Jean’s Stand

A dazzling light poured from the ceiling of Galehaven Comics, bathing Jean in a radiant glow as she sat poised with expectation.

The brilliance melded into her, a surging force of will that pulsed through her veins, vast and commanding.

Her strength—honed by years of duty—held firm, where a lesser soul might have buckled under its weight.

The light dissolved, and Jean opened her eyes, an invisible wave of coercion rippling outward with her as its epicenter.

Her bound blonde hair flared unbound in a windless gust, her presence sharpening into something formidable and unyielding.

Lisa stepped back, her usual calm fracturing into rare shock. "This aura—it's overwhelming."

She felt the raw power radiating from Jean, a tide capable of sweeping foes aside without a single blow.

"Jean's hit the jackpot with this shop's gifts," Lisa thought, genuine joy for her friend warming her scholarly heart.

Jean blinked, reining in the force as she steadied herself. "What a potent energy coursing through me."

She sensed its might coiled within, a weapon yet untested, its limits a mystery she itched to explore.

"What is this, Boss?" she asked, turning to Harlan Flint with a mix of awe and curiosity.

"Conqueror's Haki," Harlan replied, his smile light but knowing as he watched her adjust.

The fusion seemed seamless, a testament to Jean's resilience and the system's precision.

"Conqueror's Haki?" Jean echoed, a flicker of confusion crossing her face—she hadn't spotted it in One Piece: East Sea Saga.

Devil Fruits like Lumine's Wind-Wind Fruit dominated the tale, their flashy powers etched in her memory.

Harlan leaned forward, his voice patient. "It's a latent human potential from later chapters—three types: Observation, Armament, and the Conqueror's Haki you've gained."

"Conqueror's is a kingly trait—your spirit alone can intimidate, stun, or knock out weaker foes, and at its peak, it can rend the sky when clashing with another's," he explained.

"This was your first awakening, an unconscious burst—master it, and you'll wield it with intent," he added, nodding at her potential.

Jean's eyes widened, her breath catching. "Stun with aura alone—and tear the sky apart?"

The sheer scope of this power stunned her—far beyond a mere trinket, it was a force of dominance.

She brushed aside the "kingly" label—Mondstadt cherished freedom, not crowns—but its utility thrilled her.

"With this, I can shield Mondstadt more fiercely," she thought, her heart swelling with renewed resolve.

Just then, the shop's quiet shattered as a group strode in, their black coats and masks marking them as Fatui.

Lisa's brow furrowed, her voice low. "The Fatui—here, of all places?"

She wondered if rumors of the shop's wonders had drawn them, a prospect both intriguing and troubling.

Jean stood, her tone steady. "They're likely after me—not the comics."

"I'm sorry, Boss, for dragging trouble to your door—I'll handle it," she said, bowing slightly to Harlan.

She couldn't risk the Fatui souring his goodwill toward Mondstadt, a loss too grave to contemplate.

Harlan nodded, his expression calm. "Go ahead—I'm curious to see this play out."

He leaned back, eager to test how Jean's new Haki would shift her stance against the Fatui's usual bullying.

Outside, Anastasia smirked, her voice dripping with scorn. "Mondstadt trembles under Stormterror, yet its Acting Grand Master lounges with books?"

Her gaze flicked to Harlan, suspicion narrowing her eyes—who was this man earning Jean's deference?

"This is my personal time—what's your purpose here?" Jean countered, her tone even, neither cowed nor provoked.

Anastasia sneered, emboldened by the Tsaritsa's might. "If you can't quell Stormterror swiftly, surrender Mondstadt's defenses to us Fatui."

"We'll tame that beast ourselves—hand it over, and your dragon plague ends," she pressed, her arrogance palpable.

"Beast?" Jean's calm cracked, her voice cutting through as she stepped forward.

Anastasia smirked, hands on hips. "What's that, Acting Grand Master—got a problem?"

Jean exhaled, her gaze hardening into steel. "I'd advise your diplomats to adopt a shred of professionalism."

"You dare call one of Mondstadt's Four Winds Guardians a beast? I won't tolerate such madness before the Knights!" she declared, her voice ringing.

Her Conqueror's Haki flared subtly, a pressure that made Anastasia's chest tighten despite her bravado.

Why did this Mondstadt leader feel so formidable now, when she'd seemed so pliable before?

She steadied herself, clinging to the Lady's shadow and the Tsaritsa's power. "A godless land—what can you do against us?"

"Not as mad as you claim, surely," she scoffed, her tone stiffening to mask a flicker of doubt.

"This consultation's over—I'll report it as is," she snapped, turning to leave with her retinue.

If Jean wouldn't bend, the Fatui would bypass her—subdue Stormterror themselves and let the Knights' failure pave their way.

With the old Lawrence nobles as allies, Mondstadt's defense map would fall, and the city with it.

Jean saw their scheme clear as day, her jaw tightening—she'd long endured such threats due to past weakness.

Diluc had once called the Knights timid, inefficient on Stormterror, and spineless with the Fatui—words that stung with truth.

But that was yesterday—today, armed with Haki, she'd no longer let them strut over Mondstadt unchecked.

"Mondstadt's affairs are ours to resolve—no outsider's hand will meddle here!" she proclaimed, her voice a clarion call.

Anastasia pivoted, her tone mocking. "Oh? And how do you plan to stop us?"

Jean's eyes blazed, her will a silent storm brewing for the clash ahead.

***

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