Chapter 14: Questioning
The arena's atmosphere grew feverish.
But at the same time, a lone figure slipped away, heading for the docks.
[Sand Crocodile] Crocodile.
He was going to secure an emergency escape vessel. The planned fund transfer was reluctantly shelved.
There was no doubt about Alvin Vergil's strength. If things followed the "rules," Vergil would be today's victor. Having fought him, Crocodile trusted his own assessment.
But it was precisely because he'd fought Vergil that he understood: more troubling than Vergil's strength was his unpredictability.
He was a "creature" distinct from humans. His actions were nearly impossible to foresee, even for Crocodile, who'd spent the most time with him.
Having nearly been burned several times already, Crocodile chose the safest path: go to the docks, prep a ship, monitor the arena via broadcast, and wait.
In the best case, Vergil would just smash up the arena and flee to the docks.
But if things turned truly thorny—involving the World Government, or even Celestial Dragons—Crocodile would sail alone without a second thought.
"Sigh…"
Leaning against the mast of his newly acquired ship, Crocodile took a drag from his cigar, brow furrowed.
"…What a pain."
"Cheer up!"
Vergil, gripping the fat man by his collar, hauled him along as he sprinted along the arena's perimeter.
"ROAR!"
Behind them, the massive "Barduwen" Tiger moved its thick limbs, giving chase.
The Barduwen Tiger was a New World species. As it moved, its blood would gradually "heat up," making it faster and stronger—a predator that grew more dangerous the longer it hunted.
Now, chasing Vergil and the fat man, its blood was warming. Its speed increased. It was closing in.
Whether from the frantic run or sheer terror, the fat man was on the verge of tears. He whimpered, "I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die…"
Swish!
A claw swept past, nearly gutting him.
"L-Lucky… lucky I lost weight…" Had he not been starved thin by the slavers lately, he'd have been disemboweled.
Just as the tiger's second claw descended, Vergil accelerated again, yanking the fat man several meters clear.
The Barduwen Tiger snarled in frustration. But its small, fast prey was too quick. It shifted its primary target to another slave.
"ROAR!"
It pivoted, massive body reversing direction, and lunged for a slave across the arena.
Jaws gaping, ready to rend flesh—but then, the infuriating figure reappeared.
Alvin Vergil charged directly at it.
But what confused the tiger, the slaves, and even the audience was Vergil's mode of movement. It wasn't a sprint or a conventional leap. It was a translation.
He simply stood, and the earth beneath him surged, forming a wave. Vergil rode it like a master surfer, gliding at incredible speed to intercept the tiger.
"Aha!" Vergil wobbled slightly, then exclaimed excitedly, "Almost got it!"
Whether on Punk Hazard or the Red Line docks, there'd been no place for Vergil to "experiment" freely. This arena was perfect.
"It's just… this kitten's a bit slow."
He murmured, but his eyes shone.
Like all new discoveries, the thrill of putting conceived techniques into practice was unmatched.
In his Chīguǐ form, Vergil held the power to "destroy" earth and stone. By dialing that "destruction" down—far below the level of tearing open the ground—the very nature of the land beneath him changed.
It became loose, soft, even fluid. The soil took on properties akin to water.
Vergil could step upon it, control its undulations, achieving a "wave-riding" effect that drastically boosted his mobility!
[Chīguǐ Form · Earth Surge]!
Using the Barduwen Tiger as a moving target, Vergil rode waves of earth, weaving among the slaves, pulling them from the beast's path.
For Vergil, this was essential technique development. For the slaves, a miraculous reprieve. For the audience? Boring.
What was the point of watching one man play hide-and-seek with a crowd?
So, when Vergil pulled another slave clear of the tiger's lunge and retreated to the sidelines, someone finally snapped.
"Hey! You bastard! Stop messing around!"
The speaker was an elderly nobleman, his mouth full of gold teeth. He glared down from the stands, shouting:
"Win or lose, just get on with it! This isn't your playground!"
He grew more agitated, teeth grinding. "You idiot, stay out of the way! I want to see a river of blood!"
"That's right! If you're so good, show us!"
"Either fight or get lost!"
"…"
Vergil had been grinning with pure joy. But hearing the old noble's words, his expression shifted.
Not to anger. Not to displeasure.
The fat man in Vergil's grip saw it clearly: the look on Vergil's face now was unmistakable boredom.
"So… that's what you all think."
Vergil stopped. He cracked his neck, the sound sharp in the sudden quiet.
He let out a long, weary sigh. "In that case… your lives must be terribly dull."
"…"
"I've been wondering something."
Vergil completely ignored the Barduwen Tiger charging him. He turned his back to the beast, spreading his arms toward the stands, and laughed as he asked:
"Do you understand the meaning of life? Have any of you ever truly lived? Huh?"
"You've never even touched your own lives…"
Swish!
The next instant, the Barduwen Tiger was upon him, jaws wide, ready to crush him.
What met it was a massive, crimson hand.
THUD!
Vergil activated his power, shifting to his half-beast form. He seized the tiger's snout with one hand, then, using his core strength, hurled the colossal beast into the air.
WHOOSH—!
The massive Barduwen Tiger arced through the air and plummeted directly into the spectator stands.
Amid the nobles' terrified shrieks, Vergil's laughter rang out, harsh and clear.
"Aha!"
"Since you all love gladiator games so much… let's play together!"
(End of Chapter)
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