Chapter 12 – Devil-Fruit User
The terrifying explosive force instantly killed the four Slaves at the center; the remaining nearby Slaves were sent flying.
[Killed a pirate. Gained 100 slaughter points.]
[Killed a pirate. Gained 100 slaughter points.]
[Killed a pirate. Gained 100 slaughter points.]
[Killed a pirate. Gained 100 slaughter points.]
After that strike, Dante Voss's sword snapped again; an ordinary blade simply can't endure such a technique.
He'd expected this. He scooped up another sword from the ground and rushed at the remaining Slaves.
Before they could react, he cut them all down.
[Killed a pirate. Gained 100 slaughter points.]
[Killed a pirate. Gained 100 slaughter points.]
…Moments later the arena was silent once more, with only Dante Voss left standing.
In his eyes, the dozen powerful corpses began glowing white, condensing into spheres of energy.
"As expected, the stronger the opponent, the higher the drop rate."
Confirming the pattern, he started collecting the rewards.
[Acquired White-grade item: delicious bento box x1]
[Acquired White-grade item: One Million Berries x1]
[Acquired White-grade item: a carton of cigarettes x1]
Up in the stands, Saint Mike watched Dante Voss wipe everyone out and smiled.
The other Celestial Dragons looked embarrassed, as if they'd lost face.
Then he ordered,
"Go, Number Nine. Time for your performance!"
"Yes, master!"
Number Nine nodded, rose slowly, and leapt down into the arena.
"Boom!"
His massive frame crashed onto the field, shattering the arena floor.
The tremor made Dante Voss, still collecting drops, sense danger and whirl around.
A hulking man two-and-a-half meters tall strode in.
His muscles bulged like steel cables, his eyes ferocious—more beast than man.
The faint pressure radiating from him put ordinary Slaves to shame.
The man's attributes outclassed his own!
Dante Voss tightened his grip on his sword, his gaze turning serious.
Number Nine tore off his shirt with a rip, leaving only his sculpted torso.
"Not bad, kid! Your strength has soared these past days—unbelievably fast."
Number Nine exclaimed.
He'd seen countless powerhouses and monsters, but never anyone who improved this quickly.
It was like a new level every single day.
From a frail nobody to someone even a hundred-million-bounty pirate couldn't ignore.
Such growth was terrifying.
Dante Voss narrowed his eyes but said nothing.
Strong people could sense his improvement; that didn't surprise him.
With their powerful Spirit, his changes were impossible to hide.
"But sadly, Lord Saint Mike wants you dead. Today is your last."
Number Nine cracked his joints and shot forward like a cannonball.
He didn't care whether Dante Voss was a monster or not.
All he knew: if he failed to kill Dante Voss, he would die.
Even if he survived, Lord Saint Mike would not spare him!
So Dante Voss had to die!
"Here he comes!"
Dante Voss's eyes sharpened as he charged to meet him.
Sprinting, he raised his sword for a thrust at Number Nine.
Number Nine met him head-on, swinging a fist straight at the blade.
"Crack!"
The huge fist smashed the sword, shattering it into pieces without a scratch on his hand.
"What?!"
Shocked, Dante Voss abandoned the broken weapon, grabbed the man's arm, and kicked him in the torso.
His foot slammed into iron, but his high Strength stat still knocked Number Nine back a few steps.
With breathing room Dante Voss saw that half the man's body had turned to metal—like a robot.
Number Nine tapped his metallic chest, grinning at Dante Voss's stunned face.
"Surprised? I'm a Steel Fruit user. I can turn my body into steel—your sword is useless."
That was the trump card that kept Number Nine fearless despite Dante Voss's rapid growth.
The Steel Fruit's defense perfectly countered swordsmen like Dante Voss.
Dante Voss's heart sank.
Most of his power lay in his swordsmanship, now rendered worthless against steel.
The danger felt overwhelming.
But with over three thousand points in Strength and Speed, he still had a chance.
The moment he finished speaking, Number Nine charged again.
He wouldn't give Dante Voss a single opening.
"Boom!"
Now fully steel, Number Nine became a wrecking machine, pummeling Dante Voss relentlessly.
Every blow cratered the arena floor.
Dante Voss refused to clash head-on, relying on Speed to dodge.
Watching from the side, Vic grew excited; he'd feared no one could kill Dante Voss.
Dante Voss cutting down the other Slaves had terrified him, so seeing someone gaining the upper hand thrilled him.
He recognized the Slave fighting—Saint Mike's personal mount.
If the mount won today, Vic would surely be promoted.
"Kill him now!"
"Kill him!"
Vic shouted, desperate for Dante Voss to die by Number Nine's hand.
Up above, the Celestial Dragons showed surprise as Number Nine suppressed Dante Voss.
Dante Voss had slain many of their Slaves, yet this one could actually overpower him—truly formidable.
"That's my mount—impressive, isn't he?"
Saint Mike proclaimed loudly, making sure every Celestial Dragon knew whose mount it was.
At his words, envy and jealousy flashed across their faces.
Celestial Dragons loved to compete, and nothing beat a powerful Slave for bragging rights.
A mighty Slave brought immense prestige.
Delighted, Saint Mike roared with laughter—exactly the reaction he'd wanted… In the arena, Number Nine kept Dante Voss pinned, monstrous strength ravaging the field.
The ground thousands had failed to damage was now half-ruined by Number Nine alone.
Sweat poured off Dante Voss's body.
His Physique and Spirit were far lower than his Strength and Speed.
Those attributes only let him fight at peak for short bursts; he couldn't last in a prolonged battle against an equal foe.
Now drenched and mentally drained, Dante Voss was faltering.
"Now's my chance!"
After relentless barrage, Number Nine spotted an opening and smashed an iron fist toward Dante Voss.
Dante Voss sensed the danger, but escape was impossible.
Forced to block, he crossed his arms to take the hit.
"Bang!"
The terrifying punch sent him flying; even guarding, he absorbed massive force.
With Physique at only 2,341, he couldn't withstand it—blood sprayed from his mouth as he was hurled away.