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"Jessica hails from Gourmet Paradise's oldest culinary family. Generations of top-tier chefs, her parents both head Chefs at Marine Headquarters. Though only fifteen—it's said her skills surpass even theirs…"
"She's the frontrunner for the championship!"
The announcer's enthusiastic voice ignited the crowd, their cheers drowning out all other sounds, even momentarily eclipsing the presence of the notorious Pirate, Arthur.
True culinary artistry had the power to transcend worries, fears, and even the presence of imminent danger.
Jessica, despite her young age, possessed a statuesque presence. Her white chef's coat and toque framed her delicate features, strands of golden hair peeking out from beneath the brim, partially obscuring her expressive eyes.
Her lips were set in a determined line, her gaze focused and intense, all her attention on the task at hand—oblivious to the world around her.
Arthur observed her every move, noting her meticulous approach. She wore thin gloves, never letting her bare skin touch the fresh ingredients.
Her knife work was precise and elegant, each slice executed with specially crafted ice blades, preserving the ingredients' freshness and nutrients—a stark contrast to the other chefs who focused solely on flavor.
Arthur knew nothing about cooking. He only cared about eating. But even he could see the difference between a chef who prioritized both taste and nutrition, and one who pursued flavor alone.
"That's her—My first crew member." A smile touched Arthur's lips. He had made his decision.
A skilled chef who could satisfy his monstrous appetite, and so young? He couldn't pass up this opportunity.
As for how he'd recruit her…that was never a question. He was a Pirate. He'd simply take what he wanted.
——
In a building overlooking the plaza.
Click!
A grizzled bounty hunter with fiery red hair and a long scar across his face chambered a round in his sniper rifle, the crosshairs fixed on Arthur's temple.
"Kill this 500 million Belly Pirate, and I'll not only be rich, but famous!" Nero's hand trembled with excitement.
A third of the crowd in the plaza were Pirates and bounty hunters. Many entertained similar thoughts. But only Nero was bold enough to act.
Several Marines were also aiming their rifles at Arthur, but they seemed more interested in protecting someone than attacking.
"So many fools in this world—unafraid of death…" Arthur sighed inwardly. The moment he was targeted, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end—a primal instinct warning him of danger.
Despite the warning, he didn't react.
The bullet wasn't coated in Haki—and he could elementalize in an instant. He sensed no real threat.
His Electromagnetic field—constantly active, a second nature now like his electric field enhancement, would stop any metal projectile before it reached him.
He could even use Electromagnetism to propel the bullet back with greater force and speed.
Bang!
After careful aiming, Nero pulled the trigger, firing what he believed would be the most important shot of his life. A triumphant grin spread across his face. He could already picture himself, the legendary bounty hunter who took down the infamous Thunder God Arthur.
The gunshot, masked by the noise of the festival, went unnoticed. No one suspected an assassination attempt was underway.
The bullet, too fast for the naked eye to follow, zipped through the air. The crowd, engrossed in the Chef's Tournament, debated the likely winner, oblivious to the danger lurking in the shadows.
The lead ball, pushing a wave of compressed air before it, never reached Arthur. His Electromagnetic field caught it, instantly reversing its trajectory and sending it hurtling back at twice the speed.
BOOM!
As if rewinding time—the bullet slammed back into the rifle's chamber, triggering a catastrophic explosion.
Nero's triumphant grin froze, his body ripped apart by shrapnel. He never saw it coming.
The incident, a ripple in the otherwise boisterous festival, went unnoticed. No one realized a life had been snuffed out in a nearby building.
——
Marine Headquarters. Marineford
As the Chef's Tournament continued, news of Arthur's presence in Gourmet Paradise reached Marine Headquarters.
A meeting was underway.
"Fleet Admiral Kong, Kaido has entered Whitebeard's territory alone. He's probably there to challenge Whitebeard—like the previous times," Sengoku reported, having just returned from the New World.
"That punk, Roger, is still missing. I'm free now. I can join the operation to capture Arthur," Garp chimed in, picking his nose.
"Gourmet Paradise, Pucci. His next destination will likely be Spring Queen City. That island is too well-connected, with multiple magnetic routes. It's not a good place for an ambush. No matter what—he'll eventually reach Sabaody," Vice Admiral Tsuru said, studying the Grand Line map.
Kizaru, slumped in his chair, looked utterly bored.
He had been forcibly recruited for this mission, his role to contain Arthur. Only he knew how powerless he felt against Arthur's abilities. He was probably the only Admiral Candidate who posed no real threat to the young Pirate—a frustrating realization.
"You are the strongest forces the Marines can muster right now. This mission must succeed. I'll contact the Five Elders to see who they'll dispatch—Dismissed. Prepare for deployment." Kong was all business.
The World Government—eager to save face, planned to resolve the issue decisively. They couldn't allow Arthur to continue his rampage.
——
Arthur, lounging in his seat, suddenly felt a chill, a sense of unease—as if some unseen Predator was watching him.
"What's going on?" He frowned—subtly scanning the plaza, but found nothing amiss.
"Could someone be setting a trap?" That was the only explanation he could think of, as this premonition wasn't as strong as the previous ones.
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." Arthur pushed the unease aside, focusing on the chefs' nearly completed dishes.
"All sixteen chefs have finished cooking! Now, please bring the dishes to the judges!" The announcer's voice, still brimming with enthusiasm, heralded the imminent crowning of the champion.
Platters of delicious-looking food were brought to the long table where Arthur and the other judges sat.
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