The lid of the Neural Dive Pod hissed shut, sealing Ben in a cocoon of darkness and conductive gel. The sensation was instantaneous—a feeling like falling upwards, a rush of wind that wasn't there, and then... absolute, pristine silence.
Ben opened his eyes.
He was standing in the Construct. It was an infinite expanse of white, a blank canvas of pure data awaiting a brushstroke. The air here tasted like ozone and possibilities. There was no cold, no snow, no rolling waves. Just the hum of the processor.
"Merry," Ben spoke, his voice echoing in the void. "Initialize workspace."
The white void rippled.
"On it, Ben!" Merry's voice chimed, sounding everywhere and nowhere at once.
Pixels coalesced into matter. Or, the simulation of matter. The floor turned from white to polished, dark concrete. Walls shot up, lined with sleek, backlit panels. The ceiling arched high, revealing a simulated view of a nebula. In the center of the room, a massive, U-shaped holographic table materialized, glowing with a soft, inviting blue light.
It was a perfect recreation of Tony Stark's Malibu workshop, but with a distinct Dumbledore-esque twist: floating candles bobbed near the ceiling, and the robotic arms in the corner were engraved with glowing runes.
Ben checked the time readout on the HUD floating in his peripheral vision.
[Time Dilation Active: 1:3 Ratio]
[Real Time Elapsed: 00:00:01]
"Right," Ben murmured, cracking his virtual knuckles. "One hour out there is three hours in here. Let's build a future."
He walked to the holographic table.
"Merry, bring up the Stark Satellite blueprints."
"Accessing Database..." Merry chirped.
A complex wireframe model of a satellite appeared in the air, spinning slowly. It was blocky, functional, and purely technological.
"Too fragile," Ben muttered, swiping his hand through the hologram. "Electronics in the Grand Line get fried by the magnetic fields. We can't use standard circuits. We need... Runic Circuitry."
He began to work.
This was where the Tony Stark and Dumbledore templates truly sang in harmony. Stark provided the architecture—the thruster placement, the solar array efficiency, the data compression algorithms. Dumbledore provided the solution to the impossible physics.
Ben waved his hands, expanding the hologram until it filled the room. He walked inside the schematic of the satellite.
"Structure," Ben mused. "We need something light but indestructible. Titanium-Gold alloy is Stark's go-to."
He tapped the hull of the holographic satellite.
The wireframe turned a sleek, silvery-black.
Ben worked for hours. Four hours in, he was deep in the coding of the thrusters.
"Standard ion drives are too slow. We need Gravitational Repulsors."
Seven hours in. He was working on the Server Rack.
"This is the brain," Ben said, highlighting the central module. "Merry, this is where you will live. Not in the wood of the ship... but here. In the sky. The ship will just be your avatar. Your remote body. But your soul... your core consciousness... will be safe in orbit. No cannonball can reach you. No fire can burn you."
Merry's avatar materialized next to him, looking at the complex machinery.
"I... I'm going to space?" she asked, her eyes wide.
"You're going to be space," Ben corrected. "You'll be able to see the entire world, Merry. Every ocean. Every island. You'll guide us from the stars."
He added Communication Arrays.
Ten hours in. Fatigue was setting in, a phantom ache in his mind. The sheer volume of calculation required to merge magic and tech was staggering.
Ben was redesigning the Defense Grid.
"Stealth," Ben muttered, rubbing his eyes. "It needs to be invisible. We can't have the World Government spotting a satellite."
He overlaid a massive Disillusionment Charm onto the outer hull, woven into the very atomic structure of the metal.
"It will bend light around it. To the world, it's just empty space."
Twelve hours.
The buzzer sounded in the simulation.
Ben stepped back.
Floating above the table was the finished design. It looked nothing like a NASA satellite. It looked like a work of art. A sleek, silver teardrop, etched with glowing blue runes, pulsating with a gentle, rhythmical heartbeat. It was elegant, dangerous, and beautiful.
Project: Star-Shepherd.
"Blueprint complete," Ben said, his voice hoarse. "Merry, save to primary database. Prepare for fabrication."
"Saved!" Merry chirped. "It's beautiful, Ben!"
"Time to build it," Ben said. "System... Log out."
ZOOOOOOM.
The white void collapsed.
Ben gasped, his eyes snapping open in the real world. He lay in the gel-pod, his body heavy, his head throbbing with a sharp, spike-like migraine. The transition from twelve hours of hyper-focus back to his physical body was jarring.
He groaned, pushing the lid open. The cool air of the server room hit his sweating skin.
"Four hours," he checked his watch. "Perfect."
He rolled out of the pod, stumbling slightly as his equilibrium adjusted. He grabbed a bottle of water from the desk and downed it in one gulp. The Super Soldier Serum metabolized the fatigue toxins quickly, but the mental strain lingered.
"No rest for the wicked," Ben muttered. "I have the plans. Now I need the machine."
He didn't have the tools to build the satellite by hand. It required precision on the nanometer scale. He needed a factory.
Ben walked to the center of the room. He cleared a space.
He raised his hands.
He visualized the materials. Tungsten. Diamond. Gold. Silicon.
"Creation."
Matter flowed from his skin. It wasn't just a blob; it was structured. He was building a machine to build a machine.
He tapped into the Stark Template. He visualized the Stark Industries Fabricator—the robotic assembly unit Tony used to build his suits—but he upgraded it. He added runic carving lasers. He added alchemical transmutation vats.
For two hours, Ben worked in a trance. He assembled the Magical Fabricator.
It was a boxy, glass-walled machine, about the size of a large refrigerator. Inside, four delicate, multi-jointed robotic arms hung waiting. The base was inscribed with a transmutation circle.
"Done," Ben panted, tightening the final mana-coupling.
He connected the Fabricator to the Super Computer with a thick data cable.
"Merry," Ben said, leaning on the console. "Do you see the new hardware?"
"I see it!" Merry replied. "Device recognized: High-Precision Runic Fabricator."
"Correct. Upload the Star-Shepherd blueprints to the Fabricator's queue."
The Fabricator hummed to life, internal lights glowing soft amber.
"Now," Ben said, a grin spreading across his tired face. "Here is the trick. We can't build a full-sized satellite from the ship. It's too big. So..."
He patted the machine.
"We build it miniature."
"Miniature?" Merry asked.
"Yes. We build it to scale. The size of a basketball. Every circuit, every rune, every thruster... perfectly replicated, just tiny."
Ben's grin widened.
"And once it's finished... I use Brandish's Magic. Command T: Expand. I will grow it to full size once it's done, then send it to space. We cheat the physics of construction."
"That's cheating!" Merry giggled. "I love it!"
"Merry," Ben commanded. "You have the blueprints. You have the machine. You have the raw materials stored in the hopper (which he had filled with Created ingots). Begin fabrication."
"Aye aye, Ben! Starting construction!"
Inside the glass box, the robotic arms sprang to life. Lasers flared. The hum of precision crafting filled the room. The Star-Shepherd began to take form, layer by microscopic layer.
Ben watched for a moment, mesmerized by the dance of the machine he had created.
The foundation of their future safety. The eye in the sky.
"It will take about ten hours to print," Ben estimated. "That gives me time."
His body finally staged a protest. His knees buckled slightly.
"Okay," he whispered. "Bed. Now."
He stumbled out of the server room, the door hissing shut behind him. He climbed the stairs to the upper deck, avoiding the sleeping forms of Zoro (who was snoring in the hallway) and the Giants (whose snoring vibrated the entire ship).
He reached his cabin. He didn't bother changing. He fell face-first onto his bed.
As consciousness slipped away, Ben had one last thought.
Once... Nami is cured. We get Chopper. And we launch the satellite.
The Grand Line isn't ready for a pirate crew with GPS.
He was asleep before his next breath.
---
The sun rose over the Drum Rockies, reflecting off the pristine snow with a blinding brilliance.
Inside the castle infirmary, the air was warm.
Nami stirred.
Her eyes fluttered open. The crushing weight on her chest was gone. The heat that had been boiling her brain had vanished, replaced by a cool, clean feeling.
She took a deep breath. It didn't hurt.
"Nami-san?"
Nami turned her head. Vivi was sitting by the bed, looking exhausted but hopeful.
"Vivi..." Nami's voice was raspy, but strong. "I'm... alive?"
"You're alive!" Vivi cried, hugging her gently. "The doctor... she saved you! The antibiotic worked!"
"Doctor?" Nami blinked, her memories hazy. "I remember... sleeping in my room?"
"Yeah," Sanji said, walking in with a tray of steaming soup. "Ben used his magic to place you inside his suitcase, then he used his magic carpet to fly here. It was quite the ride, Nami-swan. But look at you! Your color is back! Your beauty has returned!"
Nami sat up. She felt weak, but the sickness was gone.
"Where is this doctor? I need to thank them. And... ask how much this is going to cost."
"Cost?" a sharp voice cackled from the doorway.
Dr. Kureha leaned against the frame, sipping her morning plum wine. Chopper peeked out from behind her legs.
"You're awake, girl. Good. My treatment is flawless. But it's not cheap. I'll be taking 50% of your ship's treasure as payment."
Nami's eyes turned into Berry Symbols.
"FIFTY PERCENT?!" she shrieked, her vitality returning instantly in the face of financial ruin. "ARE YOU CRAZY, OLD LADY?! I'LL GIVE YOU FIVE PERCENT AND A THANK YOU NOTE!"
Kureha grinned. "Heh. She's definitely cured. She has the energy to haggle."
Sanji and Vivi laughed.
Outside the castle, on the snowy terrace, Luffy and Usopp were engaged in a life-or-death struggle.
"ULTIMATE SNOWBALL... BAZOOKA!"
"EXPLODING SNOW STAR!"
Ben walked out onto the terrace, yawning and stretching. He looked refreshed, his super-soldier metabolism having cleared the fatigue in record time.
He looked up at the sky. It was clear. Perfect launch weather.
"Morning, Ben!" Luffy shouted, tackling Usopp into a drift. "Nami's awake! She's yelling at the old lady about money!"
"That sounds like Nami," Ben smiled.
He looked at the castle tower. He sensed the magical signature of the Going Merry far below. The connection was strong.
"Merry," he whispered into the wind. "Status of the project?"
A faint, happy voice echoed in his mind—the telepathic link of the Protean charm working perfectly.
"Fabrication complete, Ben! The Star-Shepherd is ready! It's so shiny!"
"Good," Ben said. "Keep it hidden in the fabricator until I get back. Tonight... we launch."
He turned back to the chaos of the snowy playground. Now, the final piece of the puzzle.
Recruiting the Reindeer.
Ben walked back inside. He found Chopper hiding behind a pillar, watching Luffy play through a window with a look of intense longing.
"You want to play too, don't you?" Ben asked softly.
Chopper jumped. "N-No! I'm a monster! Humans hate me!"
"We're not humans," Ben said, crouching down. "We're pirates. And I'm a wizard. And that guy out there is made of rubber. And the one with the long nose claims to be a captain of 8,000 men."
Ben offered a hand.
"Monsters are welcome on our ship, Chopper. In fact... we're kind of collecting them."
Chopper looked at Ben's hand. He looked at the window.
For the first time in his lonely life, the blue-nosed reindeer saw a door opening. Not a door to a patient's room, but a door to the world.
"Pirates..." Chopper whispered.
"Come on," Ben said. "Luffy is going to ask you eventually. You might as well get used to him now."
The stage was set. The navigator was healed. The satellite was built. And the doctor was about to find his sea legs.
The Drum Island arc was drawing to a close, and the Straw Hats were about to become stronger than ever.