrifying distortion.

"Who are you?" The figure cracked, its voice echoing as its form solidified before Marie's eyes. A flicker of recollection crossed its changing features. "No, I recognise you." It leaned closer, its spectral hand brushing past Marie.

A single tear rolled down her cheek as a wave of cold fear washed over her, unable to comprehend what she had just seen, trying to witness the fate of the figure only to see absolute darkness.

But in that darkness, there was a flicker.

A single point of golden light, pulsing rhythmically like a beating heart.

It was gone as quickly as it had appeared, leaving her with a sense of familiarity but also the fear of having glimpsed something she wasn't meant to see, making her stop her ability to peer into fate.

"I should thank you for bringing me back; it's been a long and boring wait."

He cracked his neck as he walked past Marie towards the ant that had just tried to bite him. "Some things cannot go unpunished, even if the game has not yet begun, Hmmm, but I cannot... Rules are rules," he muttered.

This wasn't who she'd hoped for, nor was this John.

This was something entirely different, his very presence clenching around her lungs like a tightening vise, stealing the air from her very being.

The figure's chilling laugh echoed through the crater as the rest of the crowd finally noticed the anomaly in the centre, some even stumbling back in fear from the aura that mixed with the mist that filled the area.

Their commander, his voice booming with a slight panic, pointed his weapon at the figure. "Who are you? Tell me your name!"

The figure tilted its head, its distorted reflection of John flickering wildly as it stared at the weapon.

A low murmur escaped its lips: "Name, name, name... what was it again?"

For a moment, he seemed confused, pacing back and forth, his spectral form wavering like a mirage. "How strange; I can't remember..."

The puzzlement in his voice lasted only a fraction of a heartbeat before vanishing completely.

With a cold smile on his lips, he turned to the commander. "Well, it doesn't matter, does it? Now that I'm back, it's time to get started.

The preparations for the first great game of this age must begin." His voice, devoid of warmth or emotion, sent shivers down the spines of all those present.

He moved closer, his hand reaching out to grasp White's unconscious form. "And this delightful ant here," he chuckled. "will be the star of the opening act."

"Let's get this party started." John's voice, laced with chilling amusement, demanded everyone's attention.

As he spoke, the mist swirling around them began to churn and expand, blotting out the rim of the crater and reaching farther than anyone could see.

"Wow, to think there would be so much to work with. You really love your senseless killing, don't you?" His voice, amplified and echoing with an unnatural resonance, reverberated across the island.

A cold smile played on the figure's lips as he drew in a sharp, audible breath that sounded more like a digital 'beep' than human inhalation. The area around him pulsed with a strange, otherworldly glow, casting long, distorted shadows on the frightened faces around him.

"I officially declare the first annual Grand Festival open!" The voice boomed, amplified by the strange energy. "All people present must play for a chance to survive!"

The ground shook beneath their feet as the very foundation of the island shook in response to John's words.

Areas around the crater rim began to light up, transforming the familiar landscape into a bizarre patchwork of environments.

The once green plains to the south began to crack and dry out, quickly turning into a desolate desert stretching out to the distant sea.

To the north, the ground shook and heaved, erupting into a fiery volcano that spewed molten rock into the night sky.

A colossal mountain rose from the centre of the island, its peak piercing the clouds and disappearing into the swirling mist above.

All the people on the island watched up into the sky in horror as the world around them was reshaped by the announcement. Fear gripped the hearts of all who could see it.

This was no game; this was a nightmare come to life.

Dobberman lunged forward with clenched fists. But an unseen force stopped him in his tracks. The mist, once a swirling cloud, solidified around him, icy chains binding his arms and legs. He struggled against the invisible bonds, a savage snarl twisting his features, but it was of no use. Cold sweat ran down his forehead as crushing pressure constricted his chest.

The CP commander mirrored Dobberman's attempt to charge. He met the same resistance. The mist solidified into a chillingly translucent cage, trapping him inside.

His feeble attempts to shout commands to the other agents were reduced to a choked cry, muffled by the unnatural fog.

"The stage is set," the figure announced, his voice echoing with cruel amusement. "Now for the players." His gaze swept over the crowd, lingering on the petrified figures trapped in the mist. A sneer twisted his lips. "Hmm, mediocre, but it will fix that."

With a flourish unlike any kind of movement, the figure extended his hand. A ripple of strange energy emanated from his gesture and washed over the island.

Hundreds of figures around the crater stirred, their movements jerky and unnatural as they were repositioned like pawns on a twisted chessboard. His distorted smile widened to reveal a chilling gleam of anticipation.

The real game, it seemed, was about to begin.

Around the crater, in the midst of the chaos, dozens of people found themselves abruptly ripped from their original places and replaced by bewildered strangers.

Gasps of shock and cries of confusion filled the air as the newcomers struggled to make sense of the sudden events.

Among them stood two figures, whose finely tailored suits were a stark contrast to the surrounding chaos. These were not ordinary people, but high-ranking members of the Consortium.

Suddenly finding themselves trapped in this bizarre scenario, their faces were etched with a mixture of shock and confusion.

They wondered who had caused this until they saw Captain White being held by the figure at the centre of the crater.

"Now for the pawns," the figure announced, his voice dripping with dark glee. With a flourish, he produced a strange black box in the shape of a small treasure chest.

An uneasy silence fell as the box pulsed with an otherworldly light.

He lifted the latch in anticipation, but only a cloud of dust dispersed when it was opened.

"Empty, that was to be expected..." He sounded a little dejected, but he immediately picked himself up.

"Good thing there are plenty of replacements." His smile widened as the air itself seemed to twist and turn, forming a dark vortex above the crater.

A chorus of haunting whispers filled the air as countless orbs rose up in the sky, each a distinct and vivid contrast to the dark clouds above, varying from all colours of the spectrum.

If one could see from above, they would notice that they came from every corner of the island, drawn to the pulsing lockbox.

There were five orbs that stood out, all glowing with a bright, blinding white light around the main colour.

A purple one, materialised from the heart of a tree in a now-abandoned orchard nearby.

A second pink-blue was ripped from a burnt-out nursery.

The third, a grey orb, erupted from the smouldering remains of a collapsed cellar.

A fourth orb, black and red in colour, was ripped from the chest of a bewildered Akainu, who stumbled back as his senses returned.

He was looking around in confusion as to why and how he was now standing in front of a half ruined church surrounded by countless dead pirates.

The last orb, glowing with a golden-white light, formed above a nearby group of people led by Bell-Mere.

She looked up at the partially collapsed ceiling, noticing the strange phenomenon a little too late.

As more orbs converged on the obsidian box, the swirling vortex intensified, threatening to engulf the entire island.

His twisted smile widened, his eyes gleaming with chilling anticipation. The real game, it seemed, was about to begin.

...

Several agonising minutes had passed since the changes had started to take place on the island and the spheres had begun to converge on the obsidian box.

Those who witnessed the spectacle were paralysed, a chilling sensation holding them in place, as if some invisible force told them it wasn't their turn to act, and some rule prevented them from interfering.

Marie watched in horror, the weight of her actions crashing down on her.

As the monster she had created stood before her, a memory from long ago flashed through her mind.

A wave of remorse washed over her. He had always insisted that the dead be left undisturbed, even when he was only the user of the fruit. Perhaps he had understood that this would happen when she tried to explain her plan to him.

Now she understood why he rejected it so firmly at the time. "I'm so sorry, Dad," she whispered, tears blurring her vision. "I should have listened."

Despair threatened to engulf her, but then she noticed something extraordinary. Tiny, bright yellow sparks, much smaller than the other orbs, began to appear near her, where John's spirit had disappeared.

They pulsed with a soft light, resonating with the small diary John had given her this morning for safekeeping.

The tiny sparks, like celestial fireflies, pulsed with new life at the soft hum of the book.

They multiplied quickly, tendrils of golden light reaching out and clinging to the other orbs.

A strange transformation began.

The vibrant spheres, once drawn only to the box, now struggled against its pull.

Their colours seemed to fight back, momentarily resisting the golden tendrils that tried to take them.

But the transformation spread almost instantly.

One by one, the orbs succumbed, their original colours fading as they were bathed in the strange golden glow.

The book stopped humming as it completed its task and returned to a dormant state.

Amidst the growing wave of golden light, a figure slowly began to return to reality. But the more it materialised, the more the box pulled it in.

By the time the figure could react, the sky was bathed in a brilliant golden light, bathing the island in a strange, comforting warmth. Hope, flickering and uncertain, flashed through Marie's mind.

Maybe, just maybe, she hadn't damned them all as she remembered the vision of light she'd seen earlier.