One Piece: Killer Method #189

As the Golden Ape sailed through the expansive sea of clouds for an extended hour, the crew found themselves greeted by a sight that defied the imagination. Ahead of them, a remarkable archway stood proudly atop the clouds, its form resembling a majestic golden star. 

Erected above the clouds, it seemed like a beacon from another world with the power to bridge the gap between the ethereal heavens and the terrestrial realm. The arch was adorned with intricate designs that glimmered in the sunlight, and a bold red plaque dangled over the passageway, bearing the words "Heaven's Gate."

For Cedric, who had once witnessed such a scene from behind a screen in his past life, the reality of being amidst it was both mesmerizing and humbling. The experience of seeing this spectacle with his own eyes was an entirely different dimension of wonder. Though momentarily captivated, he swiftly regained his composure, his adventurer's spirit guiding his next steps.

Casting his gaze about the deck, Cedric's eyes landed on one of the Flying Fish riders, a crew member named John. With a confident grin, he issued his command, the excitement evident in his tone. "Go down to the lower deck, John, and bring one of the barrels filled with dirt," he instructed, his words carrying a note of anticipation.

Nodding eagerly at the command, John quickly made his way to the lower deck, his footsteps a mix of excitement and curiosity. Everyone had been surprised and confused when Cedric instructed them to prepare dozens of barrels and fill them with dirt, but it seemed their purpose would soon be revealed.

As John descended the hatch, disappearing towards the lower deck in pursuit of the barrel, Cedric turned his attention back to his crew, his vibrant blue eyes alight with a sense of purpose. 

Addressing the assembled members, he issued clear instructions that carried a mixture of command and curiosity. "Raise the sails to half-mast and reduce the ship's speed," he directed, his words resonating with a sense of controlled anticipation.

The crew exchanged intrigued glances, their curiosity piqued by Cedric's orders. With an unspoken unity, they set to work, moving with synchronized efficiency to carry out their captain's wishes. As their coordinated efforts unfolded, the ship's canvas sails unfurled, billowing in response to the adjustment, while the ship itself gradually slowed its forward momentum.

By the time John reappeared on deck, bearing the requested barrel of dirt, the crew had executed Cedric's commands with precision. The vessel was now positioned midway along the pathway beneath the archway, its journey temporarily interrupted as the crew waited in anticipation of what lay ahead.

As the crew's collective gaze focused on the path beyond, their attention was captured by a surprising sight. Positioned along the pathway was a platform supporting the pillas, crafted from pristine white stone. 

The white stone door beneath the pillars swung open, revealing an unexpected figure. Stepping forth from the doorway was an elderly woman, her stature diminutive and her expression apathetic. Delicate white wings adorned her back, and in her hand, she held a device resembling a camera, an unexpected contrast to the fantastical scene unfolding before them.

With a purposeful demeanor, the woman proceeded to capture images of each member of the crew. The camera-like device clicked and whirred, capturing moments frozen in time. This surreal interaction between the ordinary and the extraordinary was emblematic of the realm they now found themselves in.

Bafflement and curiosity mingled within the crew as they observed this enigmatic woman. Baby Five, her features marked by visible confusion, couldn't help but voice her thoughts aloud. "Angel?" she mumbled, her words a reflection of the perplexity that had gripped her.

Duval, standing nearby, cast a bemused expression towards the woman, his brow furrowing as he inspected her appearance. "Looks more like a raisin to me," he remarked, his humor lacing his words with irreverence.

Undaunted by Duval's less-than-conventional description, the elderly woman continued to speak, her voice carrying a weight of authority. "Welcome to Skypiea, the land of gods," she intoned, her words laden with a sense of reverence. "Before you proceed, you must pay the toll as mandated by the law."

Cedric's lips curved into a knowing smile, his blue eyes dancing with a blend of amusement and shrewdness. "And how much is this toll?" he inquired, his tone laced with a mixture of intrigue and readiness.

The woman's response was measured, her words carrying a sense of gravitas that resonated within the crew. "One billion Extol per person," she stated matter-of-factly, her gaze sweeping over the ship and its occupants. Her visual assessment seemed almost methodical, as if she were diligently counting the number of individuals present. "For your entire group, that amounts to sixty billion Extol," she concluded, her pronouncement leaving the crew momentarily stunned.

Duval, known for his flamboyant and dramatic expressions, found himself rendered nearly speechless. His jaw hung agape in disbelief, aghast at the astronomical figure that had been presented to them. His outstretched finger quivered in a mixture of shock and indignation, unable to decide which expletive or curse word could adequately capture his reaction to what he perceived as an outrageous scam.

In contrast to Duval's incredulity, Cedric's response was marked by a bemused chuckle that reverberated through the air. "We don't have any Extol on hand," he remarked, his tone casual despite the context. He then leaned slightly, his smile retaining its mischievous quality, as he proposed an alternative. "But how does a barrel of soil sound?"

The woman's head tilted with an air of curiosity, her expression one of mild confusion as if the word "soil" held no immediate meaning for her. She echoed the word, her intonation suggesting her unfamiliarity. "Soil?"

Cedric's gaze moved to the barrel that John had retrieved, his gesture indicating the container of dirt. With a sense of patient explanation, he elaborated, "You know, dirt—what people use to grow plants."

The woman's eyes seemed to light up with sudden understanding, her demeanor shifting in response to the revelation. Her initial aloofness gave way to a gleam of recognition. "You possess a barrel of Vearth?" she asked, the term resonating with a hint of reverence.

Cedric reached for the barrel, his fingers wrapping around its sturdy frame as he lifted it. The container was opened, and the contents of the barrel were revealed—a rich, dark soil that spoke of fertility and growth. 

The change in the woman's countenance was instantaneous. The apathy that had previously marked her expression was supplanted by a radiant grin, her eyes sparkling with a newfound enthusiasm. "That would indeed be an acceptable payment. Bring it here."

Cedric's grin was one of contented assurance as he exerted his devil fruit power. The barrel of Vearth was swiftly engulfed in an ethereal orange cloud. With a deft movement of his hand, he guided the cloud to transport the barrel toward the woman standing before him. 

The cloud seemed to have a life of its own, moving with a fluid grace. As the cloud neared its destination, Cedric released his hold on it, allowing the cloud to dissipate and reveal the contents within.

Amusement played across Cedric's features as he observed the woman's actions. Her meticulous examination of the barrel was a testament to her thoroughness. Her scrutiny of the barrel's contents left no room for doubt, and once her assessment was complete, she turned her gaze toward Cedric with a radiant and welcoming smile.

"Welcome to Skypeia, dear guest," the woman announced. The words resonated as both a greeting and an invitation, embracing Cedric and his crew as newcomers to this extraordinary realm.

Even as her sentence concluded, the scene took an unexpected turn, unfolding in a manner that was both astonishing and surreal. From the depths of the cloud sea beneath the ship, two colossal red pincers emerged, their appearance as unexpected as it was alarming. The pincers, strong and sturdy, clamped onto the sides of the ship's hull with a secure grip that defied gravity itself. 

The ship, held aloft by these enigmatic appendages, was suspended in a moment that defied all rational explanation.

The woman's voice, now infused with a sense of cheerful anticipation, carried over the air as she addressed Cedric and his crew. "Hold on tight," she advised, her words laden with a mixture of playfulness and genuine concern. 

With the woman's words as the catalyst, the creature beneath the ship stirred to life. The transition was remarkably smooth as the shrimp's  began to propel both itself and the ship forward. 

The cloud path, illuminated by the ethereal light of the heavens, lay open before them, promising sights beyond imagination.