Under the tacit understanding of their captains, the two ships quickly closed the distance, colliding with a thunderous bang.
A battle instantly erupted, but the atmosphere was strangely lighthearted. This was no bloody, life-or-death struggle; it was more like a large-scale, chaotic sparring match. Rayleigh's longsword flashed as he engaged a high-ranking Marine Vice Admiral, their blades gleaming as they skillfully avoided each other's vital points. Jabba wielded his giant axe against another master of physical combat, the wind from his swings howling, though it was more a test of raw strength than a move to kill.
The youngsters, Shanks and Buggy, were the most excited of all. They fought back-to-back, leaping and dodging through the swarm of Marine soldiers, using their still-developing skills and tricks to cause mayhem. The entire battlefield was a glorious mess of shouting, clanging steel, laughter, and curses.
At the center of it all, the man responsible for ruining Kyle's perfect day—Garp—was locked in a fierce battle with Roger. Each collision of their fists and blades generated visible shockwaves that sent anyone nearby stumbling away.
"Fist Bone: Meteor!"
"God Avoidance!"
Black and red lightning continuously erupted between them, as if space itself was trembling from the force of their clash.
However, at the edge of this noisy battlefield, one person exuded a uniquely dark aura. Kyle stood motionless, his drenched floral shirt clinging to his body and cold seawater dripping from his hair. He watched the chaotic battle with a blank expression, but in his golden eyes, a black flame of pure resentment burned.
His exclusive beach chair.
His favorite floral shirt.
His perfect, peaceful day.
And… his perfectly chilled glass of orange juice, complete with two slices of lemon, of which he had only taken a single sip.
All of it, gone. And the man responsible was having the time of his life fighting the captain. Kyle's gaze fell upon the monstrous Marine Vice Admiral. Beating Garp was out of the question, but revenge was a dish best served immediately. His eyes swept across the ranks of Marines, searching for a suitable punching bag.
Soon, his gaze locked onto a figure not far from Garp's side. It was a tall, lanky young man with messy black curly hair, wearing a standard Marine uniform and looking full of vigor. 'Ah,' Kyle thought, a malicious spark in his eyes. 'One of Garp's promising rookies. He'll do nicely.'
At that moment, the young Marine, Kuzan, seemed to get approval from a superior. He eagerly leaped from the warship, raising his hand as a wisp of cold air emerged from his palm. "Ice Age!" he murmured, intending to freeze the sea between the two ships to create a more stable battlefield. The moment his power touched the water, the surface began to freeze at a visible rate.
Kuzan landed lightly on the ice he had just created, ready to expand it further. Just then, a blurry, distorted shadow flashed in the corner of his eye. Before he could react, a bone-chilling coldness that had nothing to do with his own power struck him from behind. He had never felt a chill like it since eating the Ice-Ice Fruit.
He whipped his head around.
A face was pressed almost against his own. It was a soaking-wet man, his long black hair plastered to his pale face, obscuring most of his features. Only his golden eyes were visible, and they were filled with an immense, terrifying resentment. He had appeared without a sound, like a vengeful spirit that had just crawled out of the deep sea.
Kuzan's pupils contracted, his mind going blank. 'When did this person—'
He had no time to think. He instinctively crossed his arms over his chest. "Ice Block: Partisan!" Several sharp ice spears instantly solidified in front of him, stabbing toward the ghostly figure.
However, the figure—Kyle—simply, slowly, raised his right fist. An indescribable and terrifying power began to gather in it. 'This is for my departed orange juice,' he thought. 'Young man, feel the cruelty of the sea!'
Buzz—!
Kyle's fist collided with the ice spears. Instantly, countless cracks spread wildly across the ice, which shattered with a mournful, crisp sound. His fist, with its momentum undiminished, passed through the curtain of ice shards and heavily impacted Kuzan's hastily formed defense.
"Ugh!"
Kuzan felt an irresistible, violent force punch through his arms and surge into his organs. His proud ice defense had been as fragile as a thin sheet of paper. He was lifted off his feet and sent flying backward, skidding across the ice before being slammed violently into the cold sea with a huge splash.
A series of bubbles rose from the water.
The sudden, one-sided takedown stunned both the pirates and Marines fighting nearby.
"Hey! Look at that!"
"That Marine rookie just got knocked into the sea!"
"Who did that?"
Several Marine officers rushed to the side of the ship, their faces pale. "It's Kuzan! He's a Devil Fruit user! Quick, save him!" The Marine formation fell into disarray as several men frantically jumped into the sea to rescue their genius rookie.
And Kyle, the instigator of it all, acted as if nothing had happened. His punch landed, his revenge exacted, his figure blurred and silently blended back into the chaotic crowd. He found a relatively dry corner, leaned against the ship's cabin, and shook the water from his hands, letting out a long sigh. The overwhelming resentment in his eyes had vanished, replaced by the simple, deep satisfaction of a grudge settled. 'Ah… I feel much better.'
…
With one final, earth-shattering collision between Roger and Garp, a terrifying shockwave forcibly pushed the Oro Jackson and the dog-headed warship a hundred meters apart.
"Kuhahaha! That's enough for today, Garp! I'll play with you next time!" Roger sheathed his sword and laughed loudly across the sea.
"Damn you, Roger! Don't you dare run!" Garp's angry roar followed, but his warship's rudder had been damaged in the chaos, leaving him to helplessly watch the Oro Jackson sail away.
On the Marine ship, the chaos finally subsided. A soaking-wet Kuzan was pulled back on board, his eyes fixed on the departing pirate ship.
"Puhahaha! Kuzan, you actually fell into the sea!" Garp slapped him on the back with enough force to nearly make him vomit seawater.
"Mr. Garp…" Kuzan's teeth were still chattering. He couldn't shake the image from his mind: that face, obscured by wet hair, and those golden eyes burning with what looked like the fires of hell. It wasn't the gaze of a man; it was the gaze of a spirit obsessed… with a glass of orange juice?
"Who… was that man?" Kuzan gritted his teeth.
Garp followed his gaze and grinned. "Oh, you mean the kid in the floral shirt? That's Kyle, a weirdo on Roger's ship. What, did he teach you a lesson?"
Kyle. Kuzan suddenly understood, remembering the string of zeroes on the wanted poster. He clenched his fists, his fingernails digging into his palms. So this was the power of a veteran of the Roger Pirates. A painful lesson, but an exhilarating one. He swore that one day, he would be the one to personally send that man to Impel Down and show him the true meaning of burning justice.
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