Inside Dr. Kureha's hillside fortress, Kureha, Judge, Law, Hippocrates, and the others convened to consult on Bonney.
They called it a consultation, but in truth, Kureha did most of the talking. She was the attending physician and held full command of the overall direction.
She spoke at length with Judge. His research on the lineage factor fascinated her.
She believed that once this technology merged with medicine, it would overturn the old traditions entirely.
Law's Ope Ope no Mi drew her interest too.
"Back in the day, I went to sea searching for that fruit," she said with a wry smile. "Looks like it chose you instead."
With the Ope Ope no Mi on their side, she felt no anxiety about Bonney's operation.
Kuma stayed by Bonney's side. His face seemed calm, yet his heart was tight with fear.
Bonney was the same. She'd always believed that she would survive until age ten, but if there was a chance to cure her early, who wouldn't want to banish the nightmare now?
Jin handed Crocus's medical monograph to Dr. Kureha.
"Crocus?"
"Twin Capes…"
"That crybaby from way back then?"
If Crocus knew that, in Kureha's eyes, he was still a "kid," he'd probably be thrilled.
Jin could guess as much.
Drum Island might be small, but its advanced medicine could not be separated from Dr. Kureha's influence.
As for Bonney's treatment, Jin had done everything he could. Whether it would work—now that belonged to the professionals.
Unfortunately, the devil carrier's "repair" function only worked on trauma—severed limbs, external injuries—not illnesses. Otherwise, none of this would have been necessary.
While Bonney underwent treatment, Jin stayed on Drum, handling affairs of state, training his Haki, and pushing the boundaries of his fruit.
After successfully synthesizing the 98k and its rifle rounds with the Munch-Munch Fruit, he could now set the carrier to semi-automate production. Barring the need to feed in the necessary materials, producing a thousand 98ks or a hundred thousand rifle cartridges consumed a single soul crystal.
Then there were cannons.
From what Jin had learned, pirate artillery still relied mainly on smoothbores firing solid shot. The Marines had begun to use shell and canister, but in either case, the projectiles were spherical.
Jin knew where this would go. Just like rifle ammunition, naval ordnance would evolve toward armor-piercing and specialized rounds.
His study of guns and cannons came from reflection.
Yes, this world birthed monsters—individuals whose power could crush armies, flip islands, and split the sea. Haki itself could be used as offense and defense beyond the physical.
But most people were not monsters.
Firearms and artillery still held sway. If they didn't, the Marines would never arm every sailor with rifles and every ship with batteries of guns.
Why did pirates favor blades? It wasn't that they scorned guns—rather, proper firearms demanded a whole chain of logistics. What pirate crew had that kind of system?
Jin did. He was a king—land, people, resources. He could build an army to maintain rule and repel invaders.
The sea was not only a stage for individual strength.
And with rifle ammunition pushing penetration, muzzle velocity, and accuracy to new heights—and with armor-piercing shells—the threat to even the mighty would grow.
Whitebeard stood through more than two hundred spherical rounds at Marineford. But could he endure two hundred depleted-uranium penetrators?
Could Haki cover that much?
When Haki runs dry, what remains is still flesh and blood.
True power in this world is the fusion of system-level warfare with overwhelming individuals—a complete, layered opposition. Even Luffy formed a Grand Fleet and had the Revolutionary Army's shadow behind him. He was never only the Straw Hat crew.
"What I lack is talent," Jin muttered. "If a full system were in place, I wouldn't have to do all this research myself. I'd just set strategy and direction—like the Bounty Hunters' Guild."
"Crocodile can worry about the rest."
He sighed.
"The ads we ran through the news agency barely drew any applicants. And the ones who showed up were scammers."
Finding work was hard. Recruiting was harder. The single road had become a two-way blockade.
At least there was good news.
The island militia's special training had begun to pay off. Hannabal's situation had stabilized, and daily life prospered.
On Aska Island, the Marine base upgrade was complete—awaiting Hina's appointment.
Everything was moving steadily in the right direction.
"New aircraft schematics?"
"Yes."
Jin sketched from memory the profile of a warplane and handed it to Wolfe to study.
The Messerschmitt Me 262—a jet fighter, the first of its kind to see combat in human history before World War II's end.
As a military buff, Jin had a special fondness for "firsts" and "classics." He remembered every line.
There were already prop-driven planes in the world of pirates. Wolfe had tried to build one after seeing Law stare longingly at a toy plane he couldn't afford. He'd nearly died in the crash—but the spark was there.
And then there was Buffalo of Doflamingo's family, with the Spin-Spin Fruit—a walking propeller. Devil Fruits often mirrored their users' cognition. What you can imagine shapes what you can manifest.
Luffy's "Gatling" barrage implied the concept of a Gatling gun existed in the world and in his head. Buffalo was no exception. Kidd's Magnet-Magnet development stalled at dragging heaps of scrap—proof his physics lagged behind.
Jin also remembered an ancient mechanical city from a movie arc—flying machines, strange engines, lost tech. Franky had been rebuilt there, learning relic technologies.
"Worth a visit," Jin mused. He loved machines—otherwise, why hand-build a carrier model?
He pulled his focus back and introduced the Me 262 to Wolfe.
"It uses jet engines. The wing planform is swept for high-speed stability."
"Jet? Hey, you've drawn a skin," Wolfe protested, frowning at the page. "What goes inside? How do I build the engines?"
Jin smiled and produced Germa 66's jet combat boots. Their thrust was staggering.
Little Ai had already cataloged over a thousand advanced inventions from Germa's tech reserves. Beyond lineage factors, memory metal, and cloning, there were polymer composites, energetics, and applied materials—enough to underpin a technological empire.
Jin's job was to give those technologies direction.
He wanted to be a player—shaping and remaking the world with knowledge and will.
Another month passed.
At the harbor, Kuma waited, nerves strung taut.
Inside the Extreme-Depth Submersible, in an operating room equipped with the North Blue's most advanced medical devices, Dr. Kureha directed, Law took the surgeon's chair, Hippocrates assisted, Chopper apprenticed—together they began the operation on Bonney.
It wasn't the first surgery. Kureha had tried transfusions and organ replacements. All had failed.
At last, they chose to change the "person."
Using Germa 66's lineage factor technology, they would cultivate a new body for Bonney and transplant her soul into it.
They would retire the old vessel.
It sounded like a fever-dream.
But Law's Ope Ope no Mi was too powerful. He could separate a target's "personhood" from its "flesh" and switch it into another body.
A soul weighs far more than a mere personality. It demanded crushing stamina and focus from Law to carry the transfer.
To that end, Jin had also bestowed on him the official title of "Gunner," granting soul crystals to bolster him through the final stretch.
Within "ROOM," after meticulous preparation, Law cut with absolute precision and grace—lifting Bonney's soul in a single instant.
He transplanted it into the "Clone Bonney" within the culture tank.
Clone Bonney had shed her original lineage.
Her cultivating genes were based on Kuma.
The moment the soul touched down, Clone Bonney's eyes opened.
The original Bonney's body petrified in a breath—and died.
"How is she, Dr. Kureha?"
When they emerged, Kuma lurched to his feet, voice shaking.
Kureha and Hippocrates stepped aside.
Bonney stood there.
In the sunlight, she wore no cloak. The stone-sickness had vanished from her face. She beamed with a smile as bright as summer.
"Daddy!"
Bartholomew Kuma—nearly seven meters tall—broke down in tears in an instant.
"Thank goodness."
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