It didn't take long for Jason and Robin to reach Baltigo. As the speedboat approached the harbor, Jason turned off the engine, letting the hull glide over the water with the smoothness of a metallic snake. From the pier, Sabo, Hack, and several revolutionaries watched with growing, nervous attention. Even from a distance, that boat didn't seem to belong in this world. Elegant lines, unknown materials, a subtle glow of energy... it wasn't just a boat: it was technology on another level, something they wouldn't even know where to begin to dismantle.
When they finally saw Jason and the woman beside him, their astonishment deepened. Nico Robin. The archaeologist of the Straw Hat Pirates, wanted by the World Government since she was eight years old, and the only person capable of reading poneglyphs, walked beside Jason as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Jason tied up the boat with a casual, almost disinterested movement, and then looked up. Several revolutionaries instinctively backed away when their eyes met his, that gaze carrying an almost divine depth, heavy for some, comforting for others.
He smiled.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen and ladies. Is Mr. Monkey D. Dragon available for a meeting?"
His words were calm, polite, impeccably courteous.
A brief silence fell over the pier. Even Robin turned her face away, surprised. Jason was like that, bold, provocative, but never rude to those who didn't deserve it. And the contrast between his overwhelming appearance, his almost oppressive aura, and his polite speech was as disconcerting as it was impressive.
Sabo, who still felt a chill running down his spine from the moment their eyes met, straightened his posture and replied:
"Y-yes, Mr. Jason. Our leader has already been notified of your... distinguished presence. He awaits you in the meeting room."
The formality slipped out of his mouth before he could control it. Some revolutionaries covered their mouths to stifle their laughter. Sabo rarely spoke like that, but Jason's aura had that effect. When he treated someone with politeness, it was impossible not to reciprocate. It was almost... compulsory.
Jason just nodded, satisfied.
Robin watched everything with a mixture of curiosity and quiet amusement. That was Jason. A force of nature wrapped in good manners when he wanted to be, and that, in a way, was even more intimidating.
"Let's go, then," Jason said calmly. "Dragon must be curious."
And as he and Robin walked into Baltigo, the revolutionaries made way with a mixture of respect and tension, not out of fear of an enemy, but because of the presence of someone who carried enough power to change the world.
As Jason and Robin walked side by side with Sabo and Hack, the quartet passed through one of Baltigo's largest training areas. Men, women, and even some older children struck reinforced logs, practiced Karate-Triton positions, and trained their breathing and focus to unlock Armament and Observation Haki.
But as soon as Jason entered their field of vision, the sound of blows ceased as if someone had pressed an invisible button. The dust that rose hung suspended in the air. Every revolutionary turned their head at the same time, their eyes fixed on him, some with reverence, others with those discreet smiles of people who admire in silence.
Jason felt the flood of emotions even before looking directly at them. His Observation Haki, naturally always active, detected no hostility, no hint of malice, no resentment, nothing. On the contrary. It was respect. Gratitude. This caught Jason's attention.
His expression changed, his eyebrow raised slightly.
'This isn't normal... not by a long shot.'
With a thought, he deepened his mind reading just enough to grasp the source of it. And when he realized it, his lips formed a corner smile.
They had discovered the effect of the wanted poster.
That subtle, almost therapeutic influence that calmed the mind and organized the thoughts of those who did not harbor enmity toward Jason. For the revolutionaries, most of whom were living on the edge of tension, fear, anxiety, and expectations, it was like unlocking a part of the brain that had always been rusty.
People who sweated blood to learn the basics of Karate-Tritão now understood concepts in days.
Others, with more natural talent, mastered fundamentals in hours.
Their minds were clear.
Their emotions were stable.
Their ability to process information was enhanced.
Haki wouldn't come out of nowhere, of course. It wasn't magic.
But martial arts? Strategy? Tactical reasoning? Focus?
For a sane mind, that was just a consequence.
And One Piece had always been a world driven by spiritual strength. Mind and soul had real weight here.
"So that's it."
Jason thought, walking as if nothing had happened, but inside analyzing everything with absolute coldness.
"They don't revere me just because of my actions... it's because of what I did unintentionally. That poster became a tool for mental evolution. In the world of One Piece, everyone wants to be strong... and I gave them that with a simple photo."
He almost laughed. Jason wasn't impressed by this—it was normal for the standards of his own universe—but seeing the impact here, in this world broken by fear, made everything clearer.
The World Government struggled to keep the masses ignorant and terrified.
Jason, without even trying, was doing the opposite: empowering people.
"This is going to cause delicious chaos..."
He concluded, finding the whole situation more amusing than serious.
In a single breath, Jason fully understood the psychological and political damage his poster would cause to the World Government.
They couldn't stand thinking civilians.
And Jason, without lifting a finger, was already creating exactly that.
The four left the training ground behind and soon arrived at the entrance to Baltigo's main building, the administrative heart of the Revolutionary Army. Unlike the training area, where determination and sweat filled the air, here the air seemed heavier, charged with silent tension and accumulated responsibilities.
Jason paused for a few seconds at the door.
Robin, standing right next to him, did the same.
Hack and Sabo, noticing this, also stopped... and soon felt a little embarrassed. None of them had been told that Jason was coming, so they weren't prepared for this collective reaction, let alone what they were about to feel.
The difference on that floor was visible even to someone without haki: only logistics, strategy, intelligence, and communications personnel worked there, the invisible backbone of the Revolutionary Army. And although they did not engage in battle, they were the ones who carried the daily burden of decisions, reports, political pressure, and the responsibility of fueling a global revolution. The kind of stress that wears down the mind, not the muscles.
As soon as Jason stepped into the lobby, he felt a subtle sensation.
People who had been bent over piles of documents looked up. Others, who had been rubbing their temples from reading so much, stopped in mid-motion. Their expressions varied: some were surprised, others curious... but all carried a new calmness, as if an internal knot had loosened.
It wasn't idolatry. It wasn't absurd reverence.
It was relief.
The environment was saturated with mental fatigue, and Jason, unwittingly, functioned as a natural calming agent. These employees dealt with extreme stress on a daily basis, so any improvement in emotional stability amplified productivity, focus, and even strategic clarity.
Jason raised an eyebrow when he realized this, sensing the emotional change almost mathematically.
"So that's it... I know my poster... doesn't make anyone physically stronger, but it clears the mind and provides stability. For people who work under pressure all the time, that's a miracle."
Robin noticed it too.
Hack let out a small "hm" of surprise.
Sabo just rubbed the back of his neck, not knowing exactly how to explain it.
It was subtle.
It was involuntary.
It was useful.
And for Jason, it was simply... convenient.
If his will, refined over centuries, helped those people work better, so be it. A collateral advantage was still useful.
"Shall we go?"
Jason said with a calm smile to Sabo, who hid his slight nervousness with a cough into his hand and guided him down the hallway.
Hack remained there, bidding Jason farewell with a slight nod. Jason returned the gesture, having already realized that Hack was not part of the upper echelon and therefore could not participate in that specific meeting.
When they arrived at the conference room door, Sabo took a deep breath, straightened his posture, and looked at Jason.
Jason just nodded, unhurried.
The door opened.
As soon as Jason took his first step inside, everyone present, almost the entire command of the Revolutionary Army, automatically stood up. It wasn't something rehearsed. It was a natural reaction, as if the atmosphere changed subtly just with his presence.
The table was enormous, with heavy chairs, scattered documents, and strategic maps. At the center of it all was Monkey D. Dragon.
Dragon walked around the table and approached Jason, maintaining a serious expression but with explicit respect in his posture.
"Mr. Jason D. Winchester. Welcome to Baltigo."
Jason shook his hand firmly and smiled politely.
"Thank you for the welcome, Mr. Dragon. It's an honor."
With that, everyone sat back down, and Jason took the seat reserved for him, one end of the table, the position of guest of honor.
Robin sat next to him, while Dragon took the other end, flanked by his commanders.
Jason glanced quickly around the table, analyzing each presence:
Monkey D. Dragon, Supreme Commander.
Sabo, Chief of Staff.
Karasu, Commander of the Northern Army.
Belo Betty, Commander of the Eastern Army.
Morley, Commander of the Western Army.
Lindbergh, Commander of the Southern Army.
The only one absent was Emporio Ivankov, but Jason knew that this did not diminish the importance of that meeting. There were the pillars of the world rebellion, and they were all looking directly at him.
There was also Koala, who was present and sat in the other empty seat next to Jason.
When everyone settled in, silence filled the room as if the air itself refused to move. Jason looked at each face, feeling curiosity, hesitation, and expectation, all waiting for him to speak first.
With a relaxed half-smile, Jason decided to break the tension:
"So... shall we get straight to the reason I came here, or would you prefer to exchange a few words first?"
The impact was immediate. All the commanders exchanged glances, as if none of them wanted to be the first to break their professional stance. There were a few seconds of heavy silence, and, ironically, it was the youngest one there who took the initiative.
Koala raised her hand like a student asking to speak, which elicited a subtle gasp of surprise from those present.
Jason turned his gaze to her, patient.
"I have a question, Jason-san."
Her voice was firm, but laden with something vulnerable, sincere.
"Why does your wanted poster have that... calming effect? Whenever I look at it, I feel a deep peace, as if my head has finally stopped screaming. Is it some kind of mental trick or a special technique?"
It was the question everyone in the world wanted to ask, but no one had the courage.
And coming from Koala, it carried even more weight.
Jason looked at her, but he didn't just see the skilled commander, nor the strong young woman who had overcome adversity. His eyes saw what was behind it, remnants of invisible chains that Mariejois had left on her.
He knew.
Koala was enslaved as a child, lived years in absolute terror, and was only freed thanks to Fisher Tiger.
She seemed cheerful and mature now, and she was.
But anyone who understands trauma knows that the past doesn't disappear.
It comes back. Always. Sometimes at night. Sometimes in silence. Sometimes for no reason at all.
What she can do is overcome it and learn to live with it. It's looking at that past and feeling nothing, without fear, without panic, just looking at it as if it were a distant memory that can no longer affect her.
But that's something that requires absurd strength... something that only a true survivor like Koala can achieve.
And that's exactly where Jason's poster had an effect.
His image, imbued with his will, stabilized wounded minds like hers.
It didn't erase the trauma, that would be impossible without touching the person's soul.
But it gave her something rare and precious:
A moment of inner silence. A breather.
A glimpse of what it's like to live without fear.
The strength to face that past and no longer be affected by it.
Koala slowly lowered his hand, but kept his eyes on Jason, waiting for an explanation that no one else would dare ask aloud.
And everyone in the room, even Dragon, waited for the answer with absolute attention.
Robin also looked around, confused. She had no idea what they were talking about. Wanted poster? Calming effect?
Jason folded his hands on the table and replied casually:
"It's not exactly a trick, my dear. It's just my Conqueror's Haki."
The words hit the room like silent thunder. Even Dragon's eyes widened for a moment. The commanders looked at each other, some almost asking with their eyes why the hell Dragon, who clearly also possessed Haoshoku, had never mentioned anything like this.
Seeing everyone looking at Dragon, Jason smiled slightly. That said it all: if Garp had Conqueror's Haki, and Luffy had Conqueror's Haki... then so did Dragon. Three generations.
And, of course, the walking black hole called Blackbeard, another who carries the same blood as Xebec, but it's not confirmed whether he has Haoshoku. The pieces were obvious, at least to Jason.
Sabo was the first to muster the courage to speak:
"...Jason-san, shouldn't Haoshoku be used for intimidation? Even so, it shouldn't work on a photo. Isn't that... impossible?"
Jason let out a long, tired, theatrical sigh, like someone who had already accepted an inevitable truth:
"The reality, Sabo... is that I am a genius."
A heavy silence fell over the table. A silence so absolute that even Morley stopped moving his feet under the floor.
The revolutionaries didn't know whether to laugh, agree, disagree, or thank him for existing.
Jason then completed his explanation:
"When you push Conqueror's Haki to its limit for long enough, it ceases to be just a raw explosion of will. It becomes... information. Intention. Condensed presence. If you refine it until every fiber of your soul carries your signature, the power begins to leak into anything that represents you. Even a photograph."
Dragon and his commanders remained in absolute silence, too shocked to formulate any immediate reaction. Jason's words echoed in the room like something forbidden—something that, instinctively, each of them knew should not be possible.
Dragon, above all, frowned. He understood the fundamentals of Haoshoku better than anyone else there. He knew that this power was intrinsically linked to will, spirit, what many simply called the soul. It was a power that could not be trained like muscles, but refined with each battle won.
And yet...
Jason had just claimed that he had taken this refinement to such an absurd, meticulous level that he could imprint his presence on anything that represented him.
Not just intimidate.
Not just imbue.
But leave a trace of his will, like a permanent spiritual signature.
Even to Dragon, a man whom few things in the world surprised, that sounded like heresy against the laws of nature. He analyzed everything again, piece by piece, trying to find an error, a flaw, an impossibility.
But he found nothing.
Jason's poster was already definitive proof.
The Conqueror's Haki was, by definition, the manifestation of the soul.
And Jason was simply... using it to the logical extreme that no one had ever dared to attempt.
For a long moment, Dragon just stared at Jason, accepting reality with a mixture of fascination and deep unease.
Jason wasn't exaggerating.
Jason wasn't theorizing.
Jason really did that.
And that realization made even the revolutionary leader swallow hard.
"But why is the effect different for men and women?"
Sabo insisted, still looking at the revolutionary leader as if asking for help.
Jason turned his face to Belo Betty and Koala, who were watching him with huge eyes, full of curiosity... and something else that Jason knew very well.
"Heh..."
He smiled, first at Betty, then at Koala, and for a second, the girl's heart almost stopped.
"My heart couldn't bear to let creatures as beautiful as women feel anything negative because of me. So they receive only my care and affection."
With a gentle movement, Jason touched Koala's cheek with his fingertips.
She froze.
He slid his hand behind her ear and, as if by magic, pulled out a perfect rose and opened his palm, offering her the flower.
Koala brought her hand to her mouth, completely red, unable to say a single word as she accepted the flower.
Jason felt an intense gaze coming from beside him, knowing it was Robin who might, just might, have been bothered by Jason's flirting and felt a little jealous.
"Khuhum. Back to it..."
The entire army tried to regain their composure, some staring at the floor, others staring at the ceiling, anything but Koala, who looked like he was about to melt.
"Hostile men feel pressure," Jason explained. "Because they feel my intention reacting to their intention."
"Allies feel calm, because my Haki recognizes that they don't want to hurt me."
And then he smiled, slowly, as if keeping the rest of the sentence to himself.
"And women... well. Haki reads emotions accurately. It just returns what it finds."
Jason then spoke to Koala again: "So, does that completely clear up your doubts?"
Koala just nodded shyly, hugging the rose as if it were a divine gift.