Tap, tap, tap, tap...
"What do you intend to do to my adorable subordinates?"
Wazz emerged slowly from the jungle, katana in hand. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, and the black sunglasses that once covered half his face were nowhere to be seen, revealing a ruggedly handsome, unruly face. His clothes were torn and ragged.
Inside, Wazz was deeply shaken by Aeridar's power. He had already held Aeridar in high regard — yet after being sent flying by a single punch, Wazz realized he had still underestimated him. Facing such overwhelming strength, a heavy sense of despair weighed down his heart.
He knew it — there was no way he could win.
"Such a devastating slash!"
Aeridar's eyes lit up as he stared at the deep fissure torn across the ground behind Wazz. Turning back, he spoke with a hunter's gleam in his eye:
"I didn't think you were a swordsman too! Seems like the Navy's got some real monsters hidden away!"
"You flatter me. I'm hardly worthy of being called a monster," Wazz replied coolly, seeing that Aeridar hadn't immediately attacked. He kept up the banter to buy time.
"Hahaha... modest too, huh?"
Aeridar laughed heartily, pointing at Wazz— then, in an instant, his expression darkened:
"But, Captain... shouldn't you tell me why you're here?"
"I'm afraid that's classified Navy business."
Wazz casually rested his katana on his shoulder, his entire body ready to strike or defend at a moment's notice.
"Can't you make an exception?"
Aeridar's eyes narrowed dangerously. His tone grew sharper, tinged with a threat:
"Or are you not afraid that I'll kill you right here?"
Wazz's face grew solemn.
"If I bowed to strength alone... I would never be able to forgive myself."
"Cough... cough... A real man... never yields to brute force!"
On the other side, Cray staggered forward, hand covering his bloodied mouth. His palm was slick with crimson, staining what remained of his shredded suit. Clearly, Aeridar's earlier strike had severely injured him internally.
Aeridar's mastery of the Impact-Impact Fruit was already fearsome. Ordinary shock attacks required no windup at all; casual strikes packed devastating power. Only his true special moves — the devastating "finishing blows" — required charging time, and even those demanded monstrous physical endurance.
"Cray, are you okay...?"
Wazz flicked a quick glance at his wounded comrade but immediately focused back on Aeridar, not daring to relax.
"Cough, cough, cough—"
Cray wiped the blood from his mouth, grimacing through the pain.
"Oi oi~ that's some gutsy talk!"
Aeridar chuckled, shaking his head in amusement — and then, quite suddenly, his smile twisted into something cruel:
"But tell me, do you think... my strength is enough to wipe out every last one of you, along with your men? Heh heh heh~"
Wazz and Cray exchanged a silent glance.
They weren't afraid to die. If it were just the two of them, death would be acceptable.
But the soldiers around them? Hundreds of them?
Could they let them die too?
Against this monster's overwhelming strength, the answer was obvious — Aeridar alone could slaughter them all. And where Aeridar was, the Chris Pirates had to be close too. Their officers, each carrying heavy bounties, would be no less fearsome.
If they fought head-on, it would only end in complete annihilation.
After a long silence, Cray spoke:
"If we tell you, will you let our men go?"
"We're not afraid to die!"
The surrounding Marines cried out in protest, their voices raw with emotion, stunned that Cray would even ask.
"Shut up, you idiots!"
Wazz whirled around and snapped at them fiercely.
He understood Cray's intention — he'd been about to suggest the same thing. Neither of them were like Admiral Sakazuki's hardline faction; they still cared about the lives of the soldiers who served under them.
Aeridar's eyes gleamed as he waved them off.
"I'm not interested in your lives. I just want to hear a good story. Make it detailed — I love stories."
In truth, although Aeridar still struggled with his Bloodlust Syndrome, he wasn't a mindless butcher. His true ambition was to become a Warlord of the Sea. Killing too many Marines would only jeopardize that plan.
Cray sighed heavily, then sat down cross-legged on the ground.
"Alright, here's how it is..."
"There are seven official sailing routes through the Grand Line. Once you pick one, you can't switch to another — unless you have an Eternal Pose that points to a specific island on a different route."
"Yesterday, on a different route, one of our Navy strike fleets raided a pirate black market operating on an island. They seized a Devil Fruit — but the fruit was locked inside an iron box reinforced with seastone, and the key had been thrown into the ocean. They couldn't open it. We don't know what kind it is, but a Devil Fruit is priceless no matter what."
"Since it was such a valuable haul, they dispatched a warship to escort the locked box back to Marine Headquarters."
"But before they got even half a day into the trip... they ran into a pirate crew — the Mountain Pirates from the West Blue. They commanded three pirate ships and over a thousand men."
"After a brutal battle, our warship was sunk, and the Mountain Pirates stole the box. But before going under, the warship managed to send out an emergency signal to Headquarters, nearby fortresses, and the nearest strike fleets."
"The Mountain Pirates were quickly intercepted. As the Navy prepared to recover the box, they managed to sink two of the enemy's ships. Just when they were closing in on the last one... a storm hit."
Cray sighed heavily, then continued, his face full of regret:
"The last Mountain Pirate ship got swept into this sea route by the storm — and we were the ones who spotted them. But then another hailstorm scattered both sides again. Luckily, an agent from G-9 Fortress witnessed it all and reported back. G-9 sent the information to us, and Captain Wazz was dispatched to assist me."
"And then," Cray gave a wry smile, "we ran into you."
Beside him, Wazz's expression was grim — he looked every bit the picture of a man cursed by misfortune.
Originally, they'd thought this would be a perfect opportunity to earn merit.
Now, they'd be lucky not to get court-martialed.
"Hahaha... what rotten luck you two have!"
Aeridar roared with laughter, pointing mockingly at the two downcast officers.
"Looks like the Navy's efforts were all for nothing — lucky me, huh?"
Watching Aeridar laugh so heartily, Cray and Wazz both twitched at the corners of their mouths.
"We held up our end of the deal," Cray said, face dark as a stormcloud. "Now it's your turn."
"Hahaha! Relax. I'm a man of my word."
Aeridar grinned and waved them off.
Without another word, he turned and sauntered off into the woods.
Cray slammed his fist into the ground, glaring murderously at Aeridar's retreating figure.
Being spared by a pirate — it was humiliation beyond words.
"Hmph. Fire three signal flares. Tell everyone to regroup — fast!"
Wazz also stared after Aeridar for a moment, then snorted coldly and barked the order.
The surrounding Marines saluted sharply, sensing their commanders' foul moods and wisely holding their tongues.
Three piercing whistles echoed into the jungle.
Aeridar paused mid-stride, glanced back at the sky — and chuckled quietly to himself.
Then he disappeared into the trees.
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