"Incredible strength!"
Walking back through the winding alleys of Sabaody Archipelago, Oboro's mind replayed the moment when Rayleigh had unleashed his Haki. The memory sent shivers through his enhanced consciousness—not from fear, but from the pure recognition of overwhelming power.
The transformation in the Dark King's eyes had been the most striking detail. In that instant, the seemingly harmless old drunk had vanished, replaced by something that radiated lethal intent like heat from a forge. The casual facade had melted away to reveal the apex predator lurking beneath, a living weapon forged through decades of combat on the most dangerous seas in the world.
"Even if his swordsmanship can't match Roger's peak level, the gap can't be significant," Oboro mused, his analytical mind cataloguing what he'd witnessed. "A single sword strike from him could probably split a mountain—maybe even cleave an island in half."
The assessment wasn't mere speculation. Rayleigh's strength had undoubtedly declined from his prime during the Roger Pirates era, but the raw power displayed in those few moments spoke to capabilities that defied conventional understanding. The original manga and anime had portrayed such feats as matter-of-fact occurrences rather than miraculous exceptions.
The realization was both humbling and terrifying.
Even in the Hunter x Hunter world, with all its complex Nen abilities and strategic brilliance, no human practitioner could achieve such straightforward destructive force. Individual mountains remained beyond the reach of even the most sophisticated Hatsu techniques. As for the Demon Slayer world... the comparison wasn't even worth considering.
"The power scaling really is on a completely different level here," Oboro acknowledged grimly.
The irony wasn't lost on him. While Hunter x Hunter technically ranked as a higher-tier world due to the Dark Continent's existential threats and the incomprehensible life forms that dwelled there, that classification stemmed entirely from external factors. Remove those cosmic horrors and focus purely on human achievement, and the gap became starkly apparent.
Nen represented the pinnacle of refined combat artistry—a complex, rigorous system that perfectly captured the "beauty of battle" and the intellectual satisfaction of strategic conflict. Every ability told a story, every technique reflected its user's personality and philosophy. The psychological depth and tactical intricacy were unmatched across any reality he'd encountered.
But Haki, swordsmanship, and Devil Fruits, despite their relatively simple conceptual frameworks, delivered raw power that dwarfed anything Nen could produce. The abilities here didn't just manipulate energy or matter—they redefined the fundamental laws of physics through sheer force of will.
It was almost comparable to the energy sources found on the Dark Continent itself. Natural-type Devil Fruits in particular seemed to operate on principles that transcended normal reality.
"When I was at my supposed peak in Hunter x Hunter," Oboro reflected with dark amusement, "even excluding my later growth on the Dark Continent... just considering my capabilities on the lake island, I couldn't destroy a mountain or split an island. Not even if I pushed every breathing technique to its absolute limit."
The admission stung his pride, but denial served no purpose. Raw power had never been his forte in that reality—his strength had come from accumulated knowledge, strategic thinking, and the ability to manipulate complex situations to his advantage. Those skills remained valuable, but in a world where individuals could casually reshape geography, they felt inadequate.
"However," his expression shifted to one of anticipatory satisfaction, "just as I suspected, Haki is intimately connected to will and spiritual strength. Both Conqueror's Haki and Observation Haki operate on principles I understand completely. My soul abilities might be suppressed in this world, but awakening all three types shouldn't prove difficult. In fact, I should be able to push them beyond normal limitations."
The analysis filled him with renewed confidence. Everything came down to understanding underlying principles and having the patience to properly develop them. His experiences across multiple realities had taught him that power systems, regardless of their surface differences, often shared fundamental truths about the relationship between consciousness and reality.
Kaido's famous declaration echoed in his memory: if you wanted to dominate these seas, Haki was the ultimate determining factor. Devil Fruits might provide exotic abilities and swordsmanship could offer technical precision, but Haki represented the purest expression of human will made manifest.
"First priority is strengthening this body to acceptable standards," Oboro decided, already formulating a comprehensive training regimen. "Then I'll begin forming the Dantian Qi Sea and step into what I've been calling the 'Earthly Immortal' realm. The question is how effectively these cultivation methods will translate to One Piece's enhanced physical parameters."
The Dantian technique represented his greatest breakthrough from the Demon Slayer world—a fusion of traditional martial arts theory with the soul manipulation abilities he'd developed. If it could be successfully adapted to this reality's enhanced human physiology, the results might exceed anything he'd previously achieved.
"Dom."
"Yes, Boss."
The transformed pirate's response came immediately, his enhanced hearing having caught every nuance of Oboro's tone despite the casual delivery.
"You mentioned having old friends on Sabaody Archipelago, correct?"
Dom's expression grew uncertain as he sensed the direction of the conversation. "Yes... though I haven't maintained contact for years. They're all island residents—civilians, not pirates."
Just like the inn owner who had provided them shelter during the Marine manhunt, these were connections from Dom's youth on the archipelago. People who had known him before his transformation, before his association with criminal crews, back when he'd been just another local trying to make an honest living.
"Make some arrangements," Oboro instructed with deceptive casualness. "Send someone to monitor the port—discreetly. I want to know the moment any ships from the Donquixote Family arrive."
"Ah?" Dom's voice cracked with shock. "Boss, you're seriously planning to steal that Devil Fruit?"
Oboro yawned with theatrical indifference and offered no response to the question.
Dom fell silent, recognizing the futility of further protests, but his internal anxiety skyrocketed. His boss wasn't just considering this insane plan—he was already implementing it with the casual confidence of someone planning a grocery shopping trip.
The man was genuinely, completely serious about robbing one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea.
Several days passed as Sabaody Archipelago's criminal districts gradually returned to their former chaotic prosperity. The transformation was remarkable—as if the recent Navy occupation and the terror it had inflicted on the pirate community had been nothing more than an unpleasant dream.
Pirates emerged from hidden strongholds with renewed confidence, auction houses resumed their grisly trade, and the thousand illegal enterprises that made these zones profitable began operating at full capacity once again. The resilience of the criminal ecosystem was genuinely impressive.
Such rapid recovery spoke volumes about Doflamingo's marketing genius and his understanding of pirate psychology. No matter how overwhelming the official response, greed and ambition would always draw criminals back to opportunities for profit and power.
In a cramped hotel room that reeked of unwashed bodies and desperation, Oboro sat in perfect lotus position, his breathing regulated to inhuman precision. Every inhalation drew energy from the surrounding atmosphere, while each exhalation expelled impurities that had accumulated within his meridian channels.
The meditation technique was a fusion of traditional cultivation methods and the soul manipulation abilities he'd perfected across multiple realities. In just a few days, the results had been dramatic enough to astound even him.
His previously emaciated frame had filled out with lean muscle, his pale complexion had gained healthy color, and his skin had acquired a subtle luminescence that spoke to internal energy circulation. The systematic torture that had defined his existence as a Celestial Dragon slave was being systematically erased through sheer force of will and technique.
The transformation wasn't merely cosmetic. His enhanced perception could feel every cell in his body operating with newfound efficiency, processing nutrients and energy with mechanical precision while expelling toxins that had accumulated over years of abuse.
"The progress is incredible," he mused during a brief pause in his cultivation session.
The original plan had been elegantly simple: use his time in the Demon Slayer world to master the Dantian technique before crossing dimensional boundaries. Achieve "small success" in that relatively safe environment, then leverage that foundation for rapid advancement in whatever higher-tier reality awaited him.
Unfortunately, as with most plans, contact with the enemy had immediately revealed its flaws.
The cultivation method's complexity had exceeded his initial estimates. What should have been a few years of dedicated practice had stretched into a decade-long commitment just to reach "entry level" proficiency. The time dilation was frustrating but understandable—he was essentially creating an entirely new power system through trial and error.
Then came the dimensional crossing, which had introduced complications he hadn't anticipated.
"I assumed that regardless of this body's condition or background, I could use system cards to directly enhance my physical attributes," Oboro reflected with bitter amusement. "Skip the gradual development phase and immediately establish a power base strong enough to survive whatever this world's will could throw at me."
The theory had been sound. His soul strength determined the system's capabilities, and his accumulated will had reached levels that should have made such enhancement trivial.
Reality had proven far more restrictive.
The moment Saint Charlos had shot him, Oboro had discovered that system cards couldn't be applied to his own form. His suppressed state in this reality created interference that blocked internal enhancement while still allowing external applications.
"At least Dom's transformation worked perfectly," he noted with grim satisfaction.
The limitation was significant but not insurmountable. It simply meant he would have to develop power through conventional methods rather than supernatural shortcuts. Fortunately, conventional methods in the One Piece world operated on principles that made his previous achievements seem pathetically limited.
Huff...
After several hours of intensive cultivation, Oboro's lips parted to release a stream of white vapor that extended nearly three feet from his mouth. The exhaled breath carried the accumulated impurities from his internal energy circulation, visible proof of the cleansing process occurring within his meridian network.
The hotel room's temperature had risen dramatically during his session, transforming the stagnant air into a sauna-like atmosphere that left condensation clinging to every surface. Steam rose from his skin as internal heat exceeded normal human parameters.
"Fascinating," Oboro murmured with genuine delight.
"The human physiology in this world truly is extraordinary. Expelling meridian impurities in such a short timeframe... the speed is dramatically faster than anything I achieved in Hunter x Hunter. This predecessor's qualifications were absolutely mediocre—no special bloodline, no innate potential, basically the lowest possible starting point. Even so, the improvement rate is remarkable."
The comparison was particularly striking given his previous experience. In Hunter x Hunter, his physical talent had been genuinely exceptional—among the top tier of human potential in that reality. Yet even with those advantages, developing internal energy circulation had required significantly more time and effort.
"The gap in baseline capabilities is staggering," he acknowledged.
Of course, awakening Haki would require far more than internal energy development. This world's power system demanded both spiritual cultivation and brutal physical conditioning. His body needed to be tempered through combat and hardship until it could serve as a proper vessel for manifested will.
The monsters of this world—Charlotte Linlin, Kaido, Whitebeard in his prime—had possessed "invincible" physiques from early childhood. Their bodies had been forged through genetics and constant conflict into weapons that could reshape reality through pure physical force.
"Given such a worthless starting body and an impossible situation," Oboro smiled with dark satisfaction, "the world's will really is pulling out every stop to eliminate me."
The challenge was almost refreshing after the predetermined outcomes of Demon Slayer. Here, his survival demanded genuine effort and creative problem-solving rather than simply following a script.
A sharp knock interrupted his contemplation, followed immediately by Dom's anxious voice.
"Come in."
Oboro stretched his limbs with casual grace, working out the stiffness that came from extended meditation sessions.
Dom pushed through the door, immediately hit by the room's elevated temperature and humidity. His enhanced senses picked up the ozone-like smell of concentrated spiritual energy, but he'd grown accustomed to his boss's unusual training methods.
"Boss," Dom announced without preamble, "they're here!"
Tomorrow would mark the auction house's grand celebration. The timing aligned perfectly with Doflamingo's reputation for precision and theatrical flair.
"All of them?"
"No, only three individuals. They appear to be Donquixote Family officers."
"Three people?" Oboro's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Doflamingo didn't come personally?"
"I didn't spot Joker anywhere," Dom confirmed.
The absence was unexpected but not necessarily problematic. Doflamingo's personal involvement would have complicated matters significantly—the Heavenly Demon's combat capabilities and paranoid nature made him one of the most dangerous opponents in the first half of the Grand Line.
"Actually, this might work in our favor," Oboro mused. "Anyone with real knowledge understands that he owns the auction house—it's been operating on Sabaody for years under his protection. Combined with Celestial Dragon patronage... most people wouldn't even consider attacking such a well-defended target."
The logic was sound. Doflamingo's reputation for ruthless retaliation, combined with his political connections and the backing of World Noble customers, should have made his enterprises effectively untouchable. Only someone completely insane or suicidally confident would attempt such a theft.
"Boss..." Dom began hesitantly, "shouldn't we develop some kind of plan?"
"Rob them directly," Oboro replied with cheerful indifference. "What's the need for elaborate planning? They're not expecting any threats, and honestly, who would be crazy enough to attack the auction house? Their complacency saves us considerable effort."
"..."
Dom stared at his boss in speechless horror, once again confronted with the man's casual approach to what should have been the most dangerous operation of their lives.
The transformed pirate was beginning to understand that his mysterious leader didn't just think differently from normal people—he operated according to principles that defied conventional logic entirely.
Tomorrow, they would attempt to steal a Devil Fruit from one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea. And their entire strategy consisted of "rob them directly."
Dom wasn't sure whether to admire such confidence or start planning his own funeral arrangements.