The vast, endless ocean stretched out before him, its azure expanse merging with the horizon in a way that felt almost infinite. The ship rocked gently in the calm waters, but Jazz stood at the helm, his gaze piercing the horizon as though it held the answers to everything he sought. His mind raced, working through every possible scenario, every possible move. In his old life, he had been forced to rely on luck and timing, but now, with the power of Rocks D. Xebec flowing through his veins, he knew that destiny was his to control.
He was no longer the man he had once been, a failure bound by the chains of his own limitations. He was a king in the making, and this ship—his ship—was the throne from which he would rule the seas. The Rocks Pirates were more than just a crew; they were the hammer with which he would strike down the world.
Behind him, the crew had gathered. The room was filled with their murmurs, their glances, all fixated on him. Jazz could feel their eyes, the weight of their expectations, the curiosity, and the tension. They had once followed a man who sought only destruction, but Jazz's ambition was something different—more calculated, more ruthless. He wasn't here to destroy for the sake of chaos. He was here to rebuild, to reshape the world according to his vision. And if some people had to be crushed in the process, then so be it.
One by one, the members of the Rocks Pirates filtered into the captain's quarters, standing in silence as they awaited their orders. Jazz could see the familiar faces—the faces of men and women who had once been his closest allies, but now were nothing more than pawns in his game of world domination. Kaido, Big Mom, Whitebeard… they had all betrayed him in the end. But he would not let that fate befall him again.
"Is the crew assembled?" Jazz asked, his voice low, but carrying the weight of authority.
A large figure stepped forward. The man was a towering giant, his broad shoulders and thick arms a testament to his strength. "Aye, Captain," he said, his voice deep and rumbling, though there was a hint of uncertainty in his eyes.
Jazz turned to face him, his gaze locking with the giant's. "Good. Then it's time to remind them who their real captain is."
He moved to the center of the room, standing tall, his presence commanding every eye in the room. The crew fell silent, each man and woman sensing the change in the air. Jazz's aura had shifted since the moment he awoke in this new body. It wasn't just physical power—it was the raw, unyielding will to dominate, to control everything around him. He was a storm, and the world would bend to his will.
"I know what you're thinking," Jazz said, his voice steady and deliberate. "You all think I'm the same man who once led the Rocks Pirates to their downfall. But you're wrong. I'm not here for destruction. I'm here for conquest."
A murmur ran through the room. The crew exchanged glances, unsure of what to make of the captain's words. They had followed him once before, but the ambition he spoke of now felt different. It felt unstoppable.
"Under my leadership," Jazz continued, his tone gaining strength, "the world will bow before us. The Marines, the World Government, the Celestial Dragons—all of them will kneel at our feet. But we will do it my way. No more mistakes. No more betrayal. And no more divided loyalties."
He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in, then turned his gaze to the back of the room, where a familiar, imposing figure stood—Kaido, the future King of the Beasts, one of the men who had once considered himself a leader of the Rocks Pirates. His eyes were filled with skepticism, but there was a flicker of uncertainty there too. Jazz could see it.
"You," Jazz said, his voice like a whip. "You've always thought yourself to be the strongest, Kaido. But strength alone won't win this war. Strategy will. And I don't just want to rule the seas. I want to rule the world."
Kaido's expression shifted, his jaw tightening. He had always seen Jazz as a threat, but now? He could sense that Jazz wasn't just speaking in hyperbole. This was a man who believed it, a man who would stop at nothing to achieve his vision.
"We're going to start with the World Government," Jazz declared. "The time of their reign is over. They've ruled with fear and lies for too long. We will break their chains and take everything from them."
Big Mom stepped forward next, her massive frame casting a shadow over the crew. Her yellow eyes glinted with the same ambition that burned within Jazz. "And what do you want from us, Captain?" she asked, her voice a low, gravelly tone. "What part do you see for me in this grand scheme of yours?"
Jazz met her gaze with a confident smirk. "I see you as my right hand, Big Mom. Your strength, your ambition—it aligns perfectly with mine. Together, we'll take down anyone who stands in our way. And when it's all said and done, you'll have more power than you could ever dream of."
The crew was silent, the weight of the conversation settling in the air. Jazz could feel the tension, the growing fear and respect. They were beginning to realize that their old captain was no longer the man they had once known. The man who had led them with a reckless desire for chaos. This new Jazz—this reborn Xebec—was a force of nature, one that would not be swayed by simple greed or ego. He was a man with a purpose, and that purpose was to take the throne of the world.
"I'm not asking for your loyalty," Jazz said, his voice sharp and cold. "I'm demanding it. If you want to survive this new era, then you'll follow me. And if you won't, well…" He let the threat hang in the air like a storm cloud ready to break.
"I don't have time for disloyalty," he continued, his eyes narrowing. "You all know what I'm capable of. And if you even think about betraying me again, I'll bury you before you even have a chance to regret it."
The room was deathly quiet now. The crew exchanged glances, their previous doubts and fears hanging heavily in the air.
One by one, they nodded, their eyes locking with Jazz's. The message was clear—this was the man they would follow, whether they liked it or not.
"Good," Jazz said, his smile a wicked grin. "Let's show the world who the true rulers are. Gather the fleet. We sail for Mariejois."
The crew erupted into action, the sound of hurried footsteps echoing throughout the ship. Jazz turned back to the horizon, his heart pounding with the excitement of the challenge ahead. The Marines would never know what hit them. The Celestial Dragons would beg for mercy. And the world… the world would be his to command.
And this time, no one would be able to betray him. The sky above shimmered with the golden hues of dawn, casting an eerie glow over the turbulent seas. The ship—Leviathan, his flagship—cut through the waters like a blade, its black sails emblazoned with a symbol long thought dead: the skull of the Rocks Pirates. It was a defiant challenge to the world, a ghost reborn.
Jazz stood atop the prow, his long coat fluttering in the wind. The sea breeze carried with it the scent of salt, blood, and opportunity. His mind, sharper than ever, was already racing with the first pieces of his grand game. The World Government had sat atop the throne for far too long, and he knew better than anyone—they weren't gods. They bled like everyone else. All it took was pressure in the right places to make them crumble.
But brute force alone wouldn't win this war.
His fingers tapped rhythmically against the hilt of a cutlass resting at his hip—a weapon he hadn't yet used, but one that hummed with promise. In his past life, he had played chess with people. In this world, the stakes were higher, and the pieces were far more dangerous.
Behind him, the most dangerous crew in the world stirred. Each of them a future monster in their own right. Kaido with his growing obsession for strength and death. Big Mom and her twisted, matriarchal hunger for power. Whitebeard, still a towering figure with a quiet, stormy gaze, yet to become the father of the seas. They were all here—and they were all watching him.
They didn't trust him. Not completely. Not yet.
But that would change.
"Kaido," Jazz called, not turning.
The beast of a man approached, dragging a massive kanabo behind him. "What is it, old man?" His tone was insolent, daring, even now. Jazz smiled. He preferred it that way.
"I need a show of power," Jazz said. "Something to send a message."
Kaido's grin widened. "You want destruction? I'll bring it."
Jazz finally turned, eyes narrowing. "Not destruction. Fear. You'll strike at the Marine base in Baterilla. Small, out of the way, but heavily guarded. Don't destroy it. Cripple it. I want survivors. I want them to tell stories. Let the whispers begin: the Rocks Pirates have returned."
Kaido's grin faltered slightly. "You're using me as bait."
Jazz stepped closer, voice like a blade sliding through silk. "I'm using you as a legend. Play your part right, and soon the world will kneel. Fail... and I'll feed your corpse to the Sea Kings."
For a moment, silence hung between them, thick as smoke. Then Kaido laughed—a booming, savage sound—and nodded. "I like this version of you, Captain."
As Kaido walked off to prepare his detachment, Big Mom sauntered up, arms crossed, her eyes gleaming with ambition and suspicion. "And what's my role in this little game?"
"You're going to broker a deal," Jazz said coolly. "There are underworld brokers in the North Blue who still owe the Rocks name respect. You'll remind them. We'll need weapons, ships, and most importantly—intelligence. Find out everything you can about Cipher Pol's movements and the Celestial Dragons' latest dealings."
She raised an eyebrow. "And if they refuse?"
"Then remind them who you are," Jazz replied, a cruel smile tugging at his lips. "And who I am."
Big Mom chuckled. "Now you're talking."
As she left, Jazz's gaze shifted toward the sky. He could feel the winds changing. The sea itself seemed to sense the awakening of a power long thought extinguished. The world was too comfortable. Too stable. It needed chaos. It needed him.
But Jazz wasn't just rebuilding the Rocks Pirates. He was reinventing them. No more ego-driven fools clashing for control. This time, they would operate like a machine—precise, calculated, and merciless. He had already begun reshaping the inner circle, removing the weak and elevating the loyal. Those who questioned him… quietly disappeared.
He made his way below deck, descending into a dimly lit chamber. A map of the world was spread out across a massive oak table, marked with pins and lines, notes scribbled in three languages. His true plans lay here—in silence and shadow.
He didn't just want the seas. He wanted the Void Century exposed. He wanted to shatter the power of the Celestial Dragons from the inside. For that, he needed knowledge lost to time.
He needed Ohara.
The thought stirred something deep inside him—memories not from Xebec, but from Jazz's former life. He remembered watching that event in horror as a fan, powerless as the Buster Call annihilated a library of truth. But now… now he had power. He could save it. Or use it. Or both.
A knock came at the door.
"Enter," Jazz said, not taking his eyes off the map.
A young woman entered—his newest recruit. Not one of the legends, but sharp, loyal, and unknown. "Captain, the scouts returned from Baterilla. Kaido's attack was a success. Half the base is gone. Survivors are already talking."
Jazz allowed himself a slow breath. Good. The pieces were moving.
"Then the game begins," he whispered.
He leaned over the map, eyes blazing with purpose.
Phase one: fear.
Phase two: alliances.
Phase three: the throne.
And behind it all: revenge. The sails of the Leviathan caught the western winds as the ship carved its way into the Grand Line, veering toward a destination long buried in the shadows of history—Ohara. The very name echoed with the scent of forbidden knowledge, of fire and silence. Most believed it gone, annihilated by the iron fist of a Buster Call. But Jazz knew better.
There was something beneath the ash.
Something still breathing.
The journey had been long, but Jazz's patience was infinite. As a man from Earth, he had watched this world unfold from the outside—its tragedies, its tyrannies, and the history that the Celestial Dragons had tried so desperately to erase. He wasn't just a pirate captain anymore. He was a revolutionary wrapped in a tyrant's skin.
The crew kept their distance as the island came into view—an ashen skeleton rising from a lifeless sea. What had once been a haven of intellect was now a charred grave. Blackened trees clawed at the sky. Cracked stone paths led nowhere. And yet, beneath the surface, Jazz could feel the pulse of something old. Something buried.
He disembarked with only a handful of trusted companions. He didn't want eyes on this secret—not yet. Among them was a strange, quiet archaeologist named Niva, whom Jazz had recruited from the underworld for her knowledge of ancient dialects and forbidden scripts.
"This place," she said in a hushed tone, as they passed the remains of the Tree of Knowledge, "should be gone. There's nothing left."
"Then you don't know how to look," Jazz replied coolly.
He moved to the crater where the great tree once stood. Kneeling, he brushed the ash aside and began to dig. His fingertips struck stone—carved, weathered, and familiar.
A Poneglyph.
Niva gasped. "But... how? How could this have survived?"
Jazz stared down at the relic, its ancient text gleaming faintly under the sun. "Because the truth never dies. It waits." He looked up, eyes sharp as blades. "And we're going to drag it into the light."
He turned to her. "Translate it."
Niva knelt beside him, her fingers trembling as she traced the glyphs. Hours passed. The others kept watch, wary of spies and wandering beasts. But Jazz never looked away. When Niva finally spoke, her voice was dry, awed, and fearful.
"It speaks of a kingdom. Powerful, ancient. Destroyed by the ancestors of the World Government. And of a weapon... hidden beneath the sea."
Jazz felt a jolt of adrenaline pulse through him. So the rumors were true. The Void Century had been scrubbed clean because it held the key to absolute power.
He rose slowly. "We're not just taking the world by force," he said. "We're going to unmake it. One truth at a time."
A flare lit the sky suddenly—red and crackling. A warning.
"Ship approaching!" one of his men shouted from the ridge above. "Marine sails!"
Jazz's eyes narrowed. He had hoped to keep this visit quiet, but fate seemed eager to test him.
"Let them come," he said, turning toward the smoke-blackened shore. "They think they're chasing ghosts. Let's show them the dead fight back."
By the time the Marine ship neared, Jazz stood alone atop the cliffs, his coat whipping in the rising wind. The young Vice Admiral leading the charge stepped forward, bold and bright-eyed, unaware of the nightmare he was about to meet.
"You're trespassing on a restricted island!" the officer barked. "By order of the World Government, you will stand down and surrender!"
Jazz stepped forward, a slow, measured pace. His eyes glowed like coals.
"You serve tyrants who burned the truth," he said, voice cutting through the wind. "Now the fire returns… and it burns hotter than before."
The Vice Admiral raised his blade, ready to give the order.
But Jazz had already moved.
A burst of Conqueror's Haki exploded from him, invisible but suffocating. Dozens of Marines collapsed instantly, eyes rolling back. Even the Vice Admiral staggered, bleeding from the nose.
And then Jazz struck.
In seconds, the battle became a massacre. Cold, efficient, and brutal. Not a man was spared. When it was over, the ship burned, a floating torch in the dark sea.
Jazz stood among the wreckage, blood on his coat, and turned to his crew.
"This was just the beginning," he said. "The world will learn that we are no longer shadows in history. We are the storm to come." The silence of the deep ocean was suffocating.
Below the waves, where no light reached, the Leviathan hovered like a beast in slumber. Jazz stood on the observation deck of a newly acquired submersible ship—a war machine stolen from a World Government research outpost. Sleek and heavily modified, it was now rebranded in secrecy, designed for one purpose: to hunt ancient gods buried in the sea.
The Poneglyph from Ohara had been clear, though cryptic. "The Mouth of Leviathan shall open when the stars above sink beneath the black tide." It was a riddle, a test, and Jazz had spent days studying the star maps and sea charts passed down through stolen archives. The truth pointed to a trench below the Calm Belt—untouched by man, guarded by Sea Kings, and hidden by myths.
But Jazz didn't believe in myths. He believed in power.
Niva stood beside him, her eyes wide as she read the scrolls and symbols in real-time, guided by instinct and fear. "We're nearing the coordinates," she whispered, voice hushed. "If this is really where Uranus lies…"
Jazz said nothing, but deep in his chest, his heart beat faster. Uranus—the most mysterious of the three Ancient Weapons. While Pluton was a ship and Poseidon a princess who could command Sea Kings, Uranus was only ever mentioned as the "Sky Sovereign." A weapon capable of dominating the heavens.
And now, it might be his.
"Bring us down," he ordered.
The crew tensed. The deeper they descended, the more unnatural the water became. The pressure creaked against the hull, and the shadows outside moved like living things.
And then they saw it.
An ancient gate, hidden in the folds of the seafloor, overgrown with coral and stone. Carvings of stars, wings, and dragons circled a mouth-like arch. There was no doubt now. This was the Mouth of Leviathan.
Jazz's breath caught.
The ship docked. Jazz, Niva, and three elite guards descended into the pressure suits and exited into the abyss. With each step, the water grew colder. Ancient carvings lit up with bioluminescent light as they approached. It was as if the gate recognized him.
Niva stepped forward, laying her hand on the ancient stone. "The symbols say only a 'King of Will' may enter. One who has been betrayed by gods and risen anew."
Jazz's smile was bitter. "Then the key was always me."
The gate groaned.
With a rumble that shook the trench, the Mouth of Leviathan opened. Beyond it was a vast, air-filled chamber untouched by time. They entered, torches lighting up metallic walls—walls forged not from stone, but some celestial alloy that hummed with energy. At the chamber's center was a throne… and above it, suspended in the air, a sphere of glowing blue light.
A heartbeat.
Jazz stepped forward. The air grew heavy. His crew fell to their knees, groaning under the pressure, but Jazz pressed on. He reached out.
The sphere pulsed.
A voice echoed—not through sound, but in his mind. "Will you claim the sky, false king? Will you become the storm that severs heaven from Earth?"
Jazz's eyes flared with Conqueror's Haki. "I will. And I'll burn the throne world to ash."
The chamber exploded with light. Jazz screamed, not in pain—but in transformation. The sphere split into fragments, shooting into his chest, his mind, his very soul. Power unlike anything in this world rushed into him. Visions of storms, cities crumbling from the sky, and dragons that rode thunderclouds filled his senses.
He collapsed.
When he awoke, Niva was staring at him—terrified, awed, and speechless. Behind him, the chamber was crumbling.
"What happened?" she gasped.
Jazz stood, cracking his neck. Lightning flickered across his skin.
"I am Uranus now," he said simply. "The world will no longer look to the sky for hope. Only for fire."
They raced back to the ship, barely escaping as the trench collapsed behind them, burying the gateway once more.
Back on board, Jazz stood atop the deck as the Leviathan surfaced. Lightning crackled in the skies above. The weather shifted with his breath. The seas bent to his will.
The weapon was not a machine. It was him.
And now, it was time for the next phase.
"Set course for Mariejois," he ordered. "It's time the gods learned what it means to fall."
The walls of Pangaea Castle had stood for centuries, unshaken by time or war. Its golden towers pierced the sky like spears, and at its heart lay the Empty Throne, said to belong to no one. But in the silence of the highest chamber, far above the reach of kings and admirals, someone did sit upon it.
Imu.
Draped in black, faceless beneath their veil, Imu's fingers hovered over a collection of portraits spread across a long, obsidian table—figures of influence and threat. Some bore red slashes: Luffy, Blackbeard, Dragon. And now… a new image had been placed at the center.
A man with fierce, intelligent eyes.
A man who wore the face of Rocks D. Xebec.
Jazz.
The room was still as death. Only the Five Elders stood before Imu, bowed slightly but tense. Even they dared not meet the shadow sovereign's eyes directly.
"He's not just a remnant," one of the Elders said grimly. "This… Jazz. He's different. Controlled. Calculated."
"He has Uranus," another whispered. "Confirmed. The energy readings from the Calm Belt were undeniable. We underestimated him."
Imu slowly extended a hand. Their voice was cold and thin, like wind slicing through glass. "Remove him… before he awakens the other two."
The Five Elders bowed deeply and left without another word.
---
Meanwhile, aboard the Leviathan, Jazz stood at the edge of the war table in the strategy chamber, surrounded by his inner circle. Kaido leaned against the wall, arms crossed, silently amused. Big Mom paced slowly, chewing on sweets. Whitebeard sat, silent and brooding. Even they could feel it—something had shifted. Jazz was no longer merely the leader of the Rocks Pirates.
He was something more.
"We hit Mariejois," Jazz said, his tone calm, almost conversational. "But not with brute force. Not yet. The world must believe it is still in control… until I rip that illusion apart."
Niva stepped forward, unrolling a stolen floorplan of the Holy Land. "There's an ancient lift that runs from the Red Line base to the inner sanctum. Hidden from the public. Cipher Pol uses it to smuggle artifacts."
Jazz pointed to it. "That's our entry. We send a small team—me, Niva, and two elite infiltrators. While the world watches Kaido destroy a Marine fortress in the East Blue, we walk into the heart of their power and uncover what they fear most."
Big Mom sneered. "You think they'll just let you stroll in?"
Jazz's eyes burned with certainty. "They won't see me coming. I've studied them—every movement, every lie, every mask. I know the World Government better than it knows itself."
Whitebeard finally spoke, his voice a low rumble. "You're walking into the lion's den, Captain. What if the lion bites?"
Jazz smiled coldly. "Then I rip out its fangs and wear its pelt."
The room fell into silence. Then, one by one, they nodded.
---
Later That Night
Alone on the observation deck, Jazz stared out at the stars. He could feel the sky tremble when he reached for it now—Uranus responding to his will like a loyal beast. Lightning danced on the horizon. But even with this power, his mind raced.
The betrayal still haunted him.
He had trusted them—Whitebeard, Kaido, Big Mom. In his past life, Jazz had admired them from a screen. In this one, they were comrades… and traitors. Or they would be. He wasn't naïve enough to think loyalty would last forever. That was why he was building something new.
A second force. Hidden, unknown to the rest of the crew. Soldiers of shadow and silence. Loyal only to him.
And soon, they would have their first task: protect the infiltration of Mariejois.
As the stars shifted above, Jazz whispered to the night:
"The age of dragons ends. The age of kings begins." The Leviathan glided through the quiet waters surrounding the base of the Red Line, cloaked in silence and sea mist. Beneath the shadow of Mariejois, the ship docked in a hidden crevice known only to the World Government's inner circle—a forbidden route used by Cipher Pol Zero. But tonight, it belonged to Jazz.
He disembarked with only three companions: Niva, silent and pale but determined; Calros, a former CP0 agent turned double-agent; and Mara, a masked warrior raised in the underworld, loyal only to Jazz. This was not a raid. This was a surgical invasion.
The elevator groaned as it carried them upward—through the Red Line's dense rock, past layers of ancient architecture, past the very bones of the world. It was like ascending into the veins of a god.
Jazz didn't flinch. He could feel Uranus humming inside him, a quiet thrum that pulsed in rhythm with his breath. He didn't need its full power now. Not yet.
As the lift stopped with a final hiss of steam, they found themselves in a long, dim corridor. Golden walls lined with false histories and polished marble masks glowed faintly under crystal lights. This was the Sanctum—a place few ever walked and none spoke of.
"This way," Calros whispered, leading them toward a sealed gate marked by the symbol of the World Government. Five swords pointed at a crown.
Niva translated it. "The Will of the World must remain unspoken."
Jazz scoffed. "Then we'll scream it."
He placed his hand on the seal. A surge of Haki burst from his palm—Conqueror's Haki laced with Uranus's energy. The gate crumbled inward like sand.
Beyond it was a spiral stairway carved of black stone. They descended for what felt like hours—deeper than even the Mariejois dungeons. Until at last, they reached a forgotten chamber lit by a single glowing orb suspended above a massive mural.
Niva gasped.
The mural depicted three ancient kings—each holding a weapon. One commanded the sea, another the land, and the third stood above all, his hand stretched toward the stars. Behind them was a city engulfed in flame… and a massive celestial dragon, falling from the sky.
Niva whispered, "This is… the end of the Great Kingdom."
Jazz stepped forward, his eyes scanning the carvings. "These kings… they weren't rulers. They were guardians of balance. When one rose too high—when the Sky King sought to rule them all—they destroyed themselves to stop him."
Mara pointed at the final panel: a faceless figure sitting on a throne surrounded by shadows. "That's Imu."
"No," Jazz muttered. "That's the one before Imu."
Niva's eyes widened. "You mean…"
"Yes." Jazz turned to them. "Imu isn't the first. They're the last."
Behind them, a sudden click echoed.
A dozen figures emerged from the darkness—agents in white masks. Cipher Pol Zero.
"We warned you," their leader growled. "Some knowledge was never meant for men."
Jazz didn't move. "And some lies were never meant to stand."
The fight was instant. Blades clashed in the dark. Mara became a blur of steel. Calros fought his former comrades with ruthless efficiency. Niva took cover, whispering passages from the mural, her eyes wild with revelation.
Jazz stood at the center, unshaken, watching the agents fall around him. When the last of them lunged, Jazz raised a single hand—and unleashed a pulse of Uranus's will.
The chamber shook. The air screamed.
The agent vaporized.
Silence fell.
Niva stood, stunned. "You could have destroyed them all from the start…"
"I wanted to see who would betray me," Jazz said coldly. "And who would follow."
He turned back to the mural.
"This chamber… it's not just a tomb," he said. "It's a map. The final weapon isn't Uranus or Pluton or Poseidon. It's the truth—the real history. If the world knew the gods they worship were the ones who burned the world…"
He trailed off, smiling darkly.
"They'd kneel to the one who set it free."
The unforgiving heat of Alabasta scorched the horizon as the Leviathan tore through the sky, now cloaked in the clouds using the power of Uranus to fly like a shadow above the world. The kingdom below, known for its proud heritage and deep history, had no idea that death and destiny now loomed in the skies above them. Beneath the sand lay a sleeping giant, a myth whispered by ancient kings and buried in stone—Pluton, the Earth-Waker.
Jazz stood at the helm, his cape rippling like storm clouds behind him, his golden eyes narrowed as he surveyed the golden deserts and shimmering cities below. He wasn't here for conquest—not yet. He was here for truth, for the weapon that would turn whispers into thunder and make the world finally kneel.
Beside him, Niva unraveled the scroll stolen from the ruins of Mariejois, her fingers trembling not from fear, but reverence. "It says the weapon was sealed beneath the tomb of the first Alabastan king," she whispered. "The people believe it to be sacred ground… no one's dared enter it in centuries. Not even the current pharaoh."
Jazz turned to her, his voice calm but heavy with unspoken weight. "Then I will be the first."
---
Alubarna – Capital City, Alabasta
The city was alive with music, trade, and celebration—completely unaware that a storm was about to descend from the sky. The royal palace, a magnificent structure of sun-kissed marble and sapphire domes, stood at the heart of the capital like a sentinel of time itself. Beneath it, hidden behind generations of secrecy, was the tomb of King Nerom, the first ruler to make a pact with the Great Kingdom before its fall.
King Nefertari Cobra IX stood on the balcony, his hands folded behind his back, watching the skies. Something ancient stirred in his blood—an instinct passed down by those who once knew the truth. "The winds feel… wrong," he murmured.
Then the sky cracked.
A pillar of light descended from the heavens, and from it, Jazz and his company emerged—not cloaked in stealth, but in divine presence. Guards raised weapons. Citizens screamed. But the moment Jazz touched the marble courtyard, the air bent to his will, and every man, woman, and soldier fell to their knees from the crushing pressure of his Conqueror's Haki.
King Cobra stepped forward, fearless despite his age. "You wear the face of a dead man," he said bitterly. "And you come seeking what my ancestors died to hide."
Jazz met his gaze, stepping forward with the grace of a king and the chill of a blade. "I don't seek," he replied. "I claim."
---
The Royal Tomb – Beneath the Palace
Guided by the reluctant king and the terrified priests, Jazz descended into the ancient crypt. Torches flickered along the stone walls, revealing glyphs etched with a history erased from the world's memory. Dragons, stars, and colossal machines were carved into every surface. At the center of the chamber stood an obsidian gate, sealed with three rings of D-transcribed text.
Niva translated aloud, voice echoing: "Only the bearer of two wills may awaken the Earth-Waker. The will of rebellion… and the will of kings."
Jazz stepped forward. The scrolls from Ohara had prepared him. He laid one hand on the gate—and with a breath, summoned Uranus's energy. The rings of stone spun violently, ancient mechanisms groaning under centuries of slumber, until with a deafening crack, the gate split open.
Inside, nestled in a cradle of rock and steel, was a ship unlike any other.
Sleek, obsidian-black with jagged edges and massive cannons. It looked less like a ship and more like a beast—one forged to end civilizations. This was not a weapon of defense. It was Pluton, the Punisher of Worlds.
Jazz stepped aboard slowly, reverently, his footsteps echoing like thunder. He could feel the heartbeat of the ship—old, but not dead. Dormant. Waiting.
As he reached the helm, his palm touched the control stone.
Pluton awakened.
The ship roared to life, its engines glowing blue with ancient flame, and the chamber around it began to tremble. The priests screamed. King Cobra fell to his knees in despair. And above them, the city trembled as the sand began to quake.
Jazz turned to Niva, eyes blazing.
"Now," he said softly, "we don't just shake the sky. We break the earth."
---
Meanwhile – Unknown Island, New World
In the ruins of a forgotten lab, machines whirred to life.
Inside a containment tube, surrounded by mad scientists and Cipher Pol agents, the clone opened its eyes. He looked exactly like Jazz—down to the voice, the smile, the intensity. But there was no warmth, no memory. Only programming.
"Designation: XEBEC-0," the scientist whispered.
The clone stepped forward, body radiating Haki.
"Objective?" it asked coldly.
A World Government agent handed it a photograph of Jazz, standing atop the Leviathan.
"Kill the imposter. Become the original. Rule the world."