After evaporating from Linlin's sight, Miguel reappeared high above the island—so high that he hovered above the thick storm clouds he had summoned. The skies churned with chaos, dark and heavy, stretching far across the horizon. From his vantage point, Miguel began to intensify the cloud mass, drawing in moisture and wind with terrifying speed. His Devil Fruit powers were synchronizing with the atmosphere, transforming the weather itself into his weapon.
With focused Observation Haki, Miguel swept his senses across the island below. He quickly pinpointed the large crowd he had detected earlier near the shoreline—a gathering of Celestial Dragons who were still present on the island, their twisted thoughts seeping into his perception. He could hear them—mocking laughter, voices dripping with disdain and irritation over their entertainment being interrupted. They had been enjoying their vile sport: hunting the native people of God Valley.
Their hatred. Their cruelty. It ignited something inside Miguel.
His fury surged.
With a roar that echoed through the heavens, Miguel transformed once again into his giant white tiger form. The transformation amplified his connection to the clouds—his presence fueling their growth, thickening the storm. The skies pulsed with power, and the wind howled like a living beast. Every second that passed added more energy to the storm, charging the clouds with raw, destructive potential.
Minutes passed. Then, Miguel began channeling the lightning aspect of his Devil Fruit through his extended Observation Haki. His goal: to replicate a technique similar to Enel's from Skypiea—using sound and perception to locate and judge his enemies from the sky.
It was difficult.
But Miguel persisted, refining his control over his Devil Fruit. Slowly, his range expanded. He attuned himself to every whisper, every footstep, every breath the Celestial Dragons took. His rage was tempered only by focus.
After more than ten minutes, he succeeded.
Miguel had reached them all—every last Celestial Dragon still on the island. Their sins echoed like a chorus of blasphemy in his mind. He raised a paw, now crackling with blue and white lightning, and murmured the word:
"Mamaragan."
The storm responded.
Dozens of lightning bolts ripped through the sky at once, exploding downward from the cloud bank Miguel had spent so long building. Each bolt was directed with surgical precision. Miguel's wrath manifested as divine judgment—indiscriminate and unstoppable.
Every Celestial Dragon was struck.
Those who lacked overwhelming strength or immortality were obliterated where they stood. The ground quaked beneath the heavenly retribution. The God's Knights, Cipher Pol agents, even Saint Saturn himself—none were spared. The few who survived were left scorched, damaged, and vulnerable.
Down below, the effects of Miguel's intervention began to ripple through the battlefield.
In a different part of the island, one of the God's Knights had been locked in a brutal clash against an opponent capable of disabling their immortality. Miguel's lightning found its mark. The knight fell, lifeless, interrupting the battle mid-swing.
Nearby, Garling Figarland—a dominant force among the Celestials—was clashing fiercely with Whitebeard. But the sudden divine lightning storm changed everything.
A bolt crashed down near them. Garling was mortally wounded, his once-smug expression fading as blood poured from his shoulder and abdomen. For the first time in decades, he looked shaken. The blow had come from nowhere, bypassing his Haki defenses and interrupting his regeneration.
"Where did that come from...?" Garling muttered, his voice hollow. His Conqueror's Haki surged around him as he tried to push back the lingering aura of Whitebeard's Haki that still clung to him like poison, preventing his body from healing properly.
He looked up, eyes scanning the storm-ridden sky—but saw nothing. There was no trace of Miguel. Just rolling thunderclouds and rain.
Whitebeard also looked upward, silently acknowledging the unknown force that had aided him.
Elsewhere, Saint Saturn had also been struck by lightning, his form scorched. But as one of the Gorosei, and a being with terrifying regenerative capabilities, he had already begun healing. He was engaged with Charlotte Linlin at the time of the attack, and while the lightning didn't kill him, it weakened him significantly.
Linlin, ever pragmatic, seized the opportunity. She knew now that she wouldn't be able to disable Saturn's immortality long enough to kill him. Her instincts kicked in—she turned and fled the battlefield, escaping into the storm, a rare move for someone of her pride. Zeus, her homie infused with her soul, had absorbed a portion of the lightning strike that hit Saturn. Empowered and energized, Zeus carried her away from Saturn.
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Miguel, satisfied with the devastating judgment he had just delivered upon the Celestial Dragons, slowly let out a breath of release. The rage within him began to cool. He had exacted his vengeance, struck down the symbols of cruelty that once bound God Valley in chains. And with that final act, he made a decision.
He would no longer bear the title of God Valley's prince.
With a solemn gesture, he severed the spiritual and emotional connection he held with the island—a symbolic act of stepping away from a role that had been thrust upon him. He would no longer be a symbol of resistance. He was now a man choosing his own path.
A clean slate for his new life.
As his form began to glow with faint energy, Miguel flew upward, soaring into the rain-laden sky. The clouds welcomed him like old friends, concealing his massive white tiger form as he sped through the storm with increasing speed. God Valley disappeared behind him, swallowed by the mist and cloud. Its fate was now in the hands of those left behind—Kuma, Ivankov, Ginny, and the freed slaves.
Miguel's destination? Unknown.
But that was exactly what he wanted.
The vast world of the Grand Line and beyond lay ahead of him, filled with islands, mysteries, and powers yet unseen. He would explore them all. He would form his crew. He would chase the freedom he had always yearned for.
As he flew faster, breaking through the dense cloud cover, something caught his attention in the far distance—a shadow in the sky. It wasn't a natural island or mountain.
It was moving.
A floating fortress, drifting high above the sea like a myth brought to life. Miguel narrowed his eyes, immediately recognizing it.
Golden Lion Shiki.
The legendary pirate who had fled God Valley earlier had taken an entire castle with him—an arrogant, brilliant tactician with the power of the Fuwa Fuwa no Mi. Miguel's grin slowly widened.
"Looks like fate still has plans for me," he muttered to himself.
He adjusted his flight path toward the floating island fortress. The idea of confronting Shiki wasn't out of malice, but opportunity. Miguel had seen the power of Shiki's Devil Fruit firsthand, and now he wanted it—not for himself, but for a future crewmate. Someone worthy. Someone he would choose, once his pirate journey truly began.
The sky cracked with distant thunder as Miguel vanished into the clouds once more, racing toward his next encounter.
Meanwhile, aboard the floating fortress of Golden Lion Shiki, laughter echoed through the towering halls of the stolen God Valley palace now suspended high above the sea. Shiki lounged in the center of the great hall, surrounded by piles of treasure and loot. His crew was already drunk, celebrating their massive haul—gold, weapons, riches from the King's Vault, and even the castle itself.
"Shihahaha! Those fools really thought there was treasure left behind for them to steal!" Shiki bellowed, swirling a bottle of sake as he leaned back on a throne he had taken from the vault.
His pirates erupted in laughter around him, bottles clinking, voices rising in confidence. They were safe now—far from the battlefields, far from the World Government's attention, and most importantly, far from anyone who could challenge their power.