Namor McKenzie In One Piece

When they reached the throne room doors, Namor shoved them open with a single push, the heavy wood groaning under his strength.

Inside, King Cobra sat stiffly on his throne. His tired eyes quickly snapped to the strangers who now invaded his court. A handful of guards were stationed nearby, their expressions betraying their unease.

Namor stopped before the king, his trident in hand and his presence radiating authority. "So, this is the ruler of Alabasta?"

Cobra rose from his throne, his brow furrowed. "Who are you to barge into my palace unannounced?"

Namor smirked, twirling his trident with ease. "I am Namor D. McKenzie, ruler of the seas. And I come not for your throne, but for your knowledge."

Cobra's jaw tightened. "You slaughtered my guards at the gates and still have the audacity to demand answers? Why should I tell you anything?"

Namor took a step closer, his voice low but firm. "Because your kingdom is on the brink of ruin. Crocodile and his Baroque Works are gone—exterminated by my hand. But your people? They are still suffering. I want to know why."

Cobra's eyes widened in shock. "You defeated Crocodile?"

"I did," Namor said simply. "He and his pathetic subordinates fell beneath my trident. Alabasta's skies are clear of his influence, but your problems remain. Tell me why this kingdom is fractured."

Cobra stared at Namor for a long moment before slumping back into his throne. The weight of his burdens was evident in his posture.

"Alabasta is in turmoil because of years of manipulation," Cobra began, his voice heavy. "Crocodile poisoned the minds of my people, turning them against the crown. Even with his death, the seeds of distrust he planted will take time to uproot."

Namor frowned. "So the people's anger isn't just about him—it's about you?"

"Yes," Cobra admitted. "They believe the royal family has hoarded wealth and abandoned them. Crocodile used this narrative to build his power, positioning himself as a hero while we were painted as the villains."

Namor's expression darkened. "A kingdom divided is a kingdom that falls. If you cannot unite your people, then Alabasta is doomed, with or without Crocodile's interference."

Cobra nodded solemnly. "I know. And now, with the scars of his treachery still fresh, I must find a way to heal this nation."

Namor turned to look out the window, his gaze distant. "A true king shoulders the weight of his people, no matter how heavy it becomes."

Cobra studied Namor carefully. "You speak as though you've carried that weight yourself."

Namor turned back to face him, his expression unreadable. "I have. And I will again."

Cobra hesitated, then said, "If Crocodile truly is gone, then I owe you a debt of gratitude. But what do you seek in return? What is your true goal, Namor?"

Namor smirked. "My goals are my own, but if you wish to repay me, then ensure your kingdom's survival. Prove that you are worthy of the crown you wear, then, I will return for my repayment."

Without waiting for a response, Namor turned and began to leave the throne room. Arlong, who had remained silent throughout the exchange, cast a curious glance at Cobra before following.

Namor and Arlong were nearing the massive palace doors, the echo of their footsteps reverberating through the grand hall.

"Let's go," Namor said firmly, glancing at Arlong, who gave the royal architecture one last disdainful look.

Before they could take another step, the doors to the throne room burst open with a loud crash. A figure sprinted through, her voice ringing with panic.

"Father! What happened? I heard—"

Her words were cut short as she collided with Namor's chest. The impact stopped her in her tracks, and she stumbled backward. Namor instinctively reached out, steadying her by the arm.

The young woman looked up, her wide dark eyes meeting his. Time seemed to freeze as Namor stared down at her. Her delicate features, her flowing blue hair—it was as though Susan Storm herself had appeared before him once again.

His grip on her arm tightened for just a moment before he let go. "You—" His voice faltered, something that rarely happened.

The young woman blinked up at him, confused. "Who… are you?"

Namor didn't respond immediately. His sharp gaze traced every detail of her face, his mind caught in the cruel grip of memory. She was younger, of course, and her hair was a vibrant blue rather than golden blonde, but the resemblance was uncanny.

"You look just like…" Namor murmured, but he trailed off, unwilling to speak her name.

"Vivi," Cobra called from behind them, rising from his throne. "You shouldn't be here. It's dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Vivi repeated, glancing between her father and the two strangers. Her eyes settled on Namor again, his imposing presence making it hard to look away.

Arlong snorted, breaking the moment. "Is this one of your royals?" he asked Cobra, nodding toward Vivi.

"She's my daughter," Cobra said warily.

Vivi turned to Namor again, her voice softer now. "What… what have you done to the guards? What's going on?"

Namor regained his composure, though his gaze lingered on her. "I didn't kill them without reason," he said. "If that's what concerns you, princess."

Vivi straightened, clearly unsettled by his calm but firm tone. "You came here and caused this chaos, and now you're just walking away?"

Namor smirked, his confidence returning. "Chaos? No, I bring order. Something your father could stand to learn."

"Enough," Cobra said, stepping forward. "Vivi, stand down. These men are not our enemies… for now."

Vivi frowned, clearly unconvinced. She crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing at Namor. "You didn't answer my question. Who are you?"

Namor paused, his smirk fading as he regarded her. "A man who doesn't belong here," he said simply, before turning toward the doors.

Vivi watched as he walked away, her curiosity warring with her fear. Something about him felt… otherworldly. Even as her father tried to usher her back into the throne room, her eyes remained on the retreating figure, the wings on his ankles catching the light with every step.

For Namor, her face stayed with him as they left the palace. The memories she stirred clawed at his mind, refusing to be ignored.

"She looks like her," Namor muttered to himself, his voice low enough that Arlong didn't hear. For the first time in a long while, something beyond rage or ambition filled his heart—a strange, lingering ache.

…

…

The Grand Line stretched endlessly before them once again, the waves swelling with restless energy. Namor swam ahead, the small wings on his ankles propelling him effortlessly through the water. Arlong followed behind, slower but steady, his thoughts heavy as they traveled farther into the unknown.

"Another island awaits us," Namor called back, his voice carrying over the crashing waves. "The Grand Line is far more fascinating than I imagined."

"Fascinating, huh?" Arlong muttered, spitting out a mouthful of seawater. "You're far too cheerful about this madness."

Namor smirked, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon. "Madness is what makes it exciting, Arlong. Chaos breeds opportunity."

The water began to grow warmer as they approached the next destination. In the distance, an enormous column of water shot upward into the sky—a spiraling torrent that defied reason. Both Namor and Arlong stopped, treading water as they stared at the unnatural phenomenon.

"What in the world is that?" Arlong asked, his voice laced with awe.

Namor tilted his head, intrigued. "It appears to be a natural phenomenon… or perhaps something more."

A massive ship floated nearby, anchored just off the current's edge. Pirates bustled about its deck, shouting orders as they struggled to secure supplies. Namor and Arlong exchanged a glance before silently agreeing to investigate.

They climbed aboard with little effort, Namor landing with a regal grace while Arlong's presence sent the pirates into a panic.

"Fishmen!" one of them shouted, drawing his blade.

Namor stepped forward, raising his trident. "Stand down," he ordered, his voice echoing with authority. "We're not here for your petty squabbles. Tell me—what is this?" He gestured toward the spiraling column of water.

The pirates hesitated before their captain stepped forward, a grizzled man with a hook for a hand. "That's the Knock Up Stream," he said, his voice gruff. "It's how you reach the sky islands."

"Sky islands?" Namor repeated, his interest piqued.

The captain nodded. "A place called Skypiea. Legend says it's a land above the clouds, filled with riches and mysteries. But getting there is near impossible. The Knock Up Stream can destroy even the sturdiest ships."

Namor's lips curled into a smirk. "A land in the sky? Fascinating."

Arlong crossed his arms, frowning. "Doesn't sound worth the risk."

Namor turned to him, his eyes gleaming with determination. "You forget who you're traveling with, Arlong. The sea and sky bow to me."

Before the pirates could object, Namor leapt back into the water, his trident gleaming in the sunlight. "We're going," he declared, his voice unwavering.

Arlong sighed but followed, muttering under his breath about insane kings and their impossible ambitions.

As they approached the edge of the Knock Up Stream, the water roared like a living beast, its power shaking the very air around them. Namor grinned, the challenge igniting a fire within him.

"This will be fun," he said, his voice calm despite the chaos.

Arlong stared at him like he was insane. "You've got a twisted idea of fun."

With a sudden surge, the Knock Up Stream erupted, carrying them upward at an unimaginable speed. Namor and Arlong held on, their bodies braced against the force as they ascended toward the clouds.

The rush of the Knock Up Stream was unlike anything Arlong had ever experienced. He was used to the sea's depths and currents, but this—this was chaos incarnate. Water roared around them, forcing him to grip Namor's leg with a desperation he never thought he'd feel.

Namor, in contrast, was calm. His small wings beat steadily, carrying them upward with ease as if he were born for this kind of madness. The smile on his face was infuriating to Arlong, who was dangling helplessly.

"Don't drop me!" Arlong barked, glaring up at Namor.

Namor glanced down, clearly amused. "Afraid of heights, Arlong?"

"Shut up and focus!"

The clouds finally broke above them, revealing an endless expanse of white stretching in all directions. Namor's flight steadied, his sharp eyes scanning their surroundings. For a moment, the silence was almost peaceful—until Arlong noticed the sea below them was gone, replaced by… clouds?

"What the hell is this?" Arlong muttered, his voice low with awe.

"This, Arlong," Namor replied, his tone tinged with triumph, "is the White Sea."

He descended slowly, the cloud-like surface parting under his feet as he landed. Arlong scrambled to stand, testing the strange, soft ground beneath him. It wasn't water, nor was it land—it was something in between.

"This place is unnatural," Arlong said, his voice uneasy.

"Perhaps," Namor replied, looking around. "But it has potential."

As they ventured deeper into the island, they were greeted by the sight of tall, intricately carved buildings made of white stone. Strange winged creatures flew overhead, and the air itself seemed lighter, thinner.

The locals noticed them immediately. Whispers spread as the strange duo walked through the streets: a young man wielding a trident and a towering fishman. The people seemed wary but didn't approach.

Arlong scowled. "They're staring. I don't like it."

"Let them stare," Namor said, his tone dismissive. "It's only natural for lesser beings to admire royalty."

Their path eventually led to a wide plaza where a massive bell tower loomed in the distance. The faint sound of music drifted through the air, accompanied by the hum of life in this skyborne city.

A group of guards soon appeared, their weapons drawn. They wore strange armor that glimmered under the soft light, and their faces were stern.

"Halt!" one of them commanded. "Who are you, and what is your purpose here?"

Namor stepped forward, his posture regal. "I am Namor, King of Atlantis and the seas below. This is Arlong, my… associate."

Arlong raised an eyebrow but said nothing, letting Namor take the lead.

"We seek knowledge," Namor continued, his voice carrying across the plaza. "What is this place, and who rules it?"

The guards exchanged uncertain glances before one stepped forward. "You stand in Skypiea, under the rule of God Enel."

"God, you say?" Namor's smirk widened, his interest clearly piqued. "How quaint."

The guards tensed, their hands tightening on their weapons. "You will show respect to God Enel," one of them warned.

Namor chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. "We'll see if your 'god' is worthy of it."

Arlong groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Here we go again."

Before the guards could respond, the sky seemed to darken, a faint rumble of thunder echoing through the air. Namor looked up, his sharp eyes narrowing.

"Interesting," he muttered, a hint of excitement in his voice.

Arlong glanced at him. "What now?"

Namor's grin was sharp and confident. "It seems your 'god' has noticed us."

The air grew heavier as lightning crackled in the distance, signaling the arrival of someone—or something—far more dangerous than the guards.