One Piece: I am Imu-Chapter 327: First Contact

Zero Magic World.

"Relocate everyone on the continent to this place?"

Inside the Dimensional Gate base, Staff Officer Rodlin looked at Biba with surprise.

Based on what he knew of the latter, he didn't seem like a kind-hearted person.

"It's mainly because the later extraction of Windstones will require a lot of labor, and there are also civilians with magical talent. So they still have some value to the World Government."

Biba calmly stated his reasoning.

"Have you figured out how many people there are? Can this floating island of Albion accommodate them?" Rodlin asked.

"I haven't checked. We'll take as many as we can. Once it's full, we stop."

Biba's cold reply made Rodlin pause for a moment, then he chuckled, "I see."

Not only did he not feel disgusted—he actually admired this kind of attitude.

Very fitting for a Cipher Pol operative.

"So, how do you plan to do it?"

"First, spread news of a 'Windstone Catastrophe' to induce public panic, then have Wales and the others dispatch all the magic airships."

Biba already had a plan in mind.

"The migration will start from the former capital cities. Then we send people to notify the others to come quickly. We'll also announce that the Albion Kingdom has limited capacity."

"Using fear to make everyone comply willingly, huh?"

Rodlin couldn't help but sigh inwardly.

There was mention in the intel that he had used similar methods in the Kabane World, stirring panic inside a shogunate fortress and killing his own father in the chaos.

"When do you want us to step in?"

Biba replied, "Once the great migration is done. Then the World Government can take over Albion. After that, it's no longer my concern."

"But personally, I suggest keeping the existing Albion political system. It could help reduce the World Government's administrative costs."

He added silently in his mind, 'Wales, this is as far as I can help you. What happens next depends on your fate.'

After all, he had promised not to harm the man's kingdom.

And judging from how things turned out, not only had he not harmed it, he'd made Albion the only remaining nation in the world.

But whether it could survive depended on the decisions of the World Government's top brass.

"Oh, right. Since the higher-ups have decided not to open the 'Gate of the World' for now, please have General Borsalino secure the 'Holy Land' and take the elves away. Also, start talks with the Feathered People."

Originally, Biba had planned to instigate a war between humans and elves.

But that was before the World Government troops had arrived. Now that General Borsalino's air fleet was here, there was no point in waiting.

The so-called Elven Kingdom? Just bulldoze it!

"Got it. I'll report your ideas," Rodlin said with a smile. "Oh, by the way, Cipher Pol headquarters is recalling Jonin Uzui and Chelsea."

Biba asked curiously, "May I ask why?"

"Of course. It's not classified. They are being called back to prepare for the next expedition to another world. This Zero Magic World doesn't seem to have any problems."

"I see."

Biba nodded thoughtfully.

"But don't worry. The contribution you made here in the Zero Magic World won't be forgotten. Especially since your operations saved the World Government a lot of time and effort."

Rodlin looked at Biba with envy.

He had a feeling that next time they met, the man's rank might already be higher than his own.

...

The next day.

Around ten in the morning, a small fleet emerged above the Valais Mountains. It was a squadron made up of one aerospace carrier, two escort frigates, and two transport ships.

"Yo, we're finally gonna get a look at the elves, huh? Kinda exciting~"

Borsalino sat in a swivel chair inside the command office, grinning crookedly as he gazed out the window at the sky whipping past.

"Indeed," Run replied from the couch in front of the desk, nodding in agreement. "Even in the Teigu World where I come from, there are legends about elves."

"But in this Zero Magic World, the elves aren't living in lush green forests like the old stories say. They live in the desert. Now that's a twist."

"And to be honest, I'm even more interested in the Feathered People. They're born with wings, capable of flight. Supposedly they can even use Firstborn magic. That makes them ideal candidates for an air force."

Borsalino pulled his gaze back inside, slipping a cigarette between his lips. With a spark from his glowing fingertip, he lit it. As the smoke drifted lazily from his mouth and nose, he casually blew a smoke ring.

"I've heard that the elves' magic and technology are far more advanced than the human nations in this world. Let's hope things don't get too complicated."

"Then why didn't you bring the entire aviation squadron with us?" Run asked, puzzled.

"Think about it," Borsalino said, holding the cigarette between his fingers. "If we run into something even I can't handle, it won't matter how many carriers we bring—it still won't be enough, right?"

Run nodded thoughtfully.

It made sense. That way, they could minimize their losses and still retreat if needed.

"Besides," Borsalino added with a sigh, "our real opponents in this world aren't the elves. It's that so-called 'Founder' Brimir, and another world that's technologically advanced."

He let out a long exhale. These kinds of missions—complicated ones—were exactly the kind he hated the most.

Suppressing two other worlds on his own? Shouldn't he at least get double the bonus for that?

Meanwhile...

In the middle of the Sahara Desert.

Within the vast sea of sand stood a towering mountain range.

If one zoomed out high enough, they'd see the mountains at the center, surrounded by various lakes and oases, the largest of which lay directly to the north of the range.

These oases were home to the elven kingdom known as Nephthys.

Though technically a 'kingdom', it had no king. The elves followed a parliamentary system, governed by a Speaker and elected council members.

And high above...

Numerous finely-crafted metal warships patrolled slowly along designated routes, accompanied by squadrons of wind dragon riders.

Just by looking at these magical warships, it was clear: they were leagues ahead of the human nations, who still relied on wooden sailing ships.

...

Aboard an elven warship.

Nasto, draped in a deep green cloak, leaned lazily against the second-floor railing.

He watched in boredom as his fellow elves below—cloaked in yellow—wandered back and forth on the deck, just as aimlessly as he was.

Like him, they were all enduring the unrelenting sun and the scorching desert winds that swept across the airship.

Fortunately, they were long accustomed to it.

"Another day, no different from the last..." Nasto sighed, his gaze drifting over the vast sea of sand. As expected, nothing had changed.

He might look like a blond, blue-eyed young man, but he was already eighty-three years old.

Twenty-three years ago—at the age of sixty—he had finally come of age and, thanks to his agility and combat skills, joined the elven fleet.

Since then, every day had looked pretty much like this one.

The only real change was his promotion: his solid swordsmanship had earned him a green cloak and the position of vice-captain.

Which, in truth, just meant 'captain's assistant'.

To be entrusted with a warship of his own, he'd probably need to wait another twenty or thirty years. In a race whose lifespan averaged twice that of humans, he was still considered very young.

Suddenly, a calm and commanding voice came from behind him.

"Be extra cautious these days. Several barbarian kingdoms to the north have gone to war. It's possible the fighting could spill over into our lands."

"Ah—Captain Ryder!" Nasto straightened up at once.

A blond-haired, blue-eyed elf with short hair that brushed just past his ears approached and stood beside him.

"If you want to command a fleet one day," Ryder said, "then you need to stay up to date on everything happening with the barbarians."

"They may be behind us in magic and technology but look at this endless desert. Even the tiniest grains of sand, when piled high enough, can bury an oasis."

Though Nasto wasn't convinced, he didn't dare say so out loud.

"Yes, Captain Ryder!" he replied quickly.

Just then, hurried footsteps echoed across the deck. A yellow-cloaked elven warrior rushed toward them and shouted: "Captain Ajil has issued a Level-One emergency alert! They were attacked in the north by a group of barbarians using flying machines! He's calling for immediate reinforcements from any nearby patrol ships!"

"What?!"

Both Ryder and Nasto shouted in unison.

"Those barbarians actually dared to attack us?"

"They must have a death wish!" Nasto growled in fury.

Reid, however, kept a cooler head. He quickly ordered the warship and all Windrider Knights to head toward Ajil's coordinates at once.

At the same time...

The entire Elven Kingdom was jolted awake by the sudden, top-level alarm.

But their response was sluggish—understandably so. After all, it had been over a thousand years since they last faced a foreign invasion.

Half an hour earlier...

Between the continent of Halkeginia and the endless sands of the Sahara Desert lies a 5,500-square-kilometer strait, with an average width of 43 kilometers.

At this very moment—

High above a vast stretch of the strait, five all-metal warships—one large, four small—glided slowly through the air in a '2-1-2' formation.

Their immense size cast massive shadows over the once-glittering sea below, darkening the waves in patches and sending startled sea beasts diving deeper into the ocean's depths.

But when the fleet drew within just fifteen kilometers of the edge of the Sahara Desert, they began to visibly slow, hovering in place.

They loomed in the air like five giant beasts, cold and watchful, eyeing the boundless golden sands below.

"Roughly two hundred life signals, about five hundred kilometers ahead in the sky—likely an elven patrol squad."

Borsalino, wearing sunglasses, his left hand in his pocket, raised his right hand and transformed it into a golden glow. He stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows of the command office, gazing toward the skies and desert beyond.

Though his appearance remained unchanged, his demeanor was far more serious than usual.

"Deploy a fighter squadron and a hundred Sky-Cleaver officers. Try to take the elves alive—some of the old geezers upstairs are quite interested in them~"

"Yes, sir!"

His adjutant, Rear Admiral Run, saluted promptly before pulling out a Den-Den Mushi to relay orders across the fleet.

Meanwhile, Borsalino expanded his sensing range, scanning for more life signs.

Borsalino may have looked lazy most of the time, but he had quietly improved himself as well.

His focus had been on optics and further development of his Glint-Glint Fruit abilities.

Like now.

By combining the light radiating from his hand with Observation Haki, he drastically boosted both the speed and range of his sensory perception.

And that wasn't the only trick this technique had up its sleeve.

Moments later—

On the deck outside the massive aerospace carrier, pilots in blue uniforms began rushing toward their fighter jets.

At the same time, flight coordinators in yellow vests took position near the runway, guiding the jets with precise hand signals.

Soon, the first fighter roared down the 200-meter runway, taking off into the sky.

Then came the second, the third...

Until the thirtieth fighter had taken off, and the deck finally settled into silence.

This was a full fighter squadron.

But before the dust could settle, a wave of urgent footsteps echoed across the deck, drawing attention from the remaining personnel.

A hundred Air Force majors, each wearing the iconic blue 'Justice' cloak, emerged. More than half bore wide, snow-white wings on their backs.

As the fighter squadron vanished into the sky, the hundred majors took off one after another, each by their own method.

Some stepped lightly into the air using Geppo, others transformed into giant insects or birds, and most soared like angels, wings slicing through the air with grace.

They were the ones Borsalino referred to as the Sky-Cleaver Unit.

An elite group of a thousand officers expert in air combat. Only the flagship under a Fleet General's command could host such a unit.

Other aerospace carriers had similar units, but they were collectively referred to as the Airborne Forces.

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