In a flash, Kyle's expression shifted from sheer horror to resolute determination. His teeth clenched as his right hand shot behind him, summoning an ancient, pitch-black naginata that seemed to radiate a malevolent energy the instant it materialized in his grip.
"Buzz—!" The weapon's presence alone made the air hum with anticipation.
He pushed the Boba Fruit's abilities to their absolute limit. Not only was the blade enhanced by his Armament Haki, but Kyle also infused it with high-frequency vibrations. The air around the naginata moaned under the strain, producing a mournful, almost sentient groan as though the weapon itself warned of the chaos to come.
"Come on! You old geezer!" Kyle roared, gripping the naginata tightly with both hands.
He advanced, not retreating in the slightest, directly toward the deadly black cannonballs hurled by Garp.
"Oni Giri: Baku Homing!!"
Rather than a conventional slash, Kyle unleashed a continuous flow of attacks, each one seamlessly connected to the next.
Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!
The naginata danced mid-air, creating dozens of afterimages, each strike perfectly intercepting an incoming projectile. Sparks flew as blade collided with Armament-Haki-coated iron, and the high-frequency vibrations amplified the impact, causing each cannonball to shatter in a violent, explosive symphony.
The first cannonball, less than ten meters from Kyle, detonated on contact, transforming into a swirling circular air current. Using the recoil, Kyle spun gracefully in mid-air, redirecting his trajectory toward the second cannonball.
Rumble—!
It exploded in mid-air, fire and black smoke blooming against the serene sky like some twisted fireworks display.
The new crew members on deck were utterly dumbfounded.
Miller Pine's jaw dropped, his wine barrel clattering to the deck. Colonel Mu Gulian's cigar had long extinguished as he stared in disbelief at the spectacle above. Even Spencer, the epitome of composure, appeared dazed, as if he had glimpsed a level of power that transcended understanding.
"This… this is our 'senior'?" Nozdon muttered, his pointed head shaking violently. "S-sugoi!"
Kyle's movements became an elegant ballet of destruction. Each explosion became a foothold, propelling him into new positions, allowing him to strike cannonballs from unpredictable angles. Offense and defense fused seamlessly; "Tremor Step" and his slashes combined into a dazzling spectacle that left the Marines scrambling.
Boom—!!
By the time the last cannonball was obliterated, the enormous blast nearly engulfed Kyle. His naginata trembled in his hands, his clothes were torn in places, and a thin sheen of sweat covered his face, yet his eyes blazed with unyielding defiance.
Below, the deck was silent. The new crew members stared in awe at the figure hovering above them. Kyle, small in stature but monumental in presence, had revealed himself as a true monster—worthy of standing shoulder to shoulder with Captain Roger and First Mate Rayleigh.
"Hmm… is he really only eight years old?" Miller Pine murmured under his breath.
On the Marine flagship, the mood had shifted. Garp's usual confident grin faltered for a fraction of a second, replaced by a dangerous glint in his eyes.
"You brat! I'm only in my twenties! Seems the 'Fist of Love' wasn't enough to teach you a lesson!" Garp growled.
Kyle, of course, knew he was playing with fire—but retreat was no longer an option. He pressed his trembling right hand down, channeling the Boba Fruit's full power.
"Now… it's my turn!"
The naginata spun rapidly, slicing the air. The resulting vortex, a shrill whistle, plummeted toward the sea.
"Vortex: Azure Dragon Twister!"
Above the water, an immense column of seawater was forcibly drawn upward, coiling around Kyle's spinning blade like an azure dragon. The high-frequency vibrations of the weapon intermingled with the water's energy, creating a roaring tornado that twisted violently toward the Marine fleet.
Kyle deliberately restrained the core destructive force; the goal was not annihilation, but disruption. Yet the pulling power and impact were enough to send Marines flying like dumplings into a boiling pot.
"Waaahhh—!"
"Help! I'm falling!"
"Oh no! The ship's going to capsize!"
Chaos reigned. Ships rocked violently, masts splintered, and formations shattered. Marines who had only moments ago felt secure were now at the mercy of the pirate's skill.
"You damn brat!" Garp's patience snapped. He stomped the deck, and the impact dented the wooden planks beneath his feet. Without warning, his entire body blurred, transforming into a human cannonball.
"Fist Bone: Meteor!"
The right fist, layered in pitch-black Armament Haki, became a meteor of destruction hurtling directly at Kyle. Light itself seemed to distort around the immense pressure.
Kyle froze, all hairs on end. One thought dominated: I'm going to die! I'm really going to die!
The "Little Kyle-senpai" who had confidently challenged the Marine hero seconds ago abandoned all pretense. Screaming with every ounce of his strength, he called out:
"Captain, save me—!!!"
The cry echoed across the waves, filled with desperation, vigor, and a raw desire to survive.
On deck, the newcomers' expressions shifted—shock, daze, and finally, bewilderment. Where had that indomitable, monster-senior gone?
"Ku ha ha ha… ha ha ha ha ha ha!" Roger's signature laugh boomed across the sea, scattering tension like dark clouds before the sun.
Just as Garp's fist was about to strike, a figure materialized between them like a guardian specter. Roger, in his red Captain's coat, hand pressing down his straw hat, one hand gripping his waist sword:
"Ace: God Avoidance!"
The blade swung horizontally, wrapped in deep crimson Conqueror's Haki, annihilating the shockwave without even touching Garp's fist. The resulting pressure carved a depression hundreds of meters wide into the sea, tearing a hole through the clouds above.
"My brother Roger truly has the bearing of a great emperor!" Kyle thought, awe mingled with relief.
"Yo, Garp! Long time no see! Still energetic, I see!" Roger grinned.
"Roger! You bastard! Where are you running off to again!" Garp landed on another warship, fists clenched, both laughing unrestrainedly.
Without words, the battle had begun—a duel not just of power, but of rivalry and history.
"Lads! It's war!" Roger roared.
"Oh oh oh oh!"
The Roger Pirates erupted into action. Miller Pine swung his hammer, Mu Gulian fired pistols in rapid succession, and Spencer's rapier sliced the air with deadly elegance. Monsters of the crew surged forward, colliding with the Marine fleet in a chaotic storm of power and skill.
---
Scene shift: The Island Beach
The setting sun painted the sky and sea a warm orange-red. The battlefield had transformed. Bonfires blazed along the beach, filling the air with smoke and the scent of roasted meat. Laughter replaced shouts, and the clinking of glasses echoed amid the lingering chaos.
Pirates and Marines sat on opposite sides of the fires, yet the mood was surprisingly harmonious.
Roger and Garp, arm-in-arm, gnawed on massive roasted legs while arguing, spittle flying. Rayleigh clinked glasses with a Marine Lieutenant Commander, discussing wine fermentation techniques with practiced elegance.
Jabba and Miller Pine had found the strongest Marines for a drinking contest, competing with ferocity equal to their battles.
The newcomers—both pirate and Marine—stood frozen, struggling to reconcile the absurdity. Nozdon tilted his head toward Isaac.
"Aren't we… supposed to be fighting?"
Isaac shook his head silently.
Nearby, a young Marine watched Vice Admiral Garp laughing and chatting with the infamous Roger. His worldview teetered on the edge of collapse.
"You'll get used to it," said a bearded Marine veteran, patting the young man on the shoulder. "Every time Garp meets Roger, it's a battle to the heavens and back. If they don't destroy a few ships and sink an island or two, it's not a proper greeting."
"F-fighting… as a greeting?"
"Yes. And afterward, they share a banquet like this." He gestured to the feast before them.
Spencer explained to the pirates' newcomers, voice elegant yet resigned: "Roger and Garp are sworn rivals, and in a sense… soulmates. Their battles are rituals to confirm each other's well-being. Death is never the intent. And, with Kyle around, Garp's attacks always hold back slightly."
Kyle coughed and sputtered indignantly, face red from Garp's playful pats.
"Cough! Cough! I refuse! Are you trying to pat me to death to inherit my treasures?!"
Finally, a young Marine tentatively offered a piece of roasted meat across the bonfire. The pirate accepted, clinking cups in return, cementing the odd yet harmonious camaraderie.
The battlefield had become a feast. The legend of the Roger Pirates—and their eccentric, terrifying senior—was alive in every laugh, every clash, every shared bite of roasted meat.
Ãdvåñçé çhàptêr àvàilàble óñ pàtreøn (Gk31)