Chapter 42: The Monster in the Mirror
The low growl deepened into a rumbling chuckle that seemed to vibrate through the very cobblestones. The air grew heavy, and a primal, bloodthirsty aura began to leak from Cavendish, so potent it made the hairs on the back of Ian's neck stand on end.
"Not now... stay back..." Cavendish whispered, his voice strained, as if holding a conversation with himself. He clutched the side of his head, his theatrical composure cracking.
From the edges of the crowd, the screams of his adoring fans began to change.
"L-Look! His shadow!"
"What's happening to Young Master Cavendish?"
"He's... changing!"
A second silhouette seemed to be superimposing itself over Cavendish's form—broader, hunched, and radiating pure malice. Ian's analytical mind clicked through the files he'd studied. This wasn't just a temper tantrum. This was a documented phenomenon.
"Hakuba..." Ian murmured, the name a quiet revelation.
In that instant, Cavendish's eyes rolled back into his head. When they snapped forward, they were no longer the eyes of a preening noble. They were the wide, vacant, and utterly merciless eyes of a predator. His body slumped for a second, then straightened with a new, terrifying grace.
The transformation was complete. The Pirate Prince was gone. In his place was Hakuba, the nightmare of the battlefield.
"TARGETS... ELIMINATE..." a guttural, inhuman voice rasped from Cavendish's throat.
Time seemed to warp. There was no flamboyant flourish, no rose petals. Only a blur of motion.
Shing!
A line of red appeared across the arm of a Marine soldier who had been standing a good ten meters away. The man cried out in shock and pain, his weapon clattering to the ground before he even registered the attack.
"Fall back! Now! Create a perimeter, do not engage!" Ian's voice booded with an authority that brooked no argument. The Marines, having witnessed the impossible speed, scrambled to obey.
Hakuba's head swiveled, his vacant eyes locking onto Ian. He was the largest, most immediate threat.
"ELIMINATE!"
The blur shot forward. To the onlookers, it was as if Cavendish had simply vanished. But Ian's perception, honed by his system and his own latent abilities, could just barely track the movement. He didn't try to match the speed. Instead, he focused on intent.
Armament Haki: Hardening!
A black, metallic sheen coated Ian's forearms an instant before Durandal, now wielded with brutal, unskilled efficiency, slashed towards his throat. The impact was tremendous, a concussive CLANG that echoed like a church bell. Ian's feet skidded back several inches from the force, but his guard held.
"Interesting," Ian grunted, a fierce grin spreading across his face. This was a real challenge. "But raw speed without control is just wasted energy."
Hakuba gave no reply, only a mindless snarl. He flickered away and then reappeared to Ian's left, then his right, striking from multiple angles in the span of a single breath. Each blow was a killing strike, aimed at vitals with chilling precision. Ian became a fortress of hardened Haki, his movements economical and precise, parrying, blocking, and redirecting the onslaught. Sparks flew where their Haki-clad limbs and blades met.
The crowd was dead silent now, frozen in terror. The fangirls who had been screaming his name were now clutching each other, their faces pale. This was not the handsome prince they adored; this was a monster.
Nami watched, her knuckles pressed to her mouth. "What is that...? What's happening to him?"
Peacock, her analytical eyes wide, answered quietly, "A split personality... a berserker state. The files mentioned it, but seeing it in person... Commodore Ian is fighting a hurricane."
Ian was indeed being pushed. Hakuba's speed was unreal. But he noticed a critical flaw. The attacks, while fast and powerful, were linear and predictable. There was no feinting, no strategy—only a relentless, straightforward assault to destroy the target.
He can only move in straight lines, Ian realized. He's a guided missile, not a swordsman.
As Hakuba blurred towards him for another direct thrust, Ian didn't block. He pivoted on his heel, a subtle, minimal movement. The tip of Durandal grazed past his coat, missing by a hair's breadth. Using the momentum of Hakuba's own charge, Ian brought his hardened elbow down in a devastating smash onto the pirate's back.
THUD!
The force of the blow sent Hakuba crashing face-first into the cobblestones, cracking the street in a web-like pattern. The monster let out a choked grunt.
For a moment, the savage aura flickered. Cavendish's body twitched, and his eyes cleared, returning to their normal blue. He pushed himself up, groaning in pain and humiliation. He was back.
He looked at the cracked ground, at Ian standing over him completely unharmed, and then at the terrified, silent crowd. The adoration was gone, replaced by fear. His perfect image was shattered.
"Y-You... you made me... you made him come out!" Cavendish stammered, his voice a mixture of rage and shame. "This is all your fault!"
Ian looked down at him, his expression unreadable. "A man who can't control his own demons is no king. He's just a prisoner." He raised his voice, ensuring the surrounding Marines and civilians could hear. "Captain Cavendish, you are under arrest for assaulting Marines, disturbing the peace, and the crime of piracy. Surrender now."
The humiliation was complete. Defeated, exposed, and utterly stripped of his glamour, Cavendish could only glare up at Ian, his dream of a glorious supernova debut in tatters at his feet. The real battle, it seemed, had been over before it truly began.