At this moment, the laboratory was a world of gleaming steel and strange devices — a place that looked more like science fiction than reality.
Vegapunk, tall and lanky, stood in the center. His lab coat was stained and unkempt, his gray hair a tangled mess. He looked to be in his late forties or early fifties — a man whose brilliance had long since crossed into madness.
His eyes were the kind that belonged to geniuses or lunatics — filled with both wisdom and mania.
Before him stood what was once Bartholomew Kuma — the Tyrant of the Revolutionary Army.
Now, however, there was nothing human left within that body. The man known as Kuma was gone.
All that remained was a shell — a living weapon stripped of consciousness, emotion, and will.
With Kuma's transformation complete, the Revolutionary Army had effectively been broken. He had been its last ember.
Unless Vegapunk chose to restore him — which was impossible — the man was gone forever.
To Vegapunk, Kuma was nothing more than a successful experiment.
"Now," the scientist declared with manic excitement, "the final stage of my living weapon project is complete! I hereby declare — success!"
His laughter echoed through the metal halls.
"In time, I'll begin the next phase," he muttered to himself, eyes gleaming. "A new generation of weapons — stronger than the Pacifistas! And when I mass-produce them… the world itself will tremble!"
The explosions and chaos outside didn't concern him in the slightest.
Vegapunk lived for science. Nothing else mattered.
Politics, war, life, death — all were insignificant beside his thirst for knowledge.
Whatever was happening outside, he assumed it was a rebellion — something the World Government would deal with, as it always did.
And besides, his laboratory was an impregnable fortress.
Even Kizaru's light-based attacks had failed to dent it during past tests. Vegapunk himself had personally modified and reinforced it — the perfect stronghold for his research.
"Unless the World Government itself is destroyed," he murmured, "this lab will never fall."
He chuckled. "And that's impossible. The rule of the Celestial Dragons will continue for centuries to come."
Turning back to his instruments, Vegapunk entered another stream of thought, mumbling formulas and sketching mental blueprints for his next experiment.
He didn't realize that behind him, someone was already there.
The assistants who had been working moments ago were gone — silently erased.
"Are you… Vegapunk?"
The voice came casually, young but carrying a weight that made the air tremble.
Vegapunk froze. His train of thought shattered instantly.
He turned.
There, sitting on a metal stool with one leg crossed over the other, was a young man with white hair and eyes that gleamed like molten gold.
A faint, amused smile curved his lips.
"The Yonko… Elior?!" Vegapunk blurted out, his face paling.
He recognized him immediately — how could he not? Since the great war, Elior had become the most feared name on the seas.
The youngest Yonko in history. A man whose power defied all known logic.
To Vegapunk, Elior wasn't just a pirate — he was an anomaly, a living contradiction that broke every scientific law.
He had strength that surpassed anything within human understanding. And yet, he was barely twenty years old.
"Impossible," Vegapunk whispered. "You shouldn't even exist…"
He had studied countless reports, simulations, and battle records, trying to analyze how such a being could be real.
By his calculations, Elior possessed multiple powers — more than one Devil Fruit.
Something no human should be able to survive.
But Vegapunk, of all people, knew better than to say "impossible". He had seen and created too many miracles — and too many monsters.
Kaido's blood. The artificial Devil Fruit that had turned Momonosuke into a dragon. The Pacifistas. The Seraphim.
But none of those things compared to the boy sitting before him.
If Kaido was called the "Strongest Creature in the World," then Elior was something beyond that — an existence the world had no words for.
The scientist swallowed hard, stepping back instinctively until his back hit the cold steel wall.
"It turns out," Elior said, smiling faintly, "that Vegapunk really is just as mysterious as the rumors claim."
His tone was light, but the pressure in the air was crushing.
To Elior, Vegapunk was more than just a scientist. He was a key — the man who had built many of the World Government's deadliest weapons.
And if Elior could claim that mind for himself…
He would hold the future in his hands.
"I don't know what your purpose is here," Vegapunk said carefully, forcing his voice steady. "But the commotion outside… that was your doing, wasn't it?"
Elior didn't answer. He only smiled.
That silence was louder than any confirmation.
Vegapunk exhaled slowly. Despite his fear, he realized something: if Elior had wanted to kill him, he'd already be dead.
So instead, he steadied himself — the man who had stood before gods and monsters alike.
He had even spoken face-to-face with Im, the shadow ruler of the world.
"...Very well," Vegapunk said at last. "If you're not here to kill me, then tell me — what do you want?"
Elior leaned forward slightly, his eyes gleaming like a predator's.
"Simple," he said.
"Work for me, Vegapunk."