The air inside Tom's Workers was thick with silence.
Not the silence of peace, but one of unease, grief, and unbearable weight.
The elderly doctor—a man whose name was whispered with reverence across Water 7 for his unparalleled skill in medicine—sighed heavily, rubbing his weary eyes before looking up at the towering fish-man.
"Sigh… I've done everything in my power for the boy, Tom." His voice was steady but carried the fatigue of a man who had wrestled with death for hours on end. "For now, he will live… but—"
His gaze drifted toward the dimly lit makeshift medical room within the workshop. Through the half-open curtains, the small, broken body of Cutty Flam lay wrapped in bloodstained bandages, barely clinging to life.
In nearly five decades of practice, the doctor had witnessed many miraculous survivals. He had patched up legendary shipwrights who had fallen from sky-piercing masts, healed seasoned pirates with bullet-ridden bodies, and even seen warriors hold on to life despite being gutted like fish.
But this boy…
This boy was different.
Even with his body mutilated beyond recognition, he refused to die. His life force, his will, was beyond human.
Yet, willpower alone was not enough.
The doctor turned back to Tom, his expression grim.
"Even with everything I've done, he has lost too much. His left arm is severed at the shoulder. His right is amputated at the wrist. Both of his feet—gone. One side of his chest was torn open… his lungs collapsed, his internal organs barely holding together."
Tom, a giant of a man who had stood unshaken through storms and battles, seemed to shrink at the doctor's words.
This was his fault.
He should have never allowed Cutty to roam Water 7 alone. He should have known Cipher Pol wasn't after the boy—they were after him. And because of his negligence, his apprentice had paid the price.
Tom clenched his massive hands into fists, his nails digging into his palm.
"Is there nothing that can be done?" His voice—normally booming with confidence—was barely above a whisper.
The doctor sighed again, rubbing his temples.
"Even if he survives this night, the reality remains—he is crippled." His words were heavy, each one striking deeper than the last. "The boy you knew… the brilliant, mischievous apprentice who dreamed of creating wonders… will never accept a life bound by weakness. He would rather die than live as a broken man."
Tom's grip tightened, his webbed fingers trembling. He knew that was true.
Cutty Flam was too proud. Too headstrong. Too unyielding.
And that was why this hurt even more.
The doctor exhaled, stroking his long, graying beard as he searched the depths of his memory for even the faintest sliver of hope.
"Years ago… I once heard whispers of an organization in the North Blue. A royal family known as Germa 66. They were rumored to have been conducting experiments—turning men into bionic soldiers. Cyborgs."
Tom's eyes widened slightly.
"If those rumors were true… and if their research still existed somewhere, then perhaps—perhaps the boy could be saved."
For a moment, a flicker of hope appeared in Tom's eyes.
But the doctor shook his head.
"Unfortunately, they no longer exist." His tone was firm, absolute. "The Germa Kingdom was wiped out completely—eradicated by one of the Emperors of the New World. Whatever secrets they held, whatever advancements they made, are now ashes lost to history."
The words should have crushed any last shred of hope.
But instead—
Tom's eyes widened further.
A thought struck him, as if lightning had pierced the storm of despair.
"Of course… why didn't I think of that?"
He had spent so long keeping secrets, so long pretending to be just a humble shipwright, that he had momentarily forgotten the power he held behind the scenes.
Tom was not alone.
He had a backing that no one knew about.
For years, he had secretly aligned himself with the Donquixote Family—one of the most powerful forces currently in the world.
They had funded his dreams. Given him endless resources to build the Sea Train. Even Iceburg had found purpose under their shadow.
And more importantly—
It was Doflamingo himself who had destroyed Germa 66.
If the Germa Kingdom's research still existed anywhere… it would be in the hands of the Donquixote Family.
A slow, dangerous smile crept onto Tom's face.
His body relaxed, the crushing guilt still present but now intertwined with something else.
Determination.
He turned back to the doctor, his voice steadier than before.
"If that's the only way… then I'll make it happen."
The old doctor frowned, sensing something in Tom's shift in demeanor.
"Tom…" he warned. "What are you planning?"
But Tom merely chuckled, his large frame casting a deep shadow over the room.
"Don't worry about that, old friend." His voice rumbled like a distant storm. "I just remembered… I have a few favors to call in."
And with that, Tom strode toward the door, his mind already racing with possibilities.
Cutty Flam was not going to die.
Not today.
Even if it meant dealing with the devil himself—
He would make sure his apprentice lived.
Tom watched as the old doctor gathered his things and left the workshop, his expression still grim, knowing there was little more he could do.
Once the door shut behind him, Tom turned back toward the dimly lit medical area.
The room was thick with silence— but not the peaceful kind. The air was heavy, suffocating.
Iceburg sat by the bed, staring at Cutty Flam's broken form as if a part of his own soul had been ripped away. His eyes were dry and hollow, drained of all the tears he had already shed.
Kokoro, on the other hand, was still sobbing softly, her face buried in her trembling hands. She had seen many things in her long life, but nothing had shaken her like this.
And then there was Kyros.
He stood in the corner, arms crossed, his sharp eyes never leaving the room. Sadness was etched into his scarred face, but he refused to let his guard down. Even now, his instincts screamed at him—the danger had not yet passed.
But Tom had no time to dwell on the grief in the room.
He stormed toward Iceburg, gripping his apprentice's shoulders firmly.
"Iceburg… Iceburg!" Tom shook him hard, trying to pull him out of the fog of despair.
At first, Iceburg didn't respond.
But after a few seconds, he slowly turned toward his master, his movements sluggish, as if waking from a nightmare.
Then, Tom spoke the words that changed everything.
"We might have a way to save Cutty."
Iceburg blinked.
His breath caught in his throat.
For a moment, it was as if the world had frozen.
"What… what did you just say, Master…?" Iceburg's voice was barely above a whisper, but the color slowly began to return to his pale face.
But Tom had no time for explanations. His massive hands tightened on Iceburg's shoulders, shaking him with more force than necessary.
"You remember when the Donquixote Family took down the Germa Kingdom a few years ago, right?" Tom's voice was urgent, his eyes burning with newfound determination.
Iceburg's mind began racing.
The Germa Kingdom… the scientific empire of the Vinsmoke family. Their research in genetic modifications, cybernetics, and superhuman augmentation had been decades ahead of its time.
If there was even a shred of that knowledge left…
Tom's grip tightened even further.
"Do you think the Donquixote Family still holds onto their research?"
Iceburg's mind snapped into place.
There was only one man who could answer that question.
Wolf.
The eccentric scientist of the Donquixote Family.
If there was anyone who had access to all of Doflamingo's stolen scientific secrets, it was him.
Iceburg no longer hesitated.
His grief was still there, but now it had a purpose.
He stood up so suddenly his chair clattered to the floor.
Without another word, he rushed to the corner of the workshop—to the special transponder snail that had been left with him for emergencies.
Not just any transponder snail—this one was special.
It was a hybrid—a combination of a regular transponder snail and a video transponder snail.
With it, they wouldn't just be able to talk to Wolf.
They would be able to see him.
And Iceburg's hands didn't tremble as he reached for it.
Because for the first time since this nightmare began—
There was hope.
A few agonizing minutes passed as Wolf silently examined Cutty's condition through the transponder snail.
Tom and Iceburg sat rigid, their hands clenched into fists as they awaited his response.
If Wolf had been physically present, Iceburg might have shaken him for an answer. But he knew better.
Wolf was not a man who could be rushed.
He never gave half-baked conclusions nor did he ever perform half-hearted examinations.
Finally, Wolf exhaled, his voice crackling through the transponder snail with a mix of awe and bewilderment.
"I have no idea how this child is still breathing."
Tom and Iceburg froze at those words.
Wolf continued, his tone filled with genuine fascination.
"I may not be a doctor, but even I know that someone with these injuries should have died hours ago. Yet, somehow… he holds on."
His voice drifted for a moment, filled with scientific curiosity.
"The human body is truly a marvel... so many hidden miracles…"
But Iceburg had no patience for Wolf's scientific musings.
"Wolf-san, please!" he cut in, his voice sharp with urgency.
"We don't have time to waste. Just tell us—is it possible? Can we help my brother regain his mobility? Can we give him a life where he can still be a shipwright, an inventor, the person he was meant to be?"
Wolf snapped out of his daze, letting out a small chuckle.
"Ah, Icebury—"
"It's Iceburg!"
"Yes, yes, I apologize," Wolf waved him off casually before his voice turned serious once more.
"Yes. It's possible."
Iceburg felt his breath hitch.
Tom's massive hands tightened into fists.
Wolf continued, his voice now filled with an odd certainty.
"We have all the research from Germa—every last bit of their cybernetic technology is in our possession. And with a boy like this… with such insane resilience, I have no doubt he would survive the procedure."
The weight of his words settled over the room.
"But understand this—this will not be an easy path."
Wolf's tone darkened slightly.
"As craftsmen, you two should have no issue constructing a bionic body. You will have the schematics, and you have the skill. With the right materials, you can restore not just his limbs, but also his internal organs."
A new fire burned in Iceburg's chest.
"But," Wolf warned, "there's one thing you must remember."
The excitement froze in Iceburg's veins.
"Once he goes through this procedure, he will never be fully human again."
Silence.
Wolf's voice was calm, but the weight of his words was crushing.
"He will become something different—part man, part machine. No turning back."
A heavy pause followed.
Then, Wolf asked the question that would define Cutty Flam's future.
"Do you still want to go through with it? If you say yes, I will send the schematics immediately."
The transponder snail fell silent, awaiting their decision.
And in that moment, Iceburg realized…
This was no longer just about saving his brother.
This was about changing his fate forever.
Tom hesitated for only a moment.
Then, with a deep breath, he gave a decisive nod to Iceburg.
There was no room for doubt.
This wasn't just about saving Cutty Flam's life—this was about making sure he could stand tall as a shipwright once more.
Iceburg turned back to the transponder snail and, with equal conviction, nodded.
"Do it. Send us the schematics."
For a moment, Wolf remained silent on the other end, and then...
A low chuckle echoed through the line.
"Fascinating..." Wolf murmured, his voice carrying undeniable excitement.
"If I wasn't in the middle of an important project, I'd be on the next ship to Water 7 just to oversee this procedure myself."
Then, as if an idea had just struck him, Wolf's tone turned sharp and calculating.
"How about I make a suggestion? Since you're going to be building the boy from the ground up, why not take it a step further?"
Tom and Iceburg exchanged a wary glance.
"Go on," Iceburg said, gripping the transponder snail tighter.
Wolf's voice gained an eager edge.
"Instead of using regular metal alloys, why not integrate Seastone into the cybernetic structure?"
Silence.
Even Tom, a legendary shipwright, felt a shiver run down his spine at the idea.
"Seastone…?" Iceburg echoed, his brows furrowing.
Wolf continued, his voice steady and methodical now.
"Yes. It would serve two purposes. First, durability. Seastone is nearly as strong as diamonds, which means the cybernetics will be almost indestructible once crafted properly."
"And second?" Tom asked, his voice gruff with intrigue.
Wolf let out a small hum.
"Growth."
Iceburg blinked. "Growth?"
"Think about it," Wolf explained. "Cybernetics aren't like flesh. The boy is still young—his bones, muscles, and frame will grow over time, but his mechanical limbs won't. That means in the future, the cybernetics will need to be disassembled and rebuilt to match his full-grown body."
He paused for a beat before adding,
"But if you craft the main structural foundation out of Seastone, you'll only need to make adjustments instead of full replacements."
Tom and Iceburg leaned closer to the transponder snail.
"That's... genius." Iceburg muttered.
Tom stroked his chin, his mind already racing ahead. "It'll be one hell of a challenge to forge Seastone into a form that's usable for cybernetics…"
Wolf chuckled. "Oh, I know. That's why I want you two to handle it. If anyone in Water 7 can pull this off, it's you."
And just like that, the blueprints arrived.
The transponder snail clicked, and detailed schematics began printing out on the specialized blueprint receiver beside them.
Tom and Iceburg rushed to the table, pouring over the designs.
The cybernetic schematics were intricate, but something caught their eyes—Wolf had already modified them, adjusting for the incorporation of Seastone.
Tom's experienced hands traced the lines of the blueprints, his mind envisioning the components coming together.
"This is… going to take a substantial amount of our resources," Iceburg muttered.
Seastone was one of the rarest and most expensive materials in the world.
If they went through with this, they would need to dig deep into their reserves.
Tom, however, didn't hesitate for even a second.
"It doesn't matter."
His massive hands clenched into fists.
"If it means Cutty can stand proudly as a shipwright again… if it means he can continue creating, inventing, dreaming…"
He exhaled deeply.
"Then I'll gladly sacrifice everything else."
Just then, a soft chuckle echoed from the other side of the transponder snail.
Wolf adjusted his shaggy coat, his voice carrying an unmistakable smirk of amusement.
"Iceburg…" he drawled. "It seems you've forgotten who you are. Or rather, which family you belong to."
Iceburg blinked.
"You are part of the Donquixote Family—and Tom-san is someone that both Doffy and Ross hold in high regard."
His voice turned sharper, more matter-of-fact.
"We are the largest weapons suppliers in the world. And with our newly established trade routes with the Fishmen… we are now the single largest suppliers of Kairoseki."
A pause.
"Do you really think you need to worry about something as trivial as resources?"
Iceburg's breath hitched.
Tom's eyes widened.
Wolf let out a low chuckle. "I'll have a shipment of the highest-purity Seastone sent over immediately. Just make sure the boy stays alive until then."
And with that—click.
The call disconnected.
Iceburg let out a nervous laugh, scratching his head.
He had completely overlooked that crucial detail.
They were already practically part of the Donquixote inner circle—why had he even hesitated?
For years, the Donquixote Family had been quietly backing their Sea Train project, funding them with limitless resources.
What was another shipment of Seastone?
He felt foolish for worrying.
But for Tom, this realization hit differently.
A deep, unfamiliar feeling settled in his chest.
Belonging.
For the first time in his life, he had a family he could rely on.
A family that stood by him.
A family that answered without hesitation.
A family that didn't ask for anything in return—only that he continue to build.
Tom clenched his fists.
No matter what it took…
He would make sure that someday he repaid the Donquixote family.
****
"Cough… Cough…!"
Byrnndi World spat blood, his body buckling under the sheer force of the impact. He lay in the center of a massive crater, his own innards smeared across the scorched earth. His breathing was ragged, his vision blurred, and every nerve in his body screamed in agony.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go.
He had expected an equal fight. A clash of titans.
But what he was experiencing now?
A one-sided massacre.
A slow, creeping doubt gnawed at his mind.
"The bastard is toying with me…" he growled through gritted teeth, slamming his fist into the ground as he forced himself to stand. His limbs trembled. His knees wobbled.
Even with the More-More Fruit amplifying his power beyond human limits…
It meant nothing.
I couldn't help but chuckle at the pathetic sight before me.
This was what happened when pride blinded a man.
Was Byrnndi World strong? Yes.
Undoubtedly.
But strength is not a constant—it must be forged, honed, and relentlessly pursued.
And while he stagnated… I evolved.
Year after year, day after day, I sought growth.
I sharpened my mind, body, and will.
I clawed my way to the top.
And now?
Byrnndi World was nothing more than a relic of the past.
His bloodshot eyes flicked up to meet mine—and in them, I saw rage.
Fury.
Humiliation.
But beneath it all, a flicker of fear.
I smirked.
And he snapped.
"RAAAH!"
With a roar of desperation, Byrnndi launched himself at me once more—blind, reckless, and hopelessly outmatched.