Pain came first.
Not sharp, not sudden—deep. The kind that settled into bone and refused to leave, reminding Alpha with every breath that he had pushed past limits his body was not yet meant to cross.
He lay beneath Alubarna, far from the palace's shining halls, in a forgotten chamber half-buried by sand and time. Broken pillars leaned like exhausted sentinels, ancient murals cracked and eroded by centuries of neglect. Somewhere above, the capital stirred with unrest, ignorance, and brewing war.
Here, in the quiet dark, Alpha rested.
Beta hovered nearby, anchored to a fractured column, soft blue lights pulsing as it ran constant diagnostics.
"Structural damage: moderate," Beta reported. "Muscle fiber tearing detected. Haki overexertion logged. Recovery window required."
Alpha exhaled slowly, eyes half-lidded. "Good. That means I survived."
Beta tilted slightly, optics focusing. "Crocodile classified you as 'future threat.' That designation increases probability of targeted elimination."
Alpha smiled faintly. "Then we're on the right path."
He closed his eyes.
And the memories came.
Not in fragments this time. Not flickers or instinctual flashes.
They opened.
The world dissolved.
Alpha stood in a void of shifting light and shadow. No desert. No ruins. No pain. Only motion—countless silhouettes forming and dissolving, each carrying weapons, intent, killing angles.
At the center of it all stood himself—or rather, a version of himself refined beyond flesh.
A spear rested in his hands.
Not metal.
Concept.
You were not designed to overpower.
You were designed to pierce certainty.
The voice was not external. It was encoded.
Alpha moved.
His feet traced spirals, not straight lines. Every step generated pressure—not outward, but inward, compressing force into points so precise they felt inevitable.
The spear followed intent.
No wasted motion.
No hesitation.
Each thrust marked.
Each mark meant something.
Alpha's eyes snapped open.
His heartbeat was steady.
Too steady.
Beta reacted instantly. "Neurological activity spike detected. Memory vault status—unsealed."
Alpha raised his hand slowly.
Armament Haki flowed—not coating, but threading, weaving itself into muscles, nerves, grip. The sensation was different now. More intimate. More… human.
"I understand," Alpha said quietly.
The spear beside him vibrated faintly.
System Synchronization Complete
Combat Memory Archive: PHANTOM LANCER — UNLOCKED
Passive Trait Initialized
Passive — Locked On
Targets struck by Alpha's techniques are marked with Tactical Resonance.
Beta gains attack priority, trajectory prediction, and true-damage execution windows.
Beta's lights flared brighter.
"Target-link confirmed," it said. "My attack routines… feel clearer."
Alpha pushed himself upright despite the ache. "Good. We fight together now—not just beside each other."
He stood, spear in hand, and let Haki flow.
The air changed.
Sand on the ground shuddered, then stilled.
Alpha thrust once.
Not fast.
Not strong.
Precise.
The point stopped an inch from a broken pillar.
The pillar cracked anyway.
Not shattered—split, as if something inside it had been severed.
Alpha's eyes narrowed.
"So that's it," he murmured. "Defense doesn't matter if the strike never touches it."
Haki Integration Update
Armament Compression: Active
Effect: True Damage — Partial Defense Negation
Beta recalibrated mid-air. "Your attacks are bypassing external resistance layers. Internal structural damage detected."
Alpha exhaled slowly.
"Then let's give it form."
He trained in the ruins.
Slowly.
Painfully.
Methodically.
Every movement was dialogue between memory and reality.
Skill One — Alpha's Force
He planted his rear foot, twisting his hips as the spear swept low, Haki expanding outward in a controlled wave.
The sand didn't explode.
It dragged.
Everything within the arc slowed—particles, air, intent.
Alpha felt it clearly.
Targets caught inside the field weren't restrained physically.
They were hesitating.
Marked.
Skill Acquired: Alpha's Force
Effect: Haki-based pressure field. Slows movement, disrupts balance, applies Locked On.
Beta fired immediately.
A focused strike—small, silent, devastating—hit the marked area.
The stone behind it imploded from the inside.
Alpha nodded. "Control first. Damage second."
Skill Two — Rotary Impact
This one took longer.
He failed twice, collapsing to one knee as Haki spiraled out of control.
On the third attempt, he adjusted.
Instead of spinning the spear—he spun himself.
A tight rotation, spear held close, Armament compressed to a razor-thin layer.
When he struck, the impact didn't explode.
It drilled.
Layer after layer collapsed inward.
Skill Acquired: Rotary Impact
Effect: High-speed rotational thrust. Triggers Locked On. Enables Beta's true-damage follow-up.
Beta attacked immediately, synchronized down to microseconds.
The combined strike punched through reinforced stone like wet clay.
Beta paused. "Damage output exceeds previous maximum by forty-three percent."
Alpha laughed quietly, breath shaky. "And I'm still injured."
He didn't attempt the final technique immediately.
That one waited.
It demanded readiness.
That night, as Alpha meditated, Armament flowing gently instead of flaring, something else shifted.
Emotion surfaced.
Not sharp.
Not overwhelming.
Just… present.
Concern for Vivi.
Curiosity about the Straw Hats.
Anger at Crocodile—not tactical, but personal.
Cognitive Seal Degradation Detected
Emotional Range Expansion: Ongoing
Alpha opened his eyes.
"So that was locked too," he whispered.
Beta hovered closer. "Emotional variance increases unpredictability."
Alpha smiled faintly. "It also makes choices matter."
He rose.
Lifted the spear.
And for the first time, allowed intent to surge without restraint.
The ceiling above him cracked.
Sand poured down.
He thrust upward.
The ruin shook.
Ultimate — Spear of Alpha (Prototype)
Effect: High-velocity dive. Area knock-up. Severe internal damage. Lethality: Extreme.
Alpha staggered, breathing hard.
"Not yet," he said. "But soon."
Above them, the palace slept.
Crocodile plotted.
Marines closed in.
And beneath the desert, a lancer sharpened not just his spear—but his self.
The war for Alabasta was no longer inevitable.
It was personal.