These beasts grow stronger every time they resurrect—so why kill them?
That's Larson's solution.
In fact, when powerful figures like Whitebeard and Roger decide to take a group of beasts seriously, things couldn't be simpler.
In less than five minutes, all the beasts were brought down, some of them tangled up in iron chains, immobilized.
"Alright, it's done."
Larson clapped his hands, pleased with the result lying before them.
The beasts weren't dead—they had merely been knocked unconscious.
"Is everything taken care of now?"
Whitebeard approached, his heavy presence making the ground seem smaller.
Larson gave a firm nod. "Let's move."
"Aren't you worried about these beasts?"
Gaban studied the unconscious creatures with curiosity.
"Whatever they do, it doesn't matter—we just need to leave before they wake up," Rayleigh said, gazing upward at the sky. "We need to pick up the pace."
They had wasted too much time here already.
"Let's go."
Larson shot one last glance toward Garp and Sengoku, who were still in the heat of battle, before turning to leave.
Not far off, Sengoku noticed Larson and the others departing after subduing their opponents. His expression tightened with shock.
"How did they manage that?"
Sengoku was practically pulling his hair out trying to deal with these beasts. The creatures' relentless resurrection had made every encounter an exhausting struggle.
Then, his gaze fell on the beasts lying scattered across the battlefield.
Though they had collapsed, their chests were still rising and falling—they were alive.
Realization hit Sengoku like a wave. His eyes widened, and he shouted toward Garp, his voice filled with excitement.
"Garp! Don't kill them—just knock them out!"
Garp gave a knowing nod. "Got it."
With that, the duo began mimicking Larson's strategy. Instead of outright killing the beasts, they shifted to stunning them, following the method their comrades had employed.
Even though only the two of them remained to battle the beasts, handling them became a much smoother task. Their real challenge had stemmed from the creatures' resurrection and regeneration abilities.
One by one, each beast crumpled beneath Garp's iron fists.
After knocking out another creature, Garp flexed his fist and grumbled, "It's way harder to make them faint than just kill them."
Sengoku, though silent, agreed wholeheartedly.
Taking the beasts down with lethal force was simple—all it required was strength. A single, powerful blow would have ended any one of them.
But rendering them unconscious without killing them? That was an entirely different challenge.
The slightest mistake could be fatal, turning a knockout attempt into a death blow.
As the beasts continued to drop, Sengoku's eyes sparkled with determination. "Just a little more—these are the last ones!"
Before them stood only four beasts—among them was the original bear, the source of their frustration.
Garp exhaled heavily, relief spreading through his chest. He had grown weary of these creatures and their endless cycles of revival. Finally, they were on the verge of breaking free from this torment.
For a brief moment, Garp felt a lightness in his heart.
But just as they were preparing to finish off these last few beasts and proceed deeper into the island, what happened next shattered that sense of ease entirely.
The bear, which was supposed to charge directly at Garp and Sengoku, suddenly changed course. Instead of attacking the two, it sprinted toward the unconscious beasts that Larson and the others had knocked out earlier.
With a deafening roar, the bear stirred the fallen beasts awake. One by one, they opened their eyes and rose to their feet, their expressions turning dark and vengeful. As they realized that Larson and the others had already disappeared, every single beast fixed their hateful gazes on Garp and Sengoku.
Sengoku: "..."
Garp: "..."
The corner of Sengoku's mouth twitched. When did these beasts get this smart?
As the beasts began advancing toward them, something even worse became clear. Every time a conscious beast passed one that Garp or Sengoku had knocked out, it gave a sharp slap with its claw, rousing it back to life. Before the two Marines knew it, they were surrounded by every last one of the beasts.
"What do we do now?" Garp asked, his usual carefree grin slipping slightly.
Sengoku's eyelids twitched as he gave the most practical answer.
"Run!"
Without hesitation, both of them spun around and bolted. Fighting was no longer on the table—the only thing that mattered was getting as far away as possible.
However, they had miscalculated. They thought they could escape if they ran fast enough, but what they didn't realize was that many of the beasts were famous for their speed—like the massive leopard prowling in the group.
In combat, these leopards might be cannon fodder. But when it came to speed, they were unmatched—kings of the chase.
Strengthened even further by their regenerative abilities, the leopards were faster than ever. And no matter how fast Garp and Sengoku ran, they had no chance of outpacing four-legged creatures.
It wasn't long before the leopards caught up, chasing the two relentlessly and lunging at every opportunity.
Although the beasts couldn't deal serious damage to Garp and Sengoku thanks to their Armament Haki, the situation quickly turned humiliating. These leopards weren't biting randomly—they aimed exclusively for the Marines' butts.
Sengoku's face twisted in anger as he ground to a halt.
"Garp! What are you standing around for? Keep running!" Garp shouted.
"Run?" Sengoku clenched his fists, his voice tight with fury. "I've had enough! I am NOT letting these beasts get away with this. If I don't crush them right now, I'll never live this down."
Garp groaned, exasperated. "Why are you picking a fight now? Just let it go!"
But there was no point arguing. Garp knew he couldn't leave Sengoku behind, and more importantly, they stood a better chance if they fought together.
"We have to finish them off before more beasts show up," Garp muttered grimly.
Sengoku nodded, already well aware of the urgency. "Then we fight—quick and hard."
Without another word, Sengoku activated his Devil Fruit power. His body expanded, transforming into a massive golden Buddha. A brilliant shockwave erupted from his colossal form, surging toward the leopards.
Garp followed up seamlessly, punching any beast that managed to slip through the shockwave's reach, his fists landing with the force of cannonballs. It wasn't long before all the leopards lay defeated.
But as Garp and Sengoku glanced at the fallen creatures, the victory felt far from complete. The beasts' flesh began to wriggle and shift, the pieces squirming on the ground, struggling to reform into whole bodies.
The corner of Sengoku's mouth twitched in frustration. "We need to move—fast! If they regenerate, we're in trouble."
Wasting no time, both Marines turned and sprinted with every ounce of strength they had, desperate to put as much distance between themselves and the regenerating beasts as possible.
They knew all too well that when the leopards recovered, they'd be even faster and stronger than before. If that happened, fighting them again wouldn't be as easy as it had been this time.
Just seconds after Garp and Sengoku vanished into the distance, the chunks of flesh on the ground fused back together. One after another, the leopards reformed, whole and unscathed.
The ground trembled as the freshly regenerated beasts roared to life. With sharp snarls, the leopards picked up Garp and Sengoku's scent and sprinted after them, leading the entire horde in pursuit.
If anyone had witnessed the scene, they would've noticed something strange.
When these leopards ran, it looked as though their paws weren't even touching the ground. Instead, they seemed to glide over the surface, moving with an otherworldly grace that defied reason.