"Again."
Alcaster's small body trembled with exhaustion as he pushed himself up from the training mat for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. Two weeks had passed since his father had approved his request for combat training, and each day had been more grueling than the last.
He had expected a standard instructor—perhaps a marine or a skilled slave. What he'd received instead was Cipher Phoros.
The man standing across from him bore no visible scars despite decades of service to the World Government. His silver hair was cropped close to his skull, and his posture remained perfect despite being well into his sixties. His eyes, a pale gray that seemed to reflect no light, watched Alcaster's every movement with clinical precision.
Phoros had been CP0—the highest echelon of Cipher Pol and the direct enforcers of the Celestial Dragons' will. Now supposedly "retired," he served as a security advisor to several of the noble families, including the Reeds.
"Your balance is improving," Phoros noted, his voice as emotionless as his eyes. "But your center of gravity is still too high."
Alcaster adjusted his stance, widening his feet slightly and settling his weight lower. They were working in a private training room deep within the Reed family compound, away from prying eyes. His father had made it clear that while combat training was acceptable, it should be kept discreet. A Celestial Dragon shouldn't appear to be exerting themselves excessively.
"Better," Phoros said. "Now, the form again. Full sequence."
Alcaster began the kata, moving through the precise positions that Phoros had demonstrated. It was a simplified version of a marine fighting style, adapted for his small frame but still challenging. Each movement flowed into the next—block, step, strike, pivot, block again.
His muscles burned, but he pushed through it. This pain was necessary, productive. Each strain and tear would heal stronger than before.
"Your body is reaching its limit," Phoros observed midway through the sequence. It wasn't a suggestion to stop—merely a statement of fact.
"I can continue," Alcaster replied, not breaking the rhythm of his movements.
A flicker of something—perhaps approval, perhaps curiosity—crossed the former agent's face before disappearing back into his mask of indifference.
"Most children of your... station... would have demanded a rest by now."
Alcaster completed the sequence before responding. "I'm not most children."
"No," Phoros agreed. "You are not."
The training session continued for another hour, focusing on basic strikes and blocks. Despite his exhaustion, Alcaster absorbed every correction, every nuance of movement that Phoros demonstrated. His borrowed memories told him that Celestial Dragon children typically received what they wanted immediately—including breaks during any activity they found tiresome. By pushing himself beyond what was expected, he was establishing his "eccentric" reputation while gaining valuable skills.
Finally, Phoros called a halt. "Enough for today. Cool down with the stretches I showed you, then rest."
Alcaster began the stretching routine obediently, working to alleviate some of the soreness that would inevitably follow. As he reached for his toes, he asked, "Cipher Phoros, how did you become strong enough to join CP0?"
The question seemed to catch the man off guard. After a moment's hesitation, he replied, "Discipline. Consistency. Pain." He paused. "Why do you ask, young master?"
"I'm curious about different paths to power," Alcaster said carefully. "Father says knowledge is valuable in all forms."
Phoros studied him with those unsettling gray eyes. "CP0 agents begin training as children. Not as young as you, but young. The body must be conditioned before it becomes too set in its ways."
"Is that why you're teaching me basic forms instead of just theory? Because I'm young enough to be... conditioned?"
A thin smile crossed Phoros's face. "Perceptive. Yes, young master. Though I've adapted the regimen considerably. CP0 training would break most adults, let alone a child of five." He tilted his head. "Even one as unusual as yourself."
Alcaster completed his stretches and rose to his feet. "Thank you for today's lesson, Cipher Phoros."
The man bowed slightly—the minimum deference required to a Celestial Dragon, but no more. "Tomorrow, we begin balance work. Rest well."
As Alcaster left the training room, he knew that Phoros was watching him, analyzing his gait, his posture, his every movement. The former agent was evaluating him, and Alcaster wasn't entirely sure what criteria he was using.
But one thing was certain—Cipher Phoros was not a man who wasted his time. If he continued training Alcaster personally instead of delegating to a lesser instructor, it meant he saw potential.
That was exactly what Alcaster needed.
The limitations of his five-year-old body became painfully apparent during the third week of training.
"You're overextending," Phoros said as Alcaster's punch missed its target—a small training dummy—and sent him stumbling forward. "Your mind knows where to strike, but your reach is insufficient."
Frustration bubbled up inside Alcaster. It was true—his adult mind remembered techniques and concepts his child's body simply couldn't execute. His limbs were too short, his muscles too undeveloped, his coordination still hampered by incomplete neurological development.
"I need to be stronger," he muttered, more to himself than to Phoros.
"Strength comes with time," the instructor replied. "Focus on technique now, power later."
But time was something Alcaster wasn't sure he had in abundance. His knowledge of the One Piece world's timeline was incomplete, but he knew that major events would begin unfolding within a decade or so. If he wanted to be in a position to influence those events, he needed to accelerate his development.
"Is there a way to develop faster?" he asked directly.
Phoros raised an eyebrow. "Impatient, young master?"
"Efficient," Alcaster countered.
The former agent considered this, then nodded slightly. "There are methods. None appropriate for one of your station or age."
"Hypothetically," Alcaster pressed.
Phoros's eyes narrowed, but he answered. "Hypothetically, intensive resistance training combined with targeted nutrition can accelerate muscle development. Controlled damage to muscle fibers followed by proper recovery. Specialized breathing techniques to maximize oxygen efficiency." He paused. "And certain... pharmacological aids, though those typically cause more harm than benefit in the long term."
Alcaster nodded, filing away this information. "Thank you for indulging my curiosity."
"Your father mentioned you had an inquisitive mind." Phoros gestured to the training dummy. "Again, but this time, acknowledge your reach. Don't overextend."
As Alcaster resumed his practice, his mind worked on multiple levels. On the surface, he focused on the immediate corrections—adjusting his stance, controlling his momentum, working within his current physical limitations.
But beneath that, he was already planning. Resistance training, nutrition, recovery cycles. He would need to create a regimen beyond what Phoros was teaching him—something he could pursue in private, away from watchful eyes.
When the session ended, Phoros dismissed him with the usual instructions to rest and recover. But as Alcaster was leaving, the instructor added something unusual.
"Young master," he called. "Shortcomings in natural attributes can be overcome with proper technique. Size and strength matter less than precision and timing."
It was the closest thing to encouragement Phoros had offered. Alcaster bowed his head in acknowledgment before departing, a new determination building within him.
His body might be small now, but that was a temporary condition. And in the meantime, he would focus on what Phoros had implied—developing the precision and timing that could make even a child dangerous.
Night had fallen over Mary Geoise, the holy city quiet save for the occasional patrol of guards. In his bedroom, Alcaster waited until the household had settled into its nocturnal routine before slipping from his bed.
He'd been planning this for days—his first session of secret night training. The official lessons with Phoros were valuable but insufficient for his goals. If he wanted to progress at the rate he needed, he would have to push himself further.
Alcaster had chosen his location carefully—a small storage room adjacent to his personal quarters, accessible through a connecting door that was rarely used. The room was largely forgotten, containing old furniture and discarded trinkets that no one had bothered to dispose of. He had already rearranged some items to create a small open space and brought in makeshift training equipment—pillows to muffle sound, cloth-wrapped books to use as weights, and a small mirror he'd taken from one of the guest rooms.
Closing the door silently behind him, Alcaster began his self-designed routine. First, stretching to warm up his muscles. Then, the basic forms Phoros had taught him, repeated with meticulous attention to detail. When those were complete, he moved on to strength exercises—modified push-ups, squats, and core work adapted for his young body.
The resistance training was the most challenging. He'd wrapped books in cloth to create improvised weights, starting with the thinnest volumes and planning to progress gradually. Even these felt heavy in his small hands, but he pushed through the discomfort, completing set after set until his arms trembled.
In the dim light of a single candle, Alcaster watched himself in the mirror, correcting his form and analyzing his movements. His reflection showed a small boy with determined eyes that seemed too old for his face.
"This body is just a vessel," he reminded himself. "It can be shaped, strengthened, transformed."
After an hour of intense work, sweat plastered his dark hair to his forehead, and his breathing came in controlled, measured pants. He was pushing his limits, but carefully—injury would only set back his progress and potentially raise questions.
As he moved through the final cooldown stretches, Alcaster's mind drifted to the techniques he knew existed in this world—abilities that went beyond normal human capacity.
The Six Powers—Rokushiki—used by CP9 and other high-level government agents. Finger Pistol, Iron Body, Paper Art, Moonwalk, Tempest Kick, Shave. Techniques that allowed the user to move faster than the eye could follow, harden their body against attacks, or kick with such force that the air itself became a weapon.
And beyond that, Life Return—the ability to control every part of one's body with perfect precision, manipulating metabolism, muscle density, even hair. Kumadori of CP9 had demonstrated this power, though Alcaster suspected his theatrics masked the true potential of the technique.
These weren't supernatural powers like Devil Fruits or even Haki—they were the peak of human physical potential, achievable through the right training. Training he could begin now, in secret, laying the groundwork for abilities that would normally take decades to master.
Alcaster settled into a cross-legged position on the floor, closing his eyes and focusing on his breathing. This was perhaps the most important part of his routine—meditation and internal awareness. According to his knowledge, both Rokushiki and Life Return required not just physical strength but extraordinary control over one's own body.
He began with breath control, a foundational skill for many advanced techniques. Inhale for four counts, hold for seven, exhale for eight. Repeat. With each cycle, he tried to become more aware of his body—the flow of blood, the expansion and contraction of muscles, the rhythm of his heartbeat.
This was the beginning of what would eventually become Life Return—the ability to consciously control what most people regulated unconsciously.
After twenty minutes of meditation, Alcaster concluded his secret session and carefully restored the storage room to its original appearance. He slipped back into his bedroom undetected and into his bed.
Tomorrow would bring another official training session with Phoros, and tomorrow night, another secret session alone. Day by day, night by night, he would build himself into something more than what the world expected a Celestial Dragon child to be.
As sleep claimed him, Alcaster set his mind to one final task—planning his nutrition. He would need to gradually increase his food intake to fuel his growing muscles without drawing suspicion. Perhaps he could cultivate a reputation for a hearty appetite—another eccentricity to add to his carefully constructed persona.
One month into his training with Phoros, something unexpected happened.
They were working on evasion drills—Phoros would throw soft projectiles that Alcaster needed to dodge or deflect. It was meant to improve his reaction time and spatial awareness, both crucial for combat.
"Focus," Phoros instructed, holding several small beanbags. "Don't try to predict my throws. React to them as they come."
Alcaster nodded, settling into a ready stance. Phoros began throwing, his movements deliberately unpredictable. The first beanbag came straight ahead—easy enough to sidestep. The second followed quickly after, curving slightly to catch Alcaster's new position.
He was getting better at this exercise, though he still took more hits than he avoided. Today, however, something felt different. As Phoros continued the drill, Alcaster found himself moving before the agent had even released the projectiles, shifting his weight in perfect anticipation of where the beanbags would go.
One. Two. Three in rapid succession. Alcaster avoided them all with minimal movement, an efficiency of motion that surprised even himself.
Phoros paused, the remaining beanbags clutched in his hand. His eyes had narrowed, studying Alcaster with new intensity.
"Did you see me telegraph my throws?" he asked, his voice carefully neutral.
"No," Alcaster replied honestly. "I just... knew where they would go."
Phoros set the beanbags down slowly. "Interesting. Let's try something else."
The agent walked to a cabinet and returned with a blindfold. "Put this on."
Alcaster complied, securing the cloth over his eyes until his vision was completely obscured.
"I'm going to throw again," Phoros explained. "Just react naturally."
Darkness surrounded Alcaster, but as he calmed his breathing and focused, he became aware of something else—a sense of pressure, of presence. He could feel Phoros standing several feet away, could almost visualize his movements as the man prepared to throw.
The first beanbag cut through the air. Without sight to guide him, Alcaster should have been helpless. Instead, he tilted his head just enough for the projectile to pass harmlessly by.
"Again," Phoros said, his voice betraying the slightest hint of excitement.
Three more throws, three more evasions. Not perfect—the fourth caught Alcaster on the shoulder—but far beyond what should have been possible blindfolded.
"Remove the blindfold," Phoros instructed.
When Alcaster could see again, he found his instructor regarding him with an unreadable expression.
"Do you know what just happened?" Phoros asked.
Alcaster hesitated. He did know—theoretically. What he had experienced resembled the early manifestations of Observation Haki, the ability to sense others' intentions and movements. But admitting that knowledge would raise too many questions.
"I... felt something," he said carefully. "Like I could sense where the beanbags were even though I couldn't see them."
Phoros nodded slowly. "Some call it the Voice of All Things. Others, a sixth sense. In the World Government, we have other names for it."
"Haki," Alcaster said, the word slipping out before he could stop himself.
If Phoros was surprised by his knowledge, he didn't show it. "Yes. Specifically, Kenbunshoku Haki—the Color of Observation." He paused. "It's extremely rare for it to manifest so young. Especially without deliberate training."
"Is that good?" Alcaster asked, playing the role of the curious child.
"It's... significant." Phoros seemed to be choosing his words with extreme care. "This ability, if developed, would be a powerful tool for someone in your position."
"Will you teach me to use it properly?"
The former agent's expression closed off slightly. "That would exceed my current mandate from your father. For now, let's continue with the physical training."
But the dynamic had shifted. Phoros resumed the dodging drills, but his eyes never left Alcaster, studying him with an intensity that hadn't been there before. Alcaster had the distinct impression he was being reevaluated—not just as a Celestial Dragon child with unusual interests, but as something potentially more valuable.
Or more dangerous.
When the session ended, Phoros lingered rather than immediately dismissing him as usual.
"Young master," he said finally. "The ability you displayed today... it would be wise to keep it between us for now."
"Why?" Alcaster asked, though he already suspected the answer.
"Such talents attract attention. Not all attention is beneficial, even for one of your station." Phoros straightened his already perfect posture. "I will speak to your father about expanding your training regimen. In the meantime, continue your exercises as instructed."
It was as close to an acknowledgment as Alcaster would get—Phoros had noticed his potential and was offering to help develop it, while also suggesting discretion. Whether this was out of genuine interest in Alcaster's growth or due to some other motive remained to be seen.
"Thank you, Cipher Phoros," Alcaster said, bowing slightly.
The agent nodded once before departing, leaving Alcaster alone with his thoughts.
The manifestation of Observation Haki was unexpected—he had hoped to develop it eventually but hadn't anticipated it emerging so soon. It was both an opportunity and a complication. Such abilities would be invaluable for his long-term plans, but they also made him more noticeable to those who understood their significance.
He would need to be careful—developing his skills while not revealing too much, too soon.
But first, he needed to eat. His secret training regimen had left him perpetually hungry, his young body demanding more fuel for its accelerated development. He had begun requesting extra portions at meals, establishing a reputation for having a hearty appetite—another eccentricity that his family seemed to find amusing rather than suspicious.
As he made his way to the dining hall, Alcaster mentally revised his training plans. With the emergence of Observation Haki, he had a new avenue to explore—one that could potentially accelerate his growth far beyond normal physical training.
The path to power was becoming clearer, if no less challenging.
That night, after his usual secret training session, Alcaster sat cross-legged on the floor of the storage room, a small notebook open before him. By candlelight, he sketched out a comprehensive development plan, organized into phases and systems.
At the top of the page, he had written: "PATHWAY TO POWER."
Below that, he outlined the components of his training:
Phase 1 (Current - Age 5-7):
Foundation buildingBasic combat forms with PhorosStrength conditioning (adapted for young body)Flexibility and agility developmentInitial Observation Haki awarenessNutrition optimization
Phase 2 (Age 7-10):
Introduction of Rokushiki principlesFocus on Geppo (Moonwalk) and Soru (Shave) foundationsContinued Observation Haki developmentBegin Armament Haki awareness exercisesMuscle density training (precursor to Tekkai/Iron Body)
Phase 3 (Age 10-13):
Advanced Rokushiki applicationLife Return preliminary techniquesWeaponry familiarizationFull integration of available Haki
Beneath the timeline, he detailed his current focus: muscle conditioning through controlled damage and recovery. This was the foundation upon which everything else would be built.
The most immediate challenge was adapting the principles of Life Return to his current capabilities. Full mastery was years away, but he could begin with the basics—conscious control of muscle tension and relaxation, refined breath control, and metabolic regulation.
Alcaster sketched a simple diagram of the human body, marking key muscle groups and pressure points. Based on his knowledge, he identified areas to prioritize—the core muscles that would support everything else, the leg muscles critical for mobility and techniques like Geppo, the arms and shoulders needed for striking power.
Next to this, he wrote a modified nutrition plan:
1. Gradual caloric increase (+10% weekly)2. Protein emphasis (request more meat dishes)3. Strategic carbohydrate timing (before and after training)4. Hydration optimization5. Observe and record body's response
The final section of his notes addressed his newest discovery—Observation Haki. While he hadn't expected it to manifest so early, its emergence presented an opportunity. With proper development, this ability could compensate for his physical limitations during the early years of training.
Observation Haki Development:1. Daily meditation (extend to 30 minutes)2. Sensory deprivation exercises3. Crowd awareness practice (during public appearances)4. Threat detection focus
Alcaster reviewed his plan critically, searching for weaknesses or oversights. It was ambitious, perhaps dangerously so. Pushing a child's body too hard could result in injury or developmental issues. But he wasn't a normal child, and his circumstances weren't normal either.
If he wanted to create meaningful change in this world—to challenge the Celestial Dragons' dominion and the World Government's corruption—he needed power. Not just the inherited power of his position, but personal strength that couldn't be taken away.
With a decisive nod, Alcaster closed the notebook and tucked it into a hidden compartment he'd created beneath a loose floorboard. Standing, he moved to the center of his makeshift training space and closed his eyes.
Time for one final exercise before sleep. He focused on his right arm, visualizing the muscles beneath the skin—the biceps, triceps, deltoids. In a normal training regimen, he would gradually build these over years through repetitive exercises.
But with Life Return principles, there was another approach. Concentrated control, micro-tensioning of individual muscle fibers, deliberate stress applied internally rather than just through external resistance.
Alcaster tensed his arm, not in the normal way a person flexes, but with precise, targeted control. He directed his awareness to specific muscle groups, contracting them with increasing intensity while maintaining relaxation in surrounding tissues.
It was exhausting mental work, requiring a level of focus few adults could achieve, let alone a child. But the transmigrated memories and consciousness within him provided advantages—discipline, knowledge, and perspective his physical age lacked.
After several minutes of this focused muscle control, Alcaster relaxed, allowing his arm to hang loosely at his side. It trembled slightly, not from weakness but from the unusual stimulation. Tomorrow it would be sore, but that was part of the process—controlled damage, recovery, growth.
With practiced silence, he returned to his bedroom and slipped beneath the covers. As sleep approached, he set his mind to one final task—programming his subconscious to continue processing what he'd learned today, integrating it into his developing systems.
Phoros had unknowingly given him a crucial piece of information: CP0 agents began training as children. Not as young as five, perhaps, but young enough that the methods must be adapted for developing bodies. If Alcaster could learn those methods—either directly from Phoros or through careful observation and questioning—he could accelerate his own growth accordingly.
And with the unexpected emergence of Observation Haki, he had an additional advantage—one that few would anticipate in a Celestial Dragon child more expected to develop cruelty than combat prowess.
Tomorrow would bring another training session, another opportunity to learn from Phoros, another step along the path he was creating. And tomorrow night, his secret training would continue, guided by the plans he'd laid out.
Step by step, day by day, Alcaster would forge himself into something this world had never seen before—a Celestial Dragon with both the power and the will to change the very order he was born to maintain.
As consciousness faded, one thought remained clear:
This body might be young, but time was on his side. And he would use every moment of it.