Chapter Eighteen: The Corpse of the Celestial Dragon

Buffon first examined Rosinante’s body. Its preserved condition was in no way inferior to the zombies he had stitched together himself, which suggested that Dr. Vegapunk had certainly devoted considerable effort to it. The embalming fluid used must have been on par with what Hogback concocted, perhaps even superior.

Yet the motivation behind all this puzzled Buffon. One would assume that the most valuable thing about Rosinante was the Silent Fruit. However, everyone knew that when a Devil Fruit user died, the power of the fruit would vanish from the corpse, only to reappear elsewhere. Buffon himself didn’t understand the mechanics behind this.

There were only two exceptions. One was Blackbeard’s Dark-Dark Fruit, which allowed him to consume the power of other Devil Fruits directly. The other was Buffon himself, who could copy abilities straight from a person’s body—whether from a living person or from a corpse, regardless of whether the ability was active or residual.

Vegapunk, however, possessed no such power. That left only one possible answer: Rosinante’s identity as a Celestial Dragon.

The Celestial Dragons regarded themselves as descendants of the creators. In the world of pirates, they were the world’s aristocrats, residing in the Holy Land of Mary Geoise. Considering themselves supremely noble, they wore bubble helmets so as not to breathe the same air as commoners, treated other races as slaves, and enjoyed every privilege this world could offer. Should they ever be offended, an Admiral or CP0 would be dispatched to protect them. The World Government and the Navy were but tools of their dominion.

For this reason, it would have been impossible for Vegapunk to obtain a Celestial Dragon’s corpse for study under ordinary circumstances. Rosinante, however, had been stripped of his status and had lived as a Navy undercover agent; he was the only specimen available for research.

“I wonder if Dr. Vegapunk discovered anything from this body?” Now that Buffon understood, he began to look upon the corpse with a different kind of anticipation.

As he began the stitching, Buffon noticed something that set this body apart from the others he’d worked on: Dr. Vegapunk had dissected it multiple times. The muscles, bones, and organs all bore numerous wounds, and the treatment of these wounds was haphazard at best.

“Another one who only cares about killing, not about burial. Judging by this, he probably didn’t find anything,” Buffon thought as his hands continued their work.

Organs, bones, muscle, and skin were each stitched to perfection. Instantly, the Book of Characters appeared in his mind:

[Owner: Donquixote Rosinante]
[Rank: T4]
[Faction: Celestial Dragons]
[Bounty: Unknown]
[Obsession: 100%]
[Current obtainable gain: Agility +742→23275 (Level 3 Remnant Cloud)]
[Copyable Devil Fruit Ability: Silent Fruit]
[Obtainable ability: 0.001% of Celestial Authority]

[Would you like to claim the gain?]
[Inherit Donquixote Rosinante’s will!]

Celestial Authority? If every Celestial Dragon carried such a minuscule share, Buffon reckoned that even if he stitched together every Celestial Dragon in the world, he still wouldn’t reach one hundred percent.

“Never mind, I’ll treat this as nothing for now. I still don’t even know what Celestial Authority truly is,” he thought.

As for Rosinante’s will, Buffon could well guess what it entailed without needing to inherit it. This navy spy with a fearsome face and a gentle heart surely wished either for world peace or for Law to grow up well.

With his work finished, Buffon removed Rosinante’s left arm, then took out Shanks’s arm and began the graft. Because of the difference in body sizes, Buffon made certain adjustments so that the disparity in length would not appear too conspicuous.

The moment the procedure was complete, the Haki in Shanks’s arm began to envelop Rosinante’s entire body.

“Can a corpse wield Haki? That’s a bit ridiculous,” Buffon muttered. But on second thought, it made sense—Shanks was still alive, after all. Now it was only a matter of returning and having Moria install a suitable shadow.

...

Three days later, Buffon was sunbathing on the lookout deck when his Den Den Mushi rang.

“Moshi moshi, Buffon?” Perona’s voice sounded.

“Hm.” Buffon replied with a single syllable.

“Yohoho! Buffon, I’m so glad you’re safe—where are you now?” Excitement tinged Perona’s voice.

“On my way back,” Buffon still refused to say more than necessary.

“The Punk Hazard incident made the papers. Lord Moria saw it and is already preparing to set sail to rescue you.”

Hearing this, Buffon felt a flicker of warmth in his heart, though he said only, “No need. Just wait on the ship.”

“Yohoho! Then we’ll be waiting for your return!”

After hanging up, Buffon looked up at the sky, just in time to see a News Coo fly by. He flicked a 100 Beli coin into the bird’s coin box with perfect accuracy.

Moments later, a newspaper dropped onto the deck. Buffon rose, picked it up, and began to read.

Front-page headline: “Navy Research Base at Punk Hazard Attacked by Unknown Pirates, Poison Gas Leak Forces Full Evacuation!”

Buffon chuckled softly. “The navy does love covering up the truth, as always.”

Reading on, he was surprised by the details. The pirates described in the article had all worn white cloaks and vanished after the incident. Only a surveillance Den Den Mushi outside the research facility had captured images of the group passing by.

Then, a wanted poster slipped out from within the newspaper.

On it, the face was marked with a question mark, and below it read:

Name: White Ghost
Bounty: 37 million Beli

“Yoho—could this bounty possibly be for me?” Buffon joked to himself, then tossed the paper aside and returned to his sunbath.

Brook picked up the newspaper and the wanted poster, then exclaimed, “Yohoho! Buffon, you’re wanted now!”

Buffon gave no response, continuing to bask in the sunlight.

A week later, while Buffon was exercising atop the lookout, his Den Den Mushi rang again.

This time it was Moria, and his tone was urgent. “Buffon, where are you? I’m about to set sail with a crew to support you!”

Buffon was taken aback, wondering what on earth had happened. “What’s going on?” he replied, as succinct as ever.

“Haven’t you read the newspaper? The so-called ‘bioweapons disguised as navy soldiers who escaped on warships’—that was you, right? The navy has already dispatched two warships to pursue you. I’m bringing reinforcements!”

Moria sounded like an ant on a hot pan, but Buffon remained cool. “No need. With Ryuma here, even a Vice Admiral would be no problem.”

With that, Buffon hung up.

He was certain that, until the navy understood his true capabilities, they wouldn’t send any high-ranking officers after him; even Vice Admirals might be more than they dared risk.

Moria, still unconvinced, kept calling, but Buffon ignored him.

A moment later, Brook’s shout rang out from the deck below.

“Yohoho! Buffon, there are warships ahead!”

Buffon looked up—and sure enough, two navy warships had appeared on the distant sea.

“So, they really came?” Buffon muttered to himself, focusing his level-three vision on the ships.

When he saw who stood at the prow, Buffon cursed inwardly. “Spoke of the devil!”

The man he saw had a vicious face, a cigarette clamped in his mouth, and wore a samurai helmet emblazoned with a twin-dragon crest. A thick mane of hair cascaded like a waterfall down his back. Over his gray suit was a white coat with blue-capped, gold-fringed epaulettes.

“Navy Vice Admiral, Onigumo!”