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Under Garp's training, Kyle quickly picked up the technique of hurling cannonballs by hand.
Of course, the real key wasn't the act itself but the strange way of generating power behind it. That technique was unique to Garp—without a teacher, it would've been nearly impossible to figure out on your own.
The two of them stood at the bow, repeatedly flinging cannonballs forward.
Even from the simple motion, Kyle could see just how ridiculous Garp's strength really was. The man could throw a cannonball two kilometers and still have it tearing through the air like a meteor.
"Keep them locked down, Bogard!"
" Kyle, you keep practicing."
Garp let out a long breath, pulled a bag of donuts from his coat, and started crunching away.
Kyle treated the cannonball throws like a form of pure training, and soon realized it massively boosted his wrist strength and his control over his own power.
Dying and reviving had strengthened his physique overall, but it didn't give him the fine-grained precision that came only from disciplined practice.
Days passed. Pirate ship ahead, marine warship behind. Sometimes the gap widened, other times the chase tightened again.
The future Pirate King and the future Marine Hero were locked in a pursuit that stretched on and on.
"That kid is a menace!"
"He keeps throwing cannonballs at us!"
"His presence is insane, almost on the captain's level."
"He might actually become our rival one day!"
On the Oro Jackson, Shanks and Buggy leaned over the rail, teeth grinding as they glared at the navy brat relentlessly bombarding them.
Every cannonball overhead burst harmlessly against the deck under the crew's casual swings, but the constant barrage had become part of daily life.
The boy threw by day, threw by night—sleeping barely two hours—and the entire crew was losing their minds. None of them could forget him now.
"He's been throwing nonstop for five days. Five days! What kind of monster is he?!"
"He only slept two hours last night!"
Buggy's bloodshot eyes were trembling with rage.
"How do you even know that?" Shanks asked in disbelief.
"I've been watching him the whole time!"
Shanks stared at him. "You're a monster too…"
The chase dragged on. Every now and then Rayleigh or another officer on their side slashed backward, and sometimes Garp sent a monstrous punch arcing toward them from an impossible distance.
But the only constant was the endless rain of cannonballs from the black-haired teenager.
Even Captain Roger found himself wondering just how much ammunition Garp had stocked on that ship.
Half a month passed.
The chase continued, exhausting even the legendary crew of the Roger Pirates.
"Garp is insane!" Scopper Gaban growled.
Rayleigh's eyes were sharp. Everyone's patience had already snapped.
"Roger!" Bullitt roared.
He couldn't stand it anymore. The black-haired boy's throwing especially drove him into a fury, because he was the one intercepting most of the shots.
Roger looked over his crew, then suddenly laughed.
"I get what you're trying to say."
"There's a deserted island up ahead."
"We'll dock there."
"And that's where we'll have our showdown with Garp."
A spark lit in everyone's eyes, followed by a thunderous cheer.
At the same time aboard the dog-headed warship—
"Get back here right now, Garp!"
"We've got piles of work waiting! Pirates are running wild everywhere! Stop chasing Roger!"
"Do you even know how many major operations you've delayed?!"
Sengoku's furious roar blasted from the Den Den Mushi.
Garp casually picked his ear. "Yeah, yeah, I hear ya. I'll head back once I catch Roger."
"You idiot!"
Suddenly Garp's relaxed expression vanished, replaced by excitement.
"They're docking!"
"Looks like they want a real fight!"
"Talk later, Sengoku!"
He tossed the snail to Kyle.
"Hey!" Sengoku's voice exploded instantly.
"Vice Admiral Garp is busy. He'll call you back," Kyle said flatly and hung up with practiced ease.
He'd gotten used to handling these calls.
Raising his head, he stared at the island ahead.
Half a month of chasing—nerves, excitement, monotony—and finally the battle everyone had been waiting for.
What would the outcome be?
At this point, no one cared. They just wanted the fight.
Kyle turned and saw Kuzan already fully armed, Sakazuki brimming with killing intent, and the other officers ready for war.
He took a long breath. His eyes sharpened.
"It's time."
"Time to see how far I am from the strongest in the world."
The warship sped toward the shore.
"Don't fear! Don't panic!" Garp shouted. "Pride will get you killed, but fear will drag you to death even faster!"
"Even against the strongest men alive, stand tall! Raise your weapons! Face them head-on!"
No one expected Garp to deliver a motivational speech, but it worked. The soldiers' eyes glittered with excitement, morale surging.
"Charge!"
Garp roared, and the next second the marines leaped off the ship like dumplings falling into boiling water, shouting as they rushed inland.
Kyle was the first of them all. His eyes blazed.
"Gol D. Roger!"
"Dark King Rayleigh!"
"Show me what you've got!"
His heart pounded like it was trying to burst free.
"That brat…" Sakazuki gritted his teeth. Even running full speed, he couldn't catch up to him.
Kuzan just laughed. "The navy's fired up!"
"And we're not doing too bad ourselves." Roger stood from beneath a palm tree, drew his blade, and grinned wildly.
The crew shouted in reply.
"That kid is ours!" Shanks and Buggy yelled, glaring daggers at Kyle as they sprinted forward.
Behind them came Douglas Bullitt, silent and cold as steel.
Both sides accelerated across the beach, aura crashing like thunder.
In the blink of an eye, they met.
The first ones Kyle saw were two little brats—eleven or twelve at most. One red-nosed, one red-haired.
"Die, navy!" Buggy yelled.
"Move!" Kyle shouted back. "My opponents aren't two snot-nosed kids!"
They collided instantly.
Kyle punched, kicked—
Bang!
The two kids—barely up to his waist—went silent mid-scream and shot backward like launched cannonballs.
Then Kyle saw Douglas Bullitt approaching, face ice-cold.
Bullitt suddenly bent his knees and launched himself skyward. Black-and-red lightning crackled around his fist.
"Name yourself, navy brat!" Bullitt bellowed, his aura exploding outward.
" Kyle!" Kyle dove from above, fist clenching so hard his knuckles cracked. The sky darkened behind him as violent energy surged.
"Good, Kyle! I won't let you walk away alive!"
Bullitt snarled, leaping up to meet him.
Lightning carved through the air. They collided.
"Fistbone—Meteor!"
Kyle roared.
Black-red lightning erupted. Bullitt's pupils shrank, his whole body freezing as Kyle's punch hit him square in the chest.
A sharp crack sounded from within Bullitt's body.
He plummeted like a falling meteor, smashing into the earth with a thunderous crash.
Roger, Rayleigh, the entire crew stiffened. Every pupil trembled violently as they stared at the massive crater—and the black-haired teenager standing over it.
One hit.
He took down Bullitt with a single blow.
A clean, absolute one-hit KO.
"..."
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