—Real World—
Devil's Triangle – Florian Triangle
Kaido of the Beasts and King the Wildfire remained anchored in the Devil's Triangle's perpetual gloom, their massive vessel hidden within the supernatural fog that had swallowed countless ships over the centuries. They'd been waiting—patient as apex predators—for the World Government to send powerful combatants to confront them.
Instead, the Marines had dispatched only surveillance ships. Small fry. Cannon fodder.
Kaido had sunk three such ships personally, their crews screaming as they plummeted into the eternal darkness below. The kills brought no satisfaction whatsoever. Crushing insects provided no challenge, no glory, no worthy combat to alleviate his perpetual boredom.
It felt utterly pointless.
However, the Sky Screen's recent broadcasts had delivered something far more valuable than Marine blood: a revelation that cracked open Kaido's worldview like a sledgehammer through concrete.
For decades, Kaido the King of Beasts had advocated one principle above all others: Haki transcends all. Personal strength, willpower made manifest, the ability to impose your will upon reality through sheer determination—these were the only metrics that mattered. Technology was a crutch for the weak. Science was what lesser beings relied upon when their bodies and spirits proved inadequate.
The Sky Screen had proven him catastrophically wrong.
Those technological means he'd dismissed so contemptuously—the ones he'd looked down upon as inferior substitutes for true power—actually shined brilliantly in the future timeline. Pacifistas, Seraphim, the Anti-Life Equation, Victor's molecular decomposition weapons, Ultron's adaptive robotics.
Science could apparently reshape the world as thoroughly as any Yonko's Conqueror's Haki.
"I really underestimated those crazy scientists," Kaido admitted, his voice rumbling like distant thunder. The concession cost him nothing; acknowledging reality was pragmatic, not weak.
His massive form shifted, muscles rippling beneath his scaled skin as he rose to his full intimidating height. Golden eyes gleamed with predatory calculation.
"That Vegapunk bastard has taken plenty of advantages from me over the years," Kaido growled, one enormous hand clenching into a fist that could pulverize boulders. "It's well past time to collect interest on those debts."
The location of Egghead Island was now public knowledge, thanks to the Sky Screen's revelation. The experimental facility that housed the world's greatest scientific mind lay exposed, vulnerable, ripe for exploitation.
Kaido's strategic mind was already calculating possibilities. Visit Vegapunk's laboratory. Examine what secrets were hidden there. Perhaps acquire some technological assets in the process. The scientist owed him compensation—substantial compensation—and Kaido fully intended to collect.
King stood nearby, his distinctive black leather outfit and mask concealing most of his features. To those unfamiliar with the Wildfire, reading his emotions would be impossible. The mask hid facial expressions, the outfit covered body language, and King's legendary self-control prevented any vocal tells.
But Kaido had served alongside this man for years. He could read King's moods through tiny details invisible to outsiders: the set of his shoulders, the tension in his stance, the particular way his fingers curled when suppressing rage.
And right now, King was furious.
More than furious. This was a cold, incandescent wrath that transcended normal anger and approached existential fury.
"Vegapunk is insulting my entire race," King's voice emerged flat and controlled, but beneath that professional tone lurked volcanic intensity. "I will make him pay the price. Personally."
The Wildfire had seen the Seraphim's appearance in the broadcast. Those distinctive features—the black wings, the brown skin, the silver hair, the supernatural durability. Lunarian racial characteristics were unmistakable, impossible to disguise or explain away.
Vegapunk had stolen King's genetic material. Extracted his bloodline factors without permission, without compensation, without even acknowledgment. Then used that theft to create child-soldiers—slaves branded with the physical markers of King's nearly extinct people.
The Lunarians had once been gods, dwelling atop the Red Line before the Celestial Dragons' ancestors drove them to near-extinction. Now Vegapunk was resurrecting their bloodline as weapons. As property.
Science was a filthy, violating thing. It forced elements together that should never exist in combination, created abominations that mocked natural order.
King wanted Vegapunk dead. Not captured. Not intimidated. Dead.
Kaido of the Beasts had excellent reasons for pursuing Vegapunk—reasons that transcended mere curiosity or strategic opportunity.
First: The artificial Devil Fruit in Kozuki Momonosuke's body. That pathetic pink dragon the Sky Screen had shown represented stolen intellectual property. Vegapunk had copied Kaido's own Uo Uo no Mi, Model: Seiryu (Fish-Fish Fruit, Azure Dragon Model) through bloodline factor manipulation. Created a derivative work without authorization.
That fruit—even as a failed prototype—belonged to Kaido by rights of original ownership.
Second: The foundation of the Seraph program. Those child-weapons combined multiple bloodline factors, but the Lunarian characteristics came from King. Vegapunk had extracted genetic material from Kaido's right-hand man, his most trusted subordinate, his brother-in-arms.
That was personal.
Both the first and second-in-command of the Beasts Pirates had made outstanding—if completely involuntary—contributions to Vegapunk's scientific experiments. Their biological essence had been stolen, studied, weaponized.
There was no such thing as a free lunch in this world. Kaido intended to collect payment with interest. If he didn't, he'd be the world's biggest sucker—and his fellow Yonko would ridicule him endlessly for inadvertently helping the enemy develop superior weapons.
That was absolutely unacceptable.
Gecko Moria sat nearby, nursing yet another bottle of premium sake that Kaido had appropriated from the former Shichibukai's carefully curated alcohol reserves. The demon had drunk nearly everything Moria had stored over the past decade, treating rare vintages like water.
Moria's entire existence had become a waking nightmare since Kaido demolished his former base and took up residence on his ship. To protect his subordinates—Absalom, Perona, Hogback, and the zombie army he'd painstakingly assembled—Moria had submitted to this humiliating arrangement.
He couldn't create new zombies. Couldn't pursue his usual activities.
Instead, he was dragged into drinking sessions every single day, forced to make conversation with a man who could kill him with casual effort.
But those conversations—combined with the Sky Screen's broadcasts—had taught Moria something valuable: the future was going to be far more dangerous than he'd anticipated.
Combat power would expand dramatically over the next five to six years. The world the Sky Screen showed seemed almost unrecognizable compared to current standards. Even the last-ranked of the Seven Warlords of the Sea would be classified as merely "Captain-class"—fourth-rate masters barely relevant to major conflicts, essentially high-tier cannon fodder.
The zombie army Moria had assembled over more than a decade would be utterly outclassed by even a single Pacifista. What was more ironic? Those same Pacifistas—modeled after Bartholomew Kuma, one of the current Warlords—were just oversized mechanical toys to first and second-rate masters. Elite combatants could dismantle them effortlessly.
The conclusion was inescapable: corpses of the weak had lost their strategic value. Only corpses of the truly strong could serve useful purposes in the wars to come.
Unfortunately, Moria only possessed one legendary corpse: Ryuma. And that shadow was gone, returned to its rightful owner. His most powerful zombie general had vanished, leaving a catastrophic gap in his forces.
He needed to leave this floating prison. Travel the world, locate cemeteries where genuinely powerful warriors were buried, and resurrect those historical figures to fight for him again.
As for training himself to become stronger through conventional means? Moria understood his own psychology too well. He'd lost his strong heart years ago—shattered during his crushing defeat in Wano. Facing an increasingly turbulent and unpredictable future, he lacked both the time and the mental fortitude for traditional training.
Grave robbing was faster. More efficient. Better suited to his abilities.
"That scientist Vegapunk truly cannot be underestimated," Moria offered, his tone carefully calibrated to sound conversational rather than manipulative. "The Anti-Life Equation can ignore race, Haki, and Devil Fruit abilities entirely. It casually rewrites free will at the neurological level. If the Celestial Dragons master that technology..."
He trailed off, letting imagination complete the horrifying scenario.
"Living in a world of mental imprisonment," Moria continued, genuine revulsion bleeding into his voice. "Forced into a false reality from birth, every thought and value shaped by external control. I'd rather die than have my entire existence dictated by the Anti-Life Equation. The pursuit of freedom by intelligent creatures transcends everything else—sometimes even life itself."
The statement was delivered in front of Kaido with calculated intent. Moria wanted to plant seeds, encourage the Yonko to pursue Vegapunk actively, create circumstances that would lead to Kaido's departure.
He needed this plague god off his ship. The constant drinking sessions, the forced deference, the subordinate posture—it was psychologically exhausting. No normal person could maintain respectful behavior toward someone they feared and resented indefinitely.
Kaido heard the hidden implication beneath Moria's words. The suggestion was transparent: Go attack Egghead Island. Leave my ship. Pursue this vendetta personally.
But the King of Beasts was already considering that exact option independently. The question wasn't whether to pursue Vegapunk—it was whether the tactical situation favored such a move.
Should he travel to Egghead Island personally? Could such a journey yield actual benefits, or would it be a wasteful expenditure of time and resources?
The strategic complications were numerous:
First, the World Government and Marine would monitor his movements obsessively. The instant Kaido left the Devil's Triangle, surveillance networks would detect his departure. Both organizations would coordinate to obstruct him, making shortcuts back to the New World virtually impossible.
Second, the route itself presented challenges. Traveling from the Grand Line's first half to Egghead Island—located somewhere in the second half—required either traversing the Calm Belt or circumnavigating through dangerous territories. Flying via his Azure Dragon transformation with King accompanying him would be too conspicuous, drawing immediate military response.
Taking a ship was more discreet but also made him an obvious target for interception.
Either way, reaching Egghead would require at least a month of travel. Perhaps longer if the World Government deployed blocking forces.
By the time Kaido actually landed on the island, Vegapunk and his satellites might have already evacuated. The scientist could relocate his entire operation, leave nothing behind except empty laboratories and booby traps.
Kaido would return empty-handed—or worse, walk directly into an unknown ambush.
The King of Beasts was not some mindless brute who relied solely on violence. Despite his reputation, he possessed genuine strategic intelligence. Recklessness had its place, but this situation demanded careful consideration.
After several minutes of internal calculation, Kaido reached a decision. He retrieved a Den Den Mushi from within his coat—a communication device that had remained silent for months—and dialed a very specific contact.
The snail's features morphed, mimicking the recipient on the other end. After three rings, a feminine voice answered:
"Kaido?" Charlotte Linlin's laughter crackled through the speaker, her distinctive cackle filling the ship's deck. "You're actually calling me? Via Den Den Mushi? How surprising! You must need something. What do you want?"
The casual tone couldn't disguise the sharp calculation beneath. Big Mom of the Big Mom Pirates understood that Kaido wouldn't initiate contact without serious motivation. Two Yonko communicating directly was never a trivial matter—and it definitely wasn't good news for the World Government.
"Linlin." Kaido's voice carried straight to business efficiency. "I'm occupied here in the Devil's Triangle. Are you interested in Egghead Island?"
Whole Cake Island – Big Mom's Territory
Charlotte Linlin sat in her throne room, surrounded by her most powerful children. The Den Den Mushi conversation with Kaido had caught her mid-meal—not that she ever truly stopped eating—and now her considerable attention focused entirely on this unexpected opportunity.
The technological capabilities displayed during Egghead Island's invasion broadcast had been impressive. Terrifying, even. The Big Mom Pirates possessed many strengths: overwhelming individual power, massive numbers, excellent intelligence networks, strategic territory control.
But cutting-edge technology? That was one of their few significant weaknesses.
Linlin had attempted to remedy this deficiency through strategic marriage alliances—specifically approaching Vinsmoke Judge to discuss combining their organizations. But that pompous scientist had been "pretending" recently, acting indifferent to the Yonko's overtures despite lacking the strength to refuse safely.
She didn't know who had given Judge such audacity, but it irritated her immensely.
Even if Charlotte Linlin couldn't acquire something as reality-breaking as the Anti-Life Equation—and she frankly doubted anyone except Vegapunk himself could recreate that nightmare—she shared Kaido's assessment regarding the technology's fate.
The Anti-Life Equation needed to be destroyed completely. Utterly. Permanently.
Never allow the authority of God to fall into anyone's hands—not the World Government, not the Marines, not rival Yonko, not Revolutionary forces.
Some weapons were too dangerous to exist.
Vegapunk, the world's leading genius scientist, had been added to assassination lists maintained by multiple major powers. The Sky Screen's revelations had turned him from respected researcher into existential threat.
Many powerful figures would sleep far better knowing he was dead.
Charlotte Linlin smiled, her enormous teeth gleaming with predatory anticipation.
"Kaido," she purred into the Den Den Mushi, "I think we should discuss this collaboration in much greater detail. Don't you?"