After Malak's stern instructions to impose Absolute Law on the Grand Line, the Architects' first task was simple: establish a physical manifestation of consequence.
"A bounty," Jin-Woo stated, looking at the crude 'Wanted' posters littering the port. "A price on the Anchor Point's head. It's the simplest form of legal consequence this world understands."
Kazuma instantly lit up, practically vibrating with excitement. "A bounty? That's not a mission, that's a lifestyle! Leave it to me and Okarun! I know exactly how to manipulate the system for maximum financial incentive!"
Kazuma grabbed Okarun (who was still mostly just a terrified boy) and dragged him toward the nearest Marine station.
"We need to infiltrate the Marine's financial ledger," Kazuma explained, feverishly rubbing his hands. "Okarun, you are fast and small! I need you to create a diversion, then use your spectral abilities to Steal the correct authorization stamp from the Chief Petty Officer's desk."
Okarun, terrified of the loud Marines, activated his Turbo-Granny form and began generating low-level supernatural chaos. The Marines, oblivious to ghosts, assumed the sudden gust of wind and misplaced coffee cups were the work of a rival pirate crew.
Kazuma, seizing the moment, infiltrated the ledger room and—using a combination of Steal (for the digital entry code) and Creation (to counterfeit the required legal documentation)—not only successfully posted a massive bounty on Luffy's head but accidentally filed an equally massive tax lien on the entire port's seafood supply.
Kazuma emerged triumphant. "Mission accomplished! Luffy's financial concept is now ruined! Plus, I made a substantial conceptual withdrawal from the petty cash drawer!"
While the aspiring bounty hunters were busy with their schemes, the rest of the Architects were dealing with the conceptual magnetism of the Grand Line.
Dazai Osamu was exploring a quieter, moss-covered alleyway when he was intercepted by a group of local children.
"Mister, mister! You look like a man who knows a good story!" a little girl asked, eyes wide with innocent curiosity.
Dazai smiled faintly. "A story? Of course. I know a grand story of the beautiful, aching futility of existence, and the glorious release of the final, desired end."
He proceeded to tell the children a short, conceptually intense tale of a man's lifelong, desperate quest for a gentle, elegant demise, only to be constantly thwarted by cosmic irony. The children listened, captivated, until the sheer weight of existential despair and literary nihilism began to leak into their innocent minds.
When Dazai finished, the children were silently staring at the ground, clutching existential dread in place of their toys.
"That was... sad," one child finally whispered, starting to cry.
"Sad? No, my dear," Dazai corrected gently. "It was True. Now, go forth and embrace the beautiful void of non-being."
Meanwhile, Gojo Satoru and Jin-Woo were walking near the main square. Gojo, being Gojo, immediately drew the attention of every woman in a three-block radius. His confidence, his style, and the sheer power radiating from the Six Eyes made him the gravitational center of the scene.
A beautiful woman, tears streaming down her face, suddenly ran toward Gojo, clutching his arm. "Please, handsome Captain! Thugs are chasing me! They want my gold and my life! You must save me!"
Gojo grinned, adjusting his sunglasses. "Thugs? How déclassé. Fine. Jin-Woo, observe the application of high-level sorcery to the low-level theatrics of civilian defense."
Gojo instantly adopted a pose of exaggerated, hilarious heroic righteousness. He pointed dramatically at the approaching thugs. "Hark, villains! This lady is under my protection! Prepare to witness the awesome power of... the most handsome man in the universe!"
Gojo dispatched the thugs with non-lethal, highly embarrassing conceptual pranks: tying their legs together with compressed spatial ribbons, making them trip into a decorative fountain, and generally reducing them to bumbling fools. Jin-Woo watched, stone-faced, noting the immense waste of cosmic power on theatrics.
Back in the void, Jin-Woo was reviewing Kazuma's "success."
"The bounty is posted," Jin-Woo reported, suppressing a sigh. "However, the bounty amount is wildly inflated, and we have created a localized financial crisis. We have also failed to engage with the Anchor Point."
Jin-Woo was cut off as the white void surrounding them abruptly turned crimson. Malak's face, hideous and enraged, flashed above them.
"FUTILITY! I SENT YOU TO ESTABLISH LAW, AND YOU HAVE CREATED A PIRATE COMEDY! THIS IS NOT A NARRATIVE OF ABSOLUTE LAW; IT IS A FARCE! YOU HAVE USED COSMIC POWER TO INFLATE A TAX LIEN!"
"Dazai, you have traumatized children. Gojo, you wasted infinite space on a dating simulation. And Kazuma, you have created so many conceptual loopholes and plot inconsistencies with your shoddy paperwork that the timeline is riddled with PLOT HOLES! The narrative is too flimsy; it will collapse!"
"You are incapable of seriousness. Therefore, I will give you a new, more difficult task. You will now find a way to conceptually PROLONG this world's narrative until it becomes structurally sound enough to support absolute law! YOU MUST MAKE THE STRETCHY BOY'S JOURNEY INFINITE!"
Malak's face was contorted in fury. He was about to issue the specific, technical instructions for delaying the timeline when his voice suddenly distorted—a sound like two radio stations clashing.
"I... I AM THE ARBITER! YOU WILL OBEY! DO NOT INTERFERE! I CULTIVATED THIS REALITY..."
Malak's image vanished, violently cut off. The crimson hue was replaced by a brilliant, dazzling gold.
A new entity materialized in the void. She was breathtakingly beautiful, radiating the warmth of the Caribbean sun, dressed in the most stunning, seductive pirate attire—complete with a feathered tricorne hat and a golden cutlass at her hip.
She looked at the assembled Architects, her eyes sparkling with amusement and Absolute Freedom.
"Well, hello, boys," she chuckled, her voice like wind chimes and crashing waves. "I was just checking on the neighborhood, and it seems a certain tedious little brother was throwing a temper tantrum in my front yard. Who are you? You don't look like locals."
Gojo, instantly intrigued by this superior level of aesthetic power, stepped forward, his cockiness restored. "We are the Nexus Seven. We were brought here by the Arbiter."
The woman's cheerful demeanor froze. "The Arbiter? You mean... Malak?"
"Yes," Gojo said, describing him with hilarious, clinical accuracy. "The one with the split, screaming face, perpetually angry, wearing the terribly tailored white suit, and utterly lacking in any fashion sense whatsoever."
The Pirate Arbiter's smile vanished. Her golden eyes turned crimson, and her aura shifted instantly from sun-drenched joy to a horrifying, focused bloodlust. The sheer, conceptual power of her rage made Jin-Woo take a precautionary step back.
"That little maggot," she growled, her voice now a low, dangerous rumble. "I heard he was messing with the boundaries, trying to collapse worlds to expand his territory, but I never thought he'd be stupid enough to try and step foot in my domain."
She drew her golden cutlass, which hummed with chaotic energy. "I am Astra, the Arbiter of the Grand Line, the Master of Absolute Freedom! And Malak is about to learn what happens when you threaten the narrative integrity of a Pirate King!"
Gojo, thrilled by the level of cosmic conflict, instantly materialized his own purple blade of concentrated Limitless. "Finally! A proper fight! Jin-Woo, let's show this stunning woman the difference between freedom and true power!"
Jin-Woo, his eyes narrowed with lethal focus, materialized the Shadow Scythe. Saitama just yawned and walked off to the side.
Kazuma, seeing the perfect cosmic entertainment, instantly conjured a chair and a massive bag of popcorn. "Oh yes! This is what I signed up for! Dazai, grab a seat!"
Dazai, recognizing the sublime nature of the coming war between conceptual beings, gracefully joined Kazuma. Okarun tried to sit with them, but they both ignored him. Without looking, Kazuma handed Okarun his own popcorn.
Tanjiro stood apart, his face grim. He watched the escalating, stylish battle preparations, remembering his own powerlessness against Malak. He realized he couldn't fight the Arbiters, but he could talk to them.
The final, epic battle for the conceptual control of the Grand Line was about to begin.