Brook frowned when he heard that neither Vegapunk nor Big Mom could control Pluton.
"Intelligence? A soul?"
Could it be like the ancient Elephant Lord—bound by Joy Boy's will, obeying only the so-called Fated One?
The thought gnawed at him. If the elephant obeyed Kozuki Momonosuke, did Pluton, also bow to the orders of Momonosuke or Straw Hat Luffy?
Joy Boy's arrangements… terrifying indeed. Not just the timing of the Elephant Lord, but even Pluton and Poseidon had been set in motion by his design. Though Joy Boy failed in the great war eight hundred years ago, his shadow still lingered, weaving across the ages.
Brook clenched his jaw. "Pluton, I know you have intelligence. You're the ship spirit, aren't you? I need your strength now—to fight against Uranus, Im's weapon. Innocents will die if you refuse. Will you stand idle and let it happen?"
His words were heavy, a form of moral coercion. Surely, if this ship spirit belonged to Joy Boy's legacy, it must harbor a shred of righteousness.
But no answer came.
Then, deep in his mind, a voice rumbled. "The time is not yet come. You are not the one I await. Forgive me."
Brook stiffened. The voice was deep, old, and grim—like a cloaked figure whispering from the abyss.
"Are you really going to let countless people be slaughtered by Im, all because of Joy Boy's orders?" Brook hissed. He had hoped for a girl's voice, or a youthful spirit. Instead, this weary, ancient tone only disgusted him further. Eight centuries of war and death had twisted this being.
Silence followed.
Brook's expression hardened. Darkness surged from him like a storm. His soul power erupted, locking onto the presence that had spoken.
"You dare reject me? You answer me, yet refuse to obey?" His voice turned razor-sharp. "Then I'll drag you out and devour you myself!"
The deck of Pluton darkened as if the underworld itself descended. Ghosts wailed and clawed at the air. A vast black gate materialized, creaking open to reveal the Yellow Springs Road, its river roaring beyond. The stench of ghostly fog rolled across the deck, blurring the line between the world of the living and the hell of the dead.
"Realm… Ghost Domain: Yellow Springs Hell!!"
Brook's eyes glowed an eerie green, lanterns of the underworld. The light cut through the fog, revealing a hooded figure hunched over the control console.
"I hate fate," Brook snarled. "And I hate rejection even more."
He drew the Seven Star Demon Sword. Its malevolent aura twisted hungrily, sensing prey. "Hehehe… a ship spirit. A rare delicacy!" the sword's own spirit hissed.
The massive turrets of Pluton whirred to life, beginning to rotate. Energy gathered in the colossal main cannon.
Brook sneered. "You'd fire upon yourself? Fool. Once you've stepped into my domain, there's no escape."
He lunged, and ghost generals—souls of slain admirals, pirates, and even celestial knights—swarmed the hooded spirit, cutting off every route of retreat.
The ship spirit bellowed in fury. "You are no savior! You are a bandit! This vessel is not meant for you!"
Brook laughed coldly. "Savior? Spare me. All I see is another machine shackled to Joy Boy's illusions. You could have helped me save lives, but instead you cling to fate. Useless!"
The spirit tried to retreat into the steel of the battleship, but Brook's Yellow Springs fog formed an unbreakable barrier. The soul-body slammed into it and rebounded, staggering.
"No! If you kill me, you'll strip the world of its chance for liberation!"
"Liberation?" Brook's tone dripped with scorn. "Stop pretending your masters are gods. Liberation, salvation—it's all just a change of rulers. Nothing more."
He pressed forward, Seven Star Demon Sword gleaming with malevolence. "History teaches one truth: kingdoms rise and kingdoms fall. There is no eternal dynasty. And if someone must rule, it will be me!"
Brook plunged the cursed blade into the spirit's chest. Dark energy exploded outward. The sword spirit howled with glee, devouring the ship spirit's essence.
"Yes! Eight hundred years of power—delicious!"
The Pluton ship spirit screamed as its form dissolved, consumed bite by bite. The Seven Star Demon Sword pulsed, its aura swelling until the once-phantom childlike spirit grew dense and solid, a presence that rivaled a living being.
Brook grinned wickedly. "Seven… from today, you'll be more than a sword. Eat the Mythical Zoan—Quetzalcoatl. Become my mount, my weapon, my beast."
-----------
The sword spirit of the Seven-Star Demon Sword continued devouring the ship spirit of the Pluton battleship. One by one, the turrets of the massive warship lost their power and fell silent.
Joy Boy's most important backup, Pluton, had been seized by Brook. Even the ship spirit—a nearly impossible existence to create—was consumed by Brook's quasi-artifact, the Seven-Star Demon Sword.
"Hehehe~, burp~… so satisfying!"
The Seven-Star Sword let out a sound of delight. After devouring the ship spirit, its spirit grew clearer, its mind sharper, as if it had matured in an instant.
"How about it? The Quetzalcoatl Fruit! A mythical beast with the power of flight—perfect for you!"
Brook dispersed the domain of Hell and spoke to his blade with a grin. If his sword couldn't fly, what was the point of bringing it here? A famous sword without style was worth far less in his eyes.
And besides, Brook still dreamed of becoming a sword immortal who soared through the skies.
"Since the master insists, I'll accept it—reluctantly! I originally wanted to become human and enjoy some fun!"
The sword spirit, now called Seven, replied proudly. It had overheard Brook mention that Mythical Beast fruits could allow animals or objects to take human form. But now, if Brook wished for a flying sword to flaunt, it would have to abandon that idea.
"That's right! What use would I have for a cheap human? It's far better for you to be the majestic Quetzalcoatl!"
Brook laughed and fed the Quetzalcoatl Fruit to the Seven-Star Demon Sword. A fruit coveted by countless powerful figures, comparable in worth to Kaido's Azure Dragon Fruit, had now been devoured by a sword. To many, it was unthinkable—a waste. But to Brook, it was perfection.
His reserves of Devil Fruits were that luxurious. From plundering the Celestial Dragons at God Valley, to killing countless navy elites and seizing their fruits, Brook had amassed a treasury of powers.
"Now that we're free from the interference of the ship spirit—Vegapunk, continue studying Pluton. Linlin, see if you can still transform it into a high-level Homies."
Brook gave instructions calmly. Then, taking the Seven-Star Demon Sword with him, he returned to the golden ship, where Seven prepared to awaken its new power. A sword with both spirit and fruit ability—something beyond even the Supreme Great Blades.
(TL: do i change the name of his sword?)
On the surface, the Hell Pirates worked tirelessly to restore Pluton. Under Oden's lead, the daimyos and samurai of Wano had begun dividing the vast lands of the newly revealed ancient country, throwing themselves into the rebuilding of their ancestral home.
Meanwhile, in the Holy Land of Marijoa.
"Excellent. You've mastered the Barrier Fruit so quickly. From now on, you will serve as the new Knight of God. This time, you will march alongside the 'National Treasure.'"
A voice rang from the shadowed figure upon the Empty Throne. It carried no emotion—only the weight of inevitability.
"Thank you, Lord Im. I will complete your mission, even at the cost of my life!"
The former CP0 assassin, now Knight of God Zebai, knelt with his forehead pressed to the floor, trembling with reverence. He dared not lift his eyes toward the one he worshiped.
"Leave."
Im rose and stepped away from the throne. With a method now devised to resist Brook's soul invasion, all that remained was the sacrifice of royal blood to awaken the "National Treasure" once more and strike terror across the New World.
The ancient weapon required the blood of the Twenty Kings to fuel it. That was the only reason Im had tolerated the existence of the Celestial Dragons—raising their pampered descendants like pigs, breeding stock to be culled when needed.
In time, some strays might escape—rare prodigies such as Red-Haired Shanks or Doflamingo—Celestial Dragon offspring who awakened Conqueror's Haki and rose as great pirates. Proof of their bloodline's latent talent. But for the vast majority, they were livestock.
Im descended into an ancient prison deep beneath Pangaea Castle. Within, the captured side branches of the Nefertari clan trembled in terror. Im's expression never changed, though his eyes flickered with faint memory—of the war fought against the Twenty Kings eight centuries ago.
That time had long passed. These weak descendants meant nothing.
"We kept our promise. I will not allow your bloodline to be erased entirely. One branch will remain."
His voice was calm, indifferent. Even though he suspected the Nefertari family had hidden ties to Joy Boy and the D clan, he would not break the pact. The family would not be fully exterminated—only reduced to a token remnant.
With a flick of his hand, the prisoners convulsed. Their faces flushed red, blood erupting from their mouths, noses, and eyes, streaming outward toward a colossal black monolith—the "National Treasure."
"Count. Ninety-eight. Have the Donquixote family provide two more."
Im's tone was as casual as one ordering wine at a feast. The sacrifice of one hundred royal descendants would be sufficient to purge this age of troublesome pirates. For decades, no upstart would threaten his dominion again.
The immense artifact stirred, absorbing the torrent of lifeblood. Slowly, its reserves passed the halfway mark—enough to erase swathes of islands from the map.
A world map appeared before Im. In his hand, a quill of black steel. He marked a cross over Doragonzo Island—and then over Hive Island, Rocks' infamous stronghold, Hachinosu.
Next, his pen traced over the eighteen newly built Hell Islands. With a cold calculation, he struck through them all.
The agents had already marked their coordinates. Soon, they would vanish from existence.
Im folded the map away, as if closing a trivial ledger.
What did it matter to him if entire islands disappeared?
Across the last thousand years, he had erased countless lands. Most were scoured only on the surface, left barren but not destroyed. In decades, nature would reclaim them, forests sprouting over the graves of nations.
The sea birthed new islands as easily as it devoured the old. Volcanoes erupted, earthquakes raised new lands, and even the dung of colossal Sea Kings hardened into fertile earth. The balance of the world remained.
No matter how many he destroyed, there would always be islands. And as long as the Celestial Dragons bred new heirs, the "National Treasure" would never lack fuel.
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