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Arthur couldn't fathom their confidence.
What made them think the people of Ohara would support them? Self-delusion? The term popped into his head. He'd said his piece.
It was a passing whim. He couldn't be bothered to care anymore. He instructed Rockwell to set course for Carnival City and increase speed.
The entire crew, starving, finally reached Carnival City.
"Rockwell, go back and train. I hope to see you in the New World one day. As for these..." Arthur glanced at the weakened Ohara scholars.
"Let them go. The path to the abyss is a one-way trip."
"Mr. Arthur..." Rockwell hesitated, wanting to say more, but Arthur, clearly uninterested, vanished in a flash of lightning.
The fate of the Ohara archaeologists was practically sealed.
Their obsession with the Poneglyphs wouldn't be swayed by a few words.
Arthur could imagine Ohara's future—and he didn't want to get involved. He couldn't change the world. Such tragedies happened every day. It wasn't worth his time.
His first priority upon landing was food. On an empty stomach, he couldn't maintain his full strength. If the World Government attacked now, escape would be difficult.
In the restaurant, every patron stared as Arthur devoured plate after plate, the stack of empty dishes growing rapidly.
"Burp..." Letting out a satisfied burp, Arthur patted his round belly and stopped, causing the nearly exhausted cooks to breathe a sigh of relief.
The kitchen staff were drenched in sweat, cursing their luck. They vowed to quit that very day. If they encountered another customer , they'd work themselves to death.
Arthur's appetite was a testament to the demanding life of a seafaring chef.
The stronger a person, the more energy they consumed. Average cooks couldn't keep up.
A skilled chef could create the most nutritious and delicious meals with minimal ingredients—a valuable asset at sea.
Arthur pitied Sanji, forced to feed the bottomless pit Luffy every day.
"Carnival City is on the first magnetic route of the Grand Line. The next island is the legendary Gourmet City—Pucci. I need a chef to handle my meals." Arthur took a large gulp of wine, his eyes gleaming.
He'd made the decision to recruit his first crew member. If he continued , unable to dive into the sea for food, he'd starve.
A 300 million Belly pirate with the Rumble-Rumble Fruit, dying of hunger? That would be the joke of the year.
The Marines, especially Kizaru, would be rolling on the floor laughing.
"Waiter, the bill!" Arthur leaned back in his chair, picking his teeth with a toothpick.
"Sir, the total is two million Belly," the waiter chirped, approaching with a tray.
"Two million Belly?" Arthur's face darkened, an imposing aura radiating from him.
Two million Belly was a fortune, enough to support a family for years. He had just eaten that much in one sitting. How could he afford to live ?
"Yes," the waiter continued, unfazed by Arthur's shock, sensing his extraordinary power. "The dishes you ordered were made with Sea King meat. They are quite expensive."
Sea King meat was indeed pricey, but that wasn't why Arthur's face had darkened—he was broke!
"Am I really about to dine and dash for the first time in my life?" He rubbed his nose, considering the possibility.
Arthur valued money less than dirt. He had sunk the Heavenly Tribute ship, laden with a king's ransom, without a second thought.
He couldn't be bothered with a measly two million Belly. He looked around, a glint appearing in his eyes. He had a brilliant idea.
Carnival City was bustling, attracting countless pirates seeking supplies. The restaurant was filled with boisterous groups of pirates, drinking and carousing. They all looked like hardened criminals.
"Sir, are you short on funds? Are you planning to leave without paying?" The waiter's forced smile vanished. He took a step back, ready to call the owner if Arthur confirmed his suspicions. A restaurant thriving in such a bustling city must have powerful backing.
Arthur, who had the audacity to fight the World Government and the Marines, wasn't intimidated. He pointed at a hulking, dark-skinned pirate, easily thirteen feet tall.
"Two million Belly. That pirate over there, drinking. His head should be worth that much, right?"
The restaurant fell silent, the atmosphere instantly tense. These pirates weren't weak. They'd heard Arthur's words loud and clear.
The waiter, quick on his feet, ducked behind the bar. He had seen bounty hunters use this "payment method" before.
"Kid, what did you say? Pay with my head? Do you know how much my head is worth?" The hulking pirate slammed his mug down, glaring at Arthur, his massive frame casting a shadow.
"I have a fifty million Belly bounty—"
"So noisy," Arthur yawned—resting his head on his hand, picking his ear with his other finger.
"You little punk, you're dead!"
The pirate roared, drawing a flintlock pistol thicker than a cannon barrel and firing at Arthur's head.
"Hahaha! Look at the kid, scared stiff!" The other pirates burst into laughter, as if witnessing a great joke.
A spark flashed, and a lead ball shot out, hurtling towards Arthur.
"Take down this arrogant brat! Hahahaha!"
The pirates roared with laughter, slamming their fists on the tables.
They didn't think a kid—could pose a threat. Unfamiliar with current events, they didn't know Arthur's name.
Amidst the raucous laughter, Arthur sneered. He didn't flinch, catching the lead ball between his teeth, his bite force rivaling a Sea King's.
The laughing pirates choked on their drinks, staring in disbelief.
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