It wasn't just Kid—there was a purple treasure chest hovering over Killer's head too.
Creed couldn't figure it out. With Kid only at SSS level and Killer around SSS-, how did both of them qualify for purple-grade chests? Back with Whitebeard, he'd seen plenty of division leaders with SSS+ strength, yet not a single purple chest among them. The discrepancy gnawed at him.
He did, however, know exactly what kind of men Kid and Killer were. Kid was vicious and cruel—he'd murdered not just mockers but anyone who rubbed him the wrong way, a true butcher of the "Worst Generation." Killer was less openly feral, but "Slaughter Soldier" wasn't a nickname you earned with clean hands.
"Could it be that purple chests don't just appear on those with absolute strength, but also relate to how much evil they've done—how much blood they've spilled…?"
Latching onto that common trait between the two, Creed was momentarily stunned. If so, Whitebeard's side made sense. Though his "sons" weren't saints, few of them were gleeful sadists. No purple chests there would be normal.
"Forget it. Theory later—loot now."
Creed shelved the speculation. What he wanted was a Devil Fruit Extraction Card out of either chest. He was truly drooling over the Tremor-Tremor Fruit—and he had the faint sense that obtaining it would patch a gap in his kit. Deep down, a bold idea—an invincible move—waited for proof. He'd need the Tremor-Tremor Fruit to test it.
"Hahaha! Creed, you flatter us!"
Seeing Creed step in personally against the two of them, Kid laughed aloud.
"Don't get cocky."
Killer's voice dropped low in warning.
They had their own agenda in coming to make trouble, but that didn't mean they'd underestimate Creed. They weren't blockheads like Vandick.
No one became a star among Supernovas without a brain.
"I know."
Kid sobered. Today's play was to gamble for clout—test the depths and borrow Creed's fame. A head-on charge would be suicide.
Looking back at Creed's path—the Holy Land upheaval, defeating two Marine Admirals, felling Big Mom—any one of those feats alone was something they could only look up to.
They knew he couldn't be beaten. So they had to control the tempo.
"Hey!"
A dim black sheen rippled over Kid's body.
Sluuurp—clang!
The sunken Rhino Pirates' ship slowly rose from the sea, and all kinds of metal objects flew out of its hull, merging into Kid's giant mechanical arms. The crude mass swelled larger and larger.
He gave both arms a shake. A faint flow of Busoshoku Haki (Armament Haki) washed over the metal.
His armament was SSS-class as well.
Beside him, Killer didn't slack. The paired rotary scythes on his hands began to spin at high speed, also sheathed in Busoshoku Haki (Armament Haki).
They didn't dream of withstanding Creed—only of surviving three moves together.
That was their pact with the man behind the scenes: endure three of Creed's attacks, and the rest would be "handled."
Creed stepped to the highest point of the bow, looking down on them from afar with a curl of contempt. "You two?"
"Enough talk!"
The smirk snapped Kid's temper. His twin metal arms surged in from left and right to pincer Creed—ready to shatter into a rain of shrapnel at the moment of impact. He wasn't hoping to break Creed's guard—just to screen Killer and buy a heartbeat.
Killer's spinning scythes were the true thrust.
But the instant they moved, Creed merely looked at them.
That glance carried a spellbinding, irresistible force. Lightning cracked through their minds; pain flared; the world reeled. An invisible weight like a mountain slammed down. Both knees hit the deck with a crisp crack.
Killer fainted on the spot. Kid barely resisted for a breath before shrieking, "H-Haoshoku Haki (Conqueror's Haki)!"
He had Haoshoku Haki too—but before Creed, it was an infant before an adult. The gulf in mastery was crushing. His eyes rolled white, and he passed out as well.
"Uh…"
Robin and the others were shocked—and even Redfield was briefly at a loss. Their captain's comprehension of Haoshoku Haki had transcended once more, utterly different from before.
Sometimes, when Redfield thought about Creed's talent and growth, a sense of helpless awe welled up. Too monstrous. Too abnormal. And it made him quietly question himself—was he truly worthy to be Creed's vice-captain, his strong right hand?
Just then—
Creed pocketed the two purple chests, but he didn't stop. His Haoshoku Haki (Conqueror's Haki) surged again, this time locking onto the lurkers far away.
Boom!
To the southeast, four to five kilometers out, a muffled rending of hull planks came from a bank of dense fog, followed by a furious roar: "Creed, don't go too far!"
Crash!
To the southwest, by an island five to six kilometers away, a pirate ship was pressed underwater by an unseen, crushing force. A powerhouse aboard howled in rage.
Sploosh!
Two-plus kilometers to the north, a submarine-like craft bobbed up from below, hoisted by a tremendous will and forced into the open.
Silence fell across ten li of sea.
What followed was only the thud-thud-thud of bodies collapsing—most of the uninvited guests, fainting under the sweep of Haoshoku Haki (Conqueror's Haki).
Even Creed's own crew were struck speechless.
At last, the Fifth Emperor's strength bared a single edge.
Unfathomable. Inhuman. Godlike. All those words flashed through minds stunned into reverence. Creed's power had surpassed their imagination.
"Dear gods—this is the might of an Emperor-class apex fighter?!"
"Were we out of our minds coming here?!"
"Damn it—we're dead men!"
"W-What do we do? Boss, let's beg for mercy!"
Panic detonated aboard every ship.
After all, the World Government's propaganda had painted Creed as a merciless demon who never spared those who offended him.
The shadow of death draped over their hearts, dark and heavy.
(End of Chapter)
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