Chapter 12: Battle in G12 [1]
"Intruders in the mess hall! Sector 4! Seal the blast doors!" a voice boomed over the fortress-wide speakers.
Too late. Riyon was already moving.
He was not a man; he was a natural disaster. The first-responder squad—twenty Marines in full body armor—rounded the corner.
They were Strength: 15 soldiers, brave and disciplined. They were also, fundamentally, already dead.
"Move," Riyon said. It was not a request.
Shimotsuki Style: Rending Gale!
He didn't run at them. He ran through them. It was not a flurry of cuts. It was a single, fluid, horizontal slash as he passed their line.
For a second, nothing happened. The Marines raised their rifles, their eyes wide with confusion.
Then, as one, all twenty men's breastplates, rifles, and helmets split in two. They collapsed in a clatter of ruined armor.
[System Scan: Shimotsuki Riyon. Combat Power: Commodore Level. Threat: High.]
"Showoff," Vasco muttered, though his eyes were wide with appreciation.
He spun, sinking his dagger 'Parsley' into the neck of a Marine who'd tried to ambush us from a side corridor. He was brutal, fast, and ruthlessly efficient.
"Less talking, more running!" I yelled. My Observation Haki was screaming, a constant migraine of premonitions. "Stairs! To the left! Now!"
We burst through a doorway and onto the main parade ground.
It was a massive, open-air plaza, the size of a dozen football fields, surrounded by high fortress walls. In the center, stark and terrible under a dozen searchlights, was the execution platform.
And waiting for us, flanked by three hundred soldiers, was a mountain of a man.
He was enormous, at least eight feet tall. He wore a Commodore's immaculate white coat, but his face was a roadmap of scars, and his entire lower jaw was a crude, oversized prosthetic made of black steel. This was Commodore "Ironjaw" Grubb.
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[System Scan: Commodore "Ironjaw" Grubb]
Strength: 45 (Commodore)
Stamina: 48 (Commodore)
Agility: 40 (Captain)
Body: 50 (Enchanted Healing Factor. +10 to STR, STA, AGI)
Haki: Armament (Intermediate), Observation (Control)
Devil Fruit: None. (Pure-bred brawler)
Combat Power: High-End Commodore. (Threat: Extreme)
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"So," Grubb's voice boomed, a metallic, gravelly sound from a speaker in his iron jaw.
"The rumors were true. Monkey D. 'Suncorch' Luthor. The traitor son of Garp. You're smaller than I expected."
His eyes flicked to Riyon. "And you... a swordsman of your caliber, following this... child. Pathetic."
His gaze finally landed on Vasco, who was grinning and bouncing his daggers.
"And you," Grubb snarled. "The arrogant cook. I was looking forward to your execution. You have insulted the very order of this world. Your pride is a sin."
"And your face is a sin, Commodore," Vasco shot back, undeterred. "But you don't see me trying to execute you for it. Oh, wait... maybe I will."
Grubb's iron jaw creaked as he clenched it. "You think this is a joke? You three... against my fortress? You're surrounded. You're in the dark.
And your 'Logia' powers are nowhere to be seen."
He was right. It was 04:30 a.m.
The sky was a cold, impenetrable black. The sun was a distant, hopeless memory. This was my weakest moment.
"Fire!" Grubb commanded.
The 300 rifles erupted at once.
"Captain!" Riyon barked, moving to stand in front of me.
"No!" I commanded. I grabbed Riyon's shoulder and shoved him forward. "You take the Commodore! I'll handle the fodder!"
"Luthor, you're in your night form! You can't—"
"I have a new trick!" I lied. I had to believe it.
My Observation Haki: Intermediate flared. The world slowed. I wasn't just getting flashes; I was seeing paths. Hundreds of bullets, arcing through the air. And in that matrix of death, I saw the gaps.
I ran.
My Agility: 22 body screamed in protest, but I moved. I ducked under a volley aimed at my chest.
I twisted, letting a bullet meant for my head graze my ear. I slid on the stone, another volley ripping the air where I'd been. It was a terrifying, deadly dance, and it was taking every ounce of my focus.
"He's... he's dodging them?" a soldier yelled in disbelief. "He's not a Logia! He's just... fast!"
"Riyon! Go!" I screamed, rolling behind the execution platform.
Riyon, seeing me hold my own, finally let his instincts take over. He trusted me. He shot forward like a cannonball, straight at Grubb.
Shimotsuki Style: Piercing Fang!.
His Haki-wreathed blade aimed straight for the Commodore's throat..
Grubb didn't flinch. "Crude," he grunted.
He coated his massive arm in Armament Haki: Intermediate. He didn't dodge. He caught the Supreme Grade Blade.
SKRAAAANG!
A shockwave of black and red Haki erupted from the impact, cracking the parade ground. Riyon, a Commodore-level swordsman, was stopped cold by a man with Body: 50.
"My turn," Grubb grunted. He punched Riyon in the chest.
It wasn't a Galaxy Impact. It was just a punch. But it was a punch from a man with Strength: 55 (45 base + 10 from Body).
Riyon flew backward, skidding 50 feet and crashing into the barracks wall. He slumped, his Haki flickering. He was outmatched in pure power.
"Riyon!" I yelled.
The soldiers turned their guns back to me. Vasco was a whirlwind of blades, but he was pinned down by a dozen officers. Elara's covering fire from the cliff was a distraction, but it wasn't enough.
We were losing.
"It's over, boy," Grubb growled, walking toward me. "Your father is a hero. You... you are just a stain. A genetic failure."
He raised his massive, Haki-coated fist.
I was exhausted. My Observation Haki was flickering. My Stamina: 13 was gone. I was just a 15-year-old kid, in over his head, about to be crushed.
[SYSTEM WARNING: HOST HP CRITICAL.]
[SYSTEM WARNING: [Will: 12] is insufficient to overcome opponent.]
'No...' I thought, pushing myself to my feet.
'I... I am...'.
"You are nothing," Grubb said, his fist descending.
'I... am the one...'
And then, I saw it.
On the eastern horizon.
A single, pale, beautiful sliver of light. The first hint of dawn.
My blood, which had been sluggish and cold, suddenly warmed.
A single watt of power trickled into my core.
"What...?" I whispered.
The Sunshine... it was answering me. Not just answering the sun. It was answering my will.
Grubb's fist, which had seemed impossibly fast, slowed.
I raised my hand.
I caught his wrist.
Clang.
It was the sound of a fly hitting a mountain.
Grubb's eyes went wide. His Strength: 55 punch, a blow that had just KO'd a Commodore-level swordsman, was stopped. By me. By a 15-year-old kid.
"What...?" Grubb grunted, trying to pull his fist back. It wouldn't move.
"It is... a sin... to underestimate your opponent, Commodore," I said. My voice, which had been a teenager's, began to deepen. The steam that rose from my skin was no longer from the cold night air. It was heat.
The sun...
The sun was rising.
And so was I.
"That... that light...!" a soldier yelled, pointing at me.
The single watt of power became a thousand. The thousand became a million. My muscles, small and lean, swelled with divine, borrowed power.
My Strength, Stamina, Agility, and Body stats began to skyrocket.
30... 40... 50...
My hair, which had been matted with sweat and seawater, began to glow.
60 (Vice-Admiral)... 70 (Fleet Admiral)... 80 (Emperor)...
"W-What is this!?" Grubb roared, genuine fear in his voice. He threw his other fist at me.
I didn't even look at it. I let it hit my chest.
Thud.
It felt... like nothing.
"My turn," I said, my voice now the deep, proud, and absolute baritone of the Lion's Sin. I was no longer Luthor, the boy. I was 'Suncorch,' the god.
My stats, which had been 96/100, were now simply ???.
My Combat Power: Emperor Level.
I tightened my grip on Grubb's wrist.
His seastone-infused steel arm began to groan. Then, it began to melt.
"AAAAAARGH!" he screamed, as my hand, now wreathed in white-hot solar fire, crushed his arm and the steel as if it were wet clay.
"You speak of pride as a sin," I boomed, my voice echoing across the plaza, silencing the gunfire.
"You, who serve the swine of this world. You, who would murder a man for honoring his own soul."
I pulled him close, until my glowing face was inches from his metal jaw.
"You... are the sin, Commodore. And I... am the judgment."
(To be continued)