Back on the speedboat taking Jason and Robin to Baltigo, he sensed something unusual. Activating his divine gaze, Jason perceived the truth of the world in its entirety, focusing on Impel Down. The scene that unfolded before him was desperate for the World Government: a Knight of God had been sent to escort Ace. There was no more room for error; they wanted to keep the war completely under their control. At least in that regard, they still had some sense, since the initiative had always been on Jason's side.
He watched the fight between Luffy and Magellan, and it didn't take him long to realize that the prison warden had given the pirate no chance. The outcome seemed fatal, but Jason knew: protagonists rarely die.
Hang in there, Luffy. I'll swing by Impel Down and heal you on the way, so you can still participate in this war. That will be my last gift to the World Government before leaving this universe and entering the big leagues. Once there, I can switch between universal vibrations thanks to my connection to the essence of this world.
He realized that his interference had messed up the execution schedule, bringing everything forward in an unpredictable way. If it continued like this, Luffy wouldn't have time to recover for the war—although, the way things were, it probably wouldn't make much difference. Even so, it was admirable to see the pirate wanting to save his brother despite being weakened.
Jason smiled slightly. He knew he would leave his mark before retiring: the prisoners freed from Impel Down Hell would be his gift to the Navy and the World Government. But no one would be fooled: Jason was not a benevolent god. Before acting as a decoy, he would impose his conditions; those scumbags would only do what he wanted.
And, of course, he would return to this universe. There were still women to conquer, plans to execute, and his love to spread. Nothing could wait forever.
Jason resumed his conversation with Nico Robin, completely at ease. The archaeologist had no idea that somewhere in Impel Down, her captain was fighting for his life while she enjoyed a gentle intellectual dialogue and rare delicacies alongside Jason, as if the world were at peace.
"Finally arriving in Baltigo."
Jason interrupted the conversation with an almost lazy naturalness, pointing forward with his chin. Robin followed his gesture and saw a snow-white island looming on the horizon, growing larger and larger. Only then did he realize that they had been talking nonstop for half an hour... and that she hadn't even noticed the time passing.
"Put this on."
Jason held out a fine, dark, elegant silk robe with subtle, luxurious details.
"I don't want any man checking out my woman."
Robin raised an eyebrow, half surprised, half amused by his boldness.
"First... I'm not your Woman yet."
She said this as she accepted the robe and put it on. A small detail that Jason obviously wouldn't let slip by.
"Small correction, Robin: you said yet. So you already know you'll be my woman sooner or later."
The smile he gave was as arrogant as it was confident. A smile that said he was stating an inevitable truth, not a possibility. Jason returned to the helm of the speedboat with the relaxed posture of someone who controls everything, the ship, the moment, and perhaps even her destiny.
Robin opened her mouth, ready to respond... but nothing came out.
Because it was true.
Because he had realized it.
Because she, deep down, had also realized it.
She hadn't said "I won't be," only "I'm not yet."
And that carried a weight that made her uneasy.
In such a short time, she was already accepting his presence, his twisted logic, and even his arrogance... too easily. Too quickly.
And the worst part?
Part of her didn't seem to care.
Meanwhile, in Baltigo's watchtower, members of the Revolutionary Army went about their routine. Year after year, only ships belonging to the army itself crossed that sea.
No one from outside knew the location of the white island, which made their job absurdly simple.
Until today.
One of the watchmen, resting his gaze on the blue horizon, noticed a small black dot. At first, he thought it was just a shadow on the water... but the dot grew. Too fast.
He narrowed his eyes, leaning forward.
It was moving.
And it was coming straight for Baltigo.
"Is... is that a ship?"
His breathing quickened, his heart leaping into his throat. The thing was growing in size at a threatening speed. He grabbed the denden mushi with trembling hands.
"Hack-san! There's an unidentified vessel heading toward Baltigo! Extremely high speed! Arrives in three minutes!" he blurted out, almost tripping over his words.
"Understood," Hack replied, serious in the background. "Sabo and I are already on our way. Do not engage in unnecessary combat."
Luckily, they were both close by. In less than a minute, they both reached the port.
When they stepped onto the dock, they didn't have to look far; the vessel was already visible, cutting through the sea like a bullet. It was small, long, and moved forward with an aggressiveness that no ordinary ship possessed.
Sabo narrowed his eyes, activating his Observation Haki.
What he saw... froze him.
His entire body froze, cold sweat ran down his back, and his heart skipped a beat.
"... J-Jason D. Winchester..."
It was just a whisper. But it sounded like a sentence.
And when Jason's gaze met Sabo's, directly, deliberately, and casually, the revolutionary felt his knees almost give way.
Jason just smiled.
Hack, upon hearing the name whispered, could hardly believe it. But he took a deep breath, composed himself, and immediately contacted Dragon.
When the information reached the leader of the Revolution, his eyebrows rose slightly.
Jason D. Winchester... coming to him.
Dragon closed his eyes for a moment, pondering.
There was no enmity.
There was no history.
And above all, Jason had a goal that, to a certain extent, aligned with theirs.
And the most important detail:
Jason could have flown, could have appeared in his office at the top of the base, but he didn't.
He chose to come in a small boat, piloted manually.
That said a lot.
Dragon exhaled, calm as ever.
"Welcome him with caution. He did not come as an enemy. At least... not for now."
The simple sound of Dragon's voice over the denden mushi was enough for Sabo and Hack to regain control. Their leader rarely got upset; if he was calm, there was no reason to panic. But deep down, Sabo knew that the nervousness didn't come from Jason's arrival itself... but because of something else. Baltigo's new hobby:
The Jason Poster Game.
The strange effect caused by Jason D. Winchester's wanted poster was already known around the world, but in Baltigo it had become practically a social phenomenon.
As soon as the poster began to circulate, everyone noticed something frightening:
just looking into the eyes in the photo for a few seconds was enough to feel your spirit react. Men were crushed by oppressive mental pressure, while women experienced the completely opposite effect: deep peace, focus, happiness, mental clarity, relief from anxiety... and even symptoms of PTSD began to disappear.
It was unfair.
It was irritating.
And it was real.
All the women in Baltigo had at least one poster of Jason hanging in their bedrooms. Every time someone entered these female dwellings, they saw the poster and immediately understood the "silent adoration": Jason's aura was like an exclusive blessing for women.
Men envied it.
Men complained.
Men tried to resist.
Until a revolutionary, stubborn or desperate, decided to face the poster as a form of challenge.
He stared at it.
Thirty seconds, a minute...
Two minutes.
And he collapsed like a sack of potatoes.
They took the guy to his room. The medical team thought he would wake up with a headache, exhausted, debilitated.
But the next morning, he appeared smiling, relaxed, and with the posture of someone who had just had the best night's sleep of his life.
No one believed it, thinking he wanted to make others suffer the same fate.
Until he repeated the process a few days later.
The man would pass out after two minutes of spiritual pressure...
but wake up stronger, more focused, and train with much more intensity. Gradually, his exposure time increased to 2m30s... then 3m.
It was impossible to deny.
Dragon, intrigued, ordered psychological and cognitive tests. The scientist in charge, a woman who, not coincidentally, had two posters of Jason in her room, conducted assessments of focus, mental clarity, psychological resilience, and even emotional responses.
Her conclusion shocked the entire army:
Men who do not harbor hostility toward Jason also receive benefits, even after going through initial mental exhaustion.
The "involuntary spiritual training" generated adaptation.
More clarity.
Less anxiety.
Restored sleep.
Gradual cognitive improvement.
However...
what if the man had bad faith, hatred, or hostile intentions toward Jason?
Then the poster would become a curse.
Revolutionary Army spies infiltrated the Navy and confirmed the discovery:
Akainu's faction, composed of soldiers of Absolute Justice and staunch haters of Jason, only felt the negative effects.
Fainting accompanied by:
• explosive irritability
• paranoia
• low morale
• nightmares
• persistent exhaustion
Soldiers who were supposed to be on the front lines became mentally fragile just by looking at an official wanted poster.
Neutral sailors, workers who simply followed orders without harboring hatred, experienced the same benefits as the revolutionaries.
This fell like a bomb within the Navy.
Soldiers began to divide themselves into:
The "marked ones," who received benefits and were accused of sympathizing with Jason...
and the "faithful ones," who only suffered and became increasingly unstable.
The upper echelons couldn't ban the poster from circulating; it was official Morgans material. Banning it would only further tarnish the World Government's image. And every attempt at censorship only made that damn bird spread even more photos.
Jason, without lifting a finger, without saying a word, without making a single attack, had created:
A global psychological weapon.
Neutral soldiers became more stable and mentally resilient.
Women clung to him as a symbol of comfort and liberation.
Hostile men crumbled.
And the World Government, ironically, accelerated this process every time it increased his bounty.
The scientific conclusion was overwhelming:
If Jason is not killed in this war, the World Government is doomed.
Not only because of his absurd strength...
but because his existence has already begun to alter the morale, psyche, and even emotional stability of the entire world.
A man who makes the world question its own system.
Something no Yonko has ever achieved...
something no revolutionary has ever achieved since its founding.
Something even Dragon didn't expect.
With just one poster, Jason had planted the seed for the downfall of the World Government.
And that, that was what made Dragon uneasy.
Not fear.
Not hostility.
But the clear realization:
Jason D. Winchester is not a pirate.
He is a new ideological force.
A catalyst.
A phenomenon.
And he was coming to Baltigo.
Voluntarily.
Jason had no idea that a simple wanted poster would be enough to set off such a wave around the world. He knew the effect his eyes had on allies and women; that was normal in his universe, almost trivial, so he never imagined that it would have any relevance in a world as chaotic as One Piece.
What Jason didn't take into account was the psychological state of the masses in that world.
Centuries of oppression by the World Government had turned ordinary civilians into fearful creatures, conditioned to obey, retreat, and remain silent. The slightest provocation, the smallest mistake, could mean death at the hands of a bored world noble or a corrupt sailor. The people lived cowering, diminished, crushed under constant fear.
In Jason's world, civilians were not fragile creatures; they were descendants of warrior peoples, powerful awakened ones, interstellar mercenaries, or masters of technology. Willpower was basic. Mind control was basic. Calm under pressure was basic.
So Jason never considered that the natural effect of his spiritual presence, that analytical calm, that gentle expansion of mental clarity, would be something extraordinary here.
But it was.
And the impact was devastating for the World Government.
The posters spread like wildfire. And with them, a subtle change.
Peasants began to sleep better.
Fishermen began to think more clearly.
Ordinary people were less susceptible to irrational fear.
The collective mind was changing.
And where minds once trembled, now they began to question.
The realization was slow but inevitable:
"Maybe they're not so invincible after all."
"Maybe we're not so weak."
"Maybe... the World Government isn't as good as it said it was."
Jason hadn't even been in that world for a month, and without meaning to, he was quietly undermining one of the pillars that sustained the power of the Celestial Dragons: the fear of the masses.
It was almost comical.
Jason just wanted to show a picture of his face, and ended up igniting a spark in millions.
For him, it was just the basics.
For the World Government... it was the beginning of a nightmare.