High above the sea.
Tengetsu Ares's monstrous recovery and inhumanly tough body left even Garp stifled and sore.
Those iron fists of his could shatter mountains without effort yet when they hammered Ares, the effect was… minimal.
But when Ares landed a clean shot, that weight like a landslide slamming straight through let Garp taste firsthand what all those enemies he'd pummeled had felt: a bone-deep understanding of how much it hurts.
"Hahahaha!"
"Exhilarating!"
"This is the kind of fight I love!"
"Garp I acknowledge you!"
Ares's laughter was wild, a little unhinged. Fist-on-flesh, the raw, concussive shock, had him drunk on the sheer feel of it.
It wasn't like conditioning with iron rods at all.
Garp's heavy, committed punches didn't just carry brute force and destructive bite when they collided with Ares's own, the impact sent violent tremors, backlash, and resonance through his entire frame.
It rattled bone, muscle, blood and even the five viscera.
A rod only pounded what it struck; this shook everything.
Worlds apart.
Garp's eyes burned like bronze bells under strain. He barked through hard breaths, "I don't need your recognition. If I bring you down "
" the whole world will recognize these invincible iron fists!"
Sinew surged, muscles knotted, and a rolling tide of force filled his arms. Jet-black Armament Haki flowed along steel-hard forearms
packing his fists with domineering, uncompromising power.
His punch tore the air; ripples spread like surf, concentric and hungry.
"Fist Bone Fury Iron Fist!"
Ares thrilled instead of flinching. His grin stretched, and he roared, arrogant and eager, "Good!"
Every inch of his blood-red forearms gleamed with tensile strength; the grain of his muscles was sharp, layered, precise a map of the obsessive abuse he'd put his body through. Madness, yes but also will.
"Crimson Armament Red Dragon Roar!"
Boom
Wang Zhi lay on his back, soaked in sweat, staring up through a canopy that clawed at the clouds. Confusion creased his face. "That dragon's roar that was Ares. But these thunderclaps afterwards…"
"Is someone actually fighting him?"
"There aren't many on this sea who can stand up to Ares."
He sucked air in great gulps, wincing and then laughing weakly. "Good thing that roar scared those rabbits off. Otherwise…"
"'The famed Golden-Armored Swordsman Wang Zhi killed by rabbits.' The sea would never let me live that down."
A few breaths steadied him. He pushed himself to his feet, scooped up his greatsword.
"Whoever he's fighting, I've got to get there." He squinted toward the sound and, using the blade like a staff, staggered that way.
"This looks like… a ruined city."
Sengoku couldn't hide his surprise at the expanse before him. Not a single building stood whole. Moss and vines devoured the broken stone.
He reasoned aloud, "If John and Wang Zhi are here on Rocks's orders, the treasure they're after is likely close."
In this world of islands not a broad, seamless continent kingdom hoards weren't usually hidden far from their cities.
He snapped the order for vigilance and for signs of recent passage, split the squad, and led a detachment deeper into the ruins.
Before long, a marine sprinted up, tense and saluting. "Report, Admiral Sengoku! We found footprints."
"But it's odd after combing the area, we found only one set."
"Show me," Sengoku said, frowning.
Only one? Strange.
He knelt, studied the impressions. "Judging by depth and spacing shorter height, lighter frame…"
"That rules out Wang Zhi, Silver Axe, and Ares. Then… the drunk, Captain John?"
It was the likeliest match but a problem stuck like a fishbone.
"Why just him?"
"Did they split up?"
With little else to go on, he filed it under possible, and moved on.
He and the squad pressed forward until the ruins opened onto the site of the Siren Kingdom's palace.
And there, fate brought him face to face with a man who looked just as surprised. "Marines? You're here for the Mythical Zoan Devil Fruit, aren't you?"
He corrected himself almost lazily, a sure smile touching his lips. "No…"
"You're here for Rocks's officers. So they did come."
"That roar earlier must've been the one they call across the seas Rocks's officer, Blood-Hand Ares."
"I'm right… aren't I, Admiral Sengoku?"
Behind the round "frog" lenses, Sengoku's eyes wavered shock and disbelief mingling. "You… why are you here?!"
The man in red stood framed in broken stone: a plum-red shirt, blood-red trousers, a sweeping crimson cloak. A slender-handled umbrella hung in his right hand; a small notebook in his left.
**"Red Count" Patrick Redfield Lone Sovereign of the Sword, the era's acknowledged strongest duelist.
Redfield tucked the notebook into his breast pocket, unhurried. "So the 'Strategist' Sengoku rattles when he sees me rattled enough to make me repeat myself."
"My purpose is the Mythical Zoan."
"But I've combed this place inside and out. No sign of the Siren Kingdom's treasure."
"So. You're in my way. Kindly move."
Sengoku eyed that wiry frame with caution. He knew what hid under that lean silhouette force that couldn't be taken lightly.
But he wore Justice on his back. Letting a pirate stroll past? Not happening.
Redfield had gone only a few paces when Sengoku called, "Wait."
"Not wise to pick a fight now, is it?" Redfield's smile was faint, as if he could read thoughts like open ledgers. "Your targets are Rocks's officers. Fight me here and now…"
Sengoku's apprehension deepened. As rumored he sees straight through people.
He held Redfield's gaze. "A man who sails alone, never forms a crew, never joins one but calls himself a pirate all the same, and acts like one why be a pirate?"
If Redfield weren't a pirate, Sengoku might've ignored him. But this man no crew, no flag claimed the name anyway, and left a pirate's wake wherever he went.
Redfield stopped. Memory softened his face. "Because of a man. His name was Brook."
"After we met, the sea went quiet about the Rumbar Pirates. I'd give a lot to hear him sing 'Binks' Sake' again."
In all his journeying alone, he'd met every kind. Most hearts were filthy.
Until the Rumbar Pirates. Until Brook.
He'd learned, then, there were pirates who stayed cheerful, even in the storm.
"Rumbar Pirates?" Sengoku searched his memory. He'd heard the name a notable crew over a decade past, back when he was still a rear admiral.
And then nothing. Like so many others, they'd gone silent, swallowed by the sea.
Redfield's eyes chilled as he looked back up. "I answered your question. Now am I free to go?"
"I've other places to be."
Not finding the Mythical Zoan had disappointed him. He'd dug the clue from ancient tomes, chased it to these waters, and still nothing. He would move on to the next site where the legends spoke of such Fruits.
"Apologies," Sengoku said, heavy-voiced but firm. "As a marine, I can't just wave through someone as dangerous as you."
He shrugged off the white coat of Justice. Afro haloing a face set like iron above a black suit, Sengoku looked less civil servant than underworld don.
Redfield lifted his umbrella, unbothered. "Keeping me won't be as simple as you think."
"You may well pay a price."
Sengoku answered without words. Once he decided, hesitation didn't exist.
Shff
He blurred, vanishing, moving at the ragged edge of speed.
Redfield didn't flinch. His smile thinned. "You'll regret the choice you made today."
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