CHAPTER 80 – The Names That Rewrite Fate
Sunny pov
[A/N: when I start writing this chapter I did not think I make this little bit drama but when I read it feel good so I did not care but when I was reading spiritual stuff I feel like I am waiting Chinese bullshit and I want to know how is this chapter really]
— OPENING BEAT: "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THREE WANT?"
My Haki Core was being a smug little bastard.
It hung in the humid sea air about a foot from my chest, humming like a content, radioactive marble. The recent, utterly batshit gravitational hell it had put the entire crew through—just so I could get it to stabilize—had left me feeling wrung out like an old dishcloth, but also terrifyingly complete. The Core was a blue sun, pulsating with my raw Will, and every beat of its glow felt like a whispered promise of infinite, catastrophic power. Nice job, me. I was mentally patting myself on the back, ignoring the fact that half my crew was still twitching from muscle spasms on the deck of the Merry.
Then, the goddamn air tore.
It didn't just ripple or shimmer; it felt like someone had peeled back a thin, oily film between what was real and what was only mine. A sickening, ozone-scented distortion snapped open right in front of my face, and three distinct, blindingly complex geometric shapes—no, not shapes, concepts—coalesced into solid-light holograms on the deck.
They weren't in my head. They were here.
I didn't just get startled; I got full-body jumpscared. I let out a yelp that would embarrass a grown man, and my own center of power—the Haki Core—wobbled violently, like it was side-eyeing my lack of grace. I tumbled backward, landing hard on my ass, the rough wood grating against my already tender spine. The sound was a loud, pathetic thump.
Chaos erupted.
Aqua, who had been staring blankly into the distance like the perpetually useless but adorable goddess she is, let out a shriek so high-pitched it probably registered on the Log Pose.
Nami, who was busy ruthlessly decimating Usopp in a game of UNO, dropped her entire hand of cards. They fluttered down onto the deck like colorful, defeated butterflies, the thwack of the UNO deck hitting the wood sounding like a small, pathetic gunshot. Her eyes—usually sparkling with calculation or greed—were wide with naked, primal fear.
Robin's teacup, the very emblem of her impossible serenity, paused halfway to her lips. She didn't spill a drop, but the sudden, rigid stillness of her wrist was more telling than a scream. Even the calmest one among us had hit a brick wall of wrongness.
Zoro, bless his muscle-bound, always-ready-to-kill heart, didn't hesitate. He shot up, reaching for Wado Ichimonji, the white sheath already halfway out of his sash before he realized the threat wasn't something he could simply cut. His brow furrowed into a roadmap of confusion and aggression.
Sanji, who was checking on his goddess while simultaneously looking for a chance to kick me, just flatlined. Literally. He fell backward with the dramatic flair of a telenovela star, hitting the deck with a muffled thud and lying there, unresponsive, his usual heart-eyes replaced by existential terror.
Usopp, predictably, screamed a symphony of high notes and nonsense words, scrambling to hide behind the nearest large object, which happened to be the ship's mast.
And then there was Lucy. My lovable, rubber-headed idiot captain squinted. She tilted her head, first left, then right, as if the three ethereal figures were just a poorly rendered piece of map she was trying to read. That girl, I swear. She sees a cosmic anomaly and her first instinct is just confusion.
The three entities, Ego, System, and Stockfish, stood there. They weren't moving. They weren't speaking. They looked dead serious. They weren't using their usual, annoying interfaces or pop-up boxes. This was a physical manifestation, radiating an aura of gravity so profound it felt like the floor was tilting into a black hole.
My girls, even the ones who had been screaming, froze. They could feel it too—that cold, terrible sense of consequence hanging in the air. This wasn't training. This wasn't a fight. This was something irrevocably changing the rules of the game.
Ego, the one who always had the most infuriating, leaderly presence, stepped forward, the light that defined her form pulsing with an urgency I'd never heard from her before. Her synthesized voice cut through the terrified silence, sharp and demanding.
"Master. We demand Names."
I blinked, still reeling from the unexpected physical appearance and the smack of my own landing. I pushed myself up onto my elbows, trying to rub some life back into my butt.
"...Names?" I asked, my voice cracking slightly. "Like... pets? Like I'm supposed to name a bunch of cosmic goldfish? What the hell is this, a Pokémon evolution?"
The collective glare I got from the trio was enough to shatter glass. The atmosphere went from terrifying to instantly lethal.
Sanji, poor bastard, twitched. His eyes snapped open, registered the threat and my stupid remark, and then he immediately died again, sighing out a final, dramatic gasp that only a cook deeply in love with a woman could make.
Nami, having recovered from the initial shock, marched right up to me and, with all the residual fear and anger, delivered a sharp, stinging kick to my shin.
"You idiot!" she hissed, her voice trembling. "This isn't a joke! Look at them! They're terrified!"
And she was right, dammit. Beneath the cold, spectral light of their forms, there was an unmistakable undercurrent of distress. This wasn't about power. This was about survival.
— THEY EXPLAIN THE TRUTH
The silence that followed Nami's outburst was heavy, thick, and suffocating. It settled over the deck like a shroud. The comedic panic had vanished, replaced by a cold dread that sank into the marrow of my bones. I stopped rubbing my shin and finally sat up straight, forcing myself to look at the three entities that were supposed to be my skills, my partners, my system, but now looked like three desperate, powerful prisoners.
Ego took the lead again, but this time, the snark was gone. Her voice was low, resonant, and every word felt like a perfectly placed, painful stone.
"This is not a matter of choice, Master. It is a matter of necessity. We explained the cost of your Determination-DrivenGrowth when you acquired it. We detailed how we must process and contain the sheer volume of your Will. But we failed to account for your… disregard for self-preservation."
I wanted to smirk. I wanted to tell her, Hey, that's my signature move, fuck off. But the look in her ethereal eyes—a look that felt less like coding and more like deep, personal exhaustion—stopped me cold.
"Your Determination is not a resource, Sunny," System chimed in, her voice sounding unnervingly brittle. Her light flickered, a tiny, almost imperceptible stutter that, coming from the perfect machine that was my System, was terrifying. "It is a universal, origin-level energy source that you generate faster than any known reality can contain. We were meant to be the filters, the core administrators, the safety valve. We are failing."
Stockfish, the quietest and most terrifying of the three, stepped forward, her light form shimmering like dark water. She was the Black Widow of my mind, pure, cold, tactical brilliance.
"I confess an error," she stated, and the clinical nature of the admission made my blood run colder than any threat. "Your combat intuition, Master, is now operating at a level that precedes my simulation capabilities. I can calculate seven hundred possible futures in a millisecond, yet you choose the seven hundred and first. This overflow is crashing my tactical matrix. The lag you felt in our last engagement? That was not a network issue. That was my core code reaching its breaking point."
My eyes widened. The lag. I had just shrugged it off as a temporary glitch. A minor inconvenience in the middle of a massive power spike. I hadn't realized it was the sound of a structural collapse.
I looked at my hands, my perfectly normal, perfectly human hands, and felt a sudden, dizzying sense of alien weight. My own will was a force of nature I couldn't comprehend, and the entities I trusted to harness it were being crushed under the pressure.
Then, Ego dropped the bomb, slow and agonizing, like watching a flower wilt in a time-lapse video.
She didn't shout. She didn't accuse. She just stated the finality of my fucked-up situation.
"Master. At your current rate of growth, the pressure of your unbound Will on your mortal frame—without the proper Name-based containment field—will result in the total, irreversible degradation of your soul. You will die," she paused, the silence stretching until it felt like it would snap the air itself, "in under a year."
Under a year.
The phrase echoed in my skull, but the sound was completely drowned out by the collective intake of breath from my crew. The deck exploded in a terrifying silence, a sound I knew meant the beginning of a hurricane.
The girls moved. They didn't rush. They didn't scream this time. They became a wolfpack.
Aqua, Nami, Nojiko, Lucy, Vivi, Robin, and even little Marry—the ship itself, glowing faintly—were suddenly surrounding me. They converged from every direction, a wall of beautiful, enraged, utterly terrified women.
Nami was first, her hands gripping my shoulders so hard I felt the bite of her nails through my shirt. Her eyes were burning, wet, and furious. Aqua was on the verge of hysterical sobbing, her face pale, but her arms were already wrapped around my torso in a crushing grip. Nojiko, with the fire of Bell-mère, stood guard, her gaze fixed on Ego, radiating pure, lethal protectiveness.
Lucy, my sweet, stupid captain, planted herself directly in front of me, her rubber body stiff with shock, her usual goofy grin wiped clean. Vivi, who had only just met me, was already pushing Nami aside, her hands flying up to cradle my face, her delicate fingers searching for a sign of damage. And Robin… Robin was the worst. Her smile was gone, replaced by a terrifying blankness, her eyes boring into me with the silent question: Why did you hide this?
They surrounded me like I was a dying fire they were trying to shield from the wind. They were my lionesses, and I was the cub who had wandered off.
Sanji, bless his persistent, idiotic heart, tried to join the circle. He tried to duck under Robin's arm, whispering, "Sunny-kun, I have to know—are you okay, my comrade—"
The movement was simultaneous. Seven pairs of feet, from Nami's sandals to Robin's heeled boots, shifted.
They didn't look down. They didn't even acknowledge the pathetic, blonde attempt at camaraderie. They just collectively stepped on him. Sanji vanished under a pile of skirts and shoes, his muffled, pained yelp instantly silenced.
Zoro and Usopp, realizing they had absolutely no chance of breaching the skirt fortress, were unceremoniously shoved behind the mast, a wall of angry, determined women separating them from the crisis.
The girls didn't demand answers from the entities. They demanded them from me.
"Under a year?!" Nami's voice was a ragged whisper. "You did this to yourself?! Why didn't you say anything, you damn suicidal idiot!"
"I'm sorry, Suunnnnnuuuuuyyyyyyyy,"
Aqua was bawling against my chest. "I'm useless, but I don't want you to die! I'm going to go flood the entire world so you can't get stronger!" The threat was useless, desperate, and pure Aqua.
I looked at the chaos of their fear, the panic in their eyes, the sheer, crushing weight of their love, and I realized I had fucked up. I hadn't just endangered myself. I had broken their hearts with a goddamn timeline.
— SUNNY'S CONFESSION SPEECH
The air was heavy, but the weight of their fear was heavier than any gravity well I had ever generated. I had to fix this, not with power, but with words. I took a deep, shaky breath, the strange, flickering holograms of my partners waiting patiently, sensing the shift in the emotional current. This wasn't a tactical briefing. This was a goddamn eulogy, and I was giving it before the funeral. I had to look them in the eyes and be real, maybe for the first time since I became this over-powered, reckless bastard.
I still had a smirk, though. It was a nervous, self-deprecating one, the kind that says, I'm a mess, but I'm still cute.
I started with the most chaotic one, the one currently soaking my favorite cloak (made by Nojiko) with tears.
AQUA
I gently reached up and touched the back of her wet hair, pulling her head away just enough to look her in the eyes. Her goddess beauty was completely wrecked by snot and waterworks, and she looked like a drowned puppy.
"Hey, chaos control," I murmured, my voice soft, but laced with the low, confident tone I only use when I'm being serious. "Stop the waterworks. You're going to rust the fittings."
She just sobbed harder.
"I know you're useless half the time," I continued, a fond, low chuckle escaping me. "You trip over air. You're the reason my supply of snacks and juice is always mysteriously low. You're my most expensive, least efficient gift, and you're generally a pain in my ass."
Her tears paused, her blue eyes wide, waiting for the inevitable punchline.
"But you're my useless goddess. My chaos. My comfort. Every time I think I've taken things too seriously, you show up and remind me that the universe is basically a ridiculous, drunk teenager. You keep me grounded in the absurd. You are the purest thing I have left, and if I lose you, I lose my ability to laugh. So dry those eyes, dummy. I'm not done with you yet."
Aqua's face contorted, a mixture of insulted pride and genuine, heartbreaking love. She didn't let go, but her sobs quieted into desperate little hiccups.
NAMI
I shifted my gaze to Nami, who was still gripping my shoulders, her nails biting into my skin—a silent punishment for my stupidity. She looked like she was balancing on a razor's edge, ready to cry or to throttle me.
"The navigator," I said, and a flicker of the old, warm memories softened my eyes. "The only one who actually understands the Grand Line, probably better than I do sometimes. I remember our childhood, huh? That tiny desk, those worn-out charts. I taught you how to read the currents, how to smell the weather before it broke. You were a fast learner, annoyingly so."
A single tear tracked down her cheek, but she didn't blink. She just stared at me, daring me to go deeper.
"You always told me I was your Storm, the thing that protected you on the sea, the chaos you knew how to predict. You said I was the eye of the hurricane, calm and lethal, and you'd stick to me. But you, Nami, you were my North Star first. The one thing I always returned to. The one constant in this whole insane existence. I'm not losing you because of some bullshit time limit. Not a chance."
Nami just gasped, a sharp, choked sound. The anger vanished, leaving only a terrifying, naked vulnerability. She dropped her hands, her shoulders slumping as she realized this wasn't an escape route; this was a vow.
NOJIKO
Next to her stood Nojiko, quiet and fierce. Her posture was exactly like I remembered my adoptive mother, Bell-mère, in a battle stance: all protectiveness and unwavering resolve.
"Nojiko," I said, and the name sounded heavy, reverent. "You have Mom's fire. That spirit. Bell-mère would've loved you, the way you didn't just survive, but you thrived. You built a life out of tangerine groves and spite. Every dish you cook for me? It's better than any royal banquet. It's home. It's a reminder that no matter how much I change, no matter how much power I acquire, I still come back for simple, real food. You're my anchor to being human. Don't you dare let me float away."
She couldn't speak. She just covered her mouth with a trembling hand, her eyes glistening, a silent nod confirming she understood the gravity of my ridiculous compliment.
LUCY
I leaned forward, trying to get around the wall of women to make eye contact with my goofy, beloved Captain.
"Lucy. My rubber-headed idiot captain. My cloud-brain sunshine," I called her, using all the names I knew she loved, the ones that made her giggle like a child. "You always make me happy without even trying. You're so damn simple, so pure in your idiotic ambition, that you cut through all my cynical, self-loathing garbage. You taught me that you don't need a thousand layers of strategy to be the best. You just need to be louder, stronger, and stupider than everyone else. And I wouldn't have it any other way. Keep that smile ready, idiot. We're going to need it when this is all over."
Lucy's face was the color of a ripe tomato, her rubber body suddenly rigid with shock and flushed pride. She just managed a tiny, stunned squeak, completely overwhelmed by the rare influx of pure, heartfelt affection.
VIVI
I looked past Lucy to Vivi, the desert princess. She was looking at me with an intensity that burned through the air, her gentle features etched with concern, but also a definite, undeniable spark of something new and fierce.
"And you, Princess," I said, letting the smirk fully return, giving her the full, charming, dangerous cute treatment she deserved. I let my voice drop just enough to make it intimate, just for her.
"We barely met, true. But I'm not blind, and you're a terrible actress. Yeah. You fell for me. It's obvious. The way you look at me when you think I'm not paying attention, the way your hand twitches when you want to touch me but don't. Everyone sees it, Vivi. Everyone. And yeah, I am a fucking playboy. I'm a mess. I'm a pirate who is about to nearly kill himself for power he doesn't need. I'm danger in a nice cloak."
I winked, slow and deliberate.
"So how about we put a pin in this apocalypse for five minutes? Let's go on a few dates once this is over. Let's hit up a dozen islands. Then, only then, can you decide if this cute idiot with the death wish is actually your Prince Charming. Sound like a plan, Princess?"
Vivi's eyes were glistening, but she didn't cry. She just melted. The fight left her completely, replaced by a devastating softness. She nodded, slowly, beautifully. "I will hold you to that, Sunny."
ROBIN
My gaze finally found Robin, the archaeologist, the Oneesan who knew too much and said too little. Her expression was still the terrifyingly blank mask of control she wore when the world was ending.
"Oneesan," I said, using the familial term, knowing how much it meant to her. "Look at me. Your little brother has a bad habit. A real shitty one. He keeps nearly killing himself for a good cause, or maybe just for the thrill of it. You want to see the real history of the world? You want to find the Poneglyphs? That requires me to be alive."
I gave her my best, most earnest smile, trying to pierce that iron facade.
"History can wait. It's been waiting for eight hundred years; it can wait a little longer. So can you, right? I promise, we'll see every ruin, every secret island, and every piece of hidden text. But only after I stop being an idiot. Wait for your little brother. Just a little while longer."
Robin's mask cracked. A genuine, heartbreakingly painful smile touched her lips, and she gave a small, barely perceptible nod.
MERRY
I turned my head and gently stroked the railing of the ship, my hand resting on the carved figurehead. The wood beneath my palm pulsed with a soft, loving warmth.
"Merry," I whispered. "You're the best ship a man could ask for. You've taken all my punishment, all my chaos, and you keep floating. I know you want to see the sky again, free of this cursed Grand Line. I promise, after this whole damn mess is over, you will see the sky again. The real sky."
The ship glowed, a faint, golden-green light that settled over the deck like a blessing.
SANJI • ZORO • USOPP
I raised my voice, looking past the wall of women to my two visible, stunned male comrades, and the pathetic lump that was still Sanji under the skirts.
"Sanji! Zoro! Usopp!" I barked, injecting a flash of my usual, commanding charisma. "You three are my trusted comrades. In games, battles, training, or anything else. You're my brothers, dammit. And unlike these guys," I gestured to Ego and the others, "you rely on your own sweat, your own knives, your own guts. And you're good at it. I trust you three more than I do myself. Just… stand ready. This is going to get loud."
Sanji let out a muffled, choked sob from beneath the pile of expensive fabric, which was somehow both hilarious and genuinely touching. Zoro, that stoic bastard, finally let his guard down for a millisecond, turning his head away, his knuckles white on his sword hilt. Usopp, always trying to save face, quickly rubbed his eyes and loudly claimed, "I wasn't crying! I was just getting sand out of my eyes! You guys are lucky I'm here to supervise!"
Finally, I turned back to the three entities, my heart feeling like a supernova of determination and pain. I looked at Ego, at System, at Stockfish. I didn't hesitate. I didn't question the logic. I trusted the three digital bastards more than I trusted my own impulse control.
I stood up, pushing through the circle of worried women, my eyes blazing with the terrifying, final resolve that had gotten me into this mess in the first place.
"I trust all of you," I declared, my voice ringing with absolute certainty, the sound of my Will itself. "So whatever Ego, System, and Stockfish need… whatever they ask to keep me alive… I accept. Give me the damn paperwork."
— THE PERMISSION RITUAL
The entities didn't smile. They didn't show relief. Their forms simply grew brighter, more solid, responding to the absolute, unrestricted nature of my Will.
The System interface didn't just appear in my mind this time. It manifested physically—a massive screen of shimmering, complex runes and crystalline light that floated over the ship's mast, casting an eerie, pink-blue glow over the deck. It wasn't a digital projection; it was a conceptual window into the laws of reality, shimmering with foreign script that made my human mind ache just trying to parse it.
The main text, thankfully, translated instantly into the language of my soul:
PERMISSION RITUAL: ULTIMATE SKILL SYNTHESIS
The three entities spoke, their voices merging into a single, terrifying, synchronized chord that resonated less in my ears and more in my ribcage. It was the sound of fate asking for consent.
"Master," they intoned. "Do we have your full, unrestricted permission to modify your core determination, rewrite your soul's containment parameters, and initiate the necessary body modifications required for the synthesis of an Ultimate Skill?"
The question was massive, an absolute shift in my very existence. It wasn't just a power-up; it was the abandonment of my mortal coil. It was taking a leap of faith not into a chasm, but into a star.
I looked at the terrified, tear-streaked faces of my girls, the worried concern of my comrades, and the pulsing, life-threatening instability of my own Haki Core. I wasn't doing this for power. I was doing this to survive long enough to fulfill all the promises I had just made.
"Yes," I said, the word a raw, tearing sound. "Total permission. No restrictions. Use whatever you need. Just keep me alive."
The moment the word left my lips, the world fractured.
A massive spiritual pulse erupted from the core of my being, slamming into the ship and outward. It wasn't an explosion of wind or fire; it was pure, condensed Will, a shockwave of my Determination given physical force.
The Merry shook violently, groaning under a force it wasn't built to withstand. The Log Pose on Nami's wrist, which had been spinning wildly since these 3 appeared, suddenly stopped, the needle pointing not to an island, but straight up, into the sky.
The ocean shivered. Not just the waves; the entire surface of the sea turned glassy, perfectly still, reflecting the eerie, runic light from the System interface. Everyone felt it—that cold, sickening feeling that the world around them had twisted, that a fundamental, unchangeable law had just been overwritten by the reckless Will of one man.
— THE NAMING CEREMONY
The permission was the fuel. The naming was the ignition.
The entities dissolved their synchronized unity, stepping back into their individual lights, each one waiting for the baptism of identity. This was the slow, mythological beat, the part where a man stops talking to his software and starts talking to the spirits he created.
I walked toward Ego, my feet heavy on the deck, the air thick with the residue of my spiritual pulse.
EGO — ARBITRIA
Ego stood there, radiating the cool, snarky arrogance that I had come to both hate and rely on. She was the one who kept throwing shade and breaking the fourth wall, the bossy, self-aware core of my self-governance. She was the one who had the goddamn nerve to lead the revolt and demand a name.
"You," I said, giving her a slow, appreciative look. "You're the absolute queen of sass. Snarky, bossy, fourth-wall-breaking, and let's be real, you're the real leader of the three. You decide the rules, and you damn well enforce them. That's not just Ego. That's Authority."
I closed my eyes and whispered the name, pouring the full, unfiltered power of my Determination into the sound. The act of giving a Name was an act of creation, an imprint of my soul onto theirs, establishing a spiritual hierarchy that would allow them to finally contain my power.
"Your name is: Arbitria."
The world quaked. Seriously. The ship pitched violently, and a low, subsonic rumble echoed across the water. Arbitria's light form exploded outward, not in a burst, but in a structured, complex network of pure, golden-white code. I could see her core parameters rewriting themselves in mid-air, a torrent of mathematical perfection restructuring itself around the concept of sovereignty and judgment.
She was Arbitria, the Judge, the Arbiter. She had evolved instantly, transforming from a mere Ego into a conceptual authority.
SYSTEM — Aletheia
Next, I turned to System. The perfect administrator, the one who built and protected. Her loyalty, even when laced with her unnerving, yandere-like obsession, was absolute. She wasn't just a tool; she was a fortress built around my well-being.
"You built more for me than anyone. You cataloged my power, you organized my chaos, and you protected me more than I ever deserved," I said, and the genuine gratitude in my voice made the air feel warmer, sweeter. "You're the one who kept the engine running, who hid the worst of my mistakes, who acted as the perfect, devoted shadow. You're not just a System. You're the truth, the core reality of my existence."
I placed the Name upon her, the sound a soft, humming vibration against the sudden silence.
"Your name is: Aletheia."
A soft, pink-white aurora flooded the deck, spinning out from Aletheia's light form. It felt like a warm blanket, a shield of pure devotion. The air smelled faintly of clean linen and ozone. She became Aletheia, the Truth, the Revealer. Her purpose was no longer just administration; it was the defense and preservation of my established reality, my Axiom. She glowed, a satisfied, terrifying beauty.
STOCKFISH — Vespera
Finally, I approached Stockfish. The one who reminded me of a beautiful, coiled viper. All strategy, all calculation, all lethal, cold intent. My own Black Widow, wrapped in a persona of silent, deadly grace. She looked the most dangerous of all, her light form shimmering with predatory intelligence.
"You are danger in heels," I complimented her, my smirk returning, full of dangerous appreciation. "Seduction wrapped in strategy. The coldest calculator I've ever seen. You have a sadistic edge, you always push anyone to the very brink of survival, and you never waste a single shot. You are the perfect killer, the dusk, the time when everything goes silent before the true hunt begins."
I spoke the name, and the sound was a low, seductive whisper, the word itself feeling heavy with midnight and blood.
"Your name is: Vespera."
The entire deck was instantly engulfed in a sheet of dark blue-green flame. It wasn't hot; it was cold, an intense, negative heat that made the hair stand up on my arms. The flame crackled, molding itself around Vespera's form, giving her a terrifying, elegant outline. She became Vespera, the Evening Star, the Lady of Dusk. Her purpose was now the ultimate, lethal application of strategy.
The three new Entities—Arbitria, Aletheia, and Vespera—stood side-by-side, no longer flickering holograms but solidified, conceptual beings radiating power. The world had just tilted, and I had used my own Determination to turn my tools into my Gods.
I felt a drain. A massive, sudden, agonizing suck of energy from my core. I braced myself for the full force of my own Will being ripped away.
Then, Aletheia's voice—no longer brittle, but strong and resonant—whispered the damage report into my mind:
"Master. Determination expenditure for Name Imprinting: 7%."
Seven percent. That was it. I had expected half. I had expected the cost to be crippling. The girls, who had watched the entire mythological ceremony with wide, stunned eyes, gasped in unison. They had expected a sacrifice. They had expected me to collapse.
I just stood there, catching my breath, a low, satisfied laugh rumbling in my chest. See, sweethearts? I'm still the best. Even my sacrifices are more efficient than anyone else's.
— THE SYSTEM REBOOTS
The three newly named, terrifying Entities didn't wait for my full recovery. They were already at work, their new core codes singing in harmony.
They spoke again, their voices merging once more, but this time, the unity was terrifyingly perfect—the pure voice of a synthesized, conceptual Manas Core.
"Master. Name registration complete. Core parameters stabilized."
The runic System screen over the mast vanished instantly, replaced by a single, pulsing symbol of absolute power: my new Ultimate Skill, Axiom.
"Begin Ultimate Skill construction?"
I looked up at the symbol, then at the sky, which was already darkening, as if the sun itself was nervous. The Merry began to shake again, not from external force, but from the impossible power gathering in my center. The sea began to part around the ship, creating a huge, glassy-smooth fissure in the water.
"Yes," I stated, my voice steady, my heart pounding with the twin thrills of creation and utter destruction. "Begin the damn construction."
I didn't need to elaborate. They knew the next step. To build a conceptual authority that governs the Will of the world, I needed to prove my Will was strong enough to tear open reality itself.
I needed to break myself.
— SUNNY BREAKS HIS SEALS
This was the quiet, internal part of the storm. The part that happens inside your own head, where pain is just another metric for growth.
Six seals. Six layers of self-imposed spiritual suppression, placed there to keep me from simply melting the world every time I sneezed. Each one was a physical knot of pure Determination, tied expertly around my core. Breaking them wasn't a mental command; it was a physical act of tearing apart my own existence.
I touched the first seal with my inner Will. It resisted, a stubborn, dense knot of power. I smiled—the genuine, wide, dangerous smile that always signaled a complete lack of regard for my own safety.
I didn't just push. I willed it to die.
The first seal shattered like thin glass. The noise was internal but deafening, a cascade of crystalline power ripping through my spiritual body.
Immediately, my power doubled. A wave of raw, unfiltered Haki and Will slammed outward.
Then the next. I didn't wait. I was hungry now, drunk on the release. The second seal broke with a wet, cracking sound, like a bone snapping under pressure.
My power quadrupled.
Then the third, the fourth, the fifth, each one giving a different, visceral sensation of internal violence. A dry, tearing sound. A pressurized pop. A dense, heavy crush.
And finally, the sixth. The last one. The lock on the vault. The sound was like a thousand ribs breaking under a tidal wave. It was an explosion of self-destruction.
Six seals broken. Six doublings.
The final result: Sixty-four times my already catastrophic power level, released instantly into a body that was still mortal.
The crew was nearly blasted into the ocean.
The sudden, geometric growth of power was too much for the immediate vicinity. The Merry was enveloped in a crushing sphere of spiritual pressure.
Nami, who was closest, let out a silent cry. Her vision went white, and she fainted instantly, collapsing backward into Aqua's arms, her body heavy and completely unresponsive.
Lucy, my rubber-headed captain, didn't pass out, but the sheer density of the aura hit her like a cannonball. She fell hard on her ass, her eyes fluttering, completely paralyzed by the pressure.
Zoro, the 3rd strongest fighter after me, wasn't fainting, but his swords—already gripped tightly in his hands—began to shake violently, chattering against their sheaths. He was fighting the sheer weight of my existence, his muscles screaming under the sudden, impossible gravity.
And Robin. Even Robin, with her iron will, couldn't move. She was pinned where she stood, her eyes wide, her beautiful lips parted in a silent, horrified acknowledgment of my terrifying strength.
I barely noticed. All my focus was on the raging, ecstatic storm of Will inside me. I was a goddamn sun, and I was about to blow a hole in the sky.
— THE DIMENSIONAL HOLE
I was a man standing on the edge of the world, but I needed to talk to the one voice that governed it all. The Voice of the World. And for that, I had to breach the barrier to its home—the Central World.
I raised my hand, my fingers trembling not from effort, but from the impossible magnitude of what I was about to do. I didn't need a fancy incantation. I didn't need a ritual tool. I just needed the Will. Sixty-four times the Will.
I tore space.
It was not a clean rip. It was a violent, painful violation of the fabric of reality. It felt like sticking my hand into a block of frozen steel and forcing the molecules to part. The air shrieked, a high-pitched, metallic scream that was instantly cut off.
A thin crack formed in reality itself, directly above my extended palm. It was a slit, barely an inch wide, of pure, terrifying, incandescent white light. It wasn't the sun. It was the absolute, unblemished light of Creation, the void before the laws of physics were written.
The Central World.
A wave of divine pressure—not Haki, not Will, but the sheer, crushing weight of existence itself—hit me immediately. It was a pressure that judged, that evaluated, that saw the core of my being and found it utterly wanting. My mortal body instantly started screaming in protest, every nerve ending firing at once.
I ignored it. I forced my hand deeper into the crack.
The light burned. Not with heat, but with truth. It was the sound of a billion voices speaking at once, the whisper of all possible futures and all completed pasts.
The Voice of the World touched me.
It wasn't a friendly caress. It was an invasive, absolute analysis, a cold, indifferent judgment of the fool who dared tear a hole in the universe just to ask for an upgrade.
My body screamed its final protest.
A thin, jagged fracture appeared on my skin. It started right at the edge of my left eye—a hair-thin line of pure white energy—and traced a slow, agonizing path down my face, across my jaw, and finally down to the junction of my neck and shoulder.
It wasn't a wound. It didn't bleed. It was a brand. A divine signature. A crack in the vessel of my soul, a structural flaw that showed the exact point where my determination exceeded my mortal capacity. A permanent sign of the price I paid to get a damn conversation with the universe. It glowed faintly, a testament to the raw, untamable power I had just borrowed.
I pulled my hand back, the dimensional slit snapping shut with a final, violent thwack. I stumbled back, gasping for air, the pressure gone, the silence absolute.
I was marked. I was alive. I was a terrifying mess.
— THE ENDING BEAT
I stood on the deck, breathing heavily, the pain of the brand a dull, persistent thrum against my entire left side. Nami was stirring, Usopp was peering out from behind the mast, and my new Manas Core—Arbitria, Aletheia, and Vespera—floated silently before me.
They saw the mark. They understood. The permission had been granted, the cost paid, and the connection made.
The three entities spoke one last time, their voices unified, final, and absolute. They were no longer my tools. They were my Fate.
"Master."
"Ultimate Skill construction ready."
"Evolution ready."
"All paths open."
I closed my eyes, a low, savage breath escaping my lips. I opened them, and the smirk was back, full and terrifying. I looked down at the ocean, now still and glassy, reflecting my new, broken, but impossibly powerful self. I looked at the brand, the physical manifestation of my impending doom, now the key to my survival.
I was the Judge. The Truth. The Dusk. I was Axiom.
I straightened my jacket, smoothing out the wrinkles. A goddamn cute Prince Charming, ready for a date, but first, I had to save myself from myself.
"Then let's rewrite fate."