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Arthur tossed his empty glass aside, rising from the sofa. He was going to kill those two Whitebeard Pirates on the docks. That would surely get Whitebeard's attention.
"Where are you going?" Roger, sensing the cold fury emanating from Arthur, his reckless disregard for consequences, asked.
Arthur grinned, his voice laced with a manic excitent. "To take care of those two rats—Make sure Whitebeard hates enough to hunt to the ends of the earth. HAHAHAHAHA!"
"Give so face, kid. Let them live." Roger also stood, blocking Arthur's path, along with Rayleigh and Gaban.
"FACE?" The phrase sounded familiar, often used by Shanks—the legendary Face-Face Fruit.
Arthur's smile faded as he faced Roger, the air between them crackling with tension. "Your face? Why should I give you face? WHAT MAKES YOU THINK YOU'RE WORTHY OF MY RESPECT?"
Roger's aura intensified, his gaze locking with Arthur's. He turned to Shanks and Buggy.
"Stay back."
"Captain, your health... You shouldn't—" Crocus, his dical bag clutched in his hand, began, but Rayleigh's hand on his shoulder silenced him.
"Captain Roger has made his decision. Our duty is to support him," Rayleigh said firmly.
Crocus, his words caught in his throat, hesitated, then nodded, his loyalty to Roger unwavering.
Arthur, removing his hat and pushing his windblown hair back, his gaze cold, asked, "Roger, are you...challenging ?"
A palpable tension filled the bar, an unseen force slamming into the tables and chairs, scattering them, sending bottles crashing to the floor.
The Roger Pirates and Shakky quietly filed out, leaving Arthur and Roger alone.
Roger, his grin unwavering, his mustache twitching, said, "I have to stop you. The New World isn't ready for the kind of chaos you're planning..."
Arthur burst into laughter. "Four Emperors rule the New World—and you, Roger, You're the one I least want to fight."
"And why is that?" Roger asked, amused.
"You reek of... death. You're sick. Past your pri. Fighting you now—It wouldn't be a challenge." Arthur's disdain was palpable.
"But if you insist—I won't refuse." He stretched his neck, a faint crackling sound echoing through the bar.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!
Cracks appeared on the walls, on the tables, the very air vibrating under the pressure of Roger's Conqueror's Haki—THE STRONGEST IN THE WORLD.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!
Arthur's own Haki, newly awakened but untrained, surged outwards, answering the challenge.
The clash of their wills, of their Conqueror's Haki, intensified, the cracks on the walls widening, the bar groaning under the strain.
Arthur, struggling against Roger's overwhelming aura, refused to yield. He knew he was outmatched, but a true conqueror never backed down.
Conqueror's Haki was common in the New World. But Roger's—it was in a league of its own, a force that separated him from the rest.
Conqueror's Haki couldn't be trained.
It was a manifestation of one's will, one's spirit—growing stronger as the user grew stronger.
Arthur's Haki, awakened naturally, lacked the refinent, the control, to be used effectively. He couldn't even activate it at will.
But this clash with Roger—it was a spark, igniting sothing within him, a flicker of understanding.
Faint, red tendrils of energy, like miniature lightning bolts, snaked through the air—the visible manifestation of their clashing wills. The pressure was imnse, enough to cause physical damage.
"Past your pri, weakened by illness—and you're still this strong... Roger, you truly are a monster." Arthur's complint was genuine.
He was utterly outmatched, the difference in their Haki like an insurmountable chasm.
But he wasn't discouraged. Defeat in a field he hadn't yet mastered was no disgrace. He remained defiant—just like when he'd faced Garp.
And he knew Roger hadn't even unleashed his full power.
Roger's ability to "Hear the Voice of All Things" was a manifestation of his Supre King Haki, an advanced application of Conqueror's Haki, unlocked only by those who had truly mastered it.
This power allowed its user to beco one with nature—to communicate with all living things—commanding their loyalty—even bending the very laws of nature to their will.
The freak storm at the Edd War, the massive tsunami that had decimated Shiki's fleet—Arthur suspected Roger's Haki had been the cause.
The World's Strongest Conqueror's Haki was no joke...
BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!
The bar, unable to withstand the pressure, finally collapsed.
The two figures at its center, however, remained untouched, the debris flying away from them as if repelled by an invisible force.
Outside, most of the pirates who'd accompanied Roger had collapsed, unconscious. Only a handful, their strength and will exceptional, remained standing—Rayleigh, Gaban, Crocus, and, surprisingly, the two Whitebeard Pirates, Vista and Namur.
Roger's Haki was truly monstrous.
Arthur, standing at the epicenter of the storm, strained against the pressure, his own Haki flaring in response.
He could have used his Devil Fruit powers to defend himself, but that would be a concession—an admission of defeat, a submission of his will to Roger's. He wouldn't yield. Even outmatched, he would fight back.
"Such a strong will," Roger said, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead.
"It seems Haki alone won't stop you. Very well—Let's see what that Rumble-Rumble Fruit of yours can do!"
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