While the other remnants kicked up storms across the seas, Dimon had no interest in joining the circus. With those fools drawing the Navy's and the World Government's attention, he could quietly dig up an Ancient Weapon—then stun the world in one move.
A month later, Kaido returned to Hive Island with several hundred pirates in tow. His Pirate Tournament was a roaring success; the rumor of Eternal Life Wine had set the underworld ablaze. Strongmen flocked to compete, and one crew finally emerged victorious to join the Beasts Pirates. The individual champion was a newcomer already worth over 200 million—Dimon didn't hesitate to reward him with a cup of Eternal Life Wine.
Dimon wasn't short on Devil Points now; he didn't even ask Kaido for a fruit. Call it an "original shareholder" stake in the Beasts—an investment.
With a batch of obedient muscle acquired, Dimon immediately accelerated the excavation. On his orders, the Shinsengumi used the Sword Ban to arrest every last samurai in the Flower Capital, shipping them off to Fujiyama to break rock.
Five years later—Sea Circle Calendar 1489.
For an immortal, time was grass underfoot. It didn't touch Dimon; age could carve no mark on him.
Under his rule, Wano was neither hell on earth nor thriving paradise. What it was, was orderly—on the surface. The Flower Capital no longer had samurai strutting through the streets. The Sword Ban had teeth. Anyone hiding blades was sniffed out by the Oniwabanshu, then raided by the Shinsengumi and shipped to Fujiyama.
There had been resistance. It never mattered.
And under the rain of sweat from that oxen herd of samurai, good news finally came.
They found it.
Not the weapon itself at first—but a man-made shaft bored into the heart of Fujiyama. The passage led all the way down beneath the mountain.
Dimon locked it down immediately and sent word to Kaido. Then the two descended together.
Down a spiraling stair, endlessly downward.
"Five years of forced labor was already a big job," Kaido grunted. "Who dug this tunnel?"
"Old Wano," Dimon said. "The ancient one."
"Ancient Wano, huh?"
"This Wano we stand on is the new shell. The old Wano was dozens of times larger."
Modern Wano rose a hundred meters above sea level, ringed by titanic cliffs, rain pooling into an inland sea. Old Wano slept beneath that sea.
Kaido clicked his tongue. "Ogorogoro… The Void Century—what happened back then?"
"No idea."
After a quarter hour they reached the end: glass windows looking onto the inland sea, fish gliding by—and beyond them, ruins sprawled across the seabed.
Dimon admired the sight, then kicked a stone panel aside. They stepped out into a wide platform.
At the center stood a shrine-like gate; within it rested a red stone slab.
"That your Road Poneglyph?" Kaido asked.
"Mm. We'll take a rubbing later. First, the weapon."
They split up to search the platform. No warship in sight—until Dimon found a loose slab and lifted it, revealing another stair.
"The passage is tight," he said. "You won't fit. I'll go."
He dropped away. Kaido sat, Observation Haki locked onto him.
Half an hour later, Dimon returned.
"Well?"
"Found it. A super-warship sleeping in the sea below." Dimon's tone carried a hint of helplessness. "It's been dormant too long. No startup. It's missing a power source."
"What kind?"
Dimon spread his hands. "Could be anything. I need a scientist who can make dead miracles breathe."
Of course it wouldn't start after 800 years.
"Hold Wano for now. I'm going to find someone."
He took out the Vivre Card Stussy had given him five years ago. Handy, in ways he hadn't expected.
MADS was an illegal civilian lab. To dodge Government hunts, Dr. Vegapunk kept the headquarters on a moving research ship. No fixed address; on the open sea, it was a needle in a blue haystack.
But Dimon had a compass—Stussy's Vivre Card. He became the devil, broke the sound, and crossed the ocean in a black flash.
Hours later, the target came into view.
Not a common wooden sailer, but a peculiar, tech-laden craft with "MADS" painted on its hull and a "pacifist" flag snapping overhead.
And not far away—a Marine battleship.
Dimon stopped in midair, senses narrowing. The deck was thick with Marines. At their head, a man in a Justice coat—Admiral Sengoku.
A voice boomed from an amplified Den-Den Mushi:
"Vegapunk," Sengoku called, "what's your decision? Accept the World Government's goodwill—or be sunk where you float! Five minutes. My patience is limited—hm?!"
His face shifted. He looked up, sharp as a hawk.
Dimon raised a brow. Keen—he'd suppressed his presence, and still the man sniffed him out.
"You're… Dimon the Brewer," Sengoku said, startled.
Dimon gave a small, mocking applause and drifted down like thistledown. "As expected of an admiral. Your Observation is impressive."
On the MADS deck, Vegapunk and his scientists had spotted him too, wide-eyed.
Light exploded.
Sengoku's body swelled, towering more than ten meters, gilded from head to toe—
Daibutsu.
"If we've met, you're not leaving."
The golden giant thrust out a palm; divine light roared as it clamped toward Dimon.
Dimon drew Enma. One cut.
Blade met the Buddha's middle finger—
and Conqueror's Haki collided, black-red lightning tearing across the sky.
The heavens cracked. Clouds split open in a canyon of daylight.
On the research ship, jaws dropped.
"Th-the sky… split?"
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