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Neither Arthur nor Vegapunk could have possibly known.
The hypothetical power source Vegapunk had theorized about was not just real—it was currently in the hands of Nico Robin. She had found it in the one place in the world Arthur would never have thought to look: His own family's grave.
Destiny, it seed, had a twisted sense of humor.
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On the steel-plated surface of Punk Hazard, massive chanical arms moved in a ceaseless, rhythmic ballet, lifting and placing materials far too heavy for any human crew.
"Forget Pluton. Just strip it for parts. We will integrate its best features into the War Fortress..."
Arthur said, rubbing his temples. "—yet what happens if we are missing its power source? Is the whole thing a bust? A giant, floating paperweight?"
He had not wasted all this ti, manpower, and capital just to build a monunt.
"It will still function," Vegapunk said calmly, his composure unshakable. "The power system is just a theory, after all. Pluton itself could fight without it. The Fortress will be no different."
He paused, then added, "However, without a dedicated combat reactor, the War Fortress will only be able to hover. It will not be able to fly."
"If you want to design such a power system from scratch, the technology on this sea is... lacking. It would take decades."
The unspoken implication hung in the air: Give ti, and I alone will advance this world's science to the point where it is possible. It was an arrogant yet perfectly factual statent.
"Then forget it," Arthur decided. "A floating fortress is fine. It can replace Raijin Island as the new main base."
The two walked toward a massive, reinforced door set into a seaside cliff, which opened to reveal an elevator. The real laboratory was not on the island's surface—it was beneath it.
The elevator descended, and the world changed.
This new lab was a sterile, futuristic world of cold steel and soft, ambient light—a labyrinth of deep corridors and heavy blast doors. It was a disorienting glimpse into a future that should not exist.
Vegapunk led him into the deepest, most secure chamber. It was a hundred tis larger than any of the others, a vast, snow-white cavern.
It was filled with high-precision instrunts Arthur could not even begin to identify. Rows upon rows of glass vats held bubbling, unknown substances. A few mundane, animal-type Devil Fruits sat on a nearby tray, looking hopelessly primitive in this cathedral of science.
The room was a testant to Vegapunk's mind: a place where physics, chemistry, and biology all converged.
Arthur was not interested in any of it. He was here for one reason.
"No more gas, Vegapunk. Tell . How do I do it?"
"Patience," the scientist said. "Co with ."
He led Arthur past a workstation dedicated to Lineage Factor research and stopped at another, far more complex apparatus.
On the sterile white platform sat a super-microscope, aid at so unseen substance. An image, magnified billions of tis, was projected into a man-sized glass sphere next to it.
Inside the sphere, a single, impossibly beautiful, dreamlike thing moved slowly.
An electron.
Vegapunk stared at the magnified particle, his hands pressing against the glass sphere, his knuckles white. His usual, detached calm was gone, replaced by a terrifying, fanatical fire.
"This, Arthur, is the next step," he breathed, his voice trembling with excitent. "This is the true potential of your fruit. The microscopic world. It is... it is a miracle."
'The microscopic world...' Arthur thought, the term striking a deep, forgotten chord. 'The forbidden zone. The place where all the answers are. God's domain.'
"Yes," Vegapunk said, whipping around to face him. He was no longer looking at his captain—he was looking at a lab rat.
"Science is how humanity progresses. I believe that everything in this world is composed of particles. Yet to touch the micro-verse, we are limited. We need tools. I can observe atoms, nuclei, the electrons that orbit them... yet what good is observation when I lack the ans to control them?"
His fervor faded, replaced by a look of profound frustration.
"I am limited by the technology of this world. Yet you..."
He stepped closer, his eyes boring into Arthur's. "You are not."
"?" Arthur scoffed, unnerved by the scientist's intensity. "You are overestimating . If I could control particles, I would be a god."
"You can," Vegapunk insisted, his voice a sharp, certain blade.
"A normal human cannot perceive the microscopic world, let alone manipulate it. Yet you forget the X-factor in this world: Devil Fruits. Science is built on logic, on rules. Devil Fruits... they break the rules."
"You may not be able to control an atom, not yet. Yet you can, and must, learn to control an electron. Because you have the Rumble-Rumble Fruit. You control lightning. And what is lightning, at its most fundantal level?"
"It is the flow of electrons."
"I do not understand the why of your fruit. It defies all logic. Yet I know the how. This is your path. This is the true power. Not giant lightning bolts. Control."
"Control... sothing that small?" Arthur was lost in thought.
If he could truly master his power on that infinitesimal level... then the Rumble-Rumble Fruit would truly live up to its na as the strongest of all.
When he ate the fruit, the power had beco instinct. He could make lightning, increase the voltage, yet it was all crude, macro-level force. He did not understand the chanism.
An electron... it was so small. Could he really refine his control to that degree?
His entire arsenal—God's Judgnt, Raigo, five hundred million volts—it was all just more. More power, more voltage. It was not better.
He had stumbled upon applications—his electromagnetic railgun, the Mantra amplification, electro-stimulation—yet those were just crude manipulations of a weak current. It was nothing compared to the true, microscopic control Vegapunk was talking about.
He had never even tried.
Failure was not an option. His pride would not allow it.
He looked up, his eyes burning with a new, wild arrogance.
"Tell what to do."
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