Shawn Newman – POV
Clashing with Gol D. Roger was unlike anything I'd ever experienced.
We had fought for so long, the days had blurred together. Blow after blow—some straightforward, others unpredictable—traded like currency. A thousand punches? Ten thousand? It didn't matter. Neither of us backed down.
Each time I thought I'd gained ground, Roger would adapt.
Evolve.
Grow stronger.
He was born to fight with his spirit. I could feel it, radiating from his body like heat. A soul so vast, it bent the very world to his will—the essence of Haki itself.
It wasn't fair.
But fairness was never part of the equation.
As I endured his strikes and responded with my own, something within me shifted. My thoughts sharpened.
Why treat Haki's forms as separate?
Why compartmentalize what was meant to flow?
Armament, Observation, Conqueror's—they were all fragments of one source. Why not combine them?
A fusion of spirit.
The only thing stopping anyone was the soul's limits—the fuel of the Will. And most people would burn out trying. But not us.
Not me.
I began testing. Letting Roger strike me clean, reading how his Haki flowed. Feeling how mine responded. Then pushing it further.
Each impact etched more instinct into me.
Gol D. Roger – POV
Few things brought me joy like battle. But this was different.
Shawn Newman was pushing me.
Waves taller than towers crashed around us. My Observation Haki peeked seconds into the future—longer, sometimes. My Armament was near impenetrable. But it was my Conqueror's Haki that defined me. The foundation of my path.
And lately, I'd sensed it was changing—trying to take shape.
Like it was waiting to be reborn.
But there wouldn't be decades for it to mature. I could feel the noose of fate around my neck, drawn by illness or something worse.
The world itself doesn't want me to win.
I've long suspected it. This world has a Will. It chooses favorites. It hates rebellion.
And then I met him.
Shawn Newman.
He wasn't from here. The world screamed it at me. It wanted me to kill him—erase the outsider.
But I couldn't.
Because he was just like me.
Obsessed. Driven. Evolving with every second. I could feel his Haki changing—fusing. And I understood:
He was attempting what I never dared. What I always dreamed.
To unify all forms of Haki into one perfect expression.
Third Person – Observation from Afar
Two titans.
One trying to rewrite his fate.
One trying to unlock the full potential of the soul.
Shawn's progress was maddeningly fast. At first, his control slipped. His soul almost fractured under the strain of fusing the three Haki streams. But his Will, honed by every battle since the day he washed up in this world, refused to snap.
Instead, it compressed—refined.
His soul became a crucible, housing more than just power. It housed purpose.
With that compression, something impossible began to form. His Conqueror's Haki surged, no longer just pressure, but something tactile. Something real.
He achieved full integration—Armament, Observation, and Conqueror's flowing as one stream. Not parallel. Unified.
And then, it happened.
Narration – Spirit Projection: The First Manifestation
Shawn's Haki surged—not just around his body, but through it.
Every cell, every bone, coated and saturated in Armament.
Observation gave him control over muscle fibers. Over timing. Over the rhythm of battle.
And Conqueror's Haki—his spirit—emerged from him like smoke, then fire, then shape.
He called it:
Spirit Projection.
A technique impossible in theory. Unthinkable in practice.
By projecting his Armament outward using Emission—and reinforcing it with his Conqueror's Haki—he created solid, physical structures made purely of spirit.
And in that moment, the silver-and-black energy began to swirl in his hand, forming a mass of compressed willpower and memory.
It shifted.
Twisted.
Took shape.
Third Person – Crews Watching
Roger's crew, Shawn's soldiers—those still conscious—watched in disbelief.
From thin air, Haki condensed like metal smelted from a spiritual forge.
The energy curved, solidified, lengthened—
Shawn – POV
I had always imagined it. A specific weapon.
Not one I could find on an island or in a shop.
Because it didn't exist yet.
Now, as my spirit shaped reality, the first of many manifestations took form:
Twin gauntlet blades.
Each extending a meter past the knuckles—razor-thin, black as obsidian, streaked with veins of silver lightning. A hybrid of offense and control. Speed and lethality. Willed into existence from the marrow of my ambition.
My fists closed.
I could feel them—not as weapons I held, but as extensions of my will.
And I wasn't finished yet.
Roger – POV
"HAHAHAHA… Now that's something else!"
He was doing it.
Combining Haki.
Shaping it.
Shawn Newman… this man might just break the world's rules.
And that made me excited.
Third Person
Above the sea, two monsters stood—glowing, pulsing, warping the laws of reality with their spirit alone.
And below them, the world listened.
Because a battle like this would echo into the future.
Not just in legend.
But in consequence.