"They actually tore a fracture straight through the spatial matrix!" Drake's internal bewilderment completely bypassed the capacity of standard phrasing.
He had historically operated under the assumption that splitting the heavens was the definitive emblem of a global powerhouse across this ocean. But looking at the active reality layout, merely splitting the clouds was far from sufficient; a true sovereign required the capacity to physically sunder the spatial grid.
Within the current gathering, Drake was arguably the solitary individual who possessed a modicum of familiarity with these parameters. After all, his own specialized combat methodology frequently involved compressing and distorting the surrounding space. Consequently, he remained relatively unbothered by the atmospheric feedback.
But the remaining spectators were far from detached. At this exact fraction of a second, the eyes of the Straw Hat crew, the Dragon Flag Pirates, and the Red Hair vanguard were all wide to the point of structural failure.
There was no alternative narrative; the visual data before them was simply too staggering to process.
The two figures trading blows high above mirrored ancient deities locked in a celestial war. Every single connection generated a monumental shockwave that violently churned the ocean currents below and pulverized the surrounding stone cliffs into dust.
"Luffy, he..." Chopper opened his mouth, yet his vocal cords completely failed to articulate a coherent sentence.
Luffy's current physical manifest was nothing short of terrifying. His entire frame was vacuum-sealed within a thick, burning layer of specialized crimson energy, every minimal movement driving the global layout of the surrounding atmosphere into a state of absolute, fluid tracking.
"Luffy... has he actually unsealed the Boss's specialized methodology?" The executives of the Red Hair Pirates could scarcely believe the diagnostic telemetry mapped by their eyes.
Regarding the precise classification of the energy enveloping Luffy's vessel, they naturally possessed absolute data. Though they had rarely witnessed their own Captain deploy it across the annals of history, a single exposure was more than enough to permanently etch the reality into a man's soul.
Merely absorbing the residual presence projecting from that form delivered a lethal warning that would linger within their memories until their terminal hour.
This was the true, absolute reality of Conqueror's Haki!
Such was the intuitive conclusion blooming within the hearts of everyone who bore witness to Red Hair's terrifying authority.
Beep, beep, beep...
The digital readouts across the lens of the indicator executed another frantic cycle of calculations. Drake smoothly shifted his focus, unsealing the finalized metrics for his younger brother. Luffy's active combat power had cleanly stabilized at a staggering 9,598.
Concurrently, the section allocated to Red Hair Shanks remained an absolute, massive, flashing red exclamation mark.
Evidently, his definitive operational capacity had comfortably broken past the global threshold of 10,000.
Driven by sudden analytical curiosity, Drake smoothly swept his gaze across the line anchoring Kenshin and his own executives, intending to chart the precise developmental metrics their vessels had attained.
The Dragon Flag Pirates: Strategic Diagnostics
Kenshin (First Officer / Grand Master Swordsman Profile):
Haki Registry: Advanced Observation, Advanced Armament.
Baseline Combat Metric:6,788
Catching this initial dataset, Drake felt a genuine wave of pride ripple through his composure. It was crucial to rationalize that this number represented Kenshin's dormant, baseline status. The exact microsecond he cleared his steel to engage in high-stakes combat, his operational output would inevitably scale into an entirely distinct tier. A conservative projection placed his active capability comfortably past the 7,000 threshold—an absolute metric that safely secured his status among the ultimate top-tier commanders of the New World.
Drake then smoothly calibrated the indicator's sensory grid onto Bael. Over the course of their two-year timeline of isolation, Bael's absolute dedication to his craft had been highly visible. Though his natural aptitude across alternative disciplines was relatively unrefined, his baseline Observation Haki was phenomenally deep right from birth.
Following two years of continuous refinement, he could fluidly weaponize that sensory depth across a live combat zone. Concurrently, the absolute velocity of his specialized Gale Blade style had been honed to the absolute apex of performance.
Before long, the glass of the lens compiled the final readings:
Bael (Swordsman Profile):
Haki Registry: Specialized Observation Matrix.
Baseline Combat Metric:5,080
Locke (Chief Combatant Profile):
Haki Registry: Dual-Type Mastered (Observation / Armament).
Baseline Combat Metric:6,468
Ann (Chief Medical Officer Profile):
Haki Registry: Dual-Type Mastered (Observation / Armament).
Baseline Combat Metric:4,689
Drake registered these data points without a single trace of surprise. However, the solitary entity whose true tactical threat could never be mapped by conventional numbers was Bael. The seamless synergy between his Gale Blade methodology and an Observation Haki that completely defied standard biological parameters meant his absolute combat output would likely trail only a fraction behind Kenshin's tier.
As for Ann, her core utility lay entirely outside the boundaries of raw physical clashes. Yet merely analyzing her historical achievement—single-handedly neutralizing two elite Tobi Roppo targets within an incredibly condensed timeline—sufficed to verify that her active combat efficiency comfortably outperformed her baseline metric.
Generally speaking, the premier command executives anchoring a Yonko fleet stabilized around the 6,000 parameter. An individual who successfully unsealed the 7,000 threshold possessed the necessary martial mass to directly trade blows with a Marine Admiral, sustaining a neutral front over a prolonged timeline without suffering a structural failure.
To Drake's analytical mind, as long as a warrior's data tracked within a few hundred points of that elite benchmark, they maintained a realistic capability to wage a decisive war.
Following that sequence, Drake smoothly pivoted his gaze to chart the parameters governing the two primary wings of the Straw Hat vanguard: Zoro and Sanji.
The Straw Hat Vanguard: Paradoxical Data
Roronoa Zoro (Combatant Profile):
Haki Registry: Tri-Type Unsealed (Observation / Armament / Conqueror's).
Baseline Combat Metric:6,560
[SYSTEM WARNING: CRITICAL ANOMALY — DEFINITIVE POWER LAYER UNRESOLVED]
Vinsmoke Sanji (Cook Profile):
Haki Registry: Dual-Type Mastered (Observation / Armament).
Baseline Combat Metric:5,308
[SYSTEM WARNING: GENETIC PARAMETERS DORMANT — POTENTIAL UNLET]
Drake: "..."
What on earth is the narrative trying to pull here? Why did every single diagnostic scan targeted at the Straw Hat crew instantly throw back a wall of system errors and data corruption?
Sweeping his gaze across the rest of the alignment, Drake determined to run a diagnostic sequence on Jinbe's metrics next. But before his finger could compress the toggle button on the hardware, a towering shadow dropped straight out of the upper sky.
"Drake!"
Daolang marched forward with an exceptionally dark scowl, anchoring his boots into the stone as he closed the distance.
Drake's finger froze instantly against the switch, his brain scrambling into absolute overdrive. Within a fraction of a microsecond, a brilliantly radiant tactical maneuver flashed across his mind.
Swish!
With a crisp sound of displaced air, Drake executed an instantaneous movement, smoothly materializing right against Mitian's flank.
"Ahem, let me borrow your perimeter for a quick buffer."
Exactly—deploying an absolute human shield. Within the active parameters of this clearing, Mitian represented the absolute, supreme choice. Judging by the linguistic data packed into their preceding dialogue, her institutional relationship with the old man ran exceptionally deep.
"Pui!" Daolang skidded to a halt. Staring at Drake, who stood completely unbothered as he anchored his frame safely behind Mitian's shoulder, the old man spat out a furious roar. "You little scumbag, does your vocabulary even contain a single shred of the word 'shame'?!"
Evidently, Drake's absolute lack of martial honor had pushed his paternal frustration to the very brink. But Drake didn't care in the slightest. Letting out a quiet, detached snort, he casually twisted his head to the side, entirely disregarding the old man's gaze.
Daolang nearly blew a fuse right then and there. He thrust a trembling finger toward Drake's face, his mouth opening to unleash a massive verbal tirade, before ultimately letting out a long, defeated sigh.
Turning his focus onto the young woman, he muttered softly, "Mitian, from this day forward, I am formally transferring total administrative custody of this brat onto your shoulders. Rest assured—if he steps out of line, break him. If he spouts garbage, discipline him."
"Understood, Uncle Daolang," Mitian complied instantly, a brilliant, radiant smile gracing her features.
Hey, hey, hey...
Drake's internal sanity was on the absolute verge of collapse. Is this structurally legal? You two are casually orchestrating my lifestyle parameters right before my face?
"However..." Mitian smoothly altered the narrative trajectory, a playful glint in her eyes. "I believe it is paramount that you engage in a thorough, fluid dialogue with Drake. After all, your biological vessels have been separated for an immense timeline."
With those words, Mitian cast a deeply meaningful smile toward Drake, before pivoting sharply to execute a clean retreat from their immediate sector.
Before Drake could even register a protest, the defensive buffer was gone, leaving him standing completely exposed alongside Daolang once more.
After a long, incredibly dense silence, Drake gritted his teeth, finally determining to unseal the underlying reality of the situation. "My institutional relationship with Mitian..."
"She is your legally bound fiancée," Daolang stated flatly, a faint, genuine smile gracing his weathered face as his eyes traced Mitian's diminishing silhouette.
In the next microsecond, his expression hardened into a mask of supreme severity as he leveled a fierce warning at his son. "Let me articulate this with absolute finality—Mitian is an exceptional, peerless young woman. If your vessel ever executes a single action that betrays her devotion, I will personally liquidate you."
Drake: "..."
You clearly failed to analyze the structural data of my physical face earlier. I was brutally beaten into an absolute pig's head by that exact woman. She is a literal demoness disguised as a breathtaking beauty! And to top it off, her legal alignment was with the Navy, damn it!
"She is a Marine!" Drake fired back directly.
Hearing his counter-argument, Daolang froze for a beat. He systematically scanned Drake from head to toe, before letting out a quiet snort. "Are you seriously asserting that you harbor some trivial, ideological prejudice against the Navy? Let me make this clear—across any alternative layout across this ocean, I will gladly stand as your absolute ally. But regarding this specific covenant, you are mathematically forbidden from walking away!"
The old man had driven the words with monumental, unyielding weight.
Drake possessed zero understanding of whatever historic framework bound their bloodlines, but it was glaringly obvious that the structural depth of this matter completely defied his baseline assumptions.
"The underlying reality you fail to comprehend is that this girl... has actively preserved her devotion, waiting for your return for fifteen long years!"
"WHAT?!"
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