One year of grueling training passed. Jason's body was covered in scars and bruises, a testament to the brutal nature of Mihawk's teaching methods. He had mastered Armament Haki, his body surrounded by a black aura that hardened his flesh like diamond.
Every day began at dawn—five miles running, followed by three hours of sword drills under Mihawk's watchful red eyes. Afternoons were dedicated to Haki refinement—practicing Armament coating everything from pebbles to tree trunks. Evenings were spent meditating to improve Observation Haki, sensing movements miles away. Dinner was brief before another round of combat drills began.
The training was brutal. Mihawk wouldn't lift a finger—he simply stood watching as Jason pushed himself to the breaking point. Sometimes he'd drop stones for Jason to catch using Observation Haki, or have him cut through solid steel blocks to test Armament coating. By the end of the year, Jason's entire demeanor had changed—hardened, confident, and deadly.
One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Mihawk suddenly threw a dagger at Jason without warning. It was a test—would Jason react fast enough using Observation Haki? The dagger whizzed through the air, aiming straight for Jason's heart. His training instincts kicked in instantly.
he quickly grabbed the dagger and threw it back before it could hit him.
The dagger spun through the air and embedded itself in the tree behind Mihawk with a thunk. The world seemed to still as Mihawk slowly turned to face Jason, his red eyes wide with surprise. A rare, genuine smile spread across his face. "Good," he said simply, pulling the dagger out of the tree.
"You've learned faster than I expected," Mihawk admitted, rolling the dagger between his fingers. "One year of training and your Observation Haki is already sharp enough to detect an attack before it happens." He looked Jason up and down approvingly. "Your Armament Haki is also solid—you can coat your body and weapons without breaking a sweat."
Mihawk suddenly lunged forward, his speed a blur. His black blade, Yoru, flashed as he swung at Jason. This was another test—would Jason's Armament Haki hold against a direct hit from the world's strongest swordsman? The blade made contact with Jason's coated arm.
The clash of Haki-filled blade against Haki-coated arm sent a shockwave through the forest clearing. Jason's arm held firm, his face set in determination as he met Mihawk's powerful attack. Yoru slid off his Armament Haki with a screeching sound, proving Jason's defense was strong.
Mihawk ceased his attack instantly, lowering Yoru with a satisfied smirk. "Impressive," he praised, sheathing the black blade. "Not only did you withstand a blow from Yoru, but you successfully countered it." He wiped a smudge of dirt from his sleeve. "Your training here is complete, Jason. You have learned what I can teach you."
"What about conquers haki?"
"Conqueror's Haki..." Mihawk murmured, his expression turning serious. "As I said before, it is an innate ability. You either have it or you don't." He walked over to a nearby stream, crouching down to cup his hands and drink. "But there is one way to test if you possess it."
"How."
"Look at the water," Mihawk instructed, gesturing to the clear stream flowing gently. "Empty your mind and focus on the surface. If you can make the water ripple without touching it, that means you possess at least some level of Conqueror's Haki."
Jason stared intently at the water, his brow furrowed in concentration. He reached out with his mental abilities, attempting to manipulate the water with his willpower alone. Suddenly, the surface of the stream began to ripple, the water bending to his unspoken command.
Mihawk watched closely, his red eyes narrowing with interest as the water rippled. A slow smile spread across his face as he saw the result of Jason's attempt. "It seems you do possess Conqueror's Haki," he confirmed, standing up from crouching position.
"But..." Mihawk cautioned, his voice dropping. "Possessing it is one thing. Mastering it is another entirely." He gestured at the rippling water. "You only made small ripples. True Conqueror's Haki can knock out thousands with a single burst of willpower. It can even coat your attacks—something only the most elite achieve." He crossed his arms.
"The latter is what separates the legends from the mere strong," Mihawk continued, his tone grave. "Only a handful in this world can coat their attacks with Conqueror's Haki. Shanks, Kaido, Roger before him..." He let the names hang in the air. "You have the potential, but mastering it will take years—perhaps decades." He turned to Jason fully.
"For now, focus on your other Hakis," Mihawk advised. "Observation and Armament will serve you well in most battles. Conqueror's Haki is rare and difficult to master. Do not neglect your strengths in pursuit of a power you may never fully grasp."
"I still want you to teach me how to do it."
Mihawk let out a long, heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You are a stubborn one." He lowered his hand, his red eyes boring into Jason with deadly seriousness. "Very well. But be warned: training Conqueror's Haki is not like swinging a sword. It requires overpowering another's will with your own. To fail is to break."
"There is no technique to learn," Mihawk explained, pacing slowly. "It is purely willpower. Mental strength. You must believe your will is superior to everyone else's—even those far stronger than you." He stopped and turned sharply. "I cannot teach you how to feel it. I can only push you until something snaps." He glanced at Jason's hardened form.
"I will attempt to overpower your will with mine," Mihawk declared, his voice cold. "And you will fight back with everything you have. Do not hold back. If you do, your mind might break under the pressure." He squared his shoulders, red eyes flashing dangerously.
Suddenly, an oppressive weight filled the air. Mihawk's Conqueror's Haki crashed down like a tidal wave, sending birds fleeing from the trees and making Jason's knees buckle. The pressure was immense—like standing beneath a mountain. Mihawk stood motionless, yet his will was crushing everything around him. "Fight back," he commanded, his voice echoing with authority.
Jason felt his mind bend under the pressure, his thoughts scattering like leaves in a hurricane. Mihawk's Conqueror's Haki was overwhelming, designed to break the will of anyone who faced it. But Jason remembered Mihawk's words—fight back with everything you have.
A deep roar erupted from Jason's throat. His own Conqueror's Haki burst forth, colliding with Mihawk's oppressive will. The forest shook. Trees cracked and splintered, their trunks exploding from the sheer force of the clash. Birds dropped from the sky, unconscious. The ground beneath them trembled violently.
Mihawk staggered back, his eyes widening in genuine surprise. Jason's Conqueror's Haki wasn't just fighting back—it was pushing against his own with equal force. The two waves of willpower clashed violently, creating a vacuum of pressure that flattened everything around them.
"Impossible," Mihawk breathed, his scarlet eyes gleaming with something between shock and exhilaration. "Your will is strong—even for one of your caliber."
The clash reached its peak. Jason's body trembled violently, blood trickling from his nose and ears as he strained to maintain his Conqueror's Haki.
The nine spiritual figures erupted behind Jason like a supernova of energy. Each spirit shone with a different hue—crimson red, deep blue, emerald green, golden yellow, violet, indigo, orange, silver, and pure white. They radiated ancient power, their combined will overwhelming even Mihawk's legendary presence.
Mihawk's eyes widened further.
The forest fell dead silent. Mihawk actually stepped back, his hand instinctively reaching for Yoru. He had never seen anything like this—Conqueror's Haki was meant to be personal, individual. But Jason's willpower had manifested... nine distinct entities, each adding their unique essence to his already formidable presence.
"What... are those?" Mihawk's voice was barely above a whisper, his composure shattered. The nine spirits behind Jason seemed to pulse with ancient energy, their colors blending and separating like auroras. Their combined willpower pressed against Mihawk's own, pushing him back further. "Impossible..."
"Nine souls... bound to one will," Mihawk muttered, the sheer pressure of the combined spiritual force making the ground crack beneath his boots. The nine figures roared silently, their distinct hues swirling around Jason like a celestial hurricane. It wasn't just Conqueror's Haki anymore; it was a symphony of nine supreme wills acting as one.
Mihawk dropped to one knee, his breathing ragged. The sheer magnitude of the spiritual pressure bearing down on him was unlike anything he had ever faced—not from Shanks, not from Whitebeard, not from Roger. The nine spirits roared in unison, their multicolored auras merging into a blinding pillar of light that pierced the sky.
After a massive burst of power, Jason went to one knee and the spirits disappeared.
The sudden disappearance of the nine spirits left an eerie silence. Jason collapsed to one knee, exhausted and bleeding from multiple wounds. Mihawk remained frozen on the ground, his hand still gripping Yoru but unable to stand. The forest was destroyed around them—a crater marked where the spiritual explosion had occurred. "What you just manifested..." Mihawk began, his voice hoarse and trembling slightly. "That is beyond mere Conqueror's Haki. That is... something else entirely. Ancient, primordial." He slowly rose to his feet, his eyes never leaving Jason. "Nine spirits... each one radiating a will equal to or greater than my own. What are they?"
"I have something special. It's called one for all and I'm the 10th user And a part of the previous user souls stick with me, which is why I can use their powers."
Mihawk stared at Jason, processing this revelation. "One for all... I've never heard legends about this technique." He sheathed Yoru slowly, his expression shifting from shock to fascination. "But ten users? And their souls remain with you? That's... unprecedented."
"Each spirit you manifested—they were the vestiges of the previous users," Mihawk deduced, his mind racing. "Nine souls preceding you... each leaving a piece of their will behind." He studied Jason with new intensity. "That explains the Conqueror's Haki manifestation. But it also means you carry the weight of nine lifetimes. Nine wills constantly pressing against your own."
"So does that mean my conqueror haki is stronger because of it?"
"In raw power? Absolutely," Mihawk confirmed without hesitation. "The sheer volume of willpower you can bring to bear far surpasses anything I've encountered. But strength isn't everything." He stepped closer, his crimson eyes boring into Jason's. "Conqueror's Haki is dominance—your ability to impose your singular will upon others." He gestured to the destroyed forest.
"But your technique doesn't just express one will—it expresses ten," Mihawk continued, his voice thoughtful. "That's why it's so overwhelming. Nine ancient spirits adding their strength to yours. But Jason..." He paused, his expression turning serious. "That much pressure inside one mind..."
"...is dangerous." Mihawk knelt beside Jason, examining the blood seeping from his ears and nose. "The human mind isn't designed to contain ten supreme wills. Nine souls constantly adding their willpower to yours... it's like holding back a flood with a dam built for a stream." He gripped Jason's shoulder firmly. "How have you not broken yet?"
"Because I spoken to them a few times in between training sessions and they're good people."
Mihawk nodded slowly, the revelation dawning on him. It wasn't just a transfer of power; it was a brotherhood of souls bound across lifetimes. "They guide you," he realized aloud. "Instead of fighting for dominance, they lend their strength willingly. That is why your mind hasn't shattered. You are not holding them back—they are supporting you."
Mihawk let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "That changes everything." He stood slowly, surveying the devastation. "But even so—ten wills converging at once is unprecedented. No Conqueror in history has ever commanded such combined force." He turned back to Jason. "The World Government would kill to possess such power. Or erase it entirely." His tone turned grim.
"Train me to master it then?"
Mihawk's scarlet eyes widened slightly, then a slow, genuine smirk spread across his face—rare for the World's Strongest Swordsman.
"You want to learn from me?" Mihawk chuckled darkly. "After nearly overwhelming me with just one uncontrolled burst?" He crossed his arms, studying Jason with newfound respect.
"Yes you are the most powerful person I've ever met."
Mihawk's smirk faded, replaced by a serious, almost pained expression. "You have no idea how dangerous that request is," he muttered. "The World Government would kill me for even considering it. Training someone with your potential... It's like handing a god their own weapon."
"Mastering nine souls and a Conqueror's Haki isn't just about strength—it's about mental stability," Mihawk warned solemnly. "You must synchronize ten wills perfectly. If your dominance slips, those souls will overwhelm your mind." He tapped his chest. "I will train you. But understand, boy... we are going to push you to your absolute breaking point."
Seven years had transformed Jason. The wild, uncontrolled bursts of energy were gone. In their place was precision—surgical control over his power. Where once he exhausted himself after three minutes of using One for All and haki, he now sustained it effortlessly.
Mihawk watched from the cliff, a rare proud expression crossing his scarred face.
"You pass," he said simply.
"Seven years of pushing you to the brink of sanity," Mihawk reflected, "and you've mastered it. Ten wills, perfectly synchronized under your dominance." He shook his head slightly. "I've never seen anything like it."
Jason stood transformed—older, battle-hardened, his presence radiating controlled power. The nine spirits hovered around him like silent guardians, now seamlessly integrated with his Conqueror's Haki.
Mihawk sheathed Yoru for the final time that day.
"Your training is complete. You've surpassed every limit I set." He paused, his crimson eyes meeting Jason's.
"Thank you for your time."
Mihawk's jaw tightened at the formal gratitude. "Don't thank me," he stated flatly, though a faint glimmer of pride surfaced in his eyes. "I've simply been honing a weapon that will either change the world or end it." He turned away, cape swirling. "You're strong now. But the world will still try to break you."
"Okay but before I go can you give me a ship please."
Mihawk's lips curled into a genuine smile—almost unheard of. "You want a ship?" He chuckled, shaking his head. "Fine, fine. Consider it a parting gift." He waved his hand, and moments later, a magnificent warship appeared behind him.
"How did you?"
"You're asking a Warlord about his connections?" Mihawk teased lightly. "I have ways of acquiring things that don't appear on any Marine registry." He gestured toward the vessel—a sleek, formidable caravel painted midnight black with gold trimmings. "She's fast, armored, and has reinforced hull plating. Perfect for someone who attracts as much trouble as you do."
"I know but maybe I will find allies as well?"
"Allies," Mihawk repeated, a rare fondness flickering in his crimson eyes. "That's dangerous, too. Letting people close when you carry nine souls and haki that could level islands..." He studied Jason for a long moment. "But perhaps that's exactly what you need to stay human."
He turned fully, adjusting his cape.
Jason stepped onto the polished deck of his new vessel, the midnight-black wood gleaming under the sun. The ship felt sturdy beneath his feet, humming with potential. It was a masterclass of engineering—reinforced hull, heavy cannons, and a sleek silhouette designed for speed. The nine spirits within him felt at peace here.
As Jason approached the helm, he realized he needed a crew.
Seven years had passed since Jason's original journey began. The world had changed—new threats emerged, old legends shifted. But some things remained constant. Luffy, that rubber-brained idiot, would still be out there somewhere, probably picking fights he couldn't win.
Jason leaned against the ship's railing, scanning the horizon. The East Blue—the sea of beginnings and where one piece began.