"WHITE! WOLF! SILAS!!!"
On the desolate island, Farrell's furious roar tore through the sky, a sound of pure desperation.
It had been too long. Farrell could not remember the last time he had been forced to fight like this, with all his strength, without a single scheme or dirty trick to rely on. This was a pure, brutal fight to the death. His enemy was a living legend, one of the most powerful swordsmen in the world, and the immense pressure was making it difficult for him to even breathe.
"Haha, that's more like it, kid! Don't you dare disappoint this old man!" Silas taunted, his voice a low growl.
Farrell stood a full two meters tall, but after transforming into his hybrid wolf form, Silas towered over him at nearly three meters. The battle looked like a ferocious clash between a giant and a dwarf. Unlike the slender grace of Yamato's future Beast-Man form, Silas's version was far more savage, a walking blizzard of tooth, claw, and steel.
Yet, while it appeared that Silas was overwhelming his opponent, only he knew the truth. If he could not land a fatal blow soon, his stamina would give out. His age was a debt that was quickly coming due.
Suddenly, Silas's foot stumbled on the uneven sand.
It was a tiny opening, but for a predator like Farrell, it was everything. He lunged forward without a moment's hesitation, seeing his chance to win. That single misstep also told Silas that his time was running out.
Since I've already made one mistake, Silas thought, a vicious glint flashing in his eyes, I might as well see it through to the end!
He had survived for decades on these seas without a Golden Finger, not just through luck, but through his absolute willingness to risk it all. He was a Mythical Zoan user. If he got stabbed, he could recover. What could Farrell do?
The heavy blade in Silas's hand began its downward arc. Farrell felt his heart pound against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat of indecision. Should he advance, or should he retreat?
If he were facing any other enemy, he would have charged forward without a second thought. He was the user of the Paramecia-type Harm-Harm Fruit. Anything he damaged would become incredibly difficult to repair. One good stab was all he needed. Even with a Zoan's resilience, Silas would be crippled by it.
But was the gamble worth his life?
The thoughts flashed through his mind in an instant. I can't risk it! In the end, Farrell flinched. His blade might have grievously wounded Silas, but he would have been caught in the old wolf's subsequent storm of attacks with no way to escape. He was already at a disadvantage. Could he really survive the trade?
Habits, forged over a lifetime, often decide one's fate. Farrell had always let his crew wear down the enemy first. When faced with a true battle, he did not have the courage to bet his own life.
In that brief moment he retreated, Silas smiled. The white wolf revealed a savage, knowing grin.
"The victor is decided, Farrell. Your courage is nothing special after all!"
Meanwhile, back on the deck of the Black Pearl, an arm hung limply at Rocks's side. He stood on shaky legs, using his remaining strength to glare at the equally battered Cassius across from him. Rocks had always thought he was the best fighter in his town, but this battle had been a brutal awakening.
Yet, he had won.
"My skills were just a little better, that's all," he grunted, forcing a cocky grin. He had only lost the use of one arm, while his opponent was now completely disarmed. What could Cassius do to fight him now?
Across from him, Cassius's face was blank, his eyes hollow. He knew he had lost. He had held the upper hand at the beginning, his technique refined by years of training alongside powerful pirates. But he had watched in disbelief as Rocks, with his crude and unpolished style, had gradually learned, adapted, and finally overcome him, paying the price of an arm to win.
Is this what a genius is? For the first time, Cassius truly understood the look Silas would sometimes give him. It was not scorn. It was a pity.
Thud!
A body plummeted from the sky, landing heavily on the deck of the Black Pearl with a sickening crunch.
Seeing the figure, Cassius's entire body began to tremble.
The captain had won.
From the moment Farrell had retreated, the outcome was sealed. Silas was already the stronger of the two, held back only by the stamina drain of his advanced age. If Farrell had been willing to trade blows, the younger man might have outlasted him. But Farrell's nerve had failed.
Even so, Silas had not escaped unscathed. Farrell's dying counterattack had torn a deep gash across his chest. He was covered in blood, with less than a tenth of his stamina remaining. Thankfully, his old hidden injuries were gone. If he had fought while still carrying those burdens, the outcome would have been far more uncertain.
At that moment, the system panel appeared.
After a not-so-difficult battle, you have easily defeated Blood Skull Farrell. As a remnant of a bygone era, the moment he lost his dream and ambition, he was destined to be eliminated by the times.
You have obtained the aptitude for Conqueror's Haki.
Your cellular activity has been slightly increased.
Not-so-difficult? The corner of Silas's mouth twitched. Whatever you say, you useless system.
With a thought, Silas tested his new gift, unleashing an invisible wave of pressure. On the ship, Rocks and Cassius both turned pale, their bodies seizing as if they had just seen some primordial beast.
"Hmm, just a preliminary grasp," Silas noted. His Armament and Observation Haki were top-tier, so he understood the basics, but this was a different beast. Right now, it was just a tool for clearing out fodder. He could not even knock out two rookies. It seemed combat was the only way to truly master it.
"I'll take it slow," Silas said to himself, a new sense of purpose settling in. This was just the beginning.
"Captain…"
Cassius's voice was a choked whisper. Silas turned to him. The young man's body trembled, his eyes pleading. "I…"
"Cassius," Silas said, his voice calm and even. "Lili and the others… they would be very sad."
Silas knew his spirit had waned in the past five years, and he had been mostly hands-off with the boy's training. It was his old crewmates who had truly taken care of Cassius. But that was not an excuse for betrayal. Silas did not owe Cassius a thing. If not for him, the boy would have died long ago in that forgotten village.
"I made a wrong decision back then," Silas stated, his gaze unyielding. As Cassius watched in growing terror, Silas raised his sword. "Now, I have to fix it."
He stepped forward.
"Cassius," he said, his voice softening slightly. "You don't owe us anything anymore."
With a single, clean swing, Silas severed the final bond with his past.
He then turned his gaze to the other figure on the ship.
"Rocks," he declared, a genuine smile finally breaking through his weary expression. "You did a good job!"
"Hmph, of course I did," Rocks shot back, lifting his head proudly despite his injuries.
The sound made Silas laugh, a deep, rumbling sound of relief and release.
Now, this was a new beginning.
[Chapter Complete]
***
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