"Haki!?"
Gasparde's eyes nearly bulged from his skull.
He could hardly believe what he was seeing.
In the Navy Headquarters, he had seen Haki before—every Vice Admiral was required to master at least one form. But he had deserted before he could learn it himself. And now, here, in the first half of the Grand Line… a man, barely more than twenty, was wielding it as if born with it?
"Impossible…" he muttered, his voice shaking. "He was just a wild brawler… could this be… instinctual awakening?"
Jin stood like a blazing torch upon the deck. The heat around him shimmered, casting out fiery streams of scarlet aura. He was radiant, resplendent, as though he were the very avatar of a Sun God.
And under that light, the raging waves seemed to falter, the seabirds to still, the rushing wind itself to pause.
His silhouette loomed higher, greater—like a colossus that dwarfed the world. And Gasparde felt it. Unbidden, unwilling: reverence. Fear. Awe.
He snarled, ashamed at his own trembling heart. "What is this?! What kind of Haki are you wielding?! Damn brat!"
Muscles bulged grotesquely along his arms, his jellyflesh thickening. He poured every ounce of his fury into his legs, stomping hard enough that the entire deck tilted beneath his weight.
"DIE!" he roared.
Jin's eyes sharpened. The power welling in his body was boundless—an endless tide bursting from chains long broken. Shackles shattered. A second life unlocked.
And this time, it was not the Carrier's strange fusion boosting him. This was him. His body. His potential.
The sensation was intoxicating.
To Jin, Gasparde's attacks slowed, weakened, as if he were moving through syrup.
He wrenched the candy-spear in one hand. His other knee shot up.
CRACK!
The knee strike slammed into Gasparde's gut.
"GUHAAA!"
The former Navy admiral folded like a shrimp, blood spraying from his mouth as his eyes bulged in agony.
"Wh–what?!"
Panic crashed through him. In mere moments, Jin had multiplied in strength, speed, precision. Haki alone shouldn't bridge the gap so brutally.
But this wasn't ordinary awakening. Jin's very flesh had been reforged by spacetime's unknown energies. Now, with Haki igniting that body, every ounce of him multiplied.
Before Gasparde could recover, Jin yanked the jelly-spear, dragging him forward, and his fist smashed into the man's face.
BAM!
The pirate reeled, teeth flying, blood bursting.
In desperation, he sprouted spikes all over his body, a living hedgehog of razor-sharp sugar.
But Jin ignored them.
His fists and feet became a storm, each blow sheathed in Armament Haki. Black, gleaming, indomitable.
BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!
Every strike shattered spikes, crushed bone, mangled flesh. His speed was merciless, his accuracy terrifying.
Gasparde couldn't even cover his head. He could only stagger backward like a beaten sack as Jin pummeled him hundreds of times in a storm of fists and kicks.
Blood misted the air.
Finally, Jin halted, drawing in a long breath. His chest rose and fell, sweat steaming off his aura-lit frame.
Before him, Gasparde collapsed to his knees, eyes rolled back, blood gushing from his mouth.
THUD.
He toppled face-first onto the deck. Barely clinging to life.
"Little Ai," Jin said calmly, wiping the blood from his chin. "Send him for extraction."
"On it!" the AI chimed.
The deck split open. Gasparde's battered body slid down into the darkness, carried to the Active Matter Refinement Chamber—to become the key ingredient for the Carrier's next evolution.
Jin exhaled slowly. His muscles hummed with newfound strength. His vision—clearer than ever. His hearing—sharper, picking out waves, breaths, even heartbeats around him.
The world itself felt… more alive.
"When this hunt ends," he murmured, "I'll have Little Ai test me again. I want numbers. I want data. Science, not just instinct."
For the truth was undeniable: the moment Gasparde fell, the so-called "Death Tournament" was already decided.
On the Salamander warship, his crew shrieked.
"The General's been defeated?!"
"Run! RUN!"
"That monster isn't human, he's a demon!"
Their panic was pointless. The Genesis surged, opening its cavernous maw. The armored Salamander, once a Navy marvel, was swallowed whole as its crew wailed.
The pirates, stripped of courage, offered no resistance. They collapsed like sheep for the slaughter, bound and herded into cells.
But not all of them.
"Grandpa! Let my grandpa go!"
A child, hair the pale color of sakura blossoms, wrapped in a tattered headscarf, clung desperately to an old man's arm. The elder was bald, his nose bulbous and red from years of drinking, yet his voice cracked with fury as sailors dragged him away.
"Stop it! Leave the boy alone! What kind of pirates bully a child?!"
"Pirates?" One crewman sneered. "Old man, we're not pirates. But you? Traveling with a brat on Gasparde's ship? Looks plenty pirate to me."
"What?!"
The elder and child blinked in bewilderment.
From the shadows, a heavy tread resounded. A towering figure emerged, muscles taut, face scarred, his very presence radiating menace.
"W–Wilson-sama!" the sailors stammered, quickly bowing.
The massive Fishman scanned the pair with sharp, golden eyes.
The old man's instincts flared. He quickly bowed, voice rough with desperation.
"Wait! We are not with Gasparde!"
"I… I am just a boiler operator. My name is Viera. And this child, Anaguma—four years ago, when Gasparde destroyed her hometown, I saved her. We've been trapped on his cursed ship ever since, forced to serve. Believe me, we hated him. You've saved us!"
He laughed hoarsely, even through his fear. "Ahaha… life is funny, isn't it? As long as you endure, fortune always finds you in the end."
Wilson's jaw tightened. He stared at the girl. In her frightened eyes, he saw another face—Kerla, the child Fisher Tiger had once rescued from the slavers.
Memories burned.
"I'll take them," Wilson said finally, voice gruff. "To the Captain. He will decide their fate."
"Yessir!"
And so the elder and child were brought before Jin.
He was not surprised. Nothing aboard his Carrier escaped his eyes. He already knew their tale. But what pleased him was Wilson—who once might have rejected them—now stood to defend them. His heart was softening, broadening, maturing.
Yes. A true commander.
"Take the girl outside," Jin ordered softly. "Wilson, stay."
He turned his gaze upon the old man. His voice was calm, yet edged with command.
"I am Jin, King of the Winterhan formerly known as Drum Kingdom. If you surrender to me your knowledge of boilers and maintenance, I will accept you. Both of you. As citizens. You will have food, shelter, medicine. The child will have education."
"Winterhan… Kingdom?" Viera whispered. He had never heard of such a place.
But what choice did he have? He was old. The girl was young. And the man before him was no mere pirate—he was a sovereign, a ruler.
In the shadow of that power, what could he do but bow?