Inside the ring.
Ryan flexed his wrists, joints emitting faint cracking sounds as he scanned the arena. His gaze fell upon the pile of colorful rubber balls outside the ropes, a casual smile playing on his lips.
This game was indeed more interesting than simply standing around watching the commotion.
A minor member of the Foxy Pirates nervously approached, holding a red ball in his arms, his head bowed so low it nearly touched his chest. "L-Lord Ryan... According to the rules, we need to choose someone to be the 'ball'... What do you think..."
Ryan tilted his head, his eyes settling on Mikita who was standing on tiptoe to watch the proceedings. He raised an eyebrow. "You do it."
"Captain, you're so mean..." Mikita pouted and stomped her foot, her voice drawn out in complaint. Yet despite her words, she obediently moved closer, allowing the minor pirate to tie the red ball to her head with a soft rope. The rope was loosely wrapped just twice, causing the red ball to tilt crookedly atop her head like a ridiculous little hat, adding a touch of childish charm.
Across the ring, Foxy took a deep breath and shouted at the top of his lungs, "Our contestants are entering the arena!"
Three figures slowly walked into the competition area.
At the front was Hamburg, his bulging muscles straining against his black tank top. Following him was Piccolo, his round glasses sliding down his nose as he carried a rust-stained shield on his shoulder. Bringing up the rear was the massive Bikipanda, his muscle lines clearly visible beneath his blue-and-white striped bodysuit, his frame occupying nearly half the arena.
The three stood in the center of the arena, their hearts filled with both fear of the Seven Warlords and a strange confidence. They clearly understood Ryan's power was unfathomable, but this was the Groggy Ring arena they knew so well - their mastery of the rules was ingrained in their bones.
If they used clever tactics, they might actually create a miracle and defeat this legendary powerhouse!
"On your marks—get set—begin!" Foxy blew his whistle sharply.
The moment the whistle sounded, Piccolo immediately crouched low and charged toward Ryan with his shield, yelling "Ehehehehe!" - less as a show of intimidation and more to bolster his own courage. Ryan didn't even lift his eyelids, only raising his hand at the last moment before the shield struck and gently pressing it against the shield's surface.
"Thump!"
A dull explosion sounded as Piccolo crashed into what felt like steel, the shield instantly denting inwards.
Without even looking, Ryan flicked his wrist upward, sending Piccolo flying through the air like a fallen leaf. He traced a parabolic arc before splashing into the shallow water outside the ring, sending up a wave half a person high.
Everything happened as fast as a gust of wind. Bikipanda's foot that had just stepped forward remained frozen mid-air, while Hamburg's fist raised to chest level stayed in place.
"Soru!"
Ryan's figure vanished from his original position, appearing instantly in front of Bikipanda. He raised his hand and precisely hooked the giant's chin.
"Up."
With that casually spoken word, Bikipanda felt tremendous force transmit from his chin. His massive body was forcibly lifted off the ground, flipping backward to land heavily in the giant inflated swimming ring at the edge of the arena. The rubber ring swelled with a "whoosh" sound, firmly trapping him inside.
The entire arena fell into dead silence. Hamburg stood frozen in place with his fist still raised, sweat dripping from his chin into the sand, creating tiny, dense pits.
"Done!" Mikita planted her hands on her hips, laughing with exaggerated flair, the red orb atop her head swaying slightly. "You're nowhere near our level when it comes to competitions!"
"I-Is it... over already?" Outside the rope circle, Foxy stood frozen with his megaphone held mid-air, his effeminate finger gesture half-formed and forgotten. His eyes widened until they were rounder than the red orb on Mikita's head, all his planned tricks rendered useless before they could be deployed.
In the face of absolute Strength, all schemes and conspiracies became nothing but jokes.
Ryan glanced at Foxy's pale face, a faint smile curling at the corner of his mouth. "According to the rules, I get to choose someone now."
"Y-Yes! Lord Ryan, choose anyone! Anyone!" Foxy trembled all over, bowing and scraping repeatedly, praying fervently in his heart that Ryan wouldn't take any core combatants - even taking the most insignificant crew member would be fine.
Ryan's gaze swept past the shivering Hamburg, scanned over Bikipanda struggling while stuck in his inner tube, and finally settled on Porche standing behind Foxy, her face equally pale.
"Her." Ryan lifted his chin slightly, pointing at Porche.
Foxy froze for a moment, then seemed to have a thousand-pound weight lifted off his shoulders, hastily pushing Porche forward with enough force to make her stumble half a step. "Q-Quick, go with Lord Ryan! Being able to follow a Seven Warlords member is fortune you've cultivated over several lifetimes!"
Porche steadied herself, her eyes narrowing slightly behind her deep purple lenses. She glanced down at her arm where Foxy had pushed her, then looked up at Ryan's emotionless eyes. Pressing her lips into a faint curve with an indescribable mix of reproach and coquettishness, she breathed out three words: "How annoying."
With that, she didn't hesitate further, casually twirling her baton half a circle and hooking the end with her fingertip. She walked toward Ryan in her black leather boots, displaying a carefree nonchalance.
Ryan's gaze swept over Porche before returning to Foxy's fawning face, a cold laugh echoing in his heart.
This was Pirates for you - especially scum like Foxy. They shouted "comrades" to the heavens, but in reality, they were just pawns to be discarded when weighing pros and cons.
If they truly valued their companions, why would they treat the "Davy Back Fight" - a game about stealing crew members - as their signature move? And why would they push their own people forward without the slightest hesitation when facing stronger opponents?
In the end, the Foxy Pirates were just a motley crew huddling together for survival, with self-interest carved into their bones. Their so-called "camaraderie" was merely a facade to maintain appearances when they hadn't encountered sufficiently tempting benefits.
"Captain, why did you pick her?" Mikita had somehow tiptoed close to his ear, whispering while her eyes still wandered over Porche. "She looks kind of dumb."
"Just to pass the time." Ryan's gaze shifted from Porche's tightly clenched baton.
This match had been entertainment, and this "prize" he had selected was nothing more than a new toy to amuse himself with during the voyage.
When Porche reached Ryan, her steps paused briefly as if adjusting her breathing. But Ryan didn't give her much time to think, extending his arm to unceremoniously wrap it around her waist.
"My lord... be gentle." Porche's body stiffened, the baton clattering to the floor as she turned her head toward Ryan. Her voice carried a deliberate, coquettish tone—not truly intimate, but rather a practiced flattery that had become second nature.
Mikita, standing behind them, watched the arm wrapped around Porche's waist and unconsciously pursed her lips, fingers twisting a strand of her own hair.
Hmph, just looking for amusement after all... This woman doesn't seem particularly special besides being good at putting on airs...