ONE PIECE: Lone Sails

After awakening Conqueror's Haki, Noah recognized its early indiscriminate nature—a force that could overwhelm friend and foe alike. To refine it safely, he began daily practice in the northwest corner of Starfish Island, a secluded bay seventeen kilometers from town. There, the risk of affecting residents was negligible, allowing him to hone this rare power without consequence.

Two months later, in early April, his relentless blindfolded training bore further fruit: the awakening of Observation Haki. Beaten repeatedly by Joshua's bamboo pole, he'd sharpened his senses, unlocking a new layer of perception.

Time flowed onward, steady and unrelenting.

June 13, 1502

Noah Manor, Orchard Cabin Dining Room

A year of rigorous training had transformed Noah. Now towering at 2.09 meters, his frame was lean yet muscular, a testament to his discipline. The other teenagers, nourished by ample food, had also grown significantly.

Vic's transformation was the most striking. From 1.76 meters, he'd shot up to 2.23 meters in six months, his appetite ballooning to over eighty kilograms per meal. Joshua followed, reaching 1.94 meters, his physique honed by training and a steady meat supply. In this world, greater consumption often unlocked greater potential—a truth Noah observed with keen interest.

At the dining table, Vic and Joshua devoured their portions with gusto. Noah wiped his mouth, his expression resolute. "I'm heading out today," he announced. "While I'm gone, take turns guarding the safe house, just as we've drilled."

"Brother, be careful," Joshua said, concern creasing his brow.

"Brother Noah, should I pack food for you?" Lillian asked, her voice soft but earnest.

Noah shook his head. "No need. I've got enough sealed in my cards for over a month. Look after yourselves—if danger comes, prioritize your safety. Understood?"

"Yes, Brother Noah," they chorused.

Turning to Joshua, he added, "Tell Uncle Joseph I'll be back in two or three days at the earliest, half a month at the latest."

"Brother Noah, come back safe," Mary said, her eyes wide with worry.

He nodded, then strode toward the back hill, his steps purposeful.

At the northwest bay where he'd trained, Noah unleashed his Observation Haki, condensing it into a focused line that swept a five-kilometer radius. This was his unique talent: an expansive sensory range, capable of covering one kilometer omnidirectionally upon awakening, or stretching to five kilometers in a single direction when honed. Detecting no threats, he drew a card and tossed it beside the simple dock he'd constructed months ago.

"Liberate—Submarine."

A twelve-meter-long steel submarine materialized on the water, its three-meter diameter gleaming faintly in the sunlight. Noah unscrewed the circular hatch and climbed inside. The interior was spartan—an iron shell with twelve watertight compartments, devoid of complex machinery. This was no conventional vessel; it was a creation of his Card Fruit's ingenuity.

After sealing the hatch, he slotted two cards into designated compartments. "Liberate—Water Injection!" Fresh water flooded the front and rear watertight cabins, increasing internal pressure. One-way vents expelled air, and within ten minutes, the submarine sank to a stable depth of fifty meters.

Inserting two more cards, he activated the next phase. "Continuous Liberation—Water Shockwave." Over the past year, he'd expanded his card space to a thousand cubic meters—a ten-by-ten-by-ten-meter cube. These cards held two thousand cubic meters of seawater, which he channeled through pipelines at the submarine's rear. The expelled water propelled the vessel forward, a rudimentary yet effective propulsion system powered entirely by his Devil Fruit.

Air in the cockpit came from pre-sealed cards, eliminating the need for oxygen candles or intricate systems. Through the periscope, Noah monitored his surroundings, his Observation Haki guiding him past underwater hazards and sea beasts. Should a large creature approach, his Conqueror's Haki stood ready to deter it—a confidence born of his dual awakenings.

The submarine cruised toward Rogue Town on Pole Star Island, maintaining a speed of over ten kilometers per hour. After more than ten hours, Noah neared his destination. He refrained from probing Rogue Town with his Observation Haki, wary of the Marine base stationed there. Since the Great Pirate Age began, Rogue Town had become a key defensive hub in the East China Sea, potentially housing officers with advanced Haki. An overt scan could draw unwanted attention.

He guided the submarine to a deserted stretch of coast, surfaced, and sealed it back into a card. Before proceeding, Noah altered his appearance: a mask, hat, black cloak, and coat concealed his identity, while a spritz of orange-and-sea-salt perfume masked his scent. Releasing a small cabin from another card, he rested within, preparing for the day ahead.

Early Next Morning

Rogue Town

After stowing the cabin, Noah entered Rogue Town, his disguised figure blending into the bustling port district. His destination was clear: No. 38 Karl Street, where a sign read World Economic News East Sea Branch. This modest outpost belonged to "Big News" Morgans, a titan of information in the pirate world. Though labeled a branch, it was expendable—a disposable cog in Morgans' vast network, insulated from World Government interference.

Pushing open the door, Noah triggered a bell that chimed softly. A middle-aged man with an unremarkable face stood behind the counter, offering a practiced smile. "Sir, how can I assist you?"

Without a word, Noah slid a folded note across the counter. The man unfolded it, reading: "I have significant news and require an interview with President Morgans. Please arrange a call."

Noah then placed a stack of Bailey notes beside it—one million in total—clipped with another message: "One million Bailey for your trouble."

The man's eyes flickered with calculation. He pocketed the money and lowered his voice. "I'll need to contact the president. Please wait ten minutes."

Without the bribe, Noah knew the man would likely refuse; the risk of relaying unverified claims to Morgans could bring repercussions. The million Bailey ensured cooperation.

Ten minutes later, the man emerged from a back room. "The president has agreed, but you have ten minutes."

"Fine. Set up the Den Den Mushi."

"Follow me," the man replied, leading Noah to a basement beneath the shop.

The air grew cool and dim as they descended, the faint hum of the town fading above. In the basement, a Den Den Mushi sat on a wooden table, its eyes blinking slowly. The man adjusted it, then stepped back. "You're connected. Ten minutes—starting now."

Noah nodded, stepping forward to face the device. The snail's eyes sharpened, signaling Morgans' presence on the other end. In this moment, a transaction of information—and power—began to unfold.