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Dragon had outsmarted him. He had brazenly walked into Arthur's home and stolen one of his most valuable assets right out from under him.
That... Arthur could respect.
It was bold.
Brilliant.
But Kaido... that mindless, rabid dog, shoved into his path, used as a pawn without even knowing it—that sent Arthur's rage into the stratosphere. The Beast had snatched defeat from the jaws of victory and ruined his one chance to save his people.
His desire for the Op-Op Fruit—his need for it—became an all-consuming fire. He had to get stronger. He had to gain the power to end these annoyances for good.
He unleashed every ounce of his fury on Kaido.
For fifteen days they tore the sea apart. Their battle was a moving cataclysm—a whirlwind of lightning and brute force that laid waste to a dozen islands. They sank pirate crews and Marine squadrons foolish enough to get close.
Finally, after two solid weeks of nonstop, high-intensity combat, even Kaido's monstrous stamina gave out. He collapsed, unconscious, and sank beneath the waves.
Breathing hard, his own energy nearly spent, Arthur finally turned and made the long, slow journey back to Raijin Island.
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The great hall of the Thunder God Palace was suffocating with tension.
The captains were assembled. Jessica and Redfield sat in their prescribed seats. All of them waited in silence for their leader to speak.
Arthur sat on the golden throne, one hand supporting his head, a single finger tapping a slow, maddening rhythm on the armrest.
His face was a mask of perfect calm—and that, more than any outburst, terrified them. They all knew the quieter he became, the fiercer the storm brewing inside.
Finally, he spoke—low, cold, monotone.
"Vegapunk's Vivre Card. Where is it?"
Shiryu, polishing his blade, paused. "Captain, we... don't really use them. Vegapunk, Jessica, the vice-captain... none of them ever made one. Most of the captains haven't either."
Vivre Cards—a way to track someone's location, their vital signature. To Arthur, they had always felt like liabilities—pieces of information that could be weaponized. Vegapunk had been a recluse, buried in his lab on Punk Hazard—practically untouchable.
Until he wasn't...
It was a mistake. An oversight. A failure to account for every variable.
"From this day forward," Arthur said, his voice cutting through the hall, "every single member of this crew—from division captains to the newest recruit—will provide a Vivre Card. No exceptions."
"Captain, that seems—" Byrnndi World began, clearly uncomfortable at the idea of being tracked. He didn't get to finish.
Arthur's head snapped up. His eyes flared with violet light as his Conqueror's Haki slammed into World, pinning him to his seat.
"Do you have an opinion?"
World's jaw clenched. Cold sweat beaded on his brow, but he held his ground—barely. "...No."
"Good." Arthur's gaze slid away, landing on Morgans at the end of the table.
"Intel. The Revolutionary Army. Give me everything you have."
"Captain," Morgans squawked, wringing his hands. "That's the problem. We have nothing. They're ghosts. They don't move through the normal underworld channels. They don't buy weapons, they don't trade. Unless they choose to reveal themselves, they're impossible to find."
"Then look harder," Arthur said flatly. "Scan every faction, every nation, every splinter group that's ever whispered a bad word about the World Government. I want them identified. I don't care if you have to burn a million innocent men to find one guilty one. I will not be played for a fool again."
His desire to annihilate Dragon was now second only to his hunt for the Op-Op Fruit. If he did the World Government's dirty work in the process, he couldn't care less.
"The search for the Revolutionaries is second priority. The first priority is the Op-Op Fruit. I want its name, its picture, its price plastered in every corner of the world. Put the word out: anyone who provides a single, verifiable piece of information leading to that fruit will have any desire—any desire—granted by the Thunder God Pirates."
He was done being subtle.
He knew the World Government was hunting it. He knew schemers like Doflamingo, who grasped its true power, were hunting it too.
Let them.
The moment it surfaced, the world would know—and he would be there. Anyone who touched what was his would die.
He would pay any price.
Shiryu sheathed his blade—the clean shing of steel cutting the silence. "Captain. Shall I go to the East Blue? I can kill Dragon's son, and his father, Garp, while I'm at it. Make an example."
Don Chinjao, still bearing the scars of Garp's fist, grunted in agreement. "I'll go with him. The Monkey family owes us a debt of blood."
"Fine. Go." Arthur waved a dismissive hand—already lost in thought. "Be quick. I spent fifteen days on that brute Kaido; we have to move before Dragon can hide them. Kill them all. I want the world to know what happens when you offend this crew."
He rubbed his temples, mind already churning—calculating how to get Vegapunk back.
A few years ago, he might have been curious to see this 'Luffy.' But now? He's a gnat. A hundred of him aren't worth a single hair on Vegapunk's head.
"The Op-Op Fruit," he repeated—low, commanding. "Find it."
"Meeting adjourned."
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One by one the captains filed out, leaving the great hall in heavy silence. Even Redfield took his leave.
Only Jessica remained.
She watched him a long moment, seeing the exhausted frustration beneath his mask of cold fury. She rose from her chair and moved to him, hands coming to rest on his temples as she began to massage them.
"Arthur, this isn't your fault," she said softly. "You can't blame yourself. We were weak. We were the ones who held you back."
"I don't blame you. I don't blame myself. And I don't even blame the Revolutionaries," he said flatly, eyes closed.
If he had stayed a lone wolf, none of this would have happened. But he had built an empire—and empires have vulnerabilities. He had known the cost. He had simply overestimated his ability to pay it.
This was a price he would accept.
But he would not make the same mistake twice.
Dragon had come for his property. He had threatened his crew. He had crossed a line that could not be uncrossed.
"Jessica," he said, eyes still closed. "You can't help me if you're a liability."
He reached into his storage bracelet and pulled out a fruit—the Glare-Glare Fruit.
"Eat this. Get stronger."
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