"Today we spar with our eyes tied. Your Observation Haki isn't a separate exercise anymore. It has to exist inside your fighting. An enemy won't wait for you to stand still and focus. It should respond the moment danger appears. No thought."
Cael tossed the sword.
Lucien caught it cleanly by the handle, his grip firm without needing to see. A month ago, he would have missed, or fumbled.
Now it felt natural.
He tilted the blade slightly, watching sunlight glide along its edge before lifting his gaze again. They had moved past wooden swords long ago. Real steel carried weight. Real mistakes carried consequences.
The small cuts scattered across his arms said enough.
Cael had never commented on them beyond a glance.
The blindfold training had been going on for over a month.
At first, every success felt like luck. Then it became something he could almost repeat. Now it was something he could reach for—not perfectly, not consistently, but enough that it no longer felt distant.
Now it had to work in motion.
Lucien tied the cloth over his eyes, adjusting it until nothing remained but darkness. He raised his sword and settled into his stance.
"Ready."
Cael moved.
Lucien felt it before he heard it.
The world dulled for a moment, like everything unnecessary fell away. He reached for that faint awareness he had been building, trying to grasp it—
There.
Danger flared over his right shoulder.
He dropped instantly.
The blade cut through the space where he had been, close enough to tear his shirt. Fabric split, but steel didn't touch flesh.
"Too slow."
Lucien ignored him. He shifted his footing, steadying himself as the torn cloth brushed against his side.
Again.
Cael didn't give him time to settle. The next strike came faster.
Lucien reacted late. He twisted, bringing his sword up just enough to deflect part of the blow. Steel rang—but the rest slipped through, carving a shallow cut along his arm.
He exhaled and reset.
Again.
The rhythm built quickly. Strike. React. Adjust.
Again. Again. Again.
At first, he kept falling behind. Every movement came just a fraction too late. His body responded, but not fast enough. Each mistake left another mark—small, shallow cuts that slowly accumulated.
"Stop chasing it," Cael said, his voice cutting through the clash of steel. "You're waiting for it to appear. It's already there."
Lucien clenched his jaw.
He stopped forcing it.
The next attack came. This time, he didn't search for it.
He let it exist.
A shift. A presence. Movement before motion.
His body followed.
Steel met steel. Not clean. But not late.
They separated—and for the first time since the spar began, Lucien didn't feel completely behind.
"Again," Cael said.
Lucien steadied his breathing, raising his sword once more.
This time, when the attack came. He was already moving.
He turned in a single motion, catching the strike and flowing straight into a counterattack, just as he had practiced countless times. Cael blocked it and slipped away, his presence fading from Lucien's awareness once more.
But not completely.
Lucien stayed with it.
Something had changed.
Before, it felt like he was chasing his Haki—reaching for it, trying to force it out.
Now, it flowed.
The next attack came.
He stepped aside, the blade missing him by inches, and struck back faster than before, aimed at where Cael would be, not where he was.
For a split second… Cael didn't move in time.
Steel met cloth.
A clean tear.
They broke apart.
Lucien smiled slightly. "Seems like your body isn't as nimble as it used to be, old man. Getting stiff. A fifteen-year-old almost injured you just now."
Cael snorted.
"You should be able to injure a sixty-year-old man who's spent decades breaking his body. If you couldn't even get close after all this time, you'd be better off building ships than sailing them."
Lucien let out a quiet breath, the smile lingering.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then, together, they reached up and removed their blindfolds.
Cael slowly made his way toward the chair outside the house. Lucien didn't follow. He just stood there, staring up at the sun.
For the first time—
He felt strong.
Not invincible. Not even close.
But not helpless.
A memory surfaced—the marine from Loguetown. That massive idiot who had treated him like nothing.
If they fought now…
He would still lose.
But it wouldn't be one-sided anymore. He wouldn't be thrown around like a ragdoll.
"…Alright," Cael said, settling into his chair. "Now that you've learned Observation Haki, the only way to make it truly yours is to use it."
Lucien glanced at him.
"No amount of sparring with me will make your life feel like it's in danger," Cael continued. "Real growth comes when you're pushed to the edge. When it's life or death."
Lucien's expression shifted slightly.
"So your training with me ends here."
Silence.
"You're strong enough now to go out into the North Blue and live on your own. Unless, of course, you do something stupid enough to bring the Marines down on you."
Lucien blinked, snapping fully out of his thoughts.
"…Wait. That's it?"
Cael didn't look at him.
"You're nowhere near ready for the Grand Line. Step foot there now and you'll die. Simple as that."
He leaned back slightly.
"But the North Blue is big enough. Spend the next couple of years there. Fight. Travel. Learn. That's where you sharpen what you've built."
Lucien frowned.
"…What about Armament Haki?" he asked. "Weren't we supposed to train that too? You said only Conqueror's Haki needed special talent."
Cael waved a hand dismissively.
"Armament comes when your body is ready. You're not there yet."
Lucien narrowed his eyes.
"So what, I just wait?"
"Not wait," Cael said. "Live. Fight. Grow. When the time comes, you'll figure it out."
He stood up slowly and started walking back toward the house.
"And one more thing," he added without turning. "Pick your fights carefully. I won't be there to save you next time."
The door creaked open.
Then shut.
Lucien stood there in silence.
'I need to be in my physical prime…'
He clicked his tongue.
'Yeah. That sounds like complete nonsense.'
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