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One Piece: Lightning Heir#311: Poaching Vegapunk
🕑 Added 2025-11-08 12:50:12 +0000 UTCSea Calendar 1505. Raijin Island.
Arthur had spent a full year chasing the microscopic.
He’d dedicated himself to the single-minded pursuit of controlling the infinitesimal charge Vegapunk had shown him. He’d progressed from a current so faint it could barely be measured to one so subtle it defied all known scientific instrumentation.
The leap in his control was immense.
If he were to use this new control for a conventional blast, the resulting voltage would dwarf his old five-hundred-million-volt limit. But he knew that even with this, he was still light-years away from the true goal: mastering the electron itself.
The more distant the goal seemed, the more exhilarated he became. It was proof that Vegapunk’s theory was sound. The path was real.
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Time melted away. In the wake of the Marineford incident, the seas had fallen into a strange, tense quiet. All the major powers were in a holding pattern—consolidating, gathering strength, and waiting for the next great explosion.
And on Raijin Island, in the absence of war, boredom had set in.
For the island’s three other residents, that meant gambling.
Life on the endless ocean offered few diversions. There was the news, booze, training, and cards. The casinos of the world were full of games Arthur recognized from his past life—dice, slots, poker.
The game Redfield and Jessica were currently playing was a local favorite called "Beat the Pirate." With Vegapunk’s super-genius intellect, he could calculate the entire deck after just a few hands. Even with Redfield and Jessica’s own sharp minds, they were hopelessly outmatched.
They lost. A lot.
Through it all, Arthur sat nearby, oblivious, lost in his own world, meditating.
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The dragon-headed ship of the Revolutionary Army approached Raijin Island. It slowed as it neared the storm wall, finally dropping anchor a thousand meters out.
Dragon, Kuma, Ivankov, and Inazuma stood on the deck, a line of silent judgment. They made no move to land.
On the beach, the card game stopped. Arthur opened his eyes.
The two sides stared at each other across the water.
Finally, Arthur broke the silence, his gaze sweeping over them one by one.
“Trespassing,” his voice was cold. “Did you think that just because we’ve been quiet for a year, you could waltz up to my front door? And you, Kuma... You actually joined their little book club?”
“That which is corrupt must be changed,” Kuma replied, his voice a low, mechanical rumble.
“Hmph.” Arthur scoffed, dismissing the giant as his eyes locked on the man in the center. “Garp’s son. The leader of the Revolutionary Army. State your purpose, or I’ll wipe your fledgling organization off the map today.”
He had no patience for them. A band of idealists, even powerful ones, meant nothing to him. They were preying on the Government’s weakness, trying to topple one rotten system just to build another.
Their ideals were noble, sure, but they were also naive. What happened to the common people—the ones they claimed to be saving—while their war raged? Without the Navy’s protection, they would be devoured by the very pirates Arthur commanded.
And what would happen after? After they won? After they tore down the World Government? Did they truly believe they wouldn't just become the new Celestial Dragons?
Man’s hunger for power was the real source of evil.
Dragon pulled back his green hood, revealing the hard, grim face and the strange tattoo that marked him.
“All men are born equal,” he stated, his voice as calm and heavy as the sea. “They should not be divided by class. That is why we exist. We have met twice before, Arthur. The first time, in Impel Down. The second, when you invaded the Naval Research facility.”
“Don’t make me laugh, Dragon,” Arthur shot back, taking a glass of wine from Jessica’s hand. “As long as a man with power has desires, there will always be a class struggle. You can’t erase it.”
He took a sip. “So you’ve met me. What of it? Are you here to play on my sympathies? Get me to help you fight the World Government?”
“Pirates are the root of this world’s chaos,” Dragon said, his expression unchanging. “The Revolutionary Army does not need your help. I came to Raijin Island for one reason.”
His eyes shifted, locking onto the scientist at Arthur’s side.
“Dr. Vegapunk has stayed with your crew long enough. It is time for him to join the Revolutionary Army.”
The atmosphere on the beach instantly dropped to absolute zero.
Arthur stared for a second, and then he burst out laughing. “Hahahaha! Vegapunk! He says you’re leaving with him. What do you say?”
Vegapunk smiled, a thin, academic expression. “I require only one thing: an environment of absolute freedom for my research. At present, only the Thunder God Pirates can provide that. A band of rebels, constantly on the run, is… unsuitable.”
He had chosen his side.
“So, talking has failed. I suppose that leaves only violence,” Dragon said. He sounded almost bored by the prospect, as if it were all a foregone conclusion. “It’s just as well. It’s time I collected a little interest on my father’s behalf. Wouldn’t you agree… Thunder Emperor Arthur?”
A wind, appearing from a perfectly clear sky, began to blow across the water. The green cloak on Dragon’s back snapped and billowed.
No one truly knew how powerful he was. He had hidden his strength since his days as a Marine, perhaps even from Garp himself. But a man who hides in the shadows for so long… when he finally strikes, it is always world-shaking.
“Violence?” Arthur grinned, a low, dangerous sound. “I was just looking for a chance to test my new five-hundred-million-volt-plus output. Vegapunk… you might want to take the sub.”
He could feel it coming off Dragon. An aura. A pressure. It was different from Garp’s but no less powerful. It was the sleeping, terrifying power of the D. clan.
The Monkey family, it seemed, bred only monsters.
From the deck of the dragon ship, a new sound was heard—a low, terrifying breathing, like that of some deep-sea leviathan slowly waking from an eon of slumber.
