"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Just because you hit me!"
Krieg spat out a mouthful of bloody foam, tightened his grip on the massive spear, and glared at Gawain with deep suspicion.
Gawain responded calmly, as if stating a simple fact.
"For me, that barely counts as a hit. I had intended to cut off your arm entirely."
"But it doesn't matter."
"Now that I've seen a bit of what you can do, I'll know how much force to apply next time."
"You arrogant bastard!"
Snarling, Krieg launched forward, swinging his giant spear once more at Gawain. The pain in his arm sharpened his focus.
He couldn't let that kind of attack happen again. This time, it had been his armored arm. Next time, it might be his exposed head!
With his physique, he only needed to land a single blow—hell, even the explosive force from the spear tip would be enough to take the guy out!
A thousand thoughts surged through his mind.
Krieg's face twisted with murderous resolve.
Despite the heavy armor and the massive weapon, Krieg charged with surprising speed—far faster than an ordinary man. In less than a second, he had closed the distance, bringing his enormous spear down like a warhammer.
"Die!!"
To most people, his speed would have seemed lightning-fast. But to Gawain, it was like watching a tortoise crawl.
Slow.
Too slow.
Unbearably slow.
He shifted his weight and casually sidestepped the spear's tip. Then, in one smooth, downward arc, Gawain brought down Seikō Masamune, the blade slicing through the air like a falling meteor.
The sword met the spearhead, cut through the steel breastplate like paper, and plunged deep into Krieg's flesh.
Gawain felt no resistance at all. The edge was sharper than he could have imagined.
Swish!
Blood sprayed from Krieg's chest and abdomen. His forward momentum collapsed into a full-body fall, the pain so intense that his vision went white.
His prized breastplate—thick, reinforced, unbreakable—was sliced open like it was nothing. His so-called secret weapon, the massive spear, cracked and splintered at the tip.
Bang!
The broken weapon fell to the ground with a dull, final thud. Black gunpowder spilled out from the shattered end, drifting through the port's salty breeze.
Krieg blinked as the powder dusted his face.
Then the horror sank in.
That wasn't just a cut.
That was a dismantling!
"No... no way!"
The man standing before him—calm, detached—had strength that surpassed everything he knew.
In nearly forty years of life, only two words could capture what Krieg saw now:
"A monster..."
"WHO... WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!"
"Just another pirate aiming for the Grand Line."
Gawain's tone was quiet, almost bored. Pity crept into his voice like a shadow.
Krieg, barely breathing, coughed out blood and asked one last question, teeth clenched against the pain.
"There can't be many monsters like you... even in the Grand Line, right?"
"Monster?"
Gawain gave a dry laugh.
"In a world like that? People like me don't even qualify as monsters."
"Compared to the ones who can destroy islands—or entire nations—we're like dust floating in the wind."
"You... You're lying...!"
Blood spilled from Krieg's lips. His face turned deathly pale.
"If someone like you can't thrive in the Grand Line... then what's the point of all these weapons I built to survive?"
"Survive?"
There was more pity in Gawain's eyes now, but it cut deeper than any blade. For Krieg, it hurt more than the wounds.
He gritted his teeth as Gawain's words landed like hammer blows:
"How can a true warrior forge weapons just to survive?"
Krieg's pupils dilated. His mouth opened, but no words came out.
Gawain continued:
"The weak create tools to adapt to the world."
"But the strong reshape the world to suit them."
"Whether you admit it or not—
from the very beginning, you've been nothing but a pure... weakling."
Gawain's judgment shattered Krieg's pride like glass. The same hollow expression he had worn at Baratie Restaurant reappeared.
Only this time, it wasn't Hawkeye who crushed him.
It was Gawain.
And Gawain didn't play with prey.
He preferred to cut it down.
Swish!
He flicked the blood off his blade and slowly stepped toward Krieg.
The distance closed in seconds, but to Krieg, it felt like an eternity. Never in his life had death felt so close, so inescapable.
The fear in his bones—buried under pride and armor—erupted.
Tears burst from his eyes.
Snot ran down his nose.
"Please! Spare me! I—I have money! Fleets! I can be your subordinate!"
"I—!"
Gawain shook his head slowly.
"It's already decided."
"The moment you stepped into Raven Harbor... the moment you pointed your weapon at me... this ending was sealed."
Seikō Masamune rose above Gawain's shoulder. His gaze held only contempt and boredom now.
This man—this so-called admiral—wasn't worth the fight anymore.
If Gawain knew what Kuro had been thinking earlier, he would've understood completely.
Boredom.
It could drive a man insane.
When life loses all challenges... you may as well die in a quiet village rather than drift through the sea.
But Gawain knew—
Out there on the Grand Line, in the New World, mountains still waited to be conquered.
Without realizing it, his purpose in this world had changed.
In that old, peaceful world, something buried in his genes had slept quietly.
But here—
Power. Killing.
It had woken.
"There's no place for the weak on this sea."
The silver-white blade fell—
but stopped just as it touched Krieg's neck.
"Wait!"
"Take my life instead!"
Gin, bloodied and barely breathing, had somehow knelt up from the ground. His head pressed to the dirt.
Poisoned, slashed, barely alive—he clung to life with sheer willpower.
"Let the captain go! I'll give everything I have!"
"Please!"
Gawain's blade paused.
Even Krieg was caught off-guard for a second—
until his old instincts returned.
Suddenly, he lunged at Gin, grabbed him by the arm, and hurled him straight at Gawain.
"Don't blame me, Gin! I want to live!"
"Don't get on my ship in the next life!"