Over the past three years, with little else to do on the island, Garp had often taken Tokikake along for brutal training.
Now, Tokikake had inherited about thirty percent of Garp's true skills, and in terms of strength, he was nearly at the level of a Vice-Admiral.
Raleigh, meanwhile, yawned, unimpressed.
Three years ago, he was already at the level of an Admiral.
Now, his true strength ranked among the top even among the Admirals.
Kizaru had also reached the threshold of Admiral-level power.
It had to be said, his elder brother's talent was truly astounding—sipping tea and lounging around, yet he was almost at peak combat prowess.
But when Raleigh thought about the "Deserter King" Kuzan reaching Admiral level in just two years, it seemed reasonable for this world.
The battle on the mountain officially kicked off, with both sides diving into a white-hot combat state.
Garp adopted a feral tactic of trading injuries for injuries against Redfield's attacks.
As long as Redfield's sword strikes weren't aimed at his head or his heart, Garp ignored them, letting the blade cut him.
Instead, he raised his iron fists to pummel Redfield relentlessly.
For a moment, Redfield was left with no counter to Garp's suicidal onslaught.
His mind-reading talent was terrifying—almost all technique-based fighters found him nearly impossible to handle.
Unless one could shield their thoughts or attack purely on instinct, Redfield always knew what they would do.
But facing a frenzied powerhouse like Garp, who boasted immense attack power, high endurance, and no regard for his own safety, even Redfield was left helpless.
In close-quarters combat, it was impossible to evade every attack.
Especially with Garp employing such a maddened fighting style—even if he got stabbed, he would still land a bone-crushing blow on Redfield in return.
In no time, the once-elegant Red Count's clothes were reduced to tatters, and several deep fist marks adorned his body.
After forcing Garp back once more, Redfield couldn't help but spit out a mouthful of blood.
His left hand touched his chest. Earlier, Garp's heavy punch had struck his ribcage, breaking two ribs and hindering his movement.
Crack.
Redfield inserted two fingers into his chest, manually realigning the broken ribs.
"Hah. What turned you into this state? You are like a hellhound straight from the underworld," Redfield looked at his wound without a trace of fear.
Garp also lowered his head, gazing at the numerous sword wounds covering his body. One of them had nearly severed his left arm.
Garp closed his eyes, savoring the pain coursing through his body.
For some reason, the sensation of pain actually made him feel a faint thrill.
He was a battle junkie at heart, and these three years of semi-house arrest had left him deeply frustrated.
When Garp opened his eyes again, the demonic glare in them began to reflect his original personality.
Redfield felt uneasy—he could tell that Garp wasn't just here on a mission, he needed an outlet for his pent-up aggression, and Redfield was the punching bag.
There weren't many left in the world who could match Garp in combat.
With Roger executed, and Whitebeard, Golden Lion, and Rayleigh all fallen in battle, only Charlotte Linlin remained of the old guard.
But Redfield had heard that the Navy struck a deal with Charlotte Linlin.
Only he remained alone, with no one to aid him if the Navy ganged up on him.
"Garp, let's fight!" Redfield had already guessed his fate—death or capture was inevitable today.
For someone like him, this was a long-foreseen outcome.
Dying under the siege of several Admirals wouldn't be the worst end.
"If this is all you have got, you cannot kill me, Garp." Redfield pointed his slender umbrella sword at the Marine.
Garp revealed a long-absent smile and let out a hearty laugh. "Hahahahaha! Redfield, I will shatter that Famous Sword of yours with these iron fists!"
He was genuinely exhilarated.
At this moment, Garp no longer cared if Redfield dragged him down in a mutual demise.
All he wanted now was to lose himself in battle, to forget those troubling memories of his trial and Ohara.
His right fist coated itself in thick Armament Haki, parting the air like a battering ram as it slammed toward Redfield's head.
Swish!
Redfield's sword provided the answer. It sliced toward Garp's head like a flash of light.
This strike was launched with the mindset of mutual destruction, trading a life for a life.
But Garp's resolve never wavered; he pressed on with his attack, disregarding the incoming blade.
Just as the attacks were about to connect, the voices of others suddenly echoed in Redfield's mind.
Damn it! Redfield realized his mistake.
Garp hadn't come alone.
Three Admiral-level figures were waiting at the foot of the mountain, ready to interrupt his assault on Garp at the critical moment.
The fierce wind carried by Garp's iron fist had already torn through Redfield's skin, the fist growing larger in his vision.
If I die, so be it!
Knowing retreat was impossible, a flicker of ruthlessness flashed in Redfield's eyes.
Even if it meant sustaining serious injuries, he was determined to make Garp die with him.
"Great Buddha: Shockwave!"
A golden, gleaming Buddha suddenly appeared on the spot, its massive palm aimed directly at Garp and Redfield, who were locked in combat.
Boom!
The golden shockwave clashed with Redfield's rapier right beside Garp's ears.
Blood was already streaming from Garp's ears and eyes from the pressure, yet he paid no heed, landing a heavy, unobstructed punch squarely on Redfield's face.
"Ahhhhhhh!"
The intense impact and bone-chilling pain caused even Redfield, a veteran of countless bloody battles, to cry out in agony, unable to suppress his screams for a moment.
Garp stood his ground, struggling to clear his mind, which was nearly rattled unconscious by the shockwave and the sword slash he barely avoided.
Sengoku walked over to Garp, patted his shoulder, and said, "Garp, you have vented enough. Leave the rest to Fleet Admiral Kong and me. Go down and rest."
Tokikake quickly approached, hoisted the bleeding Garp onto his back, and dashed forward down the mountain.
Kong also set down his teacup, using Geppo to soar toward the mountaintop.
As for Raleigh? He had arrived at the mountaintop just as Sengoku appeared, though he remained half a step behind.
After all, Sengoku was about to become the Fleet Admiral, and Raleigh felt it was politically better to leave such heroic rescue moments to his superior.
He gripped Mikazuki Munechika, staring at Redfield in the distant crater.
It had to be said, Garp's strike was terrifying.
If Redfield hadn't concentrated all his Armament Haki on his face at the last second, that blow might have killed him outright.
Even now, Redfield had lost most of his combat ability.
His nasal bone was shattered, his skull cracked under the impact, his eyes filled with blood, and his mind was in complete disarray.
'This guy still isn't dead.'
Raleigh sometimes admired the people of the Pirate World—no matter how hard they were hit, they just wouldn't die easily.
Legendary pirates like this were practically unkillable until their stamina was fully depleted.
When fighting Golden Lion and Whitebeard, they endured countless fatal wounds yet stubbornly fought on.
But this time, the circumstances were different.
Fleet Admiral Kong, Sengoku, and himself were facing a severely wounded pirate—Raleigh didn't think anything could go wrong.
Fleet Admiral Kong's cloak billowed in the mountain wind as he looked down at Redfield in the crater and declared.
"Redfield, in the name of the Navy, I arrest you."
Redfield, his body twitching, slowly opened his eyes and revealed a mocking expression.
"Such lofty words... but it is all for fame and profit."
"Kong, I never expected you, as the Fleet Admiral, to be no different from those lowly pirates seeking fame."
Kong was not ashamed by these words.
He smiled faintly. "So what? Before I became the Fleet Admiral, I was first and foremost a human. I believe that as humans, we can never escape fame and profit. Even within the just Navy, reputation reflects one's achievements. The more pirates you kill, the greater your fame. I don't consider that a vulgar pursuit."
Although Raleigh wanted to remind Fleet Admiral Kong that Redfield was actually condemning him for ganging up on a single, injured opponent, he thought better of it and remained silent.
Redfield turned his head, his bloody eyes locking onto Raleigh. "Fleet Admiral Kong... it seems your subordinate here looks down on your methods."
Raleigh, whose thoughts had been read by Redfield, spoke without his heartbeat quickening, acting righteous and solemn.
"Fleet Admiral Kong, I believe Redfield's refusal to admit his crimes is despicable. I am willing to take his head and let pirates across the world know of your glory."
Hearing both their words, Kong revealed an amused smile.
Having been an old fox in the political game for so many years, he naturally wouldn't be provoked by a pirate's words meant to sow discord.
Besides, as long as Raleigh didn't say it to his face, Kong would treat Redfield's words as nothing but hot air.
Who hasn't secretly criticized their superior in their heart?
He nodded with a smile.
"Raleigh, smash his mouth shut, then throw him into Impel Down for life."
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