At two thousand meters above the East Blue, life aboard the floating citadel of Merveille was a realm of unbroken serenity.
The morning sun cast a warm, golden sheen across the marble terraces and pine groves of the flying mountain.
In the central courtyard, Makino walked through the palace grounds, a leather-bound inventory ledger tucked beneath her arm.
Her life had changed irrevocably over the past forty-eight hours, but she had not come to the sky to be a decorative bird in a gilded cage.
For years, Makino had managed Partys Bar in Foosha Village—a role that required far more than pouring ale.
She had negotiated with supply galleons, balanced meticulous financial ledgers, mediated violent disputes between mountain bandits and dock hands, and maintained peace under the shadow of Marine visits.
That grounded, practical competence now found its true calling.
Within two days, Makino had taken command of Merveille’s vast domestic infrastructure.
She had surveyed the citadel’s grain silos, cataloged the medicine vaults, organized the freshwater reservoirs, and mapped out which fertile hanging terraces could be cultivated for self-sustaining agriculture.
The physical fatigue that had once weighed her down was gone.
Thanks to the deep circulation of Arthur’s dragon vitality during their nights together, her body felt light, resilient, and clear.
Her senses were sharp, and the thin air of high altitude caused her no discomfort whatsoever.
Stepping onto the grand terrace overlooking the cloud sea, Makino placed a silver tray on the stone table.
On it rested a porcelain pot of freshly brewed black tea and a plate of warm honey biscuits.
Arthur sat in a high-backed obsidian chair, studying a weathered nautical chart.
He wore his tailored charcoal coat over a white shirt, with Shiki’s twin Meito—Oto and Kogarashi—secured at his left hip.
“Tea, Arthur,” Makino said softly, a tender smile gracing her lips as she poured a steaming cup.
Arthur looked up, the calculating coldness in his golden-amber eyes easing as he met her gaze.
He reached out, gently pulling her down beside him.
Makino leaned against his shoulder, her fingers lightly tracing the lapel of his coat.
“You’ve been up since dawn,” Arthur observed, his deep voice carrying quiet warmth.
“The ledger?”
“The fortress’s granaries have enough preserved wheat and cured meat to sustain three hundred people for two years,” Makino reported with quiet pride, tapping the open pages.
“The water filtration pipes from the mountain springs are sound, but the eastern herb gardens need replanting.
If you intend to house an armada here, Arthur, a fortress cannot survive on gold alone.
It needs grain, medicine, and order.”
Arthur looked down at her, a genuine, rare glimmer of admiration touching his expression.
He had conquered armies and mastered warfare, but Makino possessed the gift of domestic governance—the ability to turn cold stone into an enduring home.
“You are right,” Arthur said softly, his arm wrapping around her waist.
“I command the spears, Makino.
But this citadel’s foundation belongs to you.”
Makino smiled, leaning her head against his chest.
“Then make sure you return to it whole.
No unnecessary risks.”
Arthur kissed her forehead gently.
“I do not take risks, Makino.
I execute objectives.”
Standing up, Arthur walked to the outer parapet of the terrace.
Below the cloud layer, the floating citadel had drifted into the airspace above the northeastern waters of the East Blue.
Through a rift in the white vapor, the terracotta rooftops and cobblestone docks of a coastal town emerged: Orange Town.
According to Shiki’s intelligence logs on former pirate crews, this town was currently occupied by an armed crew: the Buggy Pirates.
Arthur had no interest in terrorizing civilians, but Buggy possessed three assets that were vital for his imperial foundation:
The Navigation Charts of the Roger Pirates: During his youth aboard the Oro Jackson, Buggy’s obsession with treasure had driven him to secretly copy fragments of the ship’s master charts, pocketing handwritten notes on magnetic currents, reef routes, and hidden bays across Paradise.Captain John’s Treasure Map: A parchment bearing the coordinates to the lost subterranean vault of the ancient Rocks Pirates commander.The Buggy Ball Formula: A chemical compound capable of packing the destructive yield of a heavy coastal mortar into a compact shell—ordnance Arthur intended to refine and mass-produce for his future fleet.
“I will return shortly,” Arthur said, turning back toward Makino with a confident nod.
Step.
Arthur walked directly off the two-thousand-meter precipice, dropping into the open sky.
The wind howled around his ears as he fell through the first thousand meters of freefall, the clouds flashing past in a white blur, the ocean expanding rapidly beneath him.
For two years under Shiki, Arthur had fought only with his blade and martial arts, keeping the beast within his bloodline sealed.
Now, falling through the heavens, he released the seal.
Awaken.
BOOM—!
In the open space between the clouds and the sea, crimson-and-black Conqueror’s lightning fractured the sky, tearing the cloud ceiling apart for miles across the horizon.
Arthur’s body expanded.
Obsidian and crimson dragon scales armored his frame like interlocking plate.
Two leathery dragon wings erupted from his back, spanning sixty meters from tip to tip, the downforce creating a shockwave that rippled across the water below.
A muscular, barbed dragon tail extended behind him, two crowned horns curved proudly back from his brow, and his golden-amber eyes ignited like twin lamps.
It was the Full Beast Transformation of the Imperial Pendragon—unleashed for the very first time.
A fifty-meter-long Western Imperial Sovereign Dragon cleaved through the lower mist.
The dragon tilted its crowned head and released an ancient, deep roar.
The acoustic pressure caused the ocean waves to flatten outward, casting a wide winged shadow that blotted out the midday sun over Orange Town.
In the cobblestone streets below, the air pressure dropped sharply.
Windows rattled in their casings.
Dust lifted from the terracotta tiles.
The sentries patrolling the barricades froze, cutlasses slipping from their numb fingers as pure biological dread gripped their throats.
The dragon did not slow its descent.
It swept down through the boulevard, the draft from its wings blowing heavy wooden barricades aside like kindling.
At the entrance to the square, a giant white-maned lion and an acrobat on a unicycle attempted to raise their weapons.
The dragon did not even bank.
A single sweep of its barbed tail whistled through the air like an iron girder.
BOOM.
The air pressure alone threw the swordsman through a brick wall, knocking him cold, while the blunt force of the armored tail struck the charging predator in the ribs.
The lion was launched fifty feet across the pavement, skidding unconscious into the dry fountain basin, leaving the beast tamer buried beneath splintered masonry.
The dragon flared its wings, coming to a halt directly above the three-story municipal hall.
Its molten-gold eyes locked onto the roof.
Standing behind a heavy bronze cannon was Buggy the Clown, his pupils shrunken, cold sweat washing the greasepaint down his neck.
Facing an armored dragon hovering ten feet above his roof, Buggy’s survival instincts short-circuited.
In sheer panic, he kicked the cannon’s firing lever:
“FIRE!”
KA-BOOM!
A heavy explosion shook the roof.
A cone of black smoke billowed from the muzzle as the crimson Special Buggy Ball tore through the air, screaming directly toward the dragon’s chest.
The dragon did not flinch.
A massive, armored front talon snapped forward with blinding speed.
CLANG!
The iron shell struck the dragon’s obsidian claws, unable to scratch the scales.
With a fluid twist of its wrist, the dragon channeled the power of the Float-Float Fruit.
The forward kinetic momentum of the cannonball died instantly.
Caught in a golden gravitational shimmer, the shell reversed course, shooting vertically into the upper atmosphere before detonating miles above the earth.
BOOM.
A brief flash of fire lit the high clouds, but the roof below remained untouched.
Before Buggy could scramble backward, the dragon descended.
THUD.
A single clawed talon—thick as an ancient oak trunk—slammed down onto the stone roof, pinning Buggy flat against the tiles.
The dragon’s crowned snout lowered, stopping inches from Buggy’s face.
Two plumes of hot steam vented from its nostrils, and a concentrated wave of Conqueror’s Haki washed over the pirate’s mind.
Buggy was paralyzed.
His limbs refused to separate; his breath hitched in his throat.
He felt as though the entire weight of the sea were pressing against his ribs.
“P-Please…” Buggy wept, trembling violently against the stone.
“Mercy…
have mercy…”
Having broken the crew’s resistance in a single descent, the dragon’s form began to contract.
The wings folded and dissolved into mist, the tail and horns receded, and the sixty-meter beast smoothly condensed back into human shape.
Arthur stood upon the roof in his charcoal coat, his boots resting on the stone tiles.
He reached down, gripping Buggy’s collar with a hand coated in Advanced Armament Haki (Internal Destruction), lifting the pirate captain to his feet.
“Silence,” Arthur said softly.
Buggy clamped his mouth shut instantly, trembling from head to toe.
“You were an apprentice aboard the Oro Jackson,” Arthur said calmly, his golden-amber eyes holding the pirate’s gaze.
“You sailed the Grand Line under Gol D.
Roger, and you shared rations with Red-Haired Shanks.”
A jolt ran through Buggy’s spine.
That secret had been buried for over a decade.
Yet this stranger spoke of it without a shred of doubt.
“W-Who…
are you…?” Buggy whispered.
“My name is Arthur Pendragon,” he replied.
“I am assembling the twelve pillars of my empire: the Knights of the Round Table.”
Arthur released his collar, letting Buggy slump against the stone balustrade, but his gaze remained cold.
“You have no talent for open combat, Buggy.
But your mind knows the currents of the Grand Line, and your hands engineered that high-explosive mortar shell.
I have use for your knowledge and your ordnance.”
Arthur’s voice was as sharp as steel.
“Surrender your hand-copied charts of the Grand Line.
Surrender the treasure map of Captain John.
And surrender the chemical formula for the Buggy Ball.
In return, you will swear fealty to my banner and take your place as the Twelfth Seat of the Round Table.”
Buggy swallowed hard, his survival instincts screaming that refusal meant death.
“I-If I swear loyalty…” Buggy stammered.
“What happens to me?”
“You will manage heavy munitions and artillery production for my empire,” Arthur said coldly.
“And you will not remain in this dirt.
You are coming with me to the sky.”
Buggy blinked through his tears.
“To…
the sky?”
“I hold the power of the Golden Lion,” Arthur stated calmly.
“My fortress hovers above the clouds.”
Buggy’s breath caught.
The Golden Lion?!
The power of Shiki?!
The truth hit him like a physical blow: this was the man who had eliminated Shiki and claimed his kingdom in the sky.
Buggy threw himself flat onto the roof tiles, pressing his forehead against Arthur’s boots.
“I SURRENDER!
I SWEAR FEALTY!” Buggy wailed in desperate devotion.
“Your humble servant Buggy pledges his life and his artillery to Lord Arthur!”
Ten minutes later, in Buggy’s private study, the three items were secured into Arthur’s coat:
The Grand Line Navigational Ledger: Hand-drawn charts detailing magnetic anomalies, reef passages, and safe bays secretly copied by Buggy during his youth aboard the Oro Jackson.Captain John’s Treasure Map: A weathered parchment bearing the coordinates to the ancient Rocks commander’s subterranean hoard.The Buggy Ball Chemical Formula: A precise metallurgical and chemical ledger detailing the volatile mineral oils and compression primers required to manufacture high-yield explosive shells.
Arthur stepped onto the open balcony, looking at Buggy and the stacks of specialized munitions chests gathered in the courtyard below.
“Gather your personal tools and chemical reagents, Buggy,” Arthur commanded.
“You are leaving this sea.”
With a sweep of his hand, Arthur unleashed his Float-Float Fruit.
A golden aura wrapped around Buggy, his heavy munitions chests, and his personal workshop crates.
Before Buggy could utter a sound, his feet lifted off the stone roof, floating weightlessly beside Arthur.
Together, they rose into the air, ascending through the clouds.
Within moments, they breached the cloud ceiling at two thousand meters.
Buggy’s jaw dropped.
Floating serenely amidst the sea of clouds was the massive stone citadel of Merveille, its towers and ramparts glistening in the sunlight.
“A…
A REAL FLOATING ISLAND?!” Buggy shouted in awe, clutching his bicorne hat as they drifted toward the grand marble terrace.
Makino stood waiting by the palace entrance, a calm, composed presence in her dark travel dress, holding her administrative ledger.
Arthur touched down on the terrace, gently depositing Buggy and his heavy crates onto the stone tiles.
Buggy scrambled up, still trembling from the flight, glancing nervously around the grand courtyard.
Makino stepped forward.
She did not flinch at Buggy’s pirate garb or painted face.
With the calm authority of an experienced manager, she opened her ledger, her voice clear, firm, and welcoming:
“You must be Buggy.
I am Makino, mistress of this citadel.
The eastern armory and smelting forge have already been cleared for your workshop.
Your chemical crates will be inventoried and stored in the dry vaults, and your living quarters are prepared in the east wing.
Rations are served twice daily at the main hall.”
Buggy blinked, caught entirely off-guard by her organized, dignified authority.
Facing a calm woman who managed this massive floating fortress, he instinctively straightened his posture, saluting clumsily:
“Y-Yes, ma’am!
Buggy reporting for duty!”
Arthur looked on, a faint smile touching his lips.
Makino had already established command over the citadel’s domestic logistics.
Behind Arthur, the azure interface flickered into focus:
══════════════════════════════════════════════════
STATUS Host: Arthur Pendragon Age: 22 | Height: 2.0m Lineage: Pendragon (Earth / Great Britain) Combat Tier: Early Admiral Class
══════════════════════════════════════════════════
CONSTITUTION Three-Core Vessel (Marshall D.
Teach) • Core 1: Active (Ryu Ryu no Mi, Model: Imperial Pendragon) • Core 2: Active (Fuwa Fuwa no Mi Assimilated) • Core 3: Locked — Sovereign Authority RequiredDEVIL FRUITS [1] Ryu Ryu no Mi, Model: Imperial Pendragon (Mythical Zoan) Mastery: 75% (Full Beast Transformation Awakened) [2] Fuwa Fuwa no Mi / Float-Float Fruit (Paramecia) Mastery: 50% (Sovereign Flight & Island Telekinesis) [3] EmptyEQUIPMENT & WEAPONS • Twin Meito: Oto & Kogarashi (Great Swordsman Conduit) • Strategic Assets: Captain John’s Treasure Map, Buggy Ball FormulaTERRITORY & FORCES • Sovereign Base: Central Citadel of Merveille (2,000m Altitude) • Lady of the Citadel: Makino (Domestic Administration) • Stationed Personnel: Buggy the Clown (Artillery Master)
══════════════════════════════════════════════════ KNIGHTS OF THE ROUND TABLE 1st Seat — Vacant (Target: “Hawkeye” Dracule Mihawk) 2nd Seat — Vacant …
12th Seat — Buggy the Clown (Artillery & Munitions)
══════════════════════════════════════════════════
Arthur dismissed the panel.
The first Knight was seated, the ordnance was secured, and the floating citadel was operational.
Below the clouds, Orange Town lay quiet, waiting for the arrival of Monkey D.
Luffy.
But in the skies above, the Sovereign of the Round Table had already taken his first decisive stride toward ruling the world.