Loguetown smelled of iron and rain.
The sea wind carried it through the streets, threading between stone buildings that had watched legends die and be born in equal measure. Alpha stepped onto the pier just as the clouds thickened overhead, the sky dimming into a muted gray that pressed down on the city like a held breath.
He felt it immediately.
Pressure.
Not the diffuse awareness of Marines or pirates—but something denser. Heavier. Intent honed into authority.
Logia, Alpha concluded calmly. And experienced.
From the Marine headquarters balcony, Captain Smoker exhaled.
White smoke spilled from his lungs, coiling around his shoulders like a living thing. His eyes narrowed as he looked down at the dock—not at any single person, but at a distortion in the flow. Someone the city moved around.
"Tashigi," he said without looking away. "You feel that?"
She adjusted her glasses, frowning. "It's… quiet. Wrong kind of quiet."
Smoker's jaw tightened.
There.
Alpha moved through Loguetown's main street with deliberate calm. He did not hide, nor did he announce himself. His Haki brushed against the city like a low tide, suppressing his presence without erasing it. He wanted to be felt—just enough.
The air shifted.
Smoke poured into the street ahead, thickening unnaturally, swallowing sound and sight alike.
"Stop right there," a voice growled from within it.
Alpha stopped.
The smoke parted.
Smoker emerged, jitte resting on his shoulder, eyes sharp and unyielding. Marines fanned out instinctively, rifles raised, forming a practiced perimeter.
"You don't belong here," Smoker said. "And I don't like the way the city reacts to you."
Alpha met his gaze.
"I'm just passing through," he replied evenly.
Smoker snorted. "Funny. Trouble says the same thing."
The smoke surged.
Smoker moved first.
His body dissolved into white plumes, reforming behind Alpha in an instant. The jitte came down in a crushing arc.
Alpha turned.
Iron surged—not explosively, but densely—flowing into his forearm as he raised it to meet the strike.
CLANG.
The impact rang across the street, shockwaves rattling windows. Marines stared.
"What—?"
Smoker's eyes widened a fraction.
Alpha slid backward, boots carving lines into stone, but he didn't fall. He rotated with the momentum, slipping out of range as smoke lashed where he had been a heartbeat earlier.
Sea-prism tip, Alpha noted instantly. Direct contact dangerous. Adjust.
He darted forward instead.
Not toward Smoker—but through him.
Smoker reformed just as Alpha's palm struck his ribs. Armament Haki flared—not as a coating, but as an internal reinforcement layered atop iron. The blow didn't pass through smoke.
It hit.
Smoker flew backward, slamming into a stone wall hard enough to crack it.
Silence exploded.
Tashigi's mouth fell open. Marines froze mid-step.
"He… hit the captain?"
Smoke boiled violently as Smoker rose, fury etched across his face.
"Not a rookie," he growled. "Good."
The street vanished under smoke.
Alpha's senses sharpened.
Observation Haki expanded, threading through the fog, mapping pressure changes, intent spikes, the flow of Smoker's reformations. He didn't chase.
He waited.
Smoke condensed—
Alpha pivoted.
The jitte swept past his shoulder by a hair's breadth. Alpha countered with a knee, iron-reinforced, driving into Smoker's midsection before he could disperse fully.
Smoker grunted, skidding back.
He's adapting, Alpha realized. Good.
The clash escalated.
Smoke whipped like chains. Stone shattered. Alpha moved in tight arcs, conserving motion, never overextending. Each exchange was a test—timing versus intangibility, density versus dispersion.
Marines could barely follow the exchange.
"Is he even touching the ground?"
"How is he predicting the captain?"
Smoker exhaled hard, smoke flaring wildly.
"This ends now."
Alpha felt it—the city's balance tipping, authority bearing down. If this continued, escalation would become unavoidable.
Objective achieved, he decided. Assessment complete.
He disengaged.
A feint. A sudden burst of speed. Alpha slipped past the smoke and vaulted onto a rooftop, then another, then vanished into the maze of Loguetown before Smoker could lock him down.
The smoke cleared.
Smoker stood alone in the ruined street, breathing hard.
"He didn't run," Tashigi said quietly. "He chose to leave."
Smoker stared at the rooftops.
"…Yeah," he said. "That's worse."
High above, Alpha paused just long enough to look back at the city.
Confirmed, he thought calmly. Logia not invincible. Authority predictable.
The Grand Line awaited.
And now—
—the world was watching.