The strain was too much. As Zoro's attack landed, Amine felt his brain burning. He collapsed into the hot sand, but instead of losing consciousness, he felt himself falling through the layers of the world.
He was in a white void. Standing there was an old man with a long beard, wearing a toga made of shredded manga pages.
"Who are you?" Amine whispered.
"I am the one who came before you," the old man said, his voice sounding like rustling paper. "The Prophet of the Void Century. I tried to edit the story too, but the 'Origin Author' caught me. He turned me into a 'Draft' and threw me away."
The old man handed Amine a glowing golden stylus. "The stylus you have is just a tool. This... this is a 'Copyright Key'. With this, you can't just edit the world—you can reclaim it. But be warned: the more you change, the more the 'Origin Author' will try to delete your existence in the real world."
Amine woke up screaming, his hand clutching the golden stylus that was now physically real in his hand. Nami was holding him, her face pale. "Amine! You were gone for ten minutes! Crocodile is regrouping... he's calling for 'Pluton'!"