Don's decision wasn't made on a whim.
Since arriving in this world, he had only encountered true top-tier powerhouses twice—once with Garp, and once with Dragon.
Back then, when he met Dragon, Don hadn't even mastered Observation or Armament Haki, and he never had the chance to gauge how vast the gap was between himself and such titans.
Now, with Garp standing before him, the urge to measure that distance once more rose naturally.
He didn't lower his voice when he spoke. The marines working busily on deck, as well as Bogard giving orders, froze in place, stunned.
One by one, they turned their heads, eyes bulging nearly out of their sockets.
Challenge Vice Admiral Garp?
Was this man insane?
Or just begging to be beaten?
But Garp himself only paused for a moment before breaking into a hearty laugh.
"So, you want to test the old man's fist? No problem."
He hadn't managed to recruit Don into the navy, but based on their two encounters and their earlier conversation, his impression of Don was surprisingly favorable.
"Then let's find an uninhabited island."
Garp glanced at Bogard as he spoke.
Bogard was just about to salute and follow the order when Don raised a hand to stop him.
He knew full well that in his normal state, he stood no chance against Garp. He wasn't here to win—only to measure the gap. He wasn't looking for a beating.
"Here on the ship is fine."
"On the ship?"
Garp turned back, giving Don a once-over. His eyes fell on the sword lying beside Don, then he nodded.
He clashed his fists together with a dull boom—Armament Haki wrapped around both hands like hardened steel.
Don drew a deep breath, letting his own Armament coat and harden.
Bang!
Neither man wasted words—their fists collided head-on.
Garp's eyes widened slightly as Don staggered back a few steps.
"What strength you've got!"
Even in this world, human strength had its limits. Some races had higher ceilings, but limits nonetheless.
That single clash told Garp enough—Don's physical power was far above the norm.
As for Don, though his expression didn't change, the throbbing pain in his fist startled him.
Armament usually dulled pain.
Yet that punch felt as if he had slammed his fist into solid rock back in his old world—full force, nothing held back.
He glanced down. His right fist showed no external change.
"What's wrong, boy? Scared already?"
Seeing him staring at his fist, Garp roared with laughter, hands on his hips.
Most of the marines had abandoned their work by now, gathering to watch this impromptu duel.
"Scared?"
Don snorted softly.
What was there to fear? At worst, his HP would just drop lower.
And besides, the experiment wasn't over yet.
He pressed his feet against the deck, surging forward with both fists swinging toward Garp.
"Faster!"
"What's wrong, brat? No strength?"
"Good volume, but poor quality!"
"To reach my level, you'll need to grind a few mountain ranges flat with your fists first."
Garp taunted nonstop, throwing jabs with both words and fists.
At first Don was irritated, but as the clash wore on, his emotions settled into a rare calm.
Boom!
Don's fist crashed hard into Garp's eye socket. At the same time, Garp's counterpunch sent Don flying across the deck.
The entire ship fell silent.
With one eye darkened and swelling, Garp stared at Don crawling back to his feet, baring his teeth in pain.
"Well now… all that, just for one hit on the old man? And you're willing to eat one in return?"
Don panted, glaring back at him.
He admitted he'd miscalculated.
This old man aimed only for the face.
Still, his system's dataization was working.
His HP had dropped below fifty. That last punch alone had shaved off seven percent.
I still need more training…
He muttered inwardly, raising his hand to signal Garp.
"Enough. I'm done."
Garp blinked, lowering his stance.
The surrounding marines looked from Don—who appeared unfazed—to Garp's swollen eye.
Did Vice Admiral Garp… get the worse of it?
Garp sized Don up again. He could see something unusual about the young man's body but chose not to voice it.
Not long later, on the deck of the sailing warship, two reclining chairs sat side by side.
Don lay back, silent, lost in thought about the clash.
Garp hadn't gone all out.
Only that final punch might have carried a taste of his true power.
I still need to build up my body…
For Don, strengthening his physique meant more HP, higher defense, sharper thinking.
"Here."
A bag of rice crackers appeared before him.
Don accepted it without fuss. He'd eaten them before—not a favorite, but not something he disliked either.
Seeing him take it, Garp grabbed another bag for himself, his bruised eye fixed on Don.
"Your body's solid, your Haki's good. But you haven't fought enough. You've got plenty of stamina, but not enough hardness."
He had seen Don's state at a glance.
"Against weaklings, you'll breeze through. But against someone with superior Haki control, you'll find yourself in real trouble."
"I know."
Don nodded, chewing calmly.
"Really not considering it?"
"No. I'm no navy hero. There are things I simply don't want to do."
His tone was casual, but the meaning clear.
Garp froze for a second, then nodded with a sigh of regret.
Such talent, character, and power at this age—rare indeed.
But with words laid bare, he wouldn't press further.
"I only hope I won't see your face on a wanted poster someday."
His voice carried a deeper meaning.
"That's not really up to me, is it? Bounties are issued by the navy and the World Government."
Don shook his head.
He truly had no desire to be a pirate.
Even the so-called adventurers who sailed under that name didn't interest him.
But in time, conflict with both the navy and the World Government was inevitable. Whether a bounty came or not was out of his hands.
That was why he had to become strong enough to handle whatever threats lay ahead.
"What about the Shichibukai? Interested in that?"
Garp suddenly asked, struck by a thought.
He knew Don had crossed paths with Jinbe, and from the looks of it, Don hadn't come out the loser.
The World Government was even now negotiating with Mihawk, hoping to recruit him as one of the Seven Warlords.
There were still vacant seats, after all.
"The Shichibukai?"
Don glanced at him, then shook his head again.
"You really are impossible to deal with…"
Everything was a rejection, nothing but shakes of the head.
Garp muttered before closing his eyes and dozing off.
"Vice Admiral Garp, Admiral Aokiji's on the line."
Just as he settled back, Bogard approached with a Den Den Mushi.
"What does that lazy brat want with me?"
Garp asked gruffly, snatching it up.
"Teacher, the Demon Child's hiding in the West Blue. I've got nothing else on my plate, so I figured I'd check it out."
A lazy, drawling voice emerged from the receiver.
Don froze, turning his gaze toward the Den Den Mushi in Garp's hand.
END OF CHAPTER
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