Smoker's reflexes, honed by years of Marine combat experience, failed him at this critical moment. The carelessness born of his initial advantage, the belief that he had successfully landed a devastating blow on his opponent, left him vulnerable when he should have been most cautious.
His iron-hardened muscles had deflected the palm strike easily enough, the Tekkai technique proving its worth against what appeared to be a simple physical attack. How could such a light touch hurt someone with my defenses? The question flickered through his mind even as something about the exchange felt fundamentally wrong.
The sensation was unlike anything in his vast combat repertoire. Where he expected the familiar sting of a blocked blow, something far more insidious came instead. Oboro's palm hadn't simply struck his hardened flesh, it had unleashed some kind of invisible force that bypassed his outer defenses entirely, drilling through muscle and bone as if they were mere suggestions rather than barriers.
Airflow, Smoker realized with growing alarm as the foreign energy entered his body. It had somehow weaponized air currents.
The moment the mysterious force breached his internal defenses, it began its destructive work with surgical precision. His organs felt as if they were being sliced by invisible blades, each breath bringing fresh waves of agony that threatened to collapse his consciousness altogether.
Even as his body crumpled to the rocky floor, Smoker's survival instincts kicked into overdrive. Drawing on his remaining strength, he activated his Moku Moku no Mi powers and dissolved into billowing white smoke, his elemental form blending seamlessly with the natural mist clinging to the cliff face.
"Hehe."
Oboro's soft chuckle carried an unmistakable note of satisfaction, though he made no move to pursue his retreating opponent. His current limitations were clear enough; without the haki to strike a Logia user's true body, completely eliminating Smoker would take more time and effort than the situation allowed.
"Why are you running?" Oboro called out conversationally, his voice carrying easily through the smoky haze. "This is not your usual style, White Hunter."
The silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant crashing of waves against the cliff base far below. Then, as if summoned by his words, a familiar rectangular shadow began to materialize in the space around Oboro's position. The air itself seemed to fold inward, revealing the outline of an open door hanging impossibly in the air.
"Perfect timing," he murmured with obvious satisfaction, lifting a foot to step through the dimensional portal.
"Don't you dare leave!"
Smoker's desperation finally overcame his tactical caution. Blood spurting from his mouth, the Marine rose from his smoky hiding place and charged forward with reckless determination. His injuries cried out in protest, but the thought of letting the God Slayer escape again was unbearable.
Before his charging form could close the distance, however, Oboro simply vanished from his previous position. The movement was so fluid, so impossibly fast, that for a moment, Smoker wondered if his eyes were playing tricks on him.
Then he felt the familiar presence directly behind him and his heart almost stopped.
The burst of speed, the precise timing, the way his opponent seemed to flicker rather than move, it was unmistakably Soru, one of the Marine's most closely guarded techniques. But that was impossible. The Rokushiki were military secrets, known only to high-ranking officers and CP agents who had undergone years of specialized training.
Crack!
Oboro's hand clamped down on Smoker's skull with crushing force, driving the Marine's face into the unforgiving rock below. The impact would have been devastating against any normal opponent, but Smoker's elemental transformation activated on pure reflex, his body disintegrating into smoke as his features hit the cliff face.
"What an annoying ability," Oboro sighed, shaking his head in mock frustration.
"How did you do that?" Smoker reformed several feet above him, his reformation slightly unstable as blood loss and internal injuries took their toll. The disbelief in his voice was palpable as he stared down at his opponent. "How do you know Soru?"
"The Rokushiki?" Oboro spread his hands in a gesture of casual dismissal. "What is so difficult about understanding basic physical techniques? Any fighter who has properly conditioned his body and understands the underlying principles can perform these moves. As for mastery..." He paused, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Those who have reached the pinnacle of martial arts can analyze the mechanics after seeing them once."
To demonstrate his point, Oboro used Soru again, his form blurring as he crossed the distance to his dimensional portal in the blink of an eye. The execution of the technique was flawless despite it being his first actual attempt, a testament to both his analytical skills and his years of combat experience across multiple realities.
"The rokushiki are merely the foundation of advanced physical combat," he explained, one hand resting on the frame of his otherworldly door. "The truly powerful expand these basic techniques into something far more devastating. As for understanding their principles..." He shrugged. "I have had access to detailed analyses of all six forms since my previous world. Theory combined with practical application makes for quick learning."
Smoker watched in stunned silence as his opponent prepared to leave, the casual dismissal of the Marine's most prized techniques hitting him like a physical blow.
"By the way," Oboro continued, adjusting his hat with one hand while holding his other foot ready to enter the dimensional portal, "I am perfectly capable of performing all six Rokushiki techniques, along with advanced applications such as Seimei Kikan, Life Return. These abilities require absolute control over one's own flesh and blood, something I'll explore when time permits."
A single pale eye gleamed from beneath the brim of his hat as he took one last look at the wounded Marine. "Give my regards to Fleet Admiral Sengoku and Vice Admiral Garp when you report. I hope they appreciate this little gift I've left for Logue City."
With these ominous words, Oboro stepped through his dimensional doorway, both man and portal vanishing into the void as if they had never existed.
Smoker's elemental form finally gave way, his smoke condensing back into battered flesh and blood as he collapsed to his knees on the rocky cliff. The adrenaline that had kept him conscious throughout the battle quickly faded, leaving only the raw agony of his internal injuries and the bitter taste of utter defeat.
He had maintained his fighting spirit to the end, but the brutal truth was inescapable: he had been systematically outclassed in every aspect of combat. While he had thrown everything he had into the fight, his opponent had casually experimented with new techniques, treating the entire encounter as a learning exercise rather than a serious fight.
The only thing that had prevented his complete annihilation had been his Logia Devil Fruit powers, and even that advantage had been temporary at best. If the God Slayer had possessed Haki...
"Damn him," Smoker muttered through clenched teeth, his voice barely audible over the ocean winds. "God Slayer Oboro..."
After several minutes of forced rest, the injured Marine struggled to his feet and made his way to the edge of the cliff. The dark waters below showed no sign of his quarry's escape route, the sea keeping its secrets as it always had. Realizing that the pursuit was hopeless in his current condition, Smoker began the painful journey back to where he had left his motorcycle.
Halfway there, his strength finally gave out, forcing him to lean heavily against the frame of the machine as his legs buckled beneath him. The combination of blood loss and internal trauma was taking its toll, and even his iron will couldn't overcome the body's basic limitations.
Buru buru buru.
The familiar sound of his Den Den Mushi cut through the evening air, its persistent ringing demanding attention he barely had the strength to give. This time, however, Smoker forced himself to answer, despite his condition.
"Smoker!" Fleet Admiral Sengoku's voice crackled through the connection, barely contained anger evident in every syllable.
"It was him," Smoker managed to say, his reply consisting of just two simple words that carried the weight of absolute certainty.
The immediate silence on the other end of the line was telling. Sengoku's prepared speech died in his throat as the implications of that statement sank in.
"He escaped," Smoker continued, his voice raspy with pain and exhaustion. "He used some sort of spatial ability to disappear completely."
Despite his attempts to maintain his usual gruff demeanor, the weakness in his voice was unmistakable to anyone who knew him well. Years of partnership and mutual respect had given Sengoku an intimate familiarity with Smoker's speech patterns, and the barely concealed fragility in his tone immediately set off alarm bells.
"Are you injured?" the Fleet Admiral asked sharply, his anger instantly replaced by genuine concern for one of his most trusted officers.
"I'll get him," Smoker declared with as much conviction as he could muster, though even those few words seemed to drain what little energy he had left.
His consciousness began to fragment as blood loss and trauma finally overcame his stubborn will. The Den Den Mushi slipped from nerveless fingers, clattering against the rocky floor as Smoker's world faded to black.
"Hey! Smoker, respond! Where exactly are you?"
"Smoker!"
"Answer me!"
Sengoku's increasingly desperate cries echoed in vain over the abandoned link, carried across the empty cliff face with no one left to hear them.
Meanwhile, far below the surface of the churning sea, Oboro emerged from his dimensional portal into the cold, dark waters that surrounded Logue City. The transition from air to sea was seamless, his enhanced physiology instantly adapting to the aquatic environment.
Dom and Dolan waited exactly where he had left them, both men treading water near the massive form of the Sea King that would serve as their underwater transport. The creature's huge mouth gaped open like a cave, revealing the temporary refuge they had prepared in its maw.
All three pirates swam quickly toward their unusual vessel, entering the Sea King's mouth just as its jaws began to close. The timing was perfect; any longer in the open water and even their enhanced lung capacity might have proved insufficient.
Pirates who hadn't consumed Devil Fruit were usually excellent swimmers by necessity, their life at sea requiring such skills for basic survival. Even those who had gained strength from Devil Fruit consumption often retained their swimming abilities until the moment they actually ate the cursed fruit, after which the sea became their eternal enemy.
Dolan, however, had pushed his limits to the breaking point. The long wait in the freezing depths had nearly cost him his life, his lungs burning with the desperate need for oxygen as hypothermia set in. Only Oboro's timely return had prevented what would have been a particularly ignominious death by drowning.
The sight of Dom casually using his abilities while completely submerged in seawater left Dolan speechless with amazement. He had seen many impossible things since joining this crew, but to see someone seemingly immune to the power of the sea defied everything he knew about Devil Fruit users.
"Brother Dom," Dolan gasped as they reached the air pocket in the Sea King's mouth, his lungs gratefully accepting each breath, "aren't you supposed to be a Devil Fruit user?"
"When have I ever claimed to have eaten Devil Fruit?" Dom replied casually, wringing seawater from his shirt with practiced efficiency.
The answer hit Dolan like a bolt of lightning as understanding dawned. He had witnessed the mysterious powers their captain could bestow upon his followers, abilities that mimicked those of the Devil Fruit but apparently lacked its traditional weaknesses.
"Could it be..." he began hesitantly, his voice trailing off as the implications sank in.
"Heh." Dom's grin confirmed his suspicion without the need for an explicit explanation. "Work hard, newcomer. Show our captain that you're worth the investment, and you may find yourself with similar benefits. The key is to prove that you won't let him down."
"Yes, sir!" Dolan replied with renewed enthusiasm, his fatigue forgotten in the face of such incredible possibilities.
His gaze shifted to Oboro with a mixture of awe and determination, the promise of power beyond conventional limits burning brightly in his ambitious heart.