The dawn light pierced through the heavy cumulonimbus clouds, spilling onto the abandoned breakwater on the outskirts of Water 7.
Clang!
A slender, famous sword in a black-and-white scabbard traced a sharp arc through the air, landing steadily in Leona's arms.
"A trophy from the CP0 Agent in the owl mask," Sabo said, stepping onto the deck and adjusting his tattered collar. "I tested it; the edge is light and agile, cutting the wind without a sound. It's one of the 21 Great Grade Swords, named White Night. I'm a staff user—in my hands, it's just a fancy fire poker. Ace says it doesn't fit his style either, so it's yours, Chef."
Leona caught the blade. With a soft clink, she drew it half an inch. A cold, frost-like gleam illuminated her wild features.
"A fine sword," she murmured, her vertical pupils brightening as her fingertips traced the wavy temper line on the steel. She fastened it to her waist with visible satisfaction. "In the forest, I needed the heavy bone-chopper for armor and scales. But now that I can cleave steel with technique, the heavy knives belong in the kitchen. From today on, I use White Night to resolve things. One-Sword Style is enough for any prey."
Leona then turned to Ace, her expression shifting to one of academic hunger. "Captain, during the fight last night, I noticed something. If I calm my mind, I don't just see movements—I see faint 'lines' on their muscles and defenses. If I cut along those lines, even their 'Iron Body' feels like it's being disassembled. Is that Observation Haki?"
Ace's eyes flashed with appreciation. "That is a new form of it. Observation isn't just about predicting dodges. A rare few can awaken high-level specializations based on their obsessions. For you, it's your intuition as a chef pursuing anatomical perfection. Your Haki has mutated to see the 'death lines' of all things. Adapt to it; it will make your Great Grade Sword the most terrifying scalpel on the sea."
Leona's fighting spirit flared, her hand tightening on the hilt.
"Tch, what's the big deal about seeing lines!"
On the main mast, scattered fragments clattered together to form Buggy's face, followed quickly by the rest of his body. He landed on the deck, hands on his hips, his red nose held high. "I ended my fight without a scratch! That door-opening guy thought he could snap my neck, but I toyed with him. I am invincible!"
Though Buggy loved to brag, the crew acknowledged his feat. He had defeated a spatial assassin on his own.
"Well done, Buggy," Ace affirmed. "You've utilized your fruit to a precise degree. However," Ace's tone shifted, "your attack power is still your weak point. Against a Haki user, you won't land a hit. You must grind your Armament Haki. No more slacking off, understand?"
"I know, I know! I'm a veteran of Roger's ship, I don't need a lecture!" Buggy grumbled, though he immediately began rubbing his wrists, mentally preparing for the next training session.
Ace then turned his gaze to the man leaning against the railing with his eyes closed.
"The biggest surprises, however, were Sabo and Enel." Ace walked toward the lightning-user, who was wrapped in bandages. "I didn't expect you to awaken Conqueror's Haki so quickly. You're talented."
Enel stiffened. He snorted and looked away, but the joyful blue sparks dancing at his fingertips betrayed his pride. "Stop talking to a God in that tone," he muttered, lifting his chin arrogantly toward the crew. "I am a God; it's only natural I can do such things! I won't be outdone!"
Sabo laughed heartily. "Incredible. Not only have you filled the gap in your Haki, but you've activated the King's disposition. It seems I'll have to put in twelve percent of my energy to 'entertain' you during sparring now, Enel."
"Cut the crap! Next time, I'll roast you to ash!" Enel snapped.
Watching his crew of monsters bicker—bloodstained but brimming with potential—Ace felt a surge of heroic passion. With this lineup, they could plunge into the heart of the New World and hold their own. He flicked wisps of Vermilion Bird Divine Fire onto each of them, the healing warmth beginning to close their wounds.
"The console and steam conduits are ready! Full power engagement passed! I've done it!"
The roar came from Scrapyard Island. Franky was collapsed beside his toolboxes, chugging a cola, his blue pompadour spirited despite his bloodshot eyes. Beside him stood Iceburg, covered in oil and wood shavings.
The two shipwrights had worked through the night, merging Starfall Black Steel with the Adam Wood. With three top-tier engines and a deep-hull suspension propulsion system, the Eclipse was no longer a mere ship—it was a cross-era war machine.
Ace leaped onto the deck of the dark, reinforced warship. He looked at the masters of Water 7 and gave a steady nod. "We accept this favor. If the government asks about the annihilation of their agents..."
"Splash the dirty water on the Eclipse Pirates," Iceburg interrupted, shaking his head. "Just leave. Building a monster like this is reward enough for a shipwright."
The farewell was clean.
"All hands on board!" Ace commanded.
Sabo pressed the large red button on the central console.
BOOM!!
It sounded like a dragon tearing its chains. A high-pressure jet sound pressed a crater into the sea. Without sails, the massive black-steel warship used suspension lift to defy gravity, floating straight into the sky.
"Before, pirates had to watch the Log Pose and follow the currents," Ace stood at the prow, his trench coat whipping in the gale. He looked down at the shrinking city below.
"Now, our ship flies. We hold a global intelligence network. From today on, we no longer care about the whims of magnetic fields!"
Sabo gripped the helm, his eyes bright. "Ace, where to?!"
"Straight to the Florian Triangle! First, we find an interesting guy and bring him on board."
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