Brian had just tried to poach right in front of Galil. Frankly, that was a low move.
If Galil had a milder temper, maybe it could have been shrugged off.
But Galil was naturally hot-tempered and domineering. His face went stone-cold and the atmosphere in the office snapped taut like a drawn wire.
Hannibal, eavesdropping outside, clapped a hand over his mouth and dared not make a sound. He didn't really know Brian's strength, but he did know his old superior Galil—how violent his temper was, how terrifying his power. From Hannibal's view, Brian's cocky behavior was a straight ticket to death.
Then Hannibal thought a bit further: if Galil accidentally killed Brian, wouldn't Galil's post be in jeopardy? Maybe he could move up… The guard's face twisted with a guilty, furtive excitement.
A heavy hand clapped down on Hannibal's shoulder.
"What are you skulking around here for?" a familiar, loathsome voice demanded.
"Shh!" Hannibal spun and shot Magellan a deadly glare. "The warden and that vice admiral are about to start fighting."
"Fighting?" Magellan barely frowned when a deafening crash split the air.
The office door exploded into splinters—the ashtray had been used as a battering ram.
Magellan peered inside. Brian and Galil stood face to face, glaring, neither willing to give an inch. Shiryu of the Rain leaned in a corner, making no move to intervene.
Brian held his head high, staring down at the much larger Galil. "Warden Galil, what's your meaning? You want to fight me?"
Galil bared his fangs and snarled, "You insolent brat—don't think this is Navy Headquarters. This is my turf. Everything here belongs to me. Behave, or don't expect mercy."
Brian shrugged, unimpressed. "Is that so? Well, whatever I want, I take. That's how it is."
Galil ball-fisted his huge hands and grinned cruelly. "Then I'll show you just how terrifying Impel Down's strongest force can be!"
"Then let's fight. It'll be a good chance for my men to see how powerful I am," Brian replied with a cold smile.
"You'll regret crossing me, you reckless punk!" Galil roared.
He stood at least seven meters tall—towering over Brian—and hurled a fist toward him.
Unexpectedly, Brian didn't dodge. He simply lifted a hand and, with one palm, stopped Galil's punch dead.
"He blocked it!" Hannibal's jaw dropped to the floor. He knew Galil's monstrous strength—Galil could rend beasts from the Monster Hell with bare hands—so seeing his blow stopped was unbelievable.
Galil, too, was shocked. He had expected Brian to be strong, but not to the point of catching his fist so casually.
Shiryu's brow tightened. He, too, had been taken aback by Brian's power.
"Surprised?" Brian smiled, a touch regretful. "Usually at this point someone steps forward and exclaims, 'So young and already the strength of an admiral! Is he a monster?' You guys are slacking."
"You only caught my punch—don't get cocky!" Galil snapped. Despite his surprise, as Impel Down's warden and de-facto ruler he still boasted power on par with an admiral.
"How far do you plan to fight?" Brian's question stopped Galil mid-swing.
Before Galil could react, Brian continued, "Will you be beaten until you beg for mercy on your knees? Or will I kill you outright?"
"That rude brat—those words should be coming from me!" Galil thundered, and unleashed dozens of brutal punches in rapid succession. Each blow carried crushing force—yet Brian slipped them with such ease that not even the hem of his coat was grazed.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Impel Down's layers were sturdy, but Galil hit with admiral-level force. Under the barrage, the office crumbled beneath them.
Below the Fourth Level—Blazing Hell—was the Fifth Level: Freezing Hell.
Unlike the inferno of Blazing Hell, Freezing Hell was another kind of torment: temperatures far below a freezer, enough to freeze flesh and cause frostbite in moments.
When the two of them fell into Freezing Hell, a bitter cold swept over everything. Hannibal hugged his arms and shivered.
"What's happening?!" the guards shouted. "Go see!"
Guards from both the fourth and fifth levels rushed to the scene.
The instant they hit the ice, Brian vanished from Galil's sight as if he'd been sliced away—leaving only afterimages racing across the frozen plain.
"Rokushiki?" Galil breathed. "But don't think Rokushiki alone will beat me!"
Brian's afterimages streaked across the ice like ghostly blades.
"He's behind me—no, above my head!" Galil flailed and raised his arm reflexively.
"Finger Gun—Laser Gun!" Brian shouted.
He didn't hold back—this was a killing, crippling blow.
This move wasn't like the Fortress Cannon. It didn't produce wide-area destruction, but it could pierce a single, focused line: one finger's thrust could bore through meters of steel plating.
Galil glared, covering his arm with Armament Haki, preparing to block.
Boom!
The columnar impact produced by Brian's Finger Gun converged into a single point and slammed into Galil's arm.
Galil—whose arm was thick and armored with Armament Haki—was pierced as if by a drill. A neat, bleeding hole gaped through his limb.
"Impossible!" Galil stared at the wound in disbelief.
Brian didn't keep attacking. He looked down coldly and said, "Surrender. You aren't my match. In a place like this, if your wound isn't treated, the cold will rot cells, vessels, nerves—your arm will be ruined."
"Don't joke—I am the warden here! This is my domain!" Galil spat.
He let go; the wound in his arm instantly began to freeze, the skin turning deathly pale—like frozen meat.
Brian shook his head. "Refuse to surrender? How foolish. A man that stupid is hardly fit to lead."
The barb was aimed at Shiryu.
"Shut up, you damned brat! I will not forgive you!" Galil's eyes flashed murderously.
Magellan's face went white. "We're in trouble—the warden's about to use his Devil Fruit power!"
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