The morning sun climbed lazily over the rooftops of Shellshade, its warmth brushing across broken walls and repaired fences like a cautious hand checking for bruises. The fires had long been extinguished, but the scars of battle remained—some etched into the stone, others into memory.
Kazuha stood at the port's edge, cloak trailing behind him in the soft wind. His freshly bandaged shoulder ached with every movement, the pain dull but constant, reminding him of the previous day's trial. Yet, in a strange way, it felt earned.
He had won not by overwhelming force—but by precision, growth, and timing.
But the world didn't wait for those victories to be celebrated.
Especially not this one.
A distant horn called out from the bay, and Kazuha's eyes narrowed as a familiar sight emerged from the morning mist—a Marine warship, its sails crisp white, the symbol of justice emblazoned across its banner in royal blue.
But this wasn't a ship from the local branch.
This vessel was from Headquarters.
And it carried with it uninvited guests.
Three figures disembarked first. Two wore standard Marine coats draped over their shoulders, the wind lifting the fabric as if in salute. Their boots struck the wooden pier with synchronized purpose. The third figure wore no coat—just a worn red cloak, faded with age and stained dark near the edges. The red had once been ceremonial, now it looked more like old blood.
Lysara appeared at Kazuha's side, her eyes fixed on the men approaching. "That symbol," she murmured. "The one on the lapel of the red cloak. He's not local."
"No," Kazuha said. "He's Cipher Pol."
She gave a low whistle. "That's worse."
The man in the red cloak stopped ten paces away. His hair was short and iron-gray, and though he didn't wear a visible rank, the way the younger officers followed behind him—with exacting silence—made it clear: he was in charge.
"You're the one they're calling the 'Black Blade Ghost,'" the man said. His voice was smooth, almost casual, like someone discussing weather before a storm.
Kazuha gave a slight nod. "Who's asking?"
"Commander Helros. Internal Purity Division."
Lysara tensed. "That's not a real Marine unit."
"It's not supposed to be," Kazuha said quietly. "Which means this is about suppression, not protocol."
Helros continued, ignoring the exchange. "Reports say you took down a pirate armada, dismantled a smuggling ring, and executed a Navy captain who was 'complicit in human trafficking.'"
He paused, letting the weight of the words settle.
"Is that correct?"
Kazuha's eyes met his. "More or less."
"Then I have a simple directive," Helros said, unfolding a paper from within his coat. "You're to come with us. Voluntarily. For 'evaluation and disposition.' If you resist, I'm authorized to use whatever force necessary to ensure compliance."
Lysara's hand drifted toward her rifle.
Kazuha didn't move.
"Disposition," he repeated. "Meaning what? Interrogation? Dissection?"
"You'll find out when you get there."
He exhaled slowly. "Then we've got a problem."
Helros folded the paper back into his coat. "I expected as much."
Without another word, the two Marines behind him unsheathed their weapons—long, serrated sabers that buzzed faintly with embedded Seastone filaments.
Kazuha stepped forward, drawing his katana in one clean motion.
The first Marine rushed in without hesitation, his blade slicing downward in a vertical arc meant to cleave through shoulder and bone. Kazuha stepped aside at the last moment, his own blade twisting to meet the strike. Sparks exploded on contact.
Clang!
But the Marine didn't slow—he pressed forward, driving knee strikes into Kazuha's ribs while swinging with short, precise jabs. Kazuha deflected one, ducked under the second, then drove the hilt of his sword into the man's gut.
The Marine wheezed but didn't fall. These weren't the drunk enforcers or half-trained pirates he'd fought before. These were professionals—battle-hardened, disciplined.
The second Marine came in from behind.
Flash Step.
Kazuha vanished, appearing just in time to parry the saber aimed at his back. The clash pushed him several feet across the docks, boots scraping against the wood. He caught himself and retaliated with a quick Getsuga Sweep, a shallow arc of blue force that knocked the Marine off-balance.
Still not enough.
Helros finally moved.
Without drawing a weapon, he raised his hand and released a pulse of pressure so dense it felt like a wall slamming into Kazuha's chest.
Haoshoku Haki.
Lysara staggered beside him, forced to one knee. Civilians nearby collapsed or fled. Kazuha's body tensed under the weight, his knees buckling—but he remained standing.
Helros smiled faintly. "Interesting."
Kazuha wiped a streak of blood from his lip. "You're stronger than you look."
"I'm not here to look strong. I'm here to erase you."
Kazuha activated Thunder Veil, electricity crackling across his arms and shoulders. His spiritual pressure surged, clashing violently with the commander's oppressive aura.
He dashed forward.
Their first true exchange was a collision of raw power—Kazuha's blade against Helros's bare hand, which glowed faintly with invisible energy. Sparks exploded on contact. Kazuha twisted, swinging from below, but Helros ducked, swept a leg, and forced him into the air.
Mid-air, Kazuha spun, landing hard and rebounding with a lunge. His blade shimmered as he activated his latest technique—
Echo Cross Step.
He vanished.
Then reappeared—twice.
Two afterimages darted at Helros from different sides, one low, one high. The commander frowned and countered with a wide-reaching Armament Haki pulse, cracking both illusions. But the real Kazuha had already closed the gap.
He struck.
Helros caught the blade with one hand, fingers wrapped around the steel. Lightning arced into his palm.
For the first time, Helros flinched.
Then Kazuha twisted, pushing Reiryoku through the blade in a focused pulse and unleashed—
Pulse Crescent Slash.
The explosion of lightning and compressed energy detonated between them, launching both fighters back. Kazuha landed in a slide, breath ragged, sweat streaking his brow. Helros hit a pile of crates and rose slowly, blood dripping from one palm.
They stared at each other.
Then Helros chuckled.
"I see why they're afraid of you."
"You don't scare me," Kazuha said.
"I don't need to," Helros replied. "They'll come for you in waves. You're not part of the system. And they hate anything they can't file into a report."
The older man turned to leave.
"This won't be the last time," he added. "Next time, I won't bring subordinates. I'll bring a grave."
Kazuha said nothing.
He didn't need to.
"System Sync: 71%."
Combat Trial Complete: Elite Marine Division Repelled
New Passive Unlocked: Pressure Resistance – 20% Haki suppression reduction
"New Title: Cloak-Stained Challenger"
"Bond Update: Lysara Affection – 49%"
That night, as the sea whispered its lullaby, Kazuha sat with his sword across his knees and a fresh scar forming just below his collarbone.
They would send more.
He would grow stronger.
And the world, inch by inch, would learn that it wasn't just pirates or marines that shaped history.
Sometimes, it was the man caught between them.
*********
Hey everyone! I'll be dropping an extra 1 chapter once we hit 200, 400 power stones! If you're enjoying the story, don't forget to spend some power stones. I'd really appreciate the support. Thanks a bunch!