The morning three days later.
Inside the training room, Rowan stood amidst a storm of swinging sandbags, his eyes closed, his breathing steady.
This had become his daily routine.
Since awakening Kenbunshoku Haki (Observation Haki) during his battle with the Marine Headquarters Rear Admiral, his control over it had improved rapidly. What had once been a fleeting instinct born in the heat of battle was now steadily becoming a weapon he could wield consciously.
He was close closer than ever to fully mastering it.
Each movement he made was precise.
Each step, deliberate.
Each strike, exact.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
His fists lashed out in succession, striking incoming sandbags while his body shifted fluidly between them. Even without sight, he could perceive the subtle fluctuations in air, the minute intent behind motion the faint "voices" of movement.
Not perfect.
But no longer unstable.
Just as Rowan continued pressing toward that final threshold
The door slid open.
"Captain," Robin's calm voice entered the room.
Rowan exhaled slowly and halted his movements. The sandbags continued swinging around him as he reached for a towel, wiping the sweat from his neck.
"It's finished," Robin said softly. "The ship."
Rowan paused for a brief moment.
Then a faint smile appeared.
"So it's done."
He stepped lightly out from the moving sandbags, his posture relaxed but his aura still sharp from training.
"Let's go see it."
They left the north shore and walked through the familiar streets of Shipwright Town.
Soon, they reached the west shore.
Before they even arrived at the construction site, the signs of rushed craftsmanship were everywhere wood shavings scattered across the ground, discarded materials piled in uneven heaps, the scent of fresh timber thick in the air.
It was clear.
To complete a ship of this caliber in only seven days, everything else had been sacrificed.
Efficiency over order.
Speed over perfection.
And yet
When Rowan stepped forward and saw the finished vessel, even he stopped for a moment.
A ship roughly forty meters in length stood before them.
Its hull was dark and sleek, shaped like a blade cutting through water. The structure was low-profile, streamlined, almost aerodynamic in design far different from the bulky, heavy warships of the Marines.
This was not a ship built for battle.
This was a ship built to dominate the sea through speed.
"You're here."
Old Fitz stood near the gunwale, wiping sweat from his brow. Despite the exhaustion etched into his face, his eyes held unmistakable pride.
He gestured toward the ship with one hand.
"Behold."
"The masterpiece I've been sitting on for years."
He grinned.
"Cucunor the Ghost Ship."
As the chief shipwright, the right to name it belonged to him alone.
He stepped forward, guiding Rowan and Robin along the hull.
"I lowered the freeboard to reduce drag," he explained. "Installed vertical triangular sails to maximize wind efficiency."
He knocked lightly against the hull.
"Reinforced with layered hardwood Silverwood as the base. Strong enough to rival steel in durability."
He paused, then added with emphasis:
"And with that branch of Treasure Tree Adam, the keel is unbreakable."
That name alone carried weight.
In the world of One Piece, Treasure Tree Adam was legendary the same material used to construct ships capable of surviving the harshest seas of the Grand Line.
Old Fitz folded his arms.
"In terms of sailing ships, I guarantee this "
"There is nothing faster on the sea."
Robin looked up at the vessel, her expression softening.
"It's beautiful."
Rowan stood quietly beside her, then gave a small nod.
"It's more than that."
His gaze sharpened slightly.
"It's exactly what I needed."
He didn't care for excessive firepower.
Cannons could be replaced.
Speed could not.
A ship that could outrun Marine warships this was worth more than any number of guns.
Old Fitz waved his hand dismissively.
"Don't praise me too much. Without that Adam wood, this design would've torn itself apart under pressure."
"And without your money, I couldn't have sourced enough materials to finish it."
Then his expression shifted slightly as he glanced at Robin.
"…Besides."
"If this ship can carry her far enough to escape the World Government…"
"…then it's worth everything."
Rowan met his gaze directly.
"Robin is my crewmate."
His voice was calm, but absolute.
"I take responsibility for my crew."
Old Fitz stared at him for a moment.
Then he laughed.
A genuine, satisfied laugh.
"Good."
"Then get on board. See it properly."
They stepped onto the deck.
It was wide. Open. Clean.
With minimal upper structures, the ship felt expansive almost level with the sea itself.
"You could throw a banquet up here," Old Fitz joked.
Then he led them below deck.
The interior was unexpectedly spacious.
A central hall stretched out like a grand lounge, furnished with seating, storage, and space for gatherings.
Nearby
A reinforced training room.
Constructed using denser hardwood and steel supports, it was designed to withstand extreme force clearly built with Rowan in mind.
There was also a study.
Small, but refined.
Robin's expression visibly brightened as she stepped inside.
Even without many books, it was a place of quiet.
A place to think.
Below that lay the cargo hold simple, practical, and spacious enough for long voyages.
Rowan noted the limited number of gun ports.
Eight total.
He didn't mind.
He likely wouldn't use them much anyway.
Back on the deck, Rowan placed a hand lightly on the railing, looking across the sea.
A faint smile appeared.
"…Almost perfect."
Old Fitz grinned.
"Of course it is."
"I may be old, but I haven't lost my touch."
Rowan took a few steps, then paused.
He turned.
"A ship like this…"
"…without a shipwright onboard would be a waste."
Old Fitz didn't look surprised.
He pulled out a flask, took a slow drink, then walked toward the edge of the ship.
His posture was relaxed, almost weary.
"I figured you'd say that."
He gazed out at the sea.
"When I was young, I never boarded a pirate ship."
"And now that I'm old?"
He shook his head.
"It's not my place."
"The sea belongs to your generation."
For a brief moment, his eyes glistened.
"I've done what I can."
"Just… take her far away from the World Government."
Rowan didn't argue.
He already knew the answer.
Even a man who had built ships for legends like Red-Haired Shanks had never sailed with them.
Some people belonged to the shore.
"…A pity," Rowan said quietly.
Old Fitz laughed it off and walked away, his figure gradually disappearing down the gangway.
Silence lingered for a moment.
Then Rowan turned toward the horizon.
His eyes sharpened.
"With the ship ready…"
"…it's time."
Robin looked at him.
"For what?"
Rowan's voice was calm.
"For expansion."
He turned fully toward her.
"I need information."
"Two targets."
"The first "
"The Two-Sword Pirates, bounty 59 million Berries. Their current whereabouts in West Blue."
A pause.
"The second…"
His gaze grew slightly deeper.
"Devil Sheriff Lafitte."
That name carried a different weight.
In the original era, Lafitte would become a core member of the Blackbeard Pirates a navigator of exceptional skill and a man with a reputation for cruelty and cunning.
Rowan's lips curved slightly.
"If I'm going to overturn this era…"
"…I'll need people who don't follow rules."
He exhaled slowly.
"I'm done playing captain and navigator at the same time."
Robin nodded faintly.
"Nami would be ideal…"
Rowan shook his head.
"Too far. Too early."
Then he looked back at the sea.
"But Lafitte…"
"…he's here."
"And I intend to find him."
A faint wind passed across the deck of the newly born ship.
The Ghost Ship.
And with it
The beginning of something far greater.