Augur's boots scraped against shattered stone as he slid backward, barely keeping his balance. The street beneath his feet was slick with blood and ash, the air choked with smoke and dust.
Observation haki had awakened—he could feel it now, a strange expansion in his awareness, as if the world had slowed just enough for him to glimpse what lay a fraction of a second ahead, but awakening did not mean mastery. And Gerrard was a man who lived comfortably in that fraction of a second.
The katana flashed.
Augur felt the cut before it happened. He twisted his torso, muscles screaming, and still felt steel bite into his side. Pain flared hot and immediate. Blood soaked through his coat, warm against his skin. He staggered, teeth clenched, vision narrowing as he fought to stay upright.
In his hands, Senriku trembled. The familiar weight, the perfect balance he trusted more than most people, felt wrong. The barrel was warped, the mechanism screaming every time he fired.
Gerrard stepped forward, calm as a man strolling through a garden. His thin glasses glinted, reflecting firelight and fear. "Ah, you see it now," he said softly, almost approvingly. "The strike before it comes. That is good. A bit late, but still good. It means I will have more fun while killing you."
Around them, the battle faltered. Soldiers of Arabasta and pirates of Carragher's fleet alike had slowed, uncertain. Gerrard's attacks were indiscriminate. His blade did not care for flags or uniforms. Men fell screaming on both sides, and the desert outside the wall had become a killing ground no one wanted to claim.
Augur raised Senriku and fired.
The rifle bucked violently, the recoil tearing at his injured shoulder. The shot went wide, chipping stone instead of flesh. Gerrard stepped aside as if the bullet had politely asked him to move. "Your captain chose poorly," Gerrard continued, voice level over the chaos. "Carragher cannot be killed. Even Kaido, the Strongest Creature of the Seas, failed."
Augur ground his teeth. He did not care about Carragher's legend. He cared about this man. About the damage done to his rifle. About the humiliation of being outclassed.
Inside the city, another clash shook the air.
Crocodile staggered, sand bleeding back into flesh as her old wounds tore open once more. Blood ran down her side, dark against pale skin. Carragher loomed in front of her, massive and grinning, every movement heavy with power. He wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand and laughed. "Whitebeard," he mocked. "If you truly stood against him, then the so-called strongest man must have been weak."
"You don't understand strength," Crocodile snapped, forcing herself upright. "You only know how to break things."
Carragher lunged.
The impact shattered stone. Crocodile skidded backward, boots carving deep lines into the street. Before she could fully reform, something strange happened. Carragher's motion slowed, as if the time around him had slowed him down.
Pintel stood there, arms thrust forward, eyes wide with terror and determination. His teeth chattered, whether from fear or exertion he didn't know. "Captain said keep him busy!" he squeaked.
Carragher blinked, annoyance flickering across his face. "Cheap tricks."
Crocodile did not waste the opening. Her hook flashed, biting deep into Carragher's side. He roared, blood spraying as old injuries reopened, pain tearing a snarl from his throat. Rage burned in his eyes as he tore free and backhanded Crocodile into a wall. She crashed hard, the breath knocked from her lungs.
Ragetti charged with a shout, swinging wildly. Carragher swatted him aside like an insect. Ragetti flew, crashed through a market stall, and lay still amid splintered wood.
A moment passed.
Ragetti groaned, rolled slightly, and gave a weak thumbs up.
Carragher turned back to Pintel, eyes cold. "Next time," he said, "you won't surprise me."
He surged forward. Pintel yelped, power flaring again, slowing the blow just enough for him to dive aside. Carragher crashed through stone, his fist burying itself where Pintel had been. Crocodile struck again, trying to drive her hook into his side. Carragher stopped her attack midway and grabbed the hook, snarling, and punched her away. Sand and blood scattered across the street.
"Enough!" he bellowed.
He seized Pintel by the front of his shirt and lifted him off the ground with one hand. "Easy way," Carragher asked, almost conversationally, "or the hard way?"
Pintel whimpered. "What's the easy way?"
Steel struck.
A blade cut through the space between them. Carragher released Pintel and stepped back as Jack Sparrow appeared, sword in his left hand. His breathing was uneven. His right arm was darkened, swollen, veins black and angry beneath the skin, locked at his side.
"Sorry I'm late," Jack said lightly. "Got lost."
Carragher's lips curved into a grin. "You again."
Jack raised his free hand. "Wait."
To everyone's surprise, Carragher did. "What?"
Jack gestured around them at the ruined street, the burning stalls, the fallen bodies. "If we keep this up, there won't be much kingdom left to rule. And you strike me as the sort who wants a kingdom, not a junkyard."
Carragher considered this, glancing around. Fires crackled. Screams echoed. "I don't want rubble."
Jack nodded. "Then how about this. One attack each. No running around. We settle it clean."
Carragher's gaze flicked to Jack's battered state, the ruined arm. "You won't last."
Jack shrugged. "You're bleeding too."
For a heartbeat, the world seemed to pause. Then Carragher laughed. "I like you."
They moved.
Jack's body screamed as he drew on what little control he had. He listened—to the wind, the shifting sand, the rhythm of Carragher's breath. His awareness narrowed to a single instant, a razor-thin window. In that sliver of time, he let his will flow into steel, just enough to stop his arm from turning to pulp.
"Drifter's Paradise- Sand Storm!"
Carragher roared and threw everything into his punch.
"Punch of the Four Seas!"
The collision was catastrophic.
Air detonated outward. Stone shattered. Sand spiraled into the sky. Buildings cracked, windows imploded, and the street vanished beneath a violent bloom of force. For an instant, there was only noise and light.