"That kid awakened some insane power."
Whitebeard knew Sharn as a Mythical Zoan — the Black Dragon type — and assumed this was a fruit effect. But Kaido standing aside understood the truth immediately. This wasn't a Zoan power at all.
"Hasshoken!" Chinjao would not allow his Happo Navy to be threatened twice in a row. Whitebeard's mere earlier motion had already nearly leveled the harbor; Chinjao's martial art, Haki, and skull-drill could only trade a few exchanges with a monster like Whitebeard — let alone defend against sweeping, island-scale attacks. If Sharn was allowed to act freely here, how could Chinjao keep standing as Flower Country's iron fist? No way he'd let some newcomer humiliate him.
"Pressure Cannon!"
Sharn didn't flinch. On his palm a bear-paw shaped compression of air took form — neat, round, and coiled with menace. He hardened himself with Armament Haki and, in his half-beast form, his dragon claws and bear-paws became weapons. He struck.
Chinjao, at the peak of his strength, met him head-on. His drill-shaped skull, wrapped in Armament Haki, smashed forward with the ferocity of tradition and pride. He was not old or broken; he was spirited, honed by war. The ocean's top-tier fighters share that same temper: they are forged by blood and tested by storms.
Boom!
Hasshoken came in with furious speed. Chinjao expected to crush the boy's novelty with a classic headstrike. But as their techniques collided, compressed air pushed back with terrifying force — the kind of shock Whitebeard himself knew well. The effect smelled of Tremor power and of Sengoku's great Buddha-shockwaves: a shaped, tangible tremor in the air.
"Cough—ah!"
Chinjao was stunned to find his head stopped cold by a pocket of air that resisted even Haki. If a weaker-willed or Haki-poor fighter had taken that blow, their body would have been shredded by the sustained impact.
"You got another ace up your sleeve?" Chinjao barked, surprised to find Sharn using what looked like a Devil Fruit-like strike. Unknown to most, this was only the Paw-Paw Fruit's most basic application — compressing air in the bear-palm to fight. Higher developments could repel others across distances, launch the user in high-speed hops, or even inflict pain and scrub memories. The bear theme fit the Paw-Paw concept naturally — and Sharn was an unexpected prodigy at developing it.
"You underestimate the Hasshoken, and overestimate yourself!" Chinjao roared. "Haki is no weak thing!"
"Bone-Splinter Cone!" he cried, thrusting the drill head again. He smashed through a pressure-pocket; the sound of air tearing was followed by a sonic crack as he vanished into a burst-steps assault, leaving an explosive rupture in the compressed air. Hundreds of planks shattered; a great pit formed — shaped, oddly enough, like a paw. The pirates and soldiers around them gaped. How could their invincible Chinjao always meet something stranger?
"Push the Pressure Cannon!" Sharn answered, not waiting. He had practiced with Kuma's concept and then folded his own Haki into it. The Paw-Paw's mechanics had become integrated into his martial vocabulary: finger pistols, Tempest Kicks, the Geppo — all threaded into the new attack. The Navy's Six Powers became part of Sharn's daily movements, no longer exotic but natural.
Clash after clash: Chinjao's Hasshoken secrets slammed into Sharn's pressure constructs. Each time a pressure bubble burst, whatever stood nearby — buildings, sand, surf, trees — suffered collateral damage. This is the classic difficulty Haki users face against certain Devil Fruit effects: even Roger could not fully negate the leftover tremor of Whitebeard's Tremor-Tremor, and so the field itself becomes battle collateral. If a pressure blast hit flesh, the pain would be excruciating.
"Ready to die?" Chinjao snarled and launched his cone strike — an ancient finishing blow he'd used for decades, convinced his skull would pierce whatever was in front of it. He had already bled and borne damage from fighting Whitebeard, but he trusted his birthright: the Hasshoken would cut through.
Sharn responded with an advanced Paw-Paw move. He compressed a complete pressure orb between his hands — the harbor's air clotted and thinned at once. Several people nearby lost breath and fainted; the air density had been warped to a level it didn't belong to. When released, it could wipe out everything within range. Dozens of purple arcs of lightning — like quicksilver serpents — danced along the compressed air, the over-compression causing violet discharges. The palm glow turned a dim, frightening white.
"Ultimate!" someone breathed.
Chinjao charged headlong, Haki sharpening his drill to a lethal edge. He believed his skull could cut through any blade; he believed in his legacy. But he'd never seen anything with these blended tremor-and-electric characteristics. Whitebeard watched, a careful smile creasing his face: Sharn's audacity created in him that peculiar desire to recruit and shelter — and also the fear that a kingly soul could one day betray him. Marco, crouched, watched Sharn and felt the generational tide shift.
Boom!
Sharn's paw-shaped blast expanded — ripping and shredding reality like a dual shock-and-concussive wave. Purple lightning scythed through the air, dancing across the burst. Chinjao took the first brunt, eyes wide with disbelief. Even as he gritted his teeth and kept collapsing forward — teeth bared, blood flecking his mouth — Sharn vanished.
The Paw-Paw had advanced. Beyond air and people, it could now repel all things. Sharn's mastery had jumped: he could bounce air, fling opponents, and in this moment, he had bounced terrain itself.
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