Vegapunk fell silent in the face of Gern's declaration.
The laboratory sank into a heavy stillness. Only the faint hum of the machinery and the subtle crackling disturbance of vibration particles in the air filled the space, making the silence feel even more oppressive.
After a long moment, Vegapunk finally let out a dry chuckle, breaking the tension.
"The Tremor-Tremor Fruit really is a formidable Devil Fruit."
"Just emphasizing your tone caused disturbances like this…"
He shook his head slowly—more precisely, the strange apple-shaped dome atop his neck bobbed slightly.
"It seems you've already completely mastered the awakening of a Logia-type ability."
Then Vegapunk shifted the topic.
"Unfortunately," he continued calmly, like a scholar presenting a proven truth, "through my research into Devil Fruits, I've discovered their true nature."
"Devil Fruits are, in essence, manifestations of humanity's pursuit of evolution—possibilities for what humans could become."
"But such 'unnatural' possibilities are rejected by the Mother Sea itself."
"That is why Devil Fruit users lose the ability to swim."
"A fascinating study," Gern replied flatly. "But at the moment, I have absolutely no interest in that."
As his words fell, the vibration particles surrounding him did not fade.
Instead, they grew even more active.
The invisible pressure saturating the air only intensified.
"So," Gern said, stepping forward slightly. His eyes were sharp as blades, his voice lowered to a dangerous murmur.
"Can you tell me now, Vegapunk?"
"Or…"
"Are you not worried that I might kill you here?"
"Impossible."
Vegapunk answered instantly.
"When you said that just now—your intention to 'kill every D' carried a probability analysis of roughly ninety percent."
"The probability of you actually intending to kill me was only five percent."
"So you won't kill me."
"You're that certain?" Gern raised a brow faintly. "Don't forget—there's still five percent left."
"But compared to the ninety percent before it," Vegapunk replied calmly, "that five percent still leaves me quite optimistic."
After firing back his retort, Vegapunk also understood that the man before him was not someone who would leave empty-handed once he had set his sights on something.
So he continued.
"Although I now understand your purpose and the resolve behind this journey… unfortunately."
"Unfortunately what?"
"I cannot read the ancient script."
Vegapunk pointed toward the rubbing in Gern's hand.
"Ohara—the only place that had systematically researched those texts—was completely destroyed by the World Government. That precious knowledge…"
He sighed.
"I was unable to preserve it in time."
"The fragments of information I personally possess come from the Poneglyphs, not the Road Poneglyphs."
As he finished speaking, the apple dome on his head bounced lightly.
"As far as I know, the only person left on this sea who can interpret those characters is the one known as the 'Devil Child'—Nico Robin."
"Or perhaps certain special races…"
"Like the Three-Eyed Tribe, rumored to awaken a third eye capable of perceiving the secrets of the ancient language."
Gern's gaze lingered on Vegapunk.
Several seconds passed.
Then the corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly.
The old man wasn't lying.
"Heh."
A quiet chuckle escaped Gern's throat.
With that laugh, the harsh humming vibrations in the air abruptly ceased.
Everything returned to normal.
But the next words from Gern's mouth were even more shocking than the killing intent earlier.
"In that case," he said calmly, "I can't let this trip be a waste."
He asked casually—
"The Mother Flame… you succeeded with it, didn't you?"
"Mother Flame?!"
Vegapunk's body jolted violently.
Even the specialized chair beneath him creaked under the sudden movement.
The apple dome bounced rapidly as his voice shot up in alarm.
"How do you know that codename?! That's classified at the highest level!"
"You only need to tell me whether it succeeded," Gern repeated, his tone leaving no room for refusal.
Vegapunk inhaled deeply, forcing himself to calm down. The apple dome's frantic bouncing slowed slightly, though his voice remained grave.
"The Mother Flame… is the ultimate energy source I attempted to create based on advanced energy technology and experimental data."
"It's essentially an attempt to produce an artificial sun."
"It is still far from achieving perfect theoretical stability."
He paused, carefully weighing his words.
"But… once released, the energy contained within it has indeed reached a level…"
"…never seen before."
"It would be capable of instantly—"
"That power," Gern interrupted, his gaze burning, "can it be used to activate an Ancient Weapon?"
Vegapunk fell silent.
He stared at Gern intensely.
At that moment, he understood.
The man standing before him knew far more than he had ever imagined.
"Theoretically, yes," Vegapunk admitted quietly.
"According to models of energy conversion and output equilibrium, the energy scale and quality of the Mother Flame do meet the threshold required to drive the theoretical models of known Ancient Weapons."
"But!" he emphasized.
"That conclusion is purely theoretical. There is no experimental data to support it."
"The risks are impossible to estimate."
(Incidentally, the destruction of the Lulusia Kingdom by the unknown weapon used by Im occurred after the Reverie.)
Gern showed no interest in the word risk.
Instead, he gave an order.
His voice was calm—yet filled with unquestionable authority.
"The Mother Flame."
"Hand it over to the Marines."
The moment those words left his mouth, Vegapunk reacted as though someone had struck a nerve.
He sprang to his feet.
"Impossible!"
His refusal came instantly and without hesitation.
"My research into the Mother Flame is meant to advance the evolution of all humanity—it is the cornerstone for building the future world!"
"Heh. Give it to the Marines?" Vegapunk's apple dome tilted slightly, his eyes flashing with sharp sarcasm.
"To put it bluntly, that would just mean giving it to you alone!"
"That completely betrays my original intentions!"
"Infinite energy should benefit the entire world!"
"Vegapunk," Gern said evenly.
"If you won't give it to me… are you planning to give it to the World Government instead?"
Even though the Lulusia Kingdom still existed for now, Gern could practically guess the outcome with his eyes closed.
The core data of the Mother Flame—such a dangerously valuable project—had almost certainly already been secretly copied by one of Vegapunk's traitorous satellites and sent straight to Mary Geoise's "VIP mailbox" in exchange for profit.
"I would never do that!" Vegapunk denied immediately, his voice urgent.
But Gern had already lost interest in pointless debate.
"I'm not negotiating with you."
As he spoke, the air around him began to warp faintly once more.
"I'm giving you an order."
The last trace of warmth vanished from his voice.
What remained was naked authority.
"If you don't hand it over…"
"I'll simply take it myself."
"Y-you—!"
Vegapunk trembled in anger at such blatant bandit logic. The apple dome on his neck bounced erratically.
He had spent his entire life using knowledge and reason to plan the future of the world.
Never before had he encountered someone so brazen—someone who simply refused to follow any rules at all.
The Gern standing before him cared nothing for ideals.
Nothing for lofty principles.
He cared only about results—
And the most direct path to achieving them.
..
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