"Punk, you mentioned the ship's wiring is under repair?" Orlan asked.
"Yeah, the circuits near your lab are toast. Even the main energy room took a hit," Vegapunk replied.
"The devil fruit and energy core fusion released more power than I expected. Perfect chance to upgrade the circuits. But tell them to pause—their work's about to be wasted."
Orlan's gaze stayed on Frankenstein and Caesar on the deck, but Vegapunk caught his meaning. Frankenstein's creation had already caused havoc; her next move might dwarf it.
"Got it," Vegapunk said, grabbing a Den Den Mushi to relay new orders. He waved the gawking researchers back, clearing a wider arena for the fight.
With the warning issued, most scurried to safety. MADS had sailed too long for anyone to underestimate the destructive potential of its crew. Their inventions outdid their own strength in lethality.
Quinn and Judge lingered closer, though. They'd never admit it, but they knew they lagged behind Orlan and Vegapunk. After Orlan secured extra funding, their shaky alliance crumbled, their rivalry now a scramble for third place.
Still, they respected the tech, studying Orlan and Vegapunk's work closely.
"Judge, thoughts?" Quinn asked.
"Too small," Judge said. "A mechanical bionic man that size limits internal space. Orlan capped its potential. I'd go bigger."
"Doesn't that size suit the energy core perfectly? Besides, you couldn't build it."
Orlan's Hexcore tech was unmatched, a mystery even to Vegapunk. His knack for granting machines advanced intelligence was a leap beyond MADS's scope. But Judge bristled at Quinn's jab.
"It's just Orlan's aesthetic obsession," Judge countered. "Even the hair color mimics his taste. He and Vegapunk both have that weird perfectionism."
Vegapunk's pursuit of flawless replication was legendary—any color mismatch was failure. Orlan's aesthetic was fluid, embracing beauty, charm, or even quirky ugliness, as long as it resonated.
"If it doesn't look good, how can I use it happily?" Orlan had once said. Creations he disliked were strictly for sale.
"You're defending Orlan now? Something wrong with you?" Quinn scoffed.
"Hmph, I've always backed Orlan," Judge shot back. "Your schemes just clouded my judgment before."
"Shameless for cash, huh?"
"No, I can't stomach Caesar snagging a natural devil fruit! He was chasing women, dodged disease, and still got a fruit? Why him?!"
A tycoon's wealth sparks no envy, just sighs. But when a beggar strikes gold next to you, it stings. Quinn could handle Vegapunk's superior tech or Orlan's fruit find, but Caesar? That burned.
"Before he came here, he rubbed it in my face," Quinn grumbled.
"So what's your plan?" Judge asked.
"Praying Caesar gets crushed. For balance."
Quinn clasped his hands piously. Judge, oddly convinced, joined his silent plea.
On the deck, the battle ignited.
Whoosh! Whoosh!
Frankenstein swung her warhammer, each arc slicing the air. But against Caesar's natural-type body, physical strikes were futile.
"Shhh, just brute force? That's Orlan's big invention? A pity it's a robot," Caesar mocked.
His Gas-Gas Fruit's toxicity was useless against Frankenstein's inorganic structure.
"I'll smash you, and Sidilir will have nothing to say! Burning-type Miokvas!"
Caesar soared, wielding a fire stick that sparked on contact with air. He unleashed a gas torrent toward Frankenstein. As sparks ignited it, flames roared across the deck.
"Machine or not, let's see how much heat you can take!" Caesar taunted.
Vegapunk, watching through sunglasses, remarked, "Orlan, your creation's struggling against a natural type."
"She's analyzing him," Orlan replied. "And don't forget, Punk, Fran's a fruit user too. Her only flaw? She's too thrifty."
Boom!
Thunder cut Orlan off. Caesar's flames vanished, sucked into Frankenstein's hammer. Lightning bolts then erupted from its head, striking Caesar mid-air.
Her Accumulator Fruit didn't just absorb energy—it transformed it. Humans could only convert it to stamina, but Frankenstein could unleash it differently, achieving a near-perpetual motion through external forces, all without draining her core.
She'd waited for Caesar to "charge" her, absorbing his gas to fuel her lightning. Physical attacks couldn't touch him, but lightning was another story. His earlier fire relied on gas jets to shield himself, but Frankenstein's bolts ignited his gaseous form, turning him into a blazing figure.
"Ah! Damn it, Void World!" Caesar flailed, sucking in nearby air to create an oxygen-free vacuum, dousing the flames.
The burns dropped him to the deck, weakened. Frankenstein, unbothered by the vacuum, charged. Caesar, still cocky about his natural body, didn't flinch—until a sudden suction locked him in place.
Command Shockwave.
Her fruit converted absorbed energy into kinetic force, channeled through the Hexcore hammer, unleashing a devastating shockwave. In its high-pressure grip, Caesar's gas couldn't elementalize.
Boom!
Without his natural defense, Caesar was just a man. One hammer swing sent him flying.
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