Chapter 94: The Pirate They Knew
"That's some serious power, boy," Cyriss grunted, steadying himself after the last exchange. "But I see Zephyr's style in your moves. You're his apprentice, aren't you?"
"Senior is well-informed. Yes, I am Master Zephyr's student."
It further confirmed Cyriss's story. Only someone intimately familiar with Navy training would recognize Zephyr's specific, brutal efficiency in close combat.
"Hah! To see an old friend's shadow in a fight like this..." Cyriss laughed, but it was tinged with nostalgia. "Life is strange."
"But, senior," Satoru pressed, his head tilted. "Are you really from their generation? You're nearly a decade older than them." The age gap in the dossier had stuck with him.
Cyriss's face darkened. "Kid, you really know how to pick at old wounds, don't you?" He scowled. "I'm mature, got it?"
To be precise, he had been two classes ahead of Sengoku, Garp, and Zephyr at the Naval Academy. He'd been a mediocre, struggling cadet back then, barely scraping by while they were already prodigies. He'd stayed on as a low-ranked officer when they were rising stars, which was how he'd ended up in a position to… interact with them. The infamous 'Millennium Kill' on a young Sengoku was a prank from a bitter, older peer. A grudge Sengoku, now Fleet Admiral, had apparently nurtured for decades.
After leaving the Navy, something had changed for Cyriss. It was as if a dam had broken. His latent talent, stifled by Navy rigidity, exploded. His growth rate skyrocketed, turning him from a forgettable officer into the legend known as the 'Tyrant's Fist.'
"Senior really had a... unique career path," Satoru mused. "Unlike me, suffering the burdens of Admiral-hood at such a tender age."
Hearing this blatant, shameless boasting, Cyriss's scowl deepened. "Kid, are you always this insufferable?"
"Whatever do you mean, senior?"
"Has anyone in the Navy ever told you your mouth is your most dangerous weapon?"
Satoru blinked innocently. "No one's mentioned it. My subordinates adore me."
"You are such a little brat," Cyriss growled. Any fondness he'd felt for Zephyr's pupil was evaporating under the heat of Satoru's infuriating smugness.
Cyriss increased the pressure of his attacks. In a contest of raw physical power, Satoru was beginning to strain. Cyriss's decades of experience and formidable body were telling.
"You're tough, senior," Satoru admitted, his playful grin finally slipping away.
"Got to be, to put a brat like you in his place," Cyriss shot back.
Suddenly, Cyriss unleashed a surge of power that dwarfed his previous strikes. It was a veteran's trump card, a condensed burst of Haki and muscle memory. The blow connected solidly, sending Satoru flying back across the rocky shore.
He's the real deal, Satoru thought, skidding to a halt, his arm throbbing. In pure might, Cyriss was in the same league as the top commanders under the Emperors, maybe even touching the lower bounds of the Emperors themselves.
"Time to get serious."
Satoru vanished, reappearing in front of Cyriss in the same instant. But this time, his fist was different. It crackled with two distinct energies: the white, lightning-like aura of Advanced Conqueror's Haki infusion, and the chaotic, spatial-distorting black lightning of Black Flash.
Cyriss's eyes widened. The threat level from that fist was on another order of magnitude.
Their fists met again.
KRACK-BOOM!
This wasn't a clash. It was a detonation. The sound was like the world splitting. Cyriss felt a sickening crunch vibrate up his arm, followed by searing pain. A bone had cracked.
Before the pain could fully register, Satoru's follow-up strike—a seamless combination—landed. The amplified force of the Tyrant Black Flash was too much. Cyriss was blasted out of the air.
This kid is a monster! Cyriss's mind screamed.
He had no time to reorient. Satoru was already above him, his leg descending in an axe kick sheathed in the same devastating combination of powers.
THUD!
Cyriss was driven into the ground, cratering the stone. The impact knocked the wind from his lungs.
Satoru landed lightly, then stepped forward, placing a foot on Cyriss's chest. He looked down, his blue eyes calm behind his glasses. "You're beaten, senior."
Cyriss lay still, catching his breath. He still had fight left, but he knew the truth. The outcome wouldn't change. This boy's peak offensive power, when he chose to use it, was monstrous.
"You're strong, brat," Cyriss wheezed, a grudging respect in his voice. "You've earned that coat. I acknowledge you."
"Then let's go."
As Satoru moved to lift him, a sound made them both freeze. The rapid patter of small, bare feet on stone, followed by many more.
"STOP! You can't take Grandpa Riel!"
It was the little boy, Xiaobao. He was sprinting ahead of a crowd of villagers, his small face flushed with determination and fear. The entire village had followed him, their faces etched with anger and desperation as they formed a circle around Satoru and the fallen Cyriss.
Seeing them, Cyriss's tough exterior crumbled. Tears welled in the old pirate's eyes. Their loyalty, their courage… it undid him.
"You defend him so fiercely," Satoru said, his voice carrying over the crowd. "But do you truly know who he is?"
"We know!" Xiaobao shouted, his voice trembling but clear. He pointed at Cyriss. "Grandpa Riel was a pirate! But he never hurt us! He only ever protected us!"
The words hung in the salty air. Satoru was speechless. He looked down at Cyriss, who stared back, his expression one of sheer, stunned wonder.
The villagers knew. They had always known. They didn't defend 'Uncle Riel' in ignorance. They defended the man, knowing full well the shadow of his past. They chose to see the guardian, not the pirate.
The simple truth, shouted by a child, was more powerful than any Conqueror's Haki.
(End of Chapter)
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