Black and crimson lightning coiled and tore through the air at a horrifying speed. Yet, the true horror was the sheer, impossible reach of Kōjin's fist. He was nearly a hundred meters up. One moment, he was a speck of white against the roiling clouds; the next, he was swinging his arm down in a vicious, air-splitting arc.
The force struck the two pirate ships directly below, not a minute later, but instantly, exploding with a sound that ripped through the sea itself.
The faces of the pirates, captains and officers alike, had just a millisecond to trade their smug arrogance for sheer, frozen terror.
"K-BOOM!"
A concussive blast deafened every soul on the water. The two massive pirate vessels didn't just break; they atomized, shattering into a cloud of splinters and dust. The sea beneath them didn't just ripple; it caved in, causing a colossal white crater opening from the shockwave.
And that was only the initial blow.
A heartbeat later, the remaining force rippled outward like a tidal wave of pure blunt trauma, slamming into the three remaining ships.
Crack! CRACK!
The sturdy hulls, built to withstand cannons and storms, fractured like brittle glass. Unconscious pirates were launched high, sailing through the air before splashing into the churning water like useless, broken dolls.
The image burned itself into the minds of Shinbu and the surviving Marine officers: the collapsing waves, the pulverized hulls, the bloody mist where men had been standing. It was a sight they would never, ever forget.
When the young man in the white, trembling Marine cloak finally dropped to the deck, landing silently on the stern, every eye that met his was filled with reverence, and it was as if they were watching a god descend from the battlefield.
That punch, it was nothing short of a miracle to them.
"Hah…"
Kōjin exhaled slowly, watching the violently churning water and the bobbing wreckage. The sharp, animal focus in his eyes slowly bled away.
He knew that punch wasn't a patch on Garp's legendary techniques. It was crude, born of desperation, a spontaneous, first-ever blend of Haoshoku Haki into a pure, blunt-force strike. He'd just given the thing a random name in his head.
"Still a long way to go," He muttered quietly to himself.
His gaze lifted toward the distant main battle, a storm of clashing pirate crews and a sky being physically reshaped by unimaginable power. Even from this distance, he could feel several other monstrous Haoshoku Haki (Conqueror's Haki) auras flaring, each one as potent as his own.
And the flashes of light, the violent heaving of the sea… they screamed of destructive power he couldn't even dream of unleashing yet.
Strength… technique… control… experience, that's the gap between them and him.
His eyes were wide, taking in the spectacle. He didn't need to see the fight up close to feel the devastating might of those legends. A scorching ambition flared deep in his chest.
"One day… I'll fight like them!"
He clenched his fist, staring fixedly at the blackening skies. Facing the Golden Lion Shiki and his endless fleet of flying ships earlier, watching his comrades fall, and seeing Rear Admiral Jerry die right beside him, had struck a deep, humiliating chord of powerlessness.
The great battle raged on. Lightning flashed brighter and faster. The black clouds now choked the entire Etwall Sea.
"Unbelievable…"
"They're splitting the sky! Tearing the sea apart!"
"Golden Lion Shiki! Gol D. Roger!"
"This is it, the battle of the world's strongest!"
The officers behind him whispered in a mixture of awe and sheer dread. They were stunned by Kōjin's fierce punch, but what truly shook their souls was the godlike power of the two pirate legends ahead of them.
Suddenly, a roaring, whistling blade of air, shot toward them. It passed just above their heads with a shriek.
CRACK!
The main mast, a column of hardened timber, split perfectly in two and toppled, crashing onto the deck with a thunderous, splintering slam.
Kōjin drew a sharp breath. He looked at the clean, surgical cut. That was merely the aftershock of a sword strike from several kilometers away.
"We need to get out of here now!"
"The ship's taken heavy damage, mast broken, but the auxiliary power system and the underside oars are intact! We can barely move her!" The surviving crew quickly reported with a frantic edge in their voices.
They were far from the fight, but the leftover shockwaves alone were too much.
Kōjin moved to the bow and picked up the shattered Den Den Mushi that had fallen from the late Rear Admiral Jerry's hand.
A moment later, the snail transponder began to ring.
"Rear Admiral Jerry, report your status immediately." The voice on the other end made Kōjin pause for a second.
"Vice Admiral Garp, this is Kōjin. Rear Admiral Jerry has fallen."
There was a brief, stunned silence, then Garp's voice came back, quick and firm.
"As long as you're alive, that's all that matters. We are heading toward Area A-13 right now."
"We've escaped the main danger for the moment," Kōjin reported. "The Flying Pirate Fleet and the Roger Pirates have engaged each other. We got lucky."
"Roger?!" Garp's voice spiked with raw surprise. "Good. I'm coming to back you up immediately!"
The call ended abruptly.
"Kōjin, what are our orders?"
Supported by two comrades, Saul sat weakly against the railing, his voice barely audible over the howl of the wind. The flames at the stern were finally out, and for now, the immediate danger had passed.
Kōjin froze for a moment, then looked up. Every gaze, full of hope and expectation, even Shinbu's, was on him. That impossible punch had earned him the complete, unreserved respect of every officer present. They were ready to follow.
"Steer the ship as far from the battlefield as possible," Kōjin ordered, his voice steady. "Vice Admiral Garp is en route. Until he arrives, our mission is to remain safe, and continue observing the battle between Golden Lion Shiki and the Roger Pirates."
He took a deep breath before speaking in a firm and clear tone.
"Yes, sir!" Shinbu snapped out the first response, and the others followed without hesitation, jumping back to their posts.
The emergency propulsion was only for short bursts; the battleship's true power still depended on the sails they no longer had. But slowly, laboriously, the vessel began to drift farther from the inferno ahead.
BOOM!
Even miles away, the deafening noise reached them clearly. Their ears buzzed violently as the air shuddered, and a fierce wind roared overhead. Looking toward the clash, they saw lightning flashing everywhere, a dense, chaotic, blinding lightshow.
This was a fight between kings. The Flying Pirates had the edge in sheer numbers and elite forces, but the Roger Pirates… every single one of them was a monster.
Rumble! Rumble!
The thunder rolled. Then, the heavens split open, and a torrential rain poured down, drowning the world in a curtain of gray.
Kōjin narrowed his eyes, peering through the storm at the two blurred factions locked in a death match.
After a long while, the thunder quieted. The chaos subsided. The battlefield began to fall into an eerie, water-soaked stillness.
Then, through the mist and rain, one pirate ship rose and fell on the waves. At its bow stood a man, laughing boldly into the middle of the storm, unbowed by the howling wind and rain.
"Ha ha ha ha!"
"I told you, Rayleigh! This isn't our end!"
"Even the heavens are on my side!"
His laughter, though miles away, cut clearly through the roar of the tempest.
Kōjin raised his binoculars, focusing on that figure standing so proudly against the storm.
"Gol D. Roger," he whispered, the name a weight on his tongue.
(End of Chapter)
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