"I am the Great Pirate Great Cleaver Cook! Thirty-nine million bounty!" Cook bellowed, brandishing his massive cleaver. "Old man, back off now and I might spare your life!"
His voice cracked with fury. His men — more than a hundred strong — had faltered before a single swordsman. He wouldn't allow their fear of Louis to spread.
This was the Rocks Era, when chaos ruled the New World. A bounty of thirty-nine million now was equivalent to a hundred million in the age to come. Cook wasn't just a thug; he was a predator who had carved a place in blood.
"Master," Adrian Black stepped from the shadows, eyes gleaming. "Let me handle them."
Louis's calm gaze met his. Then he nodded once. "Go."
Adrian's pulse quickened. At last, a chance to prove his two years of struggle in the crucible of real battle.
"Kill that brat!" Cook roared. "Not worth dirtying my blade. Take him apart!"
The pirates surged forward, swords flashing, pistols raised.
Adrian placed his hand on his hilt, exhaling slowly. His eyes narrowed, cold and steady.
"Infinity Sword Draw."
Clang!
A silver arc tore free. Sword-light flashed across the port — five throats split open in an instant.
The pirates stumbled, clutching their necks, blood spilling faster with every heartbeat. They collapsed one after another, dead before they hit the ground.
Gasps rippled through the horde. This boy had unleashed a blade-light strong enough to rival swordsmen who had mastered the art of cutting steel.
But Adrian wasn't done.
"Kill him!"
Gunshots erupted. A dozen pirates leveled their pistols and fired.
"Bullets are useless," Adrian murmured.
His Observation Haki painted every shot before it flew. His body twisted, feet shifting, blade flashing — dodging most, deflecting the rest with clean parries.
Then he was among them.
Swish! Swish! Swish!
Steel carved arcs of crimson. Limbs spun through the air, screams shattered the night. Blood painted the earth in wide strokes as Adrian cut through bodies like grass.
His iron blade ran red, his aura thickened, his presence grew with each life reaped. The pressure of two years of relentless training burst from him, pouring into every strike.
Though his face showed madness, inside he was calm — savoring the clarity of slaughter."Combat," he thought, "is the fastest path to strength."
His technique sharpened mid-battle. Movements that once felt rough smoothed, power flowed with precision. His swordsmanship leapt to a new level before his eyes.
"Damn kid!" Cook snarled. His two years of accumulated followers were crumbling, cut down in moments. Fury twisted his scarred face.
But Adrian didn't care. The pressure inside him — the weight of constant training, of restraint — finally cracked. Something deeper stirred, clawing to be released.
Come out.
The dam broke.
"RAAAH!"
A storm exploded from Adrian's body. An invisible pressure surged out like a tidal wave, centered on him, racing across the port.
Pirates screamed once, then collapsed in droves, eyes rolling back as consciousness fled. Even the villagers hundreds of meters away dropped to the ground, fainting under the crushing weight.
Cook staggered, knees buckling. He slammed his cleaver into the earth to stay upright, veins bulging, sweat dripping.
"This… this is… Conqueror's Haki?! Impossible! That's the power of kings!"
His eyes bulged with disbelief. He had once felt this force before — the overwhelming presence of a great pirate, strong enough to scatter the clouds themselves. To feel it here, radiating from a boy… it was unthinkable.
Louis stood steady, unshaken. His gaze softened as the truth crystallized. "So that's why…"
Adrian's potential wasn't just talent or will. He carried the soul of a king.
The aura surged, tinged with streaks of red lightning. Cook bit his tongue until it bled just to keep from collapsing.
Adrian exhaled, laughter bubbling from his chest. "Hahahaha! Exhilarating!"
The storm faded. Silence fell over the battlefield, broken only by the groans of the fainted.
Cook dragged himself upright, chest heaving, eyes narrowed on the boy who had slaughtered his men and shaken his soul.
"Who… exactly are you?" he demanded, voice low, no longer mocking.
For the first time, the pirate known as Great Cleaver Cook did not see a boy. He saw a king.