Ren's attention lingered on the term "consumption unit," not only because its description was eye-catching, but because every other feature of the Space-Time Card depended on that concept.
The explanation, at least, was easy to understand.
The Space-Time: The Creator card consumed "time"—specifically, the user's own future time or that of another person. To put it simply, it consumed lifespan. The exchange rate was 100 to 1: one hundred years of life equaled one unit of "time."
And those units of consumption determined how long the other features could be activated.
Obviously, there was no way he could power such a card by himself.
Ren was no immortal. Even Pure Gold could only halt one's biological clock—it wasn't true undying existence.
What he could rely on, however, were the card's special properties.
He began examining the dense lines of data written upon the dark-gold surface of the card, reading through the entire entry.
[Space-Time: The Creator]
Origin: Unknown
Type: Phenomenon Entity
Effect: A product formed through synthesis with the Land Card: Temporal Turbulence using the Synthesis Scroll. It possesses extraordinary spatial-temporal power shaped by the intent infused during creation.
Features include: Space-Time: Creator Domain, Space-Time: Twelve Hours, Space-Time: Substitution, Space-Time: Black Hole.
Space-Time Domain Feature: Requires the card Space-Time: The Creator and an infusion of time units. Minimum infusion—one month; maximum—ten years.
Once time energy is infused, the card enters a "deployment-ready" state. The user must select a deployment area ranging from one meter to one kilometer.
Upon activation, the card expands into a space-time domain, seizing and enclosing everything within its range. If any destructive action or large-scale movement occurs within this range, the domain destabilizes, triggering catastrophic turbulence.
Once the domain is successfully established, the card's owner—the "Creator"—gains full control over a self-contained world. Only the Creator can enter or exit at will.
Inside that world, the user can manipulate time flow, spatial orientation, matter movement, and even define the scenery itself. For example, by infusing souls into the domain, one could generate new entities or resurrect the dead. The Creator could define themselves as possessing three heads and six arms, or duplicate their own form entirely.
All things were possible—such was the nature of the Creator.
However, the domain's world was incompatible with the outside reality. Any departure from its boundary caused violent temporal conflict—resulting in irreversible distortions such as reversed time flow or self-displacement.
After use, the card must be retracted and stabilized for at least twenty-four hours. During this time, the fabricated "world reality" merges with and corrects the true world. Any excessive results will be nullified.
Space-Time: Twelve Hours Feature: This feature links the card to other space-time cards, consuming time units to establish synchronization. Upon connection, the user becomes subject to temporal deviation—able to summon alternate versions of themselves from the future.
At the first hour, the ratio is 10:1; at the second, 100:1; and so on. The minimum call is the self one hour ahead, the maximum—the self within the next twelve hours.
The summoned self is a real future entity; injuries sustained by one affect the other. The user can also transfer wounds or fatigue to their future self, up to twelve days ahead. However, the future version cannot sustain fatal damage. If it dies, the timeline collapses—and the death cascades backward to the present user.
Space-Time: Substitution Feature:Consumes half of the card's capacity to record and store the user's current state.When the stored half rejoins the active half, their states are swapped—the recorded status replaces the current one. During storage, the card cannot use other features until reconstituted.
Space-Time: Temporal Mist Feature: When fully released, the card transforms into a fog that absorbs unclaimed "time" from its surroundings. Unclaimed time refers to lifespans lost at the moment of death. Dead objects are unaffected. Roughly ninety percent of the absorbed energy is lost in conversion; ten percent becomes time units for storage, the rest maintaining the card's internal cycle.
This feature has no offensive capability.
Cost: Time.
Ren held the black-gold card in silence for a long while.
To be honest, the materials alone were worth maybe a few billion Beli—but its effects were beyond imagination.
A product of sheer luck, perhaps. After all, phenomena like the Rainbow Mist were truly one-of-a-kind.
Had he not known the original plot, he would never have thought to investigate such a minor anomaly. Had he not drawn that prize from the Dimensional Roulette, he wouldn't have remembered this place at all. Had he not possessed the Synthesis Scroll and various other materials, this card would never have existed.
The predecessor, Land Card: Temporal Turbulence, had already demonstrated its power. Without the structure of the Planeswalker System, it could never have evolved into a functional artifact.
All things aligned—a perfect chain of coincidences, and Ren's relentless pursuit forged them into this terrifying creation.
The cost, however, was just as terrifying—stealing others' time meant stealing their lives. Even with the poor conversion rate, the Creator Card's strength was undeniable.
The Creator Domain alone was worth more than all its ingredients combined. The Twelve Hours and Substitution features complemented each other beautifully—summon multiple future selves to fight,transfer the injuries to those versions,then later swap states to restore oneself.
If the substitution feature had fewer restrictions, it would be even more versatile. But Ren wasn't greedy.
Just obtaining this card was enough.He had a feeling the upcoming Mock Town incident would no longer unfold as it once had.
"Could it be… a Marine Admiral might show up?" he wondered.
Most likely—yes.
Because his crew now included one particular woman—Nico Robin. The "Devil Child" of Ohara,the sole survivor spared by Admiral Kuzan, known as Aokiji.
In the original story, Robin's addition to the Straw Hat crew had drawn Kuzan's direct intervention—he'd appeared before them and effortlessly crushed the entire team.
At this point in the timeline, the Straw Hats hadn't revealed their whereabouts for some time. Just their departure from G-5 Base had been enough for Kuzan to track them down.
And the reason was simple: he still wasn't sure if sparing Robin had been the right decision.
Maybe Akainu was right—"Letting a historian live only leads to another Buster Call somewhere else. That would make all our sacrifices meaningless."
That contradiction defined Kuzan's struggle. He couldn't be like Akainu, so he spared the young girl. Yet he couldn't be like Kizaru either, detached and indifferent—he couldn't let go of the "mistake" that was Robin.
If her survival caused greater chaos and sacrifice, then Aokiji would correct his error—by destroying Robin and everything tied to her. And he could do it.
Unfortunately, whether Ren had recruited Robin or not, the outcome seemed inevitable.
"I hadn't planned to take her in back in Alabasta," Ren murmured, gazing out toward the sea. "But plans change. Robin's abilities and knowledge altered my mind. From Kuzan's perspective, though… after she vanished from Baroque Works, he must think she ran off with me. Well, she does have quite the history of betrayal—selling out one master for another is practically routine."
He smirked."To Kuzan, I'm probably just another fool she tricked. If he learns I truly accepted her—and about the Poneglyphs—he'll likely see it as a mistake that needs correction."
His eyes hardened. Beneath the calm surface of the sea, an undercurrent of ambition stirred.
The black-gold card spun lazily between his fingers—careless, yet full of restless anticipation.
"...I'm looking forward to meeting you, Kuzan."
In that instant, a formless pressure erupted from Ren's body—a demonic aura flaring, monstrous and unrestrained. It looked ready to devour everything, but then, just as suddenly, it halted.
The killing intent had not been released.
It wasn't the right time. Or perhaps—it wasn't meant to be that kind of power. Back in the East Blue, when he'd faced Shanks, what had filled him wasn't this—that had been courage, recklessness, the roar of a transmigrant defying fate. But this moment belonged to ambition.
Thud—!
A heavy sound broke his reverie. Footsteps followed.
The door creaked open. Nojiko entered, dragging the unconscious Henzo by the collar, confusion written on her face.
"What did you do to scare him like that?"
"Huh?" Ren blinked.
"Your killing intent—it was too strong. He fainted in the hallway just from that. He was trying to talk to you about something, but honestly, I doubt it mattered. The Rainbow Mist belongs to us now."
"Oh?" Ren tilted his head. "What do you mean?"
"He's not getting along with his friends," Nojiko explained. "The time gap's too big. Those kids came to a future that's decades ahead of their own. Their families are either old—or long dead. Henzo blames himself. He thinks that if he could use the Rainbow Mist again, he could fix everything."
She lifted Henzo's limp form slightly, a faintly amused look crossing her face. "What do you think?"
"It's impossible," Ren replied flatly, raising the black-gold card between his fingers.
"You finished it?"
"Far beyond expectations."
"Incredible…" Nojiko whispered sincerely. As part of Ren's crew, she knew exactly what their captain was doing. At first, everyone thought it was a dream. Zoro believed in him out of sheer faith, but the others were skeptical.
Reality had proven Zoro's faith well placed.
She gave Henzo a little shake. "So… what should we do with him?"
"Nothing. Tell him the Rainbow Mist is gone forever. Our deal's done."
Ren's tone was cold—but justifiably so. His vision was for an ideal world, but even that world had no place for "absolute justice". Only relative justice existed—right and wrong, not strength or weakness. Even the weak received no special mercy.
Just as he refused Henzo now. The transaction was over. Asking for more meant starting a new one. But Henzo no longer had anything Ren wanted—and what he asked for was something Ren could not give.
So, it ended here.
"I understand." Nojiko nodded, carrying Henzo to his own house.
Then she summoned Vivi, relaying Ren's orders: if Henzo caused trouble, teach him a lesson.
"Yes… understood," Vivi replied blankly, a little bewildered why she'd been chosen for such a minor task.Did I… mess something up earlier? she wondered, spiraling into quiet self-reflection.
Meanwhile, Nojiko returned to their residence—once the Wetton family's mansion, now their base of operations.
After finishing the day's chores, she went to her room and opened a cabinet, taking out an outfit made back on Ruluka Island.
It had been rushed, so there were a few imperfections. But from its design… it matched the sketch Nami once called the Succubus Angel Set—something she'd found under Ren's bed aboard the Pipi Shrimp.
Because it was too "unique," she'd memorized the details, later drafting a full blueprint. Following that design, Nojiko had it tailored.
Now, cheeks flushed crimson, she faced the mirror and slowly began putting it on.
Because tonight—was dinner... and also "dinner."
(End of Chapter)