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"Boss… isn't it a bit much to send Harrett and Clark to assassinate a kid this time? And he's Reggie's personal disciple. If he dies in a one-sided slaughter like that, knowing that old man's personality, he'll definitely go berserk with revenge."
Inside the largest stronghold of the Dars Gang on the harbor, a bespectacled, middle-aged man in a suit voiced his concern to a shirtless, broad-shouldered old man.
That man — over sixty but still built like a warrior in his prime — was Willard, a senior officer of the Dars Gang and a swordsman who had been Reggie's bitter rival for years. The man speaking to him was Damon, one of his three most trusted lieutenants.
Willard was in the middle of his usual sword training, lifting a massive dumbbell as though it were a blade. Each swing whipped up a wind sharp enough to sting skin. Hearing Damon's words, he didn't stop his movements.
After a brief pause, he grinned and replied dismissively,
"That's exactly why I sent them. That old bastard hides in his sword dojo all day — it's been far too long since we crossed blades. I've made progress with my swordsmanship lately, and this is the perfect excuse to lure him out."
"Besides, that brat Aaron is the monster talent rising out of the Frosthorn Gang. He's growing fast. My man inside Reggie's dojo told me two days ago that even Reggie's beloved genius disciple, Els, has been completely outclassed by him. That means the threat this kid poses is even greater than Els ever was."
"Els was that old man's treasure — he's kept him hidden inside the dojo, and I never had a chance to strike. But this upstart brat? He's drawing too much attention. I'll crush him before he matures. If we let him keep growing, more and more of our people will die."
Hearing this, Damon knew Willard's mind was already made up. He sighed inwardly.
"I just hope Harrett and Clark succeed. If that kid really is as dangerous as the boss says, then his death will be worth any price."
He knew his boss had never let go of his hatred since Els killed his beloved apprentice. Willard had tried many times to assassinate Els but had always failed. Now that there was a chance to strike at Aaron — Reggie's new star pupil — nothing would hold him back.
If Willard weren't such a conspicuous figure himself, Damon was sure he'd have gone personally.
Meanwhile, a violent clash had already erupted on the docks.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Striking first as always, Aaron suddenly drew his revolver and unleashed a blistering five-shot burst. In less than a heartbeat, he ejected and reloaded with superhuman speed, firing another five rounds.
In under three seconds, ten bullets tore through the air like grim reapers, screaming toward the foreheads of the Dars Gang patrol squad.
But this time, the Dars side also had a marksman of their own.
"Twin Pistols" Harrett, a veteran gunman in his forties, drew and fired at the exact instant Aaron pulled the trigger. He wielded twin five-shot revolvers, and with both hands blazing, unleashed ten rounds of his own in less than three seconds.
A heartbeat later, the watching crowd gasped as the bullets collided mid-air — each pair slamming into the other and canceling out in a shower of sparks.
Aaron said nothing, but his hands never stopped moving. With another lightning-fast reload, he fired five more shots — all while using Kenbunshoku Haki (Observation Haki) to dodge the returning bullets from other Dars gunmen as if it were effortless.
This time, Harrett's flaw became clear. Wielding two guns meant he had no third hand to reload quickly. All he could do was watch as Aaron's bullets screamed toward his comrades.
But Harrett remained calm, reloading steadily. He knew he wasn't alone.
"Swift Blade" Clark — a swordsman who had earned his fearsome reputation by cutting down over a hundred vicious pirates in a single battle — drew his famed katana Ghost Cry in a flash. A chilling wail filled the air as he swung, slicing all five bullets out of existence.
With a single leap, Clark lunged forward, charging straight at Aaron.
"Hahaha! So the Dars Gang sent you, Swift Blade Clark, and Twin Pistols Harrett, just for me? Then let me see your swordsmanship!"
Aaron laughed wildly and rushed forward instead of retreating, drawing his prized katana — forged from refined steel at great cost.
The few dozen meters between them vanished in an instant.
"Clang! Clang! Clang!"
In a single breath, their blades clashed over a hundred times. Sparks burst and vanished in the air too fast for onlookers to follow — their eyes couldn't even track the blades.
With every swing of Ghost Cry, an eerie, soul-rattling wail rang out, unsettling Aaron's mind. Most swordsmen who faced Clark faltered at this sound, opening fatal gaps in their guard — and were swiftly slain by his blinding speed.
But Aaron was not "most swordsmen." His will had been tempered into steel in the Holy Land Mariejois, and his body forged daily through the agonizing Kuja Body-Forging Techniques. His spirit was unshakable — Ghost Cry's sinister howl couldn't touch him.
Still, Clark had over a decade more experience with the blade. His swordsmanship was superior, and his speed with the Swift Blade style kept Aaron on the defensive. Cuts from Ghost Cry landed again and again.
In just a few minutes, they had exchanged thousands of blows, instinctively drifting their duel away from the lower-rank skirmishes.
"A monster… he really is a monster…"
Clark felt a bitter mix of awe and envy. It had taken him nearly ten years to reach this level and perfect his Swift Blade. Yet this brat — who had barely been training for any time at all — could already fight him evenly, match his speed, and shrug off Ghost Cry's influence.
He had to kill him. If Aaron survived this encounter, in another year or two, Clark himself would be the one dying beneath this boy's blade.
With that grim realization, Clark's strikes grew even faster. Aaron struggled to keep up, his body accumulating wounds.
On the sidelines, Harrett wasn't idle either. As Clark pinned Aaron down, the marksman repeatedly tried to snipe him — firing only at the exact moments when Aaron had to block Clark's blade.
To avoid Harrett's deadly bullets, Aaron was forced to take Clark's slashes head-on. Their coordinated assault left him bleeding heavily.
Thankfully, Victor arrived with reinforcements from the Frosthorn Gang, drawing some of Harrett's attention. Without that, Aaron's situation would have been even worse.
Still, the pressure was overwhelming. Under the joint assault of two Dars elites, Aaron was dancing on the knife's edge between life and death.
Clark — Swordsmanship: Basic High-Level. Strength: ~25. Master of Swift Blade. Extreme speed — requires Kenbunshoku Haki to fully defend.
Harrett — Gunmanship: Intermediate.
These were the details Aaron gleaned from their fight.
But instead of fear, Aaron felt exhilaration. He unleashed his Observation Haki again and again, clashing with Clark and Harrett on the brink of death.
He was right about how to grow it: only in life-and-death battles could Observation Haki truly evolve.
Over the past month, he'd sparred with Els daily, fought melee squads alone, and even challenged Reggie himself — forcing himself to live in constant danger. His swordsmanship had soared, and his Observation Haki had flourished with it.
By now, his Haki no longer had any "cooldown." As long as his stamina held, he could use it continuously.
He could feel it — his Observation Haki was at a bottleneck, on the verge of a breakthrough.
And this fight… this was the chance.
Just Clark alone was deadly enough, but Harrett's presence made any mistake fatal. One tiny slip, and he'd die.
And yet, in that desperate state, Aaron could feel the bottleneck loosening.
He could almost see their next moves. He could even begin to feel their emotions.
"Come on! Kill me, you useless old man!"
Covered in blood, Aaron roared defiantly. He took a slash from Clark head-on, then countered with a powerful swing that forced Clark back.
"Secret Art — Wind Slash!"
Seeing Aaron's crazed expression, Clark felt a strange chill — but rage quickly overwhelmed it. He charged forward again, unleashing a reckless secret technique that traded his own safety for the kill.
Muscles swelled along his right arm as he pushed his speed even further, Ghost Cry slicing toward Aaron's neck like lightning.
At the same moment, Harrett fired several precise shots, sealing off Aaron's escape routes.
But just as the two unleashed their killing blow, Aaron's eyes flared crimson — and with a body movement no human should be capable of, he twisted out of the way.
Then, as if he had seen the future, he thrust his blade toward Clark's right flank — the exact direction Clark was about to move.
The strike was too sudden and too fast. By the time Clark realized what had happened, it was too late. He could only watch in horror as Aaron's katana pierced his chest.
Squelch!
The blade ran him through. Blood sprayed across the ground.
Clark stared in disbelief at the young man before him. How… how did he know my next move?
As his consciousness faded, he heard Aaron's voice, low and steady by his ear:
"I saw it."
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