Ding!
Ding!
Ding!
...
Gin barely managed to parry Kuro's relentless attacks. Even with his iron crutches, wounds continued to multiply across his body. Blood ran down his limbs like a twisted tribute, each gash a cruel testament to the pain.
Kuro's voice cut through the clash, vicious and unrelenting.
"I'll flay you piece by piece until you bleed out and die!"
No longer composed, Kuro's once cold expression was now twisted with manic delight. The sheer carnage seemed to stir something deep within him—something dark, something feral. His soul trembled, intoxicated by the scent of blood and the thrill of the kill.
He wanted to skin Gin alive.
Gin remained silent. In the blur of ever-accelerating blows, he began to see through the chaos, glimpsing the core flaw in Kuro's technique.
"Your vision is limited. Hearing? Completely drowned out by the sonic booms from your movement," he thought.
"At this speed... even you can't fully control your body."
He noticed the erratic gouges in the ground, the indiscriminate injuries inflicted on allies and enemies alike—clear evidence of Kuro's berserk, uncontrolled style.
"This isn't precision. It's a storm. It's slaughter."
Gin's eyes lit up with clarity.
"You're strong—far stronger than me. But compared to Captain Krieg... no, compared to the weapons he created for killing... we are from entirely different worlds!"
He raised his voice now, yelling into the open air:
"Kuro! You will lose! And we will win!"
The iron crutch in his hand swung with force, meeting Kuro's claw-blade with a blinding shower of sparks.
"You—"
The weapons clashed, grinding against each other as the two locked in a brutal contest of strength. Kuro clearly had the upper hand, pressing Gin back step by step—but his eyes flickered with disbelief.
"Besides that man, someone can actually survive my Death Walk?!"
Gin let out a grim chuckle.
"You fear death, don't you? That's why you created a technique that sacrifices all perception just to overwhelm the enemy with speed."
"But battles are about life and death. There's always a gamble. And if you can't see your opponent, then leave it to luck!"
"Let your instincts decide where the enemy will strike from!"
In a flash, Kuro vanished into thin air. He pushed the Death Walk technique to its absolute limit. His leather shoes melted under the friction, sticking to the ground. So he shed them—barefoot and crazed—for more speed.
Faster.
Faster!
Faster!!
Beyond reason, beyond instinct! Speed so immense it crushed thought itself!
Kuro became death on the wind, ten clawed blades glowing red from the heat of their friction.
"Let's gamble, Gin—your luck, or my speed!"
His back arched like a panther about to pounce. Shoulders shrugged, body low, he charged. Five fingers wide, ready to rip apart anything in range.
Kuro's face contorted with bloodlust. Gin, however, remained calm.
Then it happened.
In less than a second, Gin's battered body was carved up again. Blood sprayed, and the onlookers could hardly bear to watch. The scene was too horrific.
"Looks like your luck's run out."
Kuro's voice came from nowhere and everywhere at once.
"Here."
Gin's eyes flew open. A strange sensation surged within him.
No reason. No evidence. Just certainty.
You're coming from there.
Gin swung.
The iron crutch, guided by a force beyond logic, smashed forward—its weighted ball crashing into Kuro's midsection with a sound like a cannon blast.
BOOM!
Kuro's body, once a blur, was launched through the air like a missile. He burst through the port wall, disappearing beneath a landslide of rubble and shattered stone.
Gin stood trembling, gasping for breath.
"Is... it over?"
As adrenaline drained away, pain flooded in. His entire body screamed in agony. He stared toward the collapsed wall, breathing hard, his vision swimming.
This was the most terrifying fight of his life.
Kuro wasn't just fast—he moved at a level beyond human. If not for that single, lucky blow, Gin would've died a hundred times over.
"Looks like luck was on my side today..."
He turned to leave.
Swish!
But a sharp sound cut through the air. Five claw marks tore through the rubble. Kuro stood up, barely, his body broken, one arm dangling uselessly at his side. Blood dripped steadily, his chest scorched and torn.
But his eyes—his eyes were alight.
"Aren't you curious?"
"How you sensed my attack like that?"
"I didn't believe it either. I thought I wouldn't see it until I made it to the Grand Line. I haven't experienced it myself—until now."
Kuro's lips curled into a smile of mad satisfaction.
"Observation Haki."
"Now I understand why even that monster Gawain reacted the way he did when he spoke of this power."
"To read your opponent's moves in advance... the advantage is unbelievable!"
He laughed—wild and ecstatic.
"He didn't lie to me! Gawain was right! I just needed the right pressure to awaken what was already inside me!"
"Now... we're equals."
"My arm's broken. You shattered six ribs. My internal organs are a mess."
"But from here on out—it's kill or be killed. Are you ready?"
Gin stepped back, horrified.
"You're... you're still standing? Still fighting?!"
Kuro licked his lips. The metallic tang of blood lingered on his tongue. Every step he took left a red trail on the ground.
A life of peace?
It meant nothing now.
For the first time, Kuro faced the truth. Why he'd abandoned the pirate life. Why he felt nothing anymore. Why the East Blue—the weakest sea—bored him to death.
Because it was all too boring.
The thrill had vanished from the world... until Gawain.
Only when he fought Gawain did he feel his soul ignite again. That trembling thrill—that meaning.
"I'm a monster," Kuro muttered.
"Only combat... only pain... only blood can soothe me."
He let out a maniacal laugh.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA—!"