Chapter 537: Training Begins
Yamato and her officers saw Brett off with considerable reluctance.
The country had only just opened its borders. There was an enormous amount of work ahead of her, and Yamato was about to lose a great deal of sleep over it.
Brett, for his part, needed to get back to Fish-Man Island as fast as possible. No detours, no risks. He shifted into his awakened state, wrapped Pluton in a cradle of flame clouds, and launched into the sky with the ancient warship in tow.
"What a remarkable power."
Pluton's projection materialized on the deck behind him, watching Brett's silhouette cut through the air ahead. There was genuine wonder in his voice.
"So this is what Devil Fruit ability looks like now. Eight hundred years of development, and it has come to this."
In the era Pluton and Joy Boy had known, Devil Fruits were new. The first people to eat them had converted their deepest wishes into power, and the earliest fruits had only just begun showing the world what they could do. Nothing like the force Brett was demonstrating now.
"In terms of raw strength, Joy Boy couldn't match you," Pluton said quietly. "But I think that's exactly what he hoped for. That those who came after would be stronger than those who came before - strong enough to carry the weight of that history and challenge Imu."
That was what inheritance meant.
Brett heard him, but didn't make much of it. Being stronger than Joy Boy didn't change anything by itself. Imu had also had eight hundred years to grow. If everyone got stronger over time, then in a sense nobody had gained anything at all.
At full speed, it didn't take long to reach the entrance to the New World. From there it was a matter of going deep.
"No need to worry on my account," Pluton said as Brett prepared to take the ship underwater. The projection smiled. "Pluton can seal every internal passage completely. The deep sea poses no problem."
Brett wasn't surprised. If Pluton couldn't manage that, Joy Boy would have been out of his mind to sink it in magma for eight hundred years. He didn't hesitate - straight down, warship in tow, all the way to the seafloor.
Before long, Pluton was resting in the heart of the Coral Forest.
"It's been a long time since I was last here."
The projection reappeared on deck, looking around with an expression that was clearly nostalgic, though Brett was certain the figure wasn't using projected eyes and ears to take anything in.
"The last time I came to Fish-Man Island was when Joy Boy delivered his letter of apology to the princess."
"That stone is still in the deep forest," Brett said. "If you want to see it, I can point you toward it."
"I treasure the memory of those days," Pluton answered. "But they're behind us now. Joy Boy would want me looking forward."
"That's exactly what we're going to do."
Brett's mouth curved slightly.
"Oh, oh, oh! Is this what I think it is?"
The arrival of a several-hundred-meter warship in the Coral Forest had not gone unnoticed. The first person to come running was, predictably, the old man - bouncing with barely contained excitement on the open ground below, having sprinted over from his nearby laboratory the moment he'd noticed the commotion.
"Good day to you, sir." Pluton's projection drifted down to meet him, the ancient warship's voice warm and unhurried. "From your appearance, I'd say you're a remarkable scientist. Am I right?"
"In our time, scientists were regarded the same way adventurers are now. Some of the most celebrated people on the sea."
"A projection?" Vegapunk's eye sharpened immediately. He could tell something was off in an instant. "Don't tell me you're this ship's artificial intelligence. That is extraordinary work."
"Pluton is the ancient warship from eight hundred years ago," Brett said with a smile. "He may be a ship, but he knows quite a lot about that era."
Vegapunk's eyes lit up in a way that was almost alarming.
"Tell me everything! Right now! Start from the beginning!"
Vegapunk had always been fascinated by the lost age and its science and people, and he began interrogating Pluton immediately without pausing for breath. Pluton fielded every question with patient good nature - nothing about him suggested he was one of the most feared weapons in the history of the world.
Others arrived in stages after that. Rayleigh and Shanks first, then the Marine contingent.
"Is this..." Rayleigh looked at Brett.
Brett gave a small nod. "All three ancient weapons, accounted for."
Tsuru lost her composure for just a moment.
The last ancient weapon. It was actually here.
With everything assembled - every piece of the coalition, every weapon, every ally - was there anything left in the world capable of standing against them?
"The people of the ancient world had technology beyond anything we can easily imagine." Shanks looked up at Pluton's hull with quiet admiration. "The greatest warship in history, and here it finally is."
"It still needs work before it's ready," Brett said. "Eight hundred years left quite a bit of residue to clear."
The magma had left its mark. That needed to come off before Pluton was fit for anything.
"Speaking of work," Brett said, turning to Rayleigh. "It's time to start training."
"Actually, about that." Rayleigh's expression shifted into something faintly amused. "I had a conversation with Shanks earlier. There may be an unexpected development there."
Brett looked at Shanks.
Shanks grinned - the particular grin of someone sitting on information they're enjoying a little too much.
"Here's the thing, Brett. If what you need is training in Observation Killing, I might actually be useful to you."
Brett raised an eyebrow. "You know the technique."
"Every tool has its purpose." Shanks's grin widened. "I have some experience with this one. Want me to teach you?"
"Yes." No hesitation. "I'm in your hands, Shanks."
Against Imu, Observation Killing was not optional. Even if breaking through Imu's version of it proved impossible, Brett absolutely could not afford to be at a disadvantage in that area.
Shanks's expression settled into something more serious. He nodded.
"Then leave it to me."