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The underground operating room was a gloomy dark space.
The air was thick with a faint, cloying stench of rot, a smell that brought to mind terrifying, and often fatal, human experiments.
But Arthur was bold and confident. A man with his kind of power feels no fear. In the face of the unknown, some men even feel a sense of excitement.
It was the spirit of adventure.
Anyone who chose the path of a pirate had to face an endless unknown sea.
And besides, Shiryu still held Hiriluk. That was a powerful bargaining chip. But even without it, Arthur had the nerve to bet his life on this turning point.
He was only twenty-three, but he had lived a life more brilliant than any other. He had acted as he pleased, fought in unrestrained, glorious battles, and unleashed his fury on the world.
He had built the most powerful pirate crew on the seas at the dawn of a new era. His name alone was enough to strike terror into the hearts of most men.
All of this had given him a sense that even if he were to die, he would have no regrets. Whose life could possibly have been more spectacular than his?
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"Lie down," Dr. Kureha said as she pointed to the spotless operating table.
"Alright," Arthur nodded.
He sat down on the table as if it were a simple chair, then slowly lay back.
The more crucial the moment, the calmer he became.
His mind was perfectly still—without a single ripple of doubt.
"Click…"
The soft whir of machinery filled the air. Kureha began to operate the instruments at her side, and a large apparatus descended over Arthur.
One by one, his arms and legs were locked into place. The harsh glare of a surgical lamp shone down on him. From a mechanical arm, a sharp needle emerged, poised to pierce his skin and inject an anesthetic.
The surgery was officially beginning!
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"The anesthesia won't be necessary," Arthur said suddenly, removing the oxygen mask from his face. "I can endure the pain."
It wasn't that he was afraid Kureha would try something while he was unconscious. It was that too much of a substance like that could dull a man's reflexes.
And if his reaction time slowed, his strength would plummet. The Rumble-Rumble Fruit might allow him to move at the speed of lightning, but it didn't make him immune to outside influences.
Like the Glint-Glint Fruit, his was a power that depended on the nervous system. And besides, he was confident that Kureha wouldn't try anything stupid.
"Not afraid of dying from the pain and causing the surgery to fail?" Kureha asked with a mocking smile. "If that's how you want it, be my guest."
"The limit of one's ability to endure pain is determined by the strength of one's will. And if I can't stand it—the brain, in order to protect itself from harm, will automatically shut down."
"As an excellent doctor, you surely know that. Now… begin. I'm getting impatient."
Kureha said nothing more. She was old, but her hands as she prepared for the surgery were perfectly steady, without the slightest tremor.
A pair of scissors cut away Arthur's shirt, revealing a powerful, lean body. The swelling muscles were perfectly proportioned, as if they had been poured from a mold.
It was a pity that the beauty of it was marred by the fist print on his chest—the grievous wound from Garp's attack, three years ago.
The fist print was pitch-black, and a trickle of yellowish-brown pus oozed from it. If one's nose were sharp enough, one could even smell the same scent that permeated the operating room—the stench of rot.
The ring of muscle around the fist print was completely "dead," which was why Arthur's astonishing self-healing ability had been rendered useless.
"You've managed to survive with this kind of wound until now?" Kureha, whose face had been cold due to her friend being held hostage, couldn't help but show a flicker of surprise.
She was astonished...
In her hundred years of practicing medicine, she had never heard of a person living with a part of their body literally "dead" and still attached.
This was not the same as an amputation. The concepts were completely different.
An amputated limb was useless, not "dead." But the area around the fist print on Arthur's chest was completely devoid of life force.
It had begun to putrefy.
And the crucial part was, if she were to cut out this rotten flesh, he would die instantly.
"In the past three years, I've heard that line many times. Almost every famous doctor who has seen my wound has said the same thing," Arthur said.
"This is the effect of the Pure Gold, isn't it? It slows the rate of life force loss by hundreds, even thousands of times. It can even bring it to a standstill," Kureha said, her tone filled with awe.
"It truly is… a divine object."
"Begin." Arthur repeated, his voice taking on a harder edge.
The cure for his wound was within arm's reach. He felt like a starving beggar who could see a feast but not touch it. With his temper, it was a wonder he hadn't exploded already.
"It seems I underestimated you. To have endured this kind of pain for three full years… no wonder you don't need anesthesia." Kureha gave Arthur a deep look, then picked up a scalpel and began.
"To heal your wound is, in fact, very simple. It's like a dead branch on a tree. You just need to cut away the dead part, and a new part will grow in its place."
"The difficulty of this surgery lies in the location of the wound. To completely excavate the area from your chest to your back—an ordinary person would undoubtedly die. But you have an object like Pure Gold, which will slow the rate of your death. So you don't have to worry about dying on the spot."
"However, after I have cut it out, you must remove the Pure Gold you are wearing. Otherwise, your own healing ability will also be slowed by an infinite amount."
"With a hole through my chest, if I take off the Pure Gold, won't I die instantly?" Arthur's eyes flashed with a dangerous light.
With the rotten part of his chest cut out, and without the Pure Gold to slow the coming of death, the end would be immediate.
"The Pure Gold that has protected you for three years has also been harming you for three years—" Kureha said with a sneer, but also with a hint of pride.
"Don't worry. With me here, you'll find it's not so easy to die."
"I've always been the one to give others the choice of death. I never thought I'd experience this feeling myself. I hope you're right..." Arthur said.
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He took a deep breath, feeling the pain in his lungs, and closed his eyes, choosing to believe in Kureha's skill. With a wrench of his hand, he broke the iron rings that held his body in place, took off the Pure Gold bracelet that had eaten the Castle-Castle Fruit, and tossed it into a corner of the room.
"The only shining quality you have is that you have guts. You're willing to bet your life on this," Kureha said with a note of admiration.
She gripped the incredibly sharp scalpel and plunged it directly into Arthur's chest. With a slight push, it pierced through the rotten flesh.
"Pfft—"
The scalpel sank into the muscle.
Under her expert control—it made a large circle—carving out all the dead flesh.
Her movements were fast and precise with almost no wasted motion.
"Ugh…"
A low grunt escaped Arthur's lips. The veins on his forehead and arms bulged, and a cold sweat broke out across his skin. He grit his teeth, enduring the pain, his hands gripping the operating table so tightly his knuckles turned white.
But though he was in agony, his eyes were perfectly clear. He showed no sign of fainting.
Some say that pain can temper a person's will. And in the past three years, he had endured a pain that most could not possibly imagine.
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A few seconds later, Kureha had completely excised the rotting tissue from Arthur's chest. Dark red blood oozed from the wound.
Within moments, the blood returned to its normal color.
"Alright," Kureha said, not even taking the time to wipe the sweat from her brow. She cleaned the operating table and reached out, her hands flying across the instruments beside her.
"Klak, klak, klak…"
The sound of machinery turning once again filled the room. A glass coffin suddenly rose from the operating table, encasing Arthur within it.
"Gurgle…"
A thick, transparent liquid began to flow from a plastic tube on the glass coffin, instantly filling it, and submerging Arthur completely.
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