The two ships rapidly closed in under their captains' unspoken agreement, crashing together with a resounding "BANG!"
Battle erupted instantly, but the atmosphere felt oddly... subtle.
There was no bloody fight to the death—it was more like a massive sparring match themed around "arrest" and "escape."
Rayleigh drew his sword, engaging a high-ranking Vice Admiral in combat. Steel flashed, but both fighters skillfully avoided each other's vital points.
Gaban swung his massive axe, locked in fierce combat with another martial arts expert. The axe whistled through the air, but it was more a contest of strength than a death match.
Shanks and Buggy, those two brats, were the most excited. Back-to-back, they leaped and danced through the crowd of Marines, using their still-developing swordsmanship and tricks to turn their opponents upside down.
The entire battlefield was chaos—battle cries, clashing weapons, laughter, and curses all blended into one cacophonous symphony.
And the mastermind behind this chaos, the culprit who had ruined Kyle's perfect day—Garp—was locked in battle with Roger.
Every collision between fist and blade sent visible shockwaves rippling outward, sending everyone nearby tumbling.
"Fist Bone: Meteor!"
"Divine Departure!"
Black and red lightning crackled between them continuously, as if space itself trembled before their battle.
Holy crap, you middle-aged powerhouses!
Come on, everyone's acting here—why are you two taking it seriously?
However, at the edge of this noisy battlefield, one person radiated a completely different aura.
Kyle stood there, his soaked floral shirt clinging to his body, cold seawater dripping from his hair. He watched the chaotic battle with an expressionless face, but in those golden eyes burned a black flame called "resentment."
His exclusive beach chair...
His favorite floral shirt...
His perfect day...
And... that glass of ice-cold orange juice with two lemon slices that he'd only taken one sip of!
All gone!
And the culprit behind it all was having the time of his life fighting his captain.
Kyle's gaze turned toward that monster-like Marine Vice Admiral.
Can't beat him. Absolutely can't beat him!
But revenge is a dish best served cold. I'm not that patient—not even for a second!
Kyle's eyes scanned the Marine ranks, searching for a suitable "punching bag."
Soon, his gaze locked onto a figure not far from Garp's side.
A tall, thin young man with messy black curls, wearing a standard Marine uniform, looking all fired up and ready to go.
Kyle's eyes lit up.
Isn't that... young Kuzan? The future Admiral Aokiji!
Magnificent!
Can't beat the master? Fine—let's teach the student a lesson!
The little devil in Kyle's heart bared its fangs.
At that moment, Kuzan finally seemed to get approval. He eagerly jumped down from the ship's rail, raising his hand as frost began emanating from his palm.
"Ice Age!"
He whispered, planning to completely freeze the ocean surface between the two ships, creating a more stable battlefield for the Marines.
Cold air spread from his palm, and the moment it touched the seawater, the surface began freezing at a visible rate with crackling sounds, forming a wide ice road.
Kuzan leaped gracefully, landing lightly on his self-made ice surface, preparing to expand the ice layer further.
Just then, something caught the corner of his eye.
A blurry, distorted shadow flashed through the air in front of him.
"Hm?" Kuzan frowned slightly. Before he could react, bone-chilling cold struck from behind—the first time he'd felt cold since eating the Ice-Ice Fruit.
He spun around sharply.
A face was almost touching his nose.
It was a completely soaked man, black hair still dripping water, plastered to his pale face, covering most of his features. Golden eyes blazed with towering resentment.
He looked like a vengeful spirit that had just crawled up from the deep sea, carrying all that grudge and moisture, appearing silently before him.
Kuzan's pupils contracted sharply, his mind going blank.
When did this person...
No time to think. Instinctively, he crossed his arms in front of his chest.
"Ice Block: Twin Thorn Spears!"
Several sharp ice spears instantly formed before him, thrusting toward that "ghost."
However, that "ghost"—Kyle—simply slowly raised his right fist.
As his fist rose, an indescribably terrifying power began gathering at his knuckles.
For his departed orange juice!
Young Kuzan, feel the ocean's cruelty!
SERIOUS—PUNCH!!
In that instant, Kuzan seemed to see a red "DANGER!" sign flashing above his head.
WHOOOM—!
Kyle's fist collided with Kuzan's hastily formed ice spears.
Immediately, countless cracks spread wildly across the ice spears with the clear, mournful sound of shattering glass.
"CRACK—BANG!"
The ice spears exploded on impact, becoming a shower of crystalline ice fragments.
Kyle's fist didn't slow down, punching through the curtain of ice shards and landing heavily on Kuzan's hastily raised defensive guard.
"Ugh!"
Kuzan felt an irresistible, violent force instantly pierce through his arms and surge into his organs.
His proud ice defense was as fragile as tissue paper before this power.
He was lifted off his feet, flying backward, carving a long trail across the smooth ice surface before landing with a "SPLASH!" in the cold seawater, sending up a huge spray.
"Who the hell adds special effects while fighting..."
"Glub glub glub..."
A stream of bubbles rose from the sea surface.
This sudden turn of events left the nearby Marines and pirates fighting stunned.
"Hey! Look at that!"
"The Marine rookie got knocked into the sea!"
"Who did that?"
Several Marine officers' faces went pale as they rushed to the ship's edge.
"This is bad! It's Kuzan! He's a Devil Fruit user!"
"Quick! Save him!"
The Marine side fell into chaos as several officers frantically jumped into the sea to rescue their promising genius recruit.
Meanwhile, Kyle, the culprit behind it all, acted like nothing happened. After landing his punch, his figure became blurry again, silently melting back into the chaotic crowd.
Mission accomplished—time to vanish without a trace!
He found a relatively dry corner, leaned against the cabin wall, shook the water droplets from his hands, and let out a long sigh.
The towering resentment in those golden eyes had completely dissipated, replaced by the satisfaction and contentment of successful revenge.
Ah... much better now.
He watched Kuzan in the distance being pulled from the water by his comrades—soaked, questioning his life choices—and his lips curved into a slightly evil smile.
Heh heh heh, little brother, blame your teacher, Garp!
In this moment, all the world's conflicts seemed irrelevant to Kyle.
He just wanted to pour himself a fresh, perfect glass of orange juice.
...
As Roger and Garp's final earth-shattering clash sent terrifying shockwaves in circular waves, the Oro Jackson and the dog-headed warship were pushed a hundred meters apart.
"Goo ha ha ha! Garp, that's enough for today! I'll play with you again next time!" Roger sheathed his sword and laughed heartily, his bold voice carrying across the ocean.
"Damn it, Roger! Don't think you can escape!" Garp's roar followed, but his warship's rudder had been sabotaged by the pirates during the chaos. He could only watch helplessly as the Oro Jackson sailed away.
On the Marine side, the chaos finally settled down.
Kuzan was completely soaked, his eyes fixed intently on the departing Oro Jackson.
"Pu ha ha ha! Kuzan, I can't believe you fell into the sea!" Garp slapped Kuzan's back so hard he nearly vomited up all the seawater he'd swallowed.
"Mr. Garp..." Kuzan's teeth were still chattering. What he couldn't get out of his mind was that face pressed against his nose—half-hidden by wet hair—and those golden eyes that seemed to burn with hellish fire.
Those weren't human eyes. They were more like a vengeful spirit from the ocean depths, carrying... an endless obsession with a glass of orange juice?
"Who was that man?" Kuzan asked through gritted teeth.
Garp followed his gaze and grinned. "Oh, you mean that guy in the floral shirt? Iron Kyle, one of the oddballs on Roger's ship. What, did he teach you a lesson?"
Kyle... Kuzan suddenly understood, remembering that string of zeros on the wanted poster—a completely different person from the water ghost he'd just encountered.
Is that really your wanted poster?
That's me. Back then, I was still skinny.
He clenched his fists, nails digging deep into his palms. So this was a veteran member of the Roger Pirates?
This is... absolutely thrilling!
He swore that someday he would personally send that man to Impel Down and let him taste what burning justice really meant!