With the Hell Pirates’ dominance cented and the backing of two underworld powerhouses, Brook figured they had enough resources to fuel Vegapunk’s wild experints.
Sooner or later, that genius would churn out wonders like the Pacifista, Germa 66’s modified soldiers, or even artificial Devil Fruits. After all, the first man-made fruit ca from his lab—proof of what he could do.
Speaking of plans, Brook’s return trip through the Grand Line would take them near Dressrosa. Should he swing by Green Bit and recruit the Tontatta Tribe?
Those tiny folk, the so-called "Green Managers," could grow any plant under the sun. In the future, Doflamingo would exploit them to cultivate artificial Devil Fruits. For now, in Dressrosa, the Tontattas were seen as mischievous "fairies" who "borrowed" things—loved by so, loathed by others. Their inability to lie made them easy prey for liars, so their king kept them hidden from humans.
Brook had already set his sights on them. Once Golden Lion Shiki’s Float-Float Fruit grew stronger, he’d just hoist Green Bit to Skypiea and call it a day!
For now, though, Vegapunk was the priority. The scientist’s brilliance only sharpened with age, and Brook wanted him on board before soone else snatched him up.
He’d even hatched a plan: since Vegapunk dread of transforming his holand, Karakuri Island, Brook could have Shiki relocate the whole island—maybe even to the New World!
It all hinged on Vegapunk’s say-so. As for the Kingdom’s king? Brook smirked. The Hell Pirates didn’t sweat small-ti monarchs.
The Golden Ark soared southeast, passing islands along the way. Charlotte Linlin pouted when they skipped Lamb Island, her favorite, but Brook’s soothing words kept her on track.
They flew over Broccoli Island, Dressrosa, and others until the towering Red Line lood ahead. No way were they crossing Holy Land Mary Geoise in broad daylight—that’d be begging for trouble.
Instead, they slipped through a quieter route near the Calm Belt. As they navigated, Brook regaled his crew with tales of Mary Geoise, rumored to be built atop the Lunarian Clan’s sacred "Land of Gods."
The Lunarians, nearly wiped out by the Celestial Dragons, were now just lab rats in World Governnt facilities, their rare bloodlines dissected for their gifts. With wings and the ability to conjure flas, Lunarians could survive any environnt—a race so extraordinary even the Celestial Dragons coveted their "divine" traits.
But to the Celestial Dragons, only they deserved the title of gods. The Lunarians? Unworthy. So they were hunted, experinted on, reduced to tools for science.
Redfield’s fists clenched at the story. "Those damn Celestial Dragons! Their sins pile higher every day!"
"Brook," he growled, "if we get the chance, we have to save the Lunarians. That race deserves to live!"
Redfield’s hatred for the Celestial Dragons ran deep. Fishman Tom and Fisher Tiger stared toward Mary Geoise, their own pain mirrored in their eyes. Countless Fishn had been enslaved by the Celestial Dragons, chained in their opulent halls.
"One day," Tiger vowed silently, heading off to train. Only strength could free his people.
The mood turned heavy. The Celestial Dragons’ infamy was universal—no corner of the world didn’t despise those tyrant overlords.
"If I find their labs, I’ll bust the Lunarians out," Brook declared. "A race like that shouldn’t vanish under the Celestial Dragons’ boot!"
He wasn’t just talking tough. The Lunarians—airborne, fla-wielding, all-terrain warriors—were natural-born fighters. Six-sided powerhouses. He wouldn’t let them slip through his fingers.
...
After crossing the Red Line, Brook decided to save Fishman Island for the return trip. The two Poneglyphs there weren’t going anywhere, and coating the ship in Sabaody would tip off the Marines to their movents. No need to stir the hornet’s nest just yet.
The Golden Ark pressed on toward Karakuri Island. In Brook’s mind, Vegapunk outshone even Beast Kaido in value. First stop: Karakuri Island. Then, maybe, the Vodka Kingdom.
The Vodka Kingdom, now a World Governnt affiliate, bled itself dry paying "Heavenly Tribute" to fund wars, yet lacked the clout for a seat at the Reverie. That’s why their king sold off Kaido, trading him for a rare shot at the global stage every four years.
After days of travel, the Hell Pirates reached the Kingdom’s waters. Brook’s anticipation grew—he was finally about to et the genius scientist!
...
anwhile, Vegapunk tinkered in his lab, wrestling with a nagging idea: could a Devil Fruit user’s powers be grafted onto machines or modified animals? Without spare fruits to experint on, he shelved the thought.
Instead, he poured his energy into enhancing animals and building robots, while tweaking designs for giant island heaters. If he could cut costs further, he might restart that project to warm Karakuri’s people and spark progress.
Mid-thought, his upgraded astronomical telescope caught sothing odd. A faint shape in the clouds... an island? Glinting with gold? His expert eye confird it: a golden island.
His mind raced, connecting dots. A mory flashed—News had reported on the Hell Pirates, one of the New World’s four new overlords, and their floating Golden Ark. Their bounties flooded his photographic mory.
His face paled. If the Hell Pirates attacked Karakuri, the island stood no chance. He’d seen the news: tsunamis, islands crashing from the sky. Karakuri would be obliterated, and even he, genius or not, couldn’t fend off such monsters.
His half-chanized animals were no match for these pirates. He sounded the island’s alarm and sprinted to his lab’s alloy submarine, ready to flee.
But Karakuri was his ho. His parents were here, along with countless residents. Could he abandon them?
Logic scread to escape now. Emotion begged him to save his family and people. Should he gamble on the odds?
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188 Chapters on p@treon/tambeerg
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