In his former life, Arthur bore a name etched into centuries of martial history: Arthur Pendragon.
As the last direct scion of Britain’s Pendragon bloodline, he was not a courtier who governed from marble halls, but an elite naval commander and ruthless strategist.
He had devoted his life to mastering the levers of global dominion—naval supremacy, maritime trade monopolies, absolute military logistics, and the uncompromising projection of power.
In combat, he was equally lethal with sabre and pistol, holding to a single conviction: diplomacy without overwhelming firepower was an illusion, and breath spent talking to an enemy in battle was wasted.
His mortal end had come in an orchestrated political assassination near the Scottish coast.
Cornered in his family estate, Arthur fought like an apex predator, taking seven elite assassins down with him before wounds and blood loss claimed his body.
He died standing, his eyes cold and unbroken.
Consciousness returned within a boundless silver expanse—a tranquil realm outside the flow of time and space.
Before him stood a radiant, divine presence whose luminescence illuminated the infinite void without casting a single shadow.
“Transmigrator,” the divine voice resonated with quiet gravity.
“Your mortal journey has reached its conclusion.
By providence, you are granted passage into a new reality.
Before you make your wish, step forward and spin the Wheel of Destiny to determine the realm of your reincarnation.”
From the silver light materialized a massive celestial wheel inscribed with dimensional sigils.
Arthur stepped forward with a measured, military stride.
Grasping the rim with steady hands, he drove it forward with explosive force, sending the wheel spinning into a blur of cosmic light.
The wheel whirred across the void, gradually slowing until its golden needle clicked past several ancient runes and settled firmly upon an ocean-blue sigil.
“The One Piece world,” the divine presence intoned.
“A world governed by vast oceans, the World Government, naval armadas, and lawless pirate crews.
Now, claim your foundation before crossing the threshold.”
Arthur did not hesitate.
In that world, every soul knew the iron law: consume a second Devil Fruit, and swift death would follow.
Whether the body tore itself apart, the soul rejected the conflicting powers, or the devils within devoured each other, the result was always the same—total destruction.
Across history, only one biological anomaly had ever possessed the physical secret to bypass that fate.
“I wish for the physical constitution of Marshall D.
Teach,” Arthur said, his deep voice carrying the calm weight of a commander.
“A body housing three distinct life cores, capable of harmoniously accommodating three Devil Fruits.”
The silver light pulsed in quiet approval.
“A vessel forged for three crowns.
Your wish is granted.”
A wave of dense energy surged into Arthur’s spiritual vessel.
When his new physical body coalesced, he stood two meters tall—broad-shouldered, packed with heavy muscle fibers, and fortified by the monstrous biological endurance unique to Teach’s aberrant anatomy.
Combined with the lifelong combat instincts and martial mastery carried over from his past life, his base physical combat ability stood on par with an Officer of the Rear Admiral class.
Yet Arthur knew the truth of this sea: against the true monsters of the Grand Line, physical strength alone was merely the price of admission.
From the divine light, a single fruit drifted into his hands.
It was shaped like an anatomical heart, deep crimson, layered with spiral obsidian scales that seemed to thrum with dormant heat.
“Your bloodline echoes into this realm,” the voice whispered.
“Your first crown is bestowed: the Mythical Zoan, the Ryu Ryu no Mi, Model: Imperial Pendragon.
The remaining two crowns must be claimed by your own hand upon the open sea.
In addition, this interface shall track your campaign.”
Before Arthur’s vision, a sleek, azure interface flickered into focus:
══════════════════════════════════════════════════
STATUS Host: Arthur Pendragon Age: 20 | Height: 2.0m Lineage: Pendragon (Earth / Great Britain) Combat Tier: Rear Admiral Class (Base Physical & Martial Arts)══════════════════════════════════════════════════
CONSTITUTION Three-Core Vessel (Marshall D.
Teach) • Core 1: Active • Core 2: Locked (Requires Physical Conditioning) • Core 3: Locked (Requires Extreme Boundary Breakthrough)DEVIL FRUITS [1] Ryu Ryu no Mi, Model: Imperial Pendragon (Mythical Zoan) Status: Unassimilated [2] Empty [3] EmptyHAKI & ABILITIES • Conqueror’s Haki: Dormant (Dragon Might) • Armament Haki: Dormant • Observation Haki: Dormant • Martial Mastery: Grandmaster (Pendragon Military & Blade Arts)══════════════════════════════════════════════════
KNIGHTS OF THE ROUND TABLE 1st Seat — Vacant 2nd Seat — Vacant 3rd Seat — Vacant …
12th Seat — Vacant
══════════════════════════════════════════════════
Arthur reviewed the panel with sharp analytical clarity.
The locks on his secondary cores were logical; forcing multiple Devil Fruits into an unconditioned vessel would tear him apart regardless of his genetic anomaly.
In his mind, he established his own Strategic Threat Classification to measure the adversaries of this sea:
Officer Class: Standard captains and junior field officers.Elite Officer Class: Rear Admirals and seasoned Vice Admirals.Admiral Class: The apex military power of the World Government and supreme commanders of great armadas.Emperor Class: The titans who reigned over the New World—whether through transcendent Haki like Shanks, monstrous biology and fruits like Whitebeard and Big Mom, or a combination of both.Sovereign Class: The realm that surpassed even Emperors—the empty throne of the entire world.
Arthur’s objective was not merely to be an Emperor of the sea.
His ambition was the Sovereign Class—to overthrow the World Government, plant his flag across the four blues, and seat twelve supreme monsters at his Knights of the Round Table, ranked strictly from the First Seat down to the Twelfth.
“Go forth, Arthur Pendragon,” the divine voice faded as the silver light expanded.
“Let the dragon unfurl its wings.”
The year was Sea Circle Calendar 1518.
Arthur opened his eyes upon a desolate stone plateau on an uncharted island in the Grand Line.
The salt air whipped against his tailored dark coat, dry gravel crunching under the immense weight of his two-meter frame.
In his hands rested the crimson dragon fruit.
Without a second’s pause, Arthur raised the fruit to his mouth and bit into the flesh.
It tasted of sulfur, ash, and iron.
He chewed methodically and swallowed every piece with iron discipline.
For three seconds, there was silence.
Then, pain tore through every muscle in Arthur’s body.
His bones groaned beneath an overwhelming pressure.
Heat surged through his chest like molten lead poured directly into his marrow.
His heart hammered violently as his three physical cores strained to integrate the ancient draconic essence.
Arthur did not cry out.
He planted his heavy boots into the stone, his jaw set, forcing his lungs to draw in the cold sea gale before exhaling a plume of white, scorching steam.
Crack—!
The stone plateau beneath him fractured into jagged lines.
Deep crimson and obsidian scales pushed through his skin along his forearms, his fingernails extending into dark talons.
From his brow, two crowned horns emerged, curving back against his dark hair.
With that physical fusion, the Dragon Might within the fruit resonated with his noble bloodline and unyielding conqueror’s spirit.
BOOM!
A shockwave of Conqueror’s Haki detonated into the atmosphere.
Dark red lightning tore across the sky, violently cleaving the heavy storm clouds for miles across the horizon.
The surrounding ocean waters recoiled, foaming as if terrified by the sudden presence of an apex beast.
Yet Arthur remained acutely aware of his reality.
A Rear Admiral’s physical strength and an unrefined Mythical Zoan meant nothing against the true apex predators of this sea.
He had the foundation, but none of the advanced Haki or seasoned lethality required to survive the New World.
High above the clouds, a shadow drifted across the sky.
It was a colossal floating island, suspended by unseen forces.
Standing at the prow of an inverted pirate galleon anchored to the rock was an old titan of the sea—a living relic who had clashed with Gol D.
Roger, leveled half of Marineford against Garp and Sengoku, and ruled the skies for decades.
He had wild golden hair that cascaded to his heels like a lion’s mane, dual master-swords—Oto and Kogarashi—serving as his prosthetic legs, and a wooden steering wheel lodged deep in his skull.
It was “Golden Lion” Shiki.
Shiki had been gazing toward the horizon when the sudden rift in the clouds caught his eye.
Through the gap, he felt the raw surge of Conqueror’s Haki and the primal pressure of an imperial dragon rising from the desolate plateau below.
A savage grin split Shiki’s weathered face, his golden eyes flashing with predatory interest.
“Jahahahaha!” Shiki’s voice rumbled like thunder across the heavens.
“What an unbelievable conqueror’s presence!
To see a dragon roaring from the earth in this boring era…
let us see what kind of monster has landed on my seas!”
With a flick of his wrist, the Golden Lion stepped off the cliff and plummeted down toward the plateau.