"Pops — who do you think will win, those two?"
Marco asked cautiously, eyes glued to the duel.
He was already stunned. Sharn—by Whitebeard's reckoning only a teenager—looked older than Marco's seven years, yet his presence towered above most of Whitebeard's crew. Most of Newgate's sailors were teenagers now, kids who called him "Pops" and followed him for no reason other than the man's charisma. Even with Kaido present, the youth on deck were much younger. Moria was nearly anonymous here—just a small, scrawny kid. Compared side-by-side, Sharn's talent shone extra bright: same age, far stronger.
Chinjao, despite his renown as Flower Country's spearhead, had no advantage against this boy. Why, the old king of the Happo Navy could not even safely land a blow.
"Pops—Sharn's fruit power is weird. He can blink around, and when he hits it's like your tremor—kind of similar!" Marco babbled. As an apprentice who'd been at God Valley, Marco had memories and maps burned into his mind. He knew the reputations.
"Sharn was a monster at God Valley. Rocks himself made him an apprentice," Marco continued in a rush. "He even—rumor says—dared to strike at Celestial Dragons. Under normal circumstances, Admirals would've chased him. Fifteen when he joined Rocks—just like Kaido. Ambition like that gets you hunted."
Marco was still a boy, but the fire in his chest had not cooled. He quivered with excitement as he watched the fight.
Whitebeard grinned at the question. "You ask too much, Marco," he said with a chuckle—though he loved the boy's curiosity. These kids had grown up under his watch; Marco was training to be a proper combatant. Someday he would be a captain in his own right.
"Still," Whitebeard said, leaning on his blade and watching the clash, "this is a good fight. Sharn keeps surprising me. A Mythical Zoan that explodes into shockwaves—reminds me of Sengoku a bit." He flicked his sword idly; no shockwave could cross the invisible Haki shield he'd raised.
Then Whitebeard bellowed, laugh booming over the harbor: "Sharn! If you win this fight, become my son!"
His "Gurararara" laughter carried—an absurd offer, and yet earnest.
Nobody expected the boy to be asked. Kaido was speechless. He remembered when Whitebeard once invited him into Hive Island—treated him like family. Whitebeard didn't treat everyone equally: Big Mom was siblinglike, while Newgate had often taken Kaido in like a son. Now he was offering the same to Sharn. Kaido felt both jealous and thrilled at the thought: recruit Sharn as vice-captain, assemble similar monsters—what a crew that would be.
"Kaido!" Moria called—bouncing between fear and boldness.
"What are you doing, apprentice?" Kaido narrowed his eyes and growled at the kid. Moria, meanwhile, fiddled with a pair of scissors and a scrap of shadow—he believed he could "cut" and absorb shadows to grow stronger. He tried to clip a piece of Wolf's shadow and eat it; it barely worked, giving only a taste of strength—temporary and weak. Kaido scorned Moria's lack of resolve: this was why thieves, bandits, and true pirates differ—some live by survival instincts alone, while others have the ferocity to rule.
"Resolve!" Moria murmured, watching the fight. He'd once been a town boss, arrogant and spoiled; becoming a pirate had opened hunger in him for real power. Now the arena sparked something inside him.
Sharn was a blur—so fast that Chinjao's Observation Haki and body arts could barely touch him. Hundreds of exchanges passed: Haki against Haki, martial trade for martial trade, Devil Fruit ability woven seamlessly into the choreography. Chinjao, at his prime, still panted. He surged again, eyes shining blood-red as he saw Sharn appear dead-center in front of him, sometimes flickering with crimson light.
"You've mastered Observation Haki!" Chinjao gasped—astonished that, after only one prolonged clash, Sharn had turned instinct into command. With that mastery, Sharn now wielded all three Haki.
"You've got better Armament Haki than me and still can't land a hit—damn it!" Chinjao roared, frustrated that this "kid" slipped and struck past every defense. He wrapped his feet in Haki, vanishing in a speed-augmented surge—using his Hasshoken's True Essence to boost his legs and charge.
Sharn's hands darkened with Armament Haki and the paw-shaped pressure signature. "Paw Impact — Fish-Tail Ripple Crisis!" he shouted.
Air and Haki collided: crackling lightning, compressed wind, purple arcs. Sharn fused his Paw-Paw power, his Black Dragon traits, and three-color Haki. The two titans slammed palms and skull: one produced a non-contact explosion, the other an aura that could pierce internal organs from distance.
The shock shattered houses; waves rose nearly ten meters. When the exchange reached its peak, both were hurled apart. Sharn skidded into a small boat and checked his footing with Moon Step; Chinjao's blow smashed the harbor command tower into rubble to halt his momentum.
"This is ridiculous—destroy a port and still not beat this nobody? Am I weak?" Chinjao panted, blood on his beard, wounds across his body. He stumbled forward, only to have Sharn slam a palm into him—this time the palm carried a second development of the Paw-Paw Fruit: a painful, fatigue-inducing burst. A pale-red, paw-shaped aura of pain and weariness radiated from Sharn's hand.
Chinjao met it head-on with his skull, scoffing—but the impact gave him both shock and searing pain. He lashed back with Bōryoku Haki—Conqueror's Haki erupting as he roared, "I was born to rule! Even if you have devil fruit power and dual Haki, without Conqueror's you're just another face!"
Spitting blood, Chinjao refused to let Sharn dominate the stage. Sharn kicked out in the air: "Beetle Uncle!" he taunted—an insult—and then unleashed dark-purple Conqueror's Haki in reply to Whitebeard: "Newgate, this is my answer!"
The two Conquerors collided—lightning tearing the sky—knocking nearly every Happo Navy soldier unconscious. Chinjao's pride shattered: the "unknown kid" possessed kingly blood after all.
In that sliver of hesitation that makes or breaks titans, Sharn struck one final palm at Chinjao. The old general vanished in an instant—a flash of displacement—and was gone. The duel's tempo had decided the winner: hesitation cost Chinjao the fight.
Whitebeard's face broke into an irrepressible grin. Kaido felt something new: maybe Sharn wasn't merely approaching him—maybe Sharn was catching up, or surpassing him.
As Chinjao spun away, in the sky three large warships flanked by seven smaller vessels raced toward Flower Country. Somewhere above, Garp looked up and sniffed air. "Hey, Sengoku—hear that?"
"Of course. Fast—what is—"
"KAPU! You thief, you stole my ramen!"
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