Jason, suspended in the sky, watched as the last guards and agents of the World Government fell at the hands of those who were once called slaves.
When the blood stopped flowing and the adrenaline left their bodies, a heavy silence fell over Tequila Wolf.
There was no guilt.
There was no regret.
There was only fulfillment.
For the first time since they were born, everyone there felt the weight of their chains disappear.
Some stared at their own bloodstained hands.
Others collapsed to their knees.
And then, as if a dam had burst, tears began to fall—tears of accumulated pain and of a happiness they had never dared to dream of.
The truth was simple and cruel:
Most of them had never been pirates.
They had never been criminals.
They were peasants, fishermen, mothers, children...
People from nations too poor to pay the heavenly tribute.
Without the Navy's seal of protection, pirates hunted them like animals.
And Jason discovered something even more repugnant: many of the "pirates" who dragged these people into slavery were agents of the World Government itself, in disguise, supplying the four bridges:
Tequila Wolf, Bourbon Wolf, Rum Wolf, and Vodka Wolf—the monstrous monuments that would unite the underwater world in a dark future.
Jason took a deep breath. This truth disgusted him.
As his thoughts wandered, the newly freed prisoners slowly gathered around him. Some were still trembling. Others clenched their fists tightly. And, little by little, they all looked up at him.
Their gazes conveyed everything:
Happiness.
Admiration.
Reverential fear.
And above all...
Adoration.
"Jason-sama!"
"Thank you, Jason-sama!"
"Long live Jason-sama!"
The wave of voices rose, vibrating in the air like an ancient chorus.
Jason closed his eyes for a moment—and felt it.
It was tiny, almost imperceptible... but real.
The faith of those people flowed to him like luminous threads, entering his body and feeding his divine core.
The power of faith.
He did not depend on it. His power came from his core—vast, deep, and self-sufficient.
But rejecting such an easy source of energy would be foolish.
Jason was the Supreme God of his universe.
His name was worshipped in temples, whispered in prayers, engraved in hearts.
The adoration of his followers turned into pure power — divine energy that he used to elevate his women, transforming them into demigoddesses of his own pantheon.
Before, it took decades of effort.
Now, fueled by faith, it was quick, almost natural.
But this journey—this leap into the world of One Piece—had another purpose.
Jason wanted something greater.
Something beyond divinity.
He wanted to embrace the first sound, to master the primordial vibration that shaped the birth of universes.
When he achieved that, he would not just be a god.
He would be the conductor of existence.
For everything—matter, soul, energy, thoughts, universes—vibrates.
And when Jason mastered the original vibration...
He would control everything.
Of course, that was a matter for later.
For now, Jason was in the world of One Piece—a playground, a warm-up.
Here, his opponents were still only superhumans, monsters impressive in the eyes of this world... but mere stepping stones on his path.
In the real leagues—Marvel and DC—the real fun would begin.
And the real conquest.
Jason smiled slightly, satisfied with the controlled chaos below.
"I hope you've unleashed all the anger and helplessness you've accumulated during these years of slavery."
He raised a hand, fingers relaxed.
"Now, let's get out of here."
A single gesture rippled through the air—and all the former slaves simply rose, carried by an invisible and absolute force.
"W-What?! I'm... flying!"
"I... I'm free... I'm really free!"
"Hahaha! Flying is fun!"
It wasn't flying.
It was Jason.
It was his energy propelling each body as if they were feathers in a controlled breeze.
That's when he saw her: Nico Robin, with Soran holding her little hand.
Jason recognized the child immediately.
'This little girl was a filler... but she exists. If she exists, then other forgotten figures must also exist.'
He would do some research later.
Jason tilted his chin slightly.
"We meet again, Nico Robin."
"...Yes. Jason D. Winchester."
Robin's voice was steady, but her eyes betrayed her tension. Being dragged into the sky by a force she couldn't understand, let alone resist, was unsettling even for a woman like her.
Jason smiled.
She was tense.
Good.
But conversations would have to wait.
First, the service.
He turned his gaze to the bridge.
Tequila Wolf stretched as far as the eye could see—even with frozen blood, flames devouring houses, and broken parts, it was still an imposing structure.
Seven hundred years of construction.
Seven hundred years of crushed lives.
It wouldn't be a few humans who would bring it down so easily.
Jason took a deep breath, his power reverberating in the air.
"We will completely destroy this bridge."
He spoke softly, but the whole world heard him like thunder.
Jason raised a hand.
And calmly, as if starting a symphony, he snapped his fingers.
Crack~
The crack echoed several times through the air, ricocheting off the frozen mountains. Everyone looked at each other, confused, not understanding what it meant.
Suddenly, everyone looked at the bridge—and saw the impossible.
The entire structure began to vibrate at such a high frequency that the surrounding air seemed to ripple. A high-pitched, almost metallic noise reverberated like a muffled scream coming from the bridge itself. Eyes widened as the concrete began to crumble... into dust.
Just like that.
From the concrete to the rebar.
From the base to the towers.
Everything was reduced to fine dust, which fell like sand onto the frozen water.
Seven hundred years of slavery... turned to dust with a single snap of the fingers.
"How did this happen?"
"The bridge just turned to dust?"
"That's not possible!"
Commotion spread around the world. The bridge wasn't just a few meters long—it was a megastructure millions of kilometers long, built over centuries. And now, everyone could see, in real time, dozens of kilometers dissolving as if a fuse were burning at the speed of light.
Jason sighed, pulling a pair of professor glasses out of nowhere, as if he were about to teach particularly slow children at an elementary school.
"It's quite simple for those who are wondering how this is possible."
He raised a finger, instructively.
"All matter is made up of atoms and molecules bonded together. Rocks, concrete, metal... everything is held together by internal bonds, molecular bonds, crystalline bonds, these little things."
He pointed to what remained of the bridge—practically a line of dust being carried away by the wind.
"If you break those bonds, the structure collapses. No magic, no trickery. Just physics."
People barely breathed, hanging on his every word.
"Molecules vibrate. Always. But if you increase the vibration beyond their natural limit..." Jason tapped the air, as if it were obvious. "The bonds can't hold. The vibrational force overcomes the cohesive force. And when that happens?"
He snapped his fingers again.
"The material fragments. First into microcracks, then into grains... and finally into dust. I just applied the exact frequency to destroy everything from the inside out."
The silence that followed was absolute. Not out of fear—but out of pure terror, wonder, and disbelief.
Jason let out a long sigh, like someone disappointed with a class of students who hadn't studied for the test.
"You should already know these things. Damn World Government... depriving the world of knowledge, keeping everyone ignorant and stupid." He shook his head in frustration. "Because of them, you're still stuck in the wrong century. There should already be steamboats, combustion engines, hot air balloons, airships, airplanes... but no. You're still rowing and sailing with sails."
The people around him looked at each other, confused and somewhat embarrassed. For many, it was the first time they had heard of half of these inventions. Nico Robin couldn't help herself—she let out a small, elegant, soft laugh.
She never imagined that someone as absurdly strong as Jason could care about the scientific ignorance of the world.
But those who really felt the impact were the scientists scattered across the planet.
Vegapunk, Caesar Clown, and even Judge—geniuses, lunatics, and monsters of science—were completely paralyzed as they watched.
Vegapunk, watching the broadcast on one of his holographic screens, remained motionless for several long seconds. His eyes widened as if someone had just torn the laws of physics apart right in front of him.
"Impossible... this... this can't... this shouldn't..."
He approached the screen, almost sticking his face into it, as the million-kilometer bridge crumbled like chalk dust.
When Jason began his explanation, Vegapunk held his breath.
"All matter is made up of atoms and molecules..."
The scientist felt his legs tremble. Not out of fear—but out of something even stronger:
overwhelming excitement.
"He's explaining... he's explaining it as if it were obvious!"
Vegapunk held his head in his hands. "Induced molecular vibration... manipulation of crystalline resonance... breaking cohesion at the atomic level... with a snap of his fingers?!"
Jason snaps his fingers again.
Another part of the bridge turns to dust.
Vegapunk's eyes widen even further.
"He's not just manipulating vibrations... he's adjusting the exact frequency of rupture for each material. Concrete, steel, metal bonds... each requires a different calculation..."
His voice faltered.
"This... this is... this is perfect vibrational engineering. There is no technology, fruit, science, or energy in the world that can do this at this level."
One of the satellite servers in the background began recording everything automatically. Vegapunk didn't even notice; his thoughts were in chaos.
"The destructive power he demonstrated... with a single gesture... surpasses any weapon ever conceived in the history of the planet."
He swallowed hard.
"And on top of that, he understands the mechanism perfectly."
Vegapunk rested his hands on the table, breathing rapidly.
"I... I need to meet him."
"I need... to study this... to understand this..."
"Or he'll rewrite all of science by himself."
He stared at Jason snapping his fingers and turning centuries of work into dust, explaining physics to ignoramuses as if teaching a monkey to use chalk.
Vegapunk let out a long sigh, almost defeated.
"This man... this Jason... is a scientific monster. A human who has surpassed science itself."
And then, in an almost reverent whisper:
"If he continues like this... I may finally... finally see the future of science that I have always dreamed of."
Vegapunk replayed the holographic recording of Jason snapping his fingers. The movement was simple, almost mundane... but the effect was not. The bridge, an impossible, colossal, ancient structure, crumbled like dust under the invisible touch of that vibration.
The phrase returned to Vegapunk's mind as if it were a revelation written in reality itself.
"He's not from this world."
Vegapunk enlarged the video, adjusting the reading spectrum, and watched Jason again manipulating matter as if it were vibrating clay.
"This ability... doesn't exist on this planet."
His tone was low, but laden with an almost childlike fascination.
"It doesn't exist in this century, nor in the last... not even in the Lost. This is not something our science can produce. This is... imported knowledge."
He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the discovery. His brain worked at high speed, connecting ancient theories, forbidden mysteries, and laws that even the world dared not formulate.
"If the energy of the Akuma no Mi really comes from a parallel dimension... if the world itself has already shown dimensional cracks... then..."
Vegapunk put his hand to his chin, his eyes shining as if he were seeing the answer to a question that had haunted him for decades.
"It is perfectly possible that other worlds exist. And Jason does not belong to ours."
The phrase came out with a mixture of fear and admiration.
Jason was the first anomaly that Vegapunk's science could not explain, only theorize.
Vegapunk leaned back in his chair, absorbing it all.
"I am the only one among all human beings on this planet who has even considered his true origin... a man who came out of nowhere, killed a Celestial Dragon, and crippled an Admiral."
He let out a brief laugh—not out of humor, but out of disbelief.
"But that...is still not enough."
He closed the recording. For the first time in a long time, his heart was racing not out of fear...but out of anticipation.
"...I'll wait and see what you do in the War of the Best, Jason."
Vegapunk was not an impulsive man.
He knew there was a difference between terrifying strength and power capable of overthrowing the World Government.
Jason had demonstrated:
Molecular destruction
Impossible knowledge
The ability to humiliate the Navy
And a direct attack on the Tenryuubito
But none of that meant he could take on the true top dogs—the immortal monsters who had ruled the world for 800 years.
"You've angered the powerful, Jason..."
Vegapunk muttered, slipping into analytical mode.
"With everything you've done, it's inevitable that one of the Gorōsei will show up at the War of the Best. If they don't come, the Navy won't be able to bear the weight of a Yonkou... and yours."
He crossed his hands, his eyes narrowed.
"Everything will depend on how you deal with a Gorōsei, Jason D. Winchester."
And for the first time, Vegapunk admitted to himself:
He was eager to see the impossible happen.