Chapter 167: Dragon vs. the Marines
Captain Nezumi looked at the wavering Smoker as if he were garbage and sneered, "You're standing right in front of the leader of the Revolutionary Army. Are you seriously going to let him get away?"
He was growing increasingly anxious.
The Marines from Loguetown were strong—unlike the useless drunks and cowards under his command. Without their help, the 16th Branch alone would never be able to defeat Dragon and the Revolutionaries behind him.
Was he really going to let someone else steal all the glory?
"Of course, I'll make a move."
Smoker drew his seastone-tipped jitte, his entire body transforming into violet smoke as he charged toward Dragon.
Bringing criminals to justice was the Navy's duty—its true form of justice.
His lower body twisted like a sea serpent, smoke curling rapidly through the air, encircling Dragon in a dense cloud of poisonous mist.
"So strong…"
The Marines from the 16th Branch glanced sideways at their own superior, Captain Nezumi.
They all wore the same rank—how could the power difference be this massive?
"Smoke, huh?"
Dragon's vision was consumed by the violet mist. Judging by the color alone, it was clearly laced with poison.
He clenched his fists and slammed them forward into the thickest part of the fog.
Wind Dragon's Horn.
A green magic circle appeared, conjuring a wind blast shaped like a dragon's horn, tearing through the smoke body Smoker had formed.
"What a powerful ability. Is that a purple-grade skill?"
Smoker's upper half floated in the air, stunned to find that the wind hadn't just scattered his lower body—it had left it unable to reform.
The lingering wind-element magic was disrupting his Smoke-Smoke Fruit's reconstitution.
It was like high-level energy suppressing a lower-grade one—total domination.
"Dragon's elemental wind… both in purity and tier, it's far beyond standard wind magic…"
"Ivankov!"
"Oops."
Ivankov quickly covered his mouth—revealing your ally's powers before battle was as dumb as shouting your abilities before a fight.
"Everyone, attack!"
Captain Nezumi, seeing that Smoker—usually so proud and fearsome—had been overwhelmed in a single exchange, yelled out in panic.
Countless Marines opened fire.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.
A barrage of bullets tore through the air toward Dragon.
Before Ivankov could cast his Holy Light Defense magic, Dragon had already charged forward through the hail of bullets. The shots struck him like metal pinging off steel, making crisp sounds but doing no harm at all.
In the pirate world, anyone with a name wasn't fazed by bullets.
This too was part of his Wind Dragon heritage. Not an elemental spell—but a passive trait of his draconic bloodline: Wind Dragon Scale Armor, which granted him immense defensive strength.
"Revolutionary Army…"
The slaves watched the scene in a daze.
They weren't fools—no one joined the Revolutionary Army just because of a few stirring words. The leader's raw strength was a huge part of their decision-making process.
And right now, the scales in their hearts were tipping toward the revolutionaries.
"Stop right there!"
Smoker twisted mid-air. With his smoke still scattered, he couldn't wait for it to regroup. Instead, he dove straight at Dragon while swinging his jitte.
Poison Shadow Needle.
Toxic smoke flowed into his hand, forming a thin, black-purple needle. With a flick of his wrist, it launched along the path of his swing toward Dragon's back.
In street-fighter style combat, anything goes.
As long as the criminal is caught, the method doesn't matter.
Shhk.
Sensing danger at his back, Dragon shifted slightly to dodge.
The Wind Dragon Scale Armor reacted, wind currents rippling outward in waves to block the needle.
But that seemingly small, unimpressive needle possessed terrifying penetrative power. It pierced a tiny hole in the Wind Dragon scales and grazed Dragon's lower back.
"As expected… no player's skills should be underestimated."
Dragon touched the spot where purplish blood had begun to leak—it was clearly a poisoned wound.
"Dragon, I don't know what level your wind-element skill is… but you're far too arrogant!"
Smoker's expression turned cold.
His Poison Shadow Needle was already at level 10. With each 5-level increment, it gained more penetrative power.
Even if Dragon's Wind Dragon Scale Armor was also level 10 and offered immense defense, its trait bonus was wind resistance—not physical penetration.
It couldn't fully stop the needle.
"Perfect. Let's finish off this criminal in one go!"
Captain Nezumi, who had fled earlier, turned back around and began shouting now that Dragon was wounded.
If Dragon was killed, he'd revive—but in a weakened state.
All of his stats would be drastically reduced. Then he'd be easy prey.
Holy Light Heal!
Ivankov's purple curls bounced as he rushed to Dragon, hands glowing with radiant golden light. The healing aura enveloped Dragon's wound, removing the poison and closing the injury without leaving a scar.
"Not good."
Smoker's face darkened.
The Poison Shadow Needle had only worked because of a surprise attack. In a direct confrontation, Dragon's Wind Dragon scales made him nearly invulnerable.
Dragon understood clearly: Smoker was the strongest player present.
He turned toward him, lips curling into a faint smile, and punched toward the airborne Smoker.
The wind blew Dragon's hair wildly.
Smoker could barely keep his eyes open. He could feel the overwhelming wind energy surrounding Dragon's fists—it felt like he might be blown apart completely.
Desperately stabilizing himself, he launched two more Poison Shadow Needles—but they were blown off course instantly.
Seeing Dragon rapidly approaching, Smoker gritted his teeth and activated his most powerful skill obtained from the Trial Tower.
Tiger-Subduing Tyrant Fist!
Discarding his jitte, he met Dragon's fists head-on with his own.
Each punch released a shockwave of purple smoke, the air itself trembling under the impact.
Boom!
Dragon's punches came down like thunder. Every clash scattered Smoker's fists into vapor.
Smoker had no choice but to reform his fists again and again, enduring the pain and trying to keep up.
Fist.
Arm.
Shoulder.
Until finally, Dragon landed a direct blow to Smoker's head—dispersing it entirely. Wind-element energy surged through the space, suppressing his Devil Fruit's elemental properties.
"Even Smoker was defeated?"
"He's the most dangerous man in the world. It's not surprising that Captain Smoker lost—but I didn't expect it to be this one-sided!"
The Marines watched in horror as Smoker was enveloped in a white glow and entered resurrection mode. Their faces turned pale.
They knew Dragon was strong—but they hadn't expected Smoker to get flattened in a straight-up brawl.
At that moment—
Garp, wearing his signature dog-headed cap, arrived just in time to intercept Dragon as he charged toward the Marine ranks.
Boom!
Their fists collided. The shockwave produced rings of energy that rippled through the air.
"Dragon!"
Garp growled deeply.
He hadn't expected to find his son attempting to massacre Marines as soon as he arrived—that was something he absolutely couldn't allow.
"…It's you, old man."
Using the momentum of their clash to push back, Dragon finally showed a trace of emotion on his usually stoic face—a complex look of reunion, and a faint, weary sigh.
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