They say a woman in love is blind.
In the case of the Pirate Empress, "blind" was an understatement. For years, the Celestial Dragons had been the jagged thorn in her soul. When Leo spoke of dismantling their entire world, he didn't just offer her revenge; he offered her a version of the future she hadn't dared to dream of. His words were far more surgical than a simple punch to a Noble's face—they were a promise to erase the very system that had birthed her trauma.
But ideology only goes so far in a world where monsters can split the sky with a sword.
Leo was acutely aware of his own frailty. At twenty-six, he was roughly the same age as Hancock, but physically, he was at the bottom of the food chain. Even a rookie pirate like Nami could likely knock him flat.
His body was still that of a modern human from an era of convenience and technology. Even after a decade of decent food in the Holy Land, he lacked the monstrous "base stats" of the humans born in this world. To bridge the gap, he needed a shortcut. He needed Haki.
In a secluded courtyard behind high walls, the lessons began. Hancock and her sisters sat nearby like a royal audience, watching as the elderly Gloriosa took on the role of mentor.
"Not every woman on this island is a master," Gloriosa explained, her voice steady and instructional. "We train our girls from childhood. Those with lean, agile frames focus on Observation Haki—like Sandersonia. Those with raw, heavy strength lean toward Armament—like Marigold."
Leo listened intently. The Kuja's strength wasn't just in their numbers; it was in their specialization. Once a warrior mastered her affinity and learned to imbue her arrows with her spirit, she became a walking piece of artillery. A ship full of such women was a nightmare for any pirate or Navy captain.
"Haki," Leo mused, trying to grasp the concept. To his logical mind, it felt like trying to describe "muscle memory" or "being in the zone" during a high-stakes game. You can understand the theory, but "feeling" it is entirely different.
For ten days, Leo threw himself into the regime. He ate the protein-rich meat of Sea Kings and pushed his meager muscles to their limit. He decided to focus on Observation Haki first; since he lacked the physical bulk for Armament, he would have to rely on his mind and his senses to survive.
But Observation is a fickle mistress. It requires a level of spiritual attunement that can't be forced. While some could hear the "voices" of the very world or glimpse seconds into the future, Leo found himself staring into a void.
Ten days of training, and not a single spark.
Despite his frustration with his progress, his "social revolution" was moving at full speed. Every evening after training, he would return to Ren's tavern. The "One Thousand and One Nights" had become a phenomenon. The women of the island treated him like a legendary creature, hanging on his every word as he wove tales of bravery, wit, and rebellion.
He was becoming a fixture of the island, a "philosopher-prince" in a land of warriors.
However, on the eleventh day, the peaceful rhythm of the island was shattered. A horn blast echoed from the coast, sending a ripple of tension through the capital.
The training stopped. The storytelling was forgotten. The Kuja warriors gripped their bows and surged toward the harbor.
Moored just outside the gateway to the hidden island, a massive warship sat upon the calm, mirror-like water. Its sails bore the stylized seagull of the World Government, and its cannons were polished and ready.
The Navy had arrived.