"Sharn!!!"
Chinjao could not believe that a single split-second of hesitation had cost him the match.
He'd been struck by Sharn—who had mastered Observation Haki—in a single, decisive blow. Hundreds of rounds of grueling exchange had honed Sharn's Haki and body arts until they were fluent; then, with a burst of pain-and-fatigue discharge, Sharn launched Chinjao clean off. Finally, Conqueror's Haki crushed the old general's last shred of pride—and the Paw-Paw power sent him flying.
Chinjao had been hit by the fruit's force so completely that consciousness thinned while he was still being hurled through the air. He had planned to break free with the newly attained Hasshoken True Essence—his high-level Armament Haki technique—but his vision blurred and he blacked out mid-charge. Only one thought remained in his head: find Sharn again, stab that brat a hundred times with my cone skull, make him understand!
Klang! A wisp of smoke fled Chinjao's mouth as the Paw-Paw-created air-throw deposited him into the open sea. Because Sharn had only marked Flower Country with his Paw-Paw lineage so far, he could not reliably bounce Chinjao back to the same harbor; he'd sent the old man randomly. Where he landed in the vast ocean was a mystery—Chinjao's fate now lay in luck and his own stubbornness.
A ripple of water—then a tiger-toothed whale opened its cavernous maw and swallowed Chinjao whole. No one could say where the famed cone-skull general would next resurface.
West Blue — Flower Country, Happo Navy harbor.
Sharn stared at his hands. The cute paw imprint still clung to his palms. His Black Dragon Zoan form had never been merely cosmetic; it conferred impressive strength and regeneration, and his defenses were first-rate. Now, with the Paw-Paw's near-instant repulsion enhancing his speed—almost like teleportation—he was a whirlwind in close quarters. If he landed at the Sabaody Archipelago, he could very well top the Supernovas list.
"Captain — little Moria's out cold again." Wolf hefted the stunned boy like a ragdoll and dropped him on the deck. "Don't worry. Even at eighty he'd be shorter than you." Wolf's voice was blithe.
Sharn's thrill wasn't that Chinjao had been knocked out of commission or that they could pillage the port—his Devil Compass had spun again. It had been still for a long time, only now moving to fulfill the choice rewards it owed him. The last time it had turned was when they first entered God Valley.
"Stock up," Sharn ordered calmly. "There's plenty of Marine Berries on that ship. Buy food, water—everything we'll need. We'll be on the road a long while."
No one blocked them now. With Flower Country's champion knocked out and Whitebeard having accepted the outcome, the coast yielded. The sea respects strength; Sharn's gang had proven they belonged to the victors that day. Moly haggled adorably with merchants while Wolf carried crates. The Compass spun on, threading fate with new choices.
"Newgate's waiting for us," Kaido noted, pulling from a chest a brand-new alloy club—far handier than his old iron bat. Since God Valley, he'd been hunting a reliable replacement for the shattered kanabō; this one felt right in his grip. No forged sea-stone club in the New World was easy to come by—this would have to do for now.
As the Happo Navy fell silent, allowing the Sharn and Whitebeard ships to come and go, Sharn's bounty would only rise. The threat level had reached kingdom scale.
"Hmm." Sharn listened for the Compass to tick, and his stomach growled. He sauntered into a tavern, grabbed a monstrous hunk of roasted meat, tossed a few silver coins on the table, and tore into it. That simple bite was comfort.
"Sharn—do you know what's next?" Whitebeard asked, sitting on a crate and watching the young men with grave amusement. After God Valley they were all starting over; Whitebeard had to reevaluate two remarkable teenagers. In time, they might threaten his position—but if both boys had Conqueror's potential and teamed up, they could form an iron-strong crew.
Whitebeard saw the glint of a new Roger-era rise: if Sharn truly wanted the kind of perfect crew he spoke of, he aimed at something like the Rocks—an empire built from monsters, tenfold, each commanding armadas like Four Emperors' fleets. Ten such lords and the top seat of the seas would be within reach—and the World Government's cake would be theirs.
Clunk! The three men settled into their spots. Sharn on an oaken barrel, Kaido brooding with his new alloy club, Whitebeard with his ever-present great blade. Kaido drank from his sorrows, reminiscing about the old Rocks days where invitations and battles had shaped him.
Whitebeard smashed his jug on the deck and laughed. "Your ship can't enter the Grand Line as-is!" His gaze flicked to Sharn and Kaido. The pair stood immediately alert; Whitebeard's words carried a new weight.
"Go to Ohara," Whitebeard advised. "Their port rivals Flower Country's for seamanship. Archaeologists need ships to reach ruins." He lifted his blade and chuckled, "Don't be shameless—don't think I'm adopting you two ambitious brats. After we part, the next time we meet will be as rivals on the sea! Sons—set sail!"
Whitebeard's cloak flared white. Marco scooped up little Jozu and looked longingly at Sharn. "Aye, Pops!" the crew chorused as they set about their duties—helmsman, shipwrights, cooks, and lookouts all in motion.
"By the way, kids." Whitebeard called over his shoulder to the younger fighters by the shore. The pirate ships readied sails for the Grand Line. "Sengoku—Garp's still in West Blue. He'll be here before long."
Waves carried memories. Kaido felt six years slip back in—when Whitebeard had first invited him to Hive Island and the world turned on a new axis. He spat curses and bluster, but the old grin of Newgate's departing back remained.
The Compass spun. Sharn watched Whitebeard's fleet recede, then turned toward the shattered harbor. "Hey Kaido—wasn't this supposed to be West Blue's best seamanship?" Sharn asked.
Kaido sneered. "Damn—Newgate and Chinjao wrecked it!" But what could they do? Repair, retrofit, and head for Ohara. They'd refit the plank craft and press on.
"We weigh anchor for Ohara!" Sharn declared. He'd found a Happo Navy navigational marker. The big flat-wood ship, powered by captured warship engines, cast off and left port.
The Happo Navy breathed a collective sigh: "Find Chinjao! Where did he go?" But hours later, as the Sharn ship vanished over the horizon, the Marines finally made it to the ruined harbor. Sengoku's fist pulsed with anger.
"Which way did they go?" Garp demanded, eager to pursue. The Happo officer reported, "Ohara! We lost an Ohara navigational pointer!"
At once the Navy turned its bow and gave chase.
On deck of the plank ship, the crew ate their fill. Sharn smiled—no dedicated cook, but Moly's giant-pot meals were hearty. They followed the pointer across the ocean. Night fell and everyone slept.
Only Sharn sat wide awake, eyes fixed and alert. The Devil Compass had spun from day into night, until it stopped—landing on the same coordinate as their recorded navigational pointer.
[Fate Singularity Appears — A Brand New Choice Opens]
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