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When a man recovers from a great illness, his body is inevitably weakened. After a major surgery, he should be drained of all vitality, for the body is a whole, and to be cut open is to let one's life force seep out.
But as Arthur woke from his deep slumber, he felt the opposite. His body was not weakened. In fact, it felt stronger than before the surgery.
No—not stronger. It felt as if it could now contain more strength, greater power.
Through a single, brutal act of modification, the very limits of his potential had been raised.
He knew, with an absolute certainty, that he could now reach a level of power far beyond what he had been capable of before.
"Congratulations," Kureha said, seeing that he was showing no signs of discomfort. She applauded slowly, her eyes narrowing.
"You have successfully become... Atypical."
Her expression—was it mockery? Contempt? It was impossible to say. But even from within the glass chamber, Arthur could feel it.
It was the look one reserved for something that is no longer human, as if they were no longer the same species.
She was looking at a monster...
But Arthur couldn't be bothered to care. In all these years, hadn't he grown accustomed to being seen as such? The emperors who roamed the seas with impunity—which one of them wasn't a monster in the eyes of the world?
In the nursery rhymes they sang to frighten children—men like him and Whitebeard were already demons with horns and claws.
"CRACK!"
"SHATTER..."
With a surge of power, Arthur slammed his elbow into the glass wall. The sturdy container instantly shattered, and the nutrient fluid gushed out.
He stepped out of the artificial womb, twisting his neck. His body was a masterpiece of power, completely free of scars. Every muscle was like coiled steel, radiating the terrifying aura of a primordial beast. The oppressive weight of his presence seemed even greater than before.
Arthur took a set of clothes from his Pure Gold Storage Bracelet and dressed. Though he was exhilarated, the memory of the procedure sent a cold shiver down his spine.
He turned his gaze to Kureha—a faint, indifferent smile on his lips.
"I rarely thank anyone. What do you want? Name anything on these seas, and I will bring it to you."
He did not make promises lightly. But once made, he would move heaven and earth to fulfill them.
"Still a pirate, I see," Kureha sneered, taking a swig of her plum wine. "So unreasonable. Spoken like a true emperor."
"As for thanks—I don't need them. The best thanks you can give me is to get the hell out of the Drum Kingdom and never bother me again."
"Is that so? As you wish," Arthur said, not surprised in the slightest. After being forced to perform the surgery, it was only natural that she would despise him.
He nodded to Shiryu, threw his greatcoat over his shoulders, and strode towards the door. Shiryu's sharp gaze lingered on the now-freed Hiriluk for a moment before he followed.
As they walked out of the castle, Arthur called back, his voice carrying clearly through the storm, "Remember what I said. One day, you will make me repay this favor."
The sound lingered in the castle long after they were gone. Perhaps the favor would be held in reserve for ten, or even twenty years.
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The Drum Kingdom was a land of perpetual snow.
Arthur walked in front, Shiryu behind, leaving a long trail of footprints in the thick powder as they made their way back to their ship.
Suddenly, Arthur stopped and turned to his swordsman.
"This body modification surgery. Do you want it? If you say yes, you too could wield the power of two Devil Fruits."
"Captain." Shiryu took a deep drag from his cigarillo and shook his head. "If I had wanted a Devil Fruit, I would not have dedicated my life to the way of the sword. The path that suits a man best is the one he should walk to the end."
He touched the hilt of the Seven Star Sword at his waist.
The only reason a man can walk a path to its conclusion is because his steps are unwavering.
On these seas, many hoped to obtain a Devil Fruit as a shortcut to power. But many others disdained that path, focusing only on the one they had chosen for themselves.
The Way of the sword, the Way of the body, the Way of Haki—no single path was weaker than another. It all depended on the man who walked it.
Arthur had expected Shiryu's answer.
He knew the philosophies of the world's strongest. Garp's invincible iron fists had conquered the seas with his body alone.
Whitebeard's Tremor-Tremor Fruit pulverized all in its path.
The Golden Lion had walked the path of the sword and a Devil Fruit in tandem. Roger's Haki was second to none.
Who could truly say which of them was stronger? To each their own. You could not force a man to change his path.
To ask a man like Shiryu, forged in slaughter, to abandon his singular focus was impossible. Even if you placed the most legendary fruit from the encyclopedia before him, he likely wouldn't give it a second glance.
"Let's go, then. Come with me to see the place where my dream first took flight."
Arthur did not press him. It was because of that purity, that singular focus, that Shiryu had been able to rise to the stage of the New World in such a short time—to be called the strongest man in the Thunder God Pirates under the Thunder Emperor himself.
"The place where your dream took flight? You mean the legendary Skypiea?" A rare smile touched Shiryu's lips. "I would like to see that."
He too was curious about the island in the sky.
Arthur hadn't been back in years. He didn't know what had become of it, or if any new warriors had been born who were strong enough to follow him. He had passed on the methods of training Haki back then. After five years, anyone with talent should have already distinguished themselves.
The two of them returned to the steel boat. Arthur gave one last look at the island that had marked the second great turning point in his life, then turned and gave the order to Shiryu.
The shuttle-shaped vessel shot forward like an arrow released from its bow.
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They left the winter island far behind, and the temperature began to rise.
Three years of habit had ingrained a certain laziness in Arthur's bones. While Shiryu piloted the boat, he lay back in his lounge chair, his eyes half-closed, thinking.
Beneath his greatcoat, sparks of purple lightning jumped across his muscles. He had resumed his electric stimulation training to strengthen his new body. At the same time, his mind was carefully considering the path ahead.
He was now "Atypical." He could eat a second Devil Fruit. But which one should he choose?
In truth, he already knew the answer. Otherwise, he would not have had a "three-step plan." Becoming Atypical was only the first step.
But the key question remained: could that fruit truly be developed to achieve the insane, fantastical ability he desired?
He couldn't be certain.
So, the next question was: was he willing to gamble again?
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