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Arthur didn't hesitate. He threw himself headfirst into the red, paw-shaped bubble that Kuma had extracted from Inazuma.
He needed to know. He needed to verify if the Paw-Paw Fruit could truly reject all damage from a body. If it could, then once he obtained the Op-Op Fruit, he could develop his powers in a similar, conceptual direction.
The moment the red bubble touched Arthur's skin, it was as if a massive vacuum engaged. The energy was sucked instantaneously into his body.
Pain.
Excruciating, bone-grinding pain exploded in his arms.
It felt as though his limbs had been pulverized by a pneumatic press. The agony was so intense it felt like his bones were splintering, a sensation no ordinary human could withstand without passing out.
The torture didn't stop at his arms; it raced up his nervous system, flooding his torso and assaulting his internal organs.
"Guh…!"
Arthur's face went pale. He retched, coughing up a mouthful of blood.
But as the blood splattered on the ground, the absorbed damage dissipated significantly.
He could feel it. Kuma's fruit wasn't a pure healing ability. The "Pain Repel" technique had flaws—perhaps the transferred damage couldn't exceed the recipient's tolerance threshold—but it was still a god-tier ability.
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The Celestial Dragon Plaza.
The skirmish between the Revolutionaries and the Thunder Emperor ended not with a bang, but with a tactical retreat.
Through the video snails, the world once again witnessed the terrifying supremacy of Arthur. The pressure the Thunder God Pirates exerted on the world was becoming heavier, sinking deeper into the hearts of the masses.
It had been nearly eight years since the Great Pirate Era began. The storms were gathering again in every corner of the ocean. The rookies of the new era had grown up, and soon, the battle for the hegemony of the New World would begin in earnest.
Whether they wanted it or not, every era demanded a leader. As long as ships sailed the sea, a hierarchy was inevitable.
Countless ambitious souls, chasing freedom and dreams, were marching toward the summit.
And the throne of the New World was the peak.
The Whitebeard Pirates and the Thunder God Pirates were the immovable objects, mountains that seemed impossible to climb. Whitebeard still held the title of "World's Strongest Man," undefeated for decades. And Arthur? Broadcast after broadcast had proven to the world that he was a monster among monsters.
Big Mom and Kaido were wildcards, seemingly uninterested in the throne, consumed by their own vices.
But a great war between pirates was on the horizon.
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Dragon, Rayleigh, Kuma, and Ivankov seized the moment of Arthur's distraction. They had no desire to continue a fight they couldn't win. They fled.
Moving at top speed, it didn't take long for the four of them, carrying the comatose Inazuma, to descend from the Red Line and reach their ship near the Sabaody Archipelago.
But Inazuma's breathing was shallow, a flickering candle in the wind.
He opened his eyes one last time, looking at Dragon with a gaze filled with profound regret. Then, right there in front of the four legends, the light faded from his eyes.
He was gone.
"Boy…" Ivankov dropped his flamboyant act. He gently reached out and closed Inazuma's eyelids. Inazuma had been his subordinate; the loss cut him deeper than the others.
It wasn't that Kuma's technique had failed. For ordinary injuries, "Pain Repel" was miraculous.
But when Arthur smashed Inazuma's scissors, the shockwave had transmitted a force so catastrophic that it had essentially vibrated Inazuma's internal organs into mush. He had been dead the moment the punch connected; sheer willpower had kept his heart beating this long.
You can repel pain, but you can't repel death.
Dragon stepped onto the dragon-headed ship. He looked back one last time at the chaos high above on the Red Line. His expression was heavy, but his voice was steady.
"Inazuma… gave his life for the cause. Do not mourn. We move forward."
"Let's go. The slaves are free. The objective is complete," Rayleigh sighed, sheathing his sword. "I talk about retirement, yet I keep getting dragged into wars… I really hope someone teaches that brat Arthur a lesson one day."
"Someone will," Dragon said, his eyes hard as flint.
They steered their ship into the wake of the slave transports, leaving the hellscape of Mary Geoise behind.
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Arthur bared his teeth, massaging his arms, which still throbbed with phantom agony. His monstrous physique was already breaking down the residual damage.
"The Op-Op Fruit… I can learn from this."
If he could use "ROOM" to envelope himself, he could theoretically use a scalpel to physically cut away "injury" or "fatigue" as if they were tumors. In battle, he would never tire, never stay wounded. He would be a perpetual motion machine of destruction.
On the operating table, anything was theoretically possible. It was the Ultimate Fruit for a reason.
Arthur smiled. His Observation Haki confirmed the Revolutionaries were gone. He turned his attention back to the main event: the end of the Golden Lion.
The Main Battlefield.
Kaido was losing.
Besieged by Zephyr and Garp, the Beast was being treated like a punching bag. Garp, in his Titan form, was raining iron fists down on him. But it was futile. Kaido roared, ignoring the pain, trading blows with the madness of a creature that refused to die.
Storms raged. Dust choked the air. Mary Geoise had been beaten out of shape, the terrain unrecognizable.
Shiki looked like a berserk lion. His golden hair whipped around him, and a mist of blood—his own—clung to his body. He was burning his life force, an explosion of power before the inevitable end.
"LION'S MAJESTY: EARTH BIND!!"
He spread his arms. The ground convulsed like a living thing. Dozens of massive stone lions erupted from the earth, charging at Kong, Sengoku, Momousagi, and Chaton with apocalyptic force.
Fighting four of the world's strongest simultaneously, betting his life on every strike, Shiki didn't lose an inch of ground. But this level of output was unsustainable. He was running on fumes.
"Oh my… haven't wrapped this up yet?"
Kizaru appeared on the battlefield in a flash of light, feigning surprise.
Behind him lay a river of blood. The corpses of thousands of mutated beasts, pirates, and Marines were piled high.
Shiki's grand fleet had been liquidated. Not a single pirate remained alive. The combined Marine and Army force of ten thousand had been whittled down to half.
The pirates were extinct. The Navy had paid a heavy price in blood.
Severed limbs littered the ground. Massive beasts lay cooling in pools of gore. Some were frozen into intricate ice sculptures; others were charred remains in a sea of magma.
"GREAT ERUPTION!!"
Facing Shiki's desperate counterattack, Akainu's face was grim. His arms transformed into magma, launching a colossal fist of molten rock that vaporized a third of the stone lions in an instant.
He looked up at the sky, his eyes cold.
A chilling wind swept through the battlefield. Aokiji, tall and lanky, walked out from the ruins, his hands in his pockets. Every step he took froze the ground beneath him.
The Three Admirals had finished their cleanup. They returned to their positions, joining Kong and Sengoku.
Seven against one.
The end was nigh.
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