Conqueror's Haki. Understandable. A mark of natural dominance. A king's spirit.
Observation Haki. Also acceptable. Spiritual sensitivity often awakens early in those with extraordinary souls. Some can even— Hear the Voice of All Things. Read the hearts of others. Advanced forms of Observation Haki. Not shocking.
But then—
Armament Haki.
…Excuse me?
Argus almost cursed aloud on reflex.
This wasn't the same. Conqueror's and Observation Haki were internal—rooted in willpower and perception. They could emerge spontaneously, gifts from the soul. But Armament? That demanded life. Years of hardening, battle experience, physical resilience, pain. You couldn't fake it. You couldn't shortcut it.
And yet— His barely one-year-old daughter had not only awakened it but skipped the entanglement phase entirely, going straight to full attachment.
"What the actual hell is this?" Argus muttered. His supposedly "B+" talent felt like a joke next to Artoria's S+ monstrosity. He exhaled slowly, composing himself. For Artoria's sake.
"Lily," he called, calm but sharp. "Come here."
"Yes, Father!"
She bounded toward him, bare feet light on the polished dojo floor, pride glowing in her little face. He knelt, scooped her up, stroked her soft hair.
"Lily," he asked gently, "who taught you that?"
"Uncle did!" she chirped.
"…My brother?" Argus' brow lifted.
It tracked. Newgate had only visited once in five months, his time consumed by warfare with the Wolfgang Pirates. Four major battles, one more brutal than the last. Ochoku, that fool, refused to retreat.
But, it will all change. As, soon as the vessel in Water7 is completed.
And in that short visit— Artoria had watched. Memorized. Understood. Mastered.
"When Uncle came," she beamed, "he used this thing called Haki! I thought it was cool! So I practiced and practiced! I wanted to surprise you and Mother!"
Surprise.
Argus and Hayato almost blacked out. This wasn't a surprise. This was blasphemy against common sense. Most trained decades for a glimpse of what she now summoned at will. She? Self-taught.
F—
He bit down the curse, smiling with strain.
"Lily," he said, "did it hurt? Using Conqueror's Haki this young isn't without risks."
"Nope!" Artoria flexed, her tiny arms bulging (or trying to), her face gleaming with confidence. "I'm super strong!"
Adorable. Ridiculous. Terrifying.
There was no comparison. She was myth. A humanoid red dragon born into flesh.
And as Argus held that unsettling reality in his arms— His gaze drifted. To his sons.
Gawain and Agravain. Good boys. Respectable talents. But beside their sister? Ordinary. Solid shadows behind a blazing sun.
They had only recently begun crawling when she was already sprinting, blade in hand. Not everyone could be a monster. And that was fine.
Argus knew better than to let comparison fester. Each had their place. His sons would be the backbone—loyal, steady, dependable. But the crown? That was hers.
He just hoped she'd slow down. Live a little. But Artoria wanted no toys. No dolls. Only swords. Politics. Power.
Born to rule. All he could do was support her. And stay out of the way.
---
Sea Circle Calendar – January, 1471.
Artoria turned two. So did Gawain and Agravain.
They could now run, speak fluently, and practice light drills. Still leagues behind Artoria, they remained loyal shadows. Their mothers, Sally and Shella, held no bitterness.
Their boys were good. They just weren't her.
Sally, though, found a different battlefield. Administration.
With Serena focused on internal family order, Sally had taken charge of the island's management alongside a group of Ohara scholars. A mutually beneficial arrangement—if not for the headaches.
"Lady Sally," Brad Shaw, their leader, adjusted his spectacles, "the east island requires sea current mapping for the new harbor project."
"We can provide support," she said crisply, skimming a scroll, "but not at the cost of neglecting population registry. Prioritize migration logs."
"And the condition to study your kingdom's historical sites?"
"Still under review."
He frowned. "Lady Sally, we came here to learn."
"And you are," she smiled thinly. "Under supervision."
Argus admired her control. She was precise. Intelligent. Unyielding when necessary. She even coordinated with Serena, managing personnel without overlap. Her relationship with Shella remained cordial—if a bit formal. Shella, after all, had no interest in scrolls. Her mind was with monsters.
And she succeeded. Tidecoil—a colossal serpent-sea king hybrid—now guarded the southern reefs. Ridgefang, slightly smaller, patrolled the trenches. Slithmire, a venomous aquatic python, remained in training.
Three born. Dozens in experimentation. Shella's project had teeth.
---
PoV: Serena
She watched Artoria swing a blunted training sword, eyes sharp.
"Again," Serena said.
The girl obeyed, sweat forming but refusing rest.
Beside her, Sally arrived, scroll in hand. "Monthly census. Birth projections are in. Five new arrivals. And—"
"Five more pregnant," Serena finished.
They exchanged a knowing look.
"He's pushing his limits," Sally said, matter-of-fact.
Serena nodded. Something subtle had shifted. He is still a bull, but not with the same vigor.
Still, they advanced.
---
One by one, five concubines gave birth: Four sons. One daughter.
All strong. All promising.
And just as if fate had planned it, the next five women conceived in turn.
Argus stood in the nursery, watching over them. He should have felt pride. He did.
But beneath it, a whisper: Is this your peak?
(CHAPTER END)