Lugart's pupils shrank violently as he stared at the fully unsealed black blade Eight Desolations in Gern's hand.
The dark red fissures running across the blade and the shrill hum of high-frequency vibrations tearing through the air made his eardrums ache.
"That's a fine weapon…" Lugart muttered under his breath.
After all, not every weapon could withstand the infusion of Devil Fruit power. The blade in Gern's hand was clearly something special.
"Captain! That is… a Devil Fruit ability?!" The pirates of the Blood Spear crew finally reacted, swallowing hard as they shouted.
"A Paramecia, huh…" Lugart's expression twisted into something feral. "No wonder you dared to come alone.
But… this ability feels strangely familiar."
"Captain Lugart—"
"What are you afraid of?!" Lugart cut his subordinate off, violently snapping his cloak aside. The metal insignia sewn onto it clashed with a sharp clatter.
"I've seen more Devil Fruit users in the Grand Line than you can count!"
Before the words had fully fallen, Lugart's figure exploded forward.
Blood Beak shot out like a venomous serpent, the hooked spearhead ripping through the air as it stabbed straight toward Gern's throat.
"Die, you Marine brat!"
Gern remained where he was, not even lifting his eyelids.
Buzz.
The spear pierced straight through his body, yet it was as if it had struck an illusion—no blood sprayed, no resistance met.
"What?!" Lugart's eyes widened in disbelief as his attack passed through empty air.
In the instant the spear made contact, Gern's body dissolved into countless trembling particles—then reassembled a heartbeat later.
"Just as I thought," Gern's voice came from behind him. "You assumed I was a Paramecia."
Lugart spun around, only to find Gern standing three steps behind him, a blazing sphere of vibration growing ever brighter in his hand.
"No wonder you fled back from the Grand Line," Gern said, undisguised mockery in his tone.
Lugart's face turned livid at the taunt. With a furious roar, Blood Beak disassembled and reformed mid-motion, splitting into two short spears, their tips glowing with an eerie red light.
"Don't look down on me, you little shit!" He crossed the twin spears and lunged forward, his body moving like a phantom.
"Twin Beaks—Piercing Heart!"
Gern still didn't move. He merely raised one hand, vibration particles flowing around his arm like liquid.
"Vibration Wall."
Boom.
Lugart's twin spears slammed into an invisible barrier in front of Gern. A shockwave erupted outward, the blast hurling nearby pirates into the air.
The ground cracked, rubble flew, yet not even the corner of Gern's uniform fluttered.
Moments later, cold sweat seeped down Lugart's forehead. His hands trembled slightly as he continued battering the vibrating barrier.
With a curse, he leapt backward, forcefully widening the distance between them, his expression shifting unpredictably.
"Damn it… cursed Logia…" Lugart's voice twisted with shock before erupting into a furious roar.
"That's why I hate you bastards blessed by fate!"
He stomped the ground hard. The stone beneath his feet shattered.
Blood Beak spun in his grip, the hooked spearhead taking on a pitch-black metallic sheen.
"You lucky pieces of trash who think a single fruit makes you invincible!" His eyes were bloodshot.
"In the Grand Line, I've seen plenty like you… and every last one of them died like stray dogs!"
Gern ignored the rant. His figure vanished.
"Vibration Shift · Slide Rail."
Transparent vibration tracks appeared in the air. Gern's body was launched forward as if fired from a hidden rail, instantly closing the gap.
At the same time, Eight Desolations was raised high. The vibrations along the blade condensed into a visible white edge as it came crashing down toward Lugart's head.
Before the blade even fell, the sheer vibrations ripped the ground apart. The harbor tiles shattered layer by layer like brittle biscuits.
Lugart let out a savage grin, neither dodging nor retreating. Blood Beak, coated in Armament Haki, swung upward to meet the strike head-on.
Clang.
A deafening metallic explosion rang out as blade and spear collided, sparks bursting forth in blinding flashes.
"So strong?!" Lugart was clearly startled when he felt the sheer physical power behind Gern's strike.
Gern, however, was the one truly surprised.
Lugart's Armament Haki had actually withstood the vibration shock head-on, even sending a numbing backlash through his grip.
"Hey, Marine brat," Lugart spat, twisting Blood Beak in his hands as black Haki coiled around the spearhead like mist.
"Your combat experience is terrible."
Gern didn't reply. He simply raised Eight Desolations, the blade trembling as arcs of high-frequency vibration crackled along its edge.
"Vibration Break."
The blade came down.
The air tore apart in an instant. A massive fan-shaped slash infused with violent shockwaves erupted forward.
The ground split. Buildings crumbled. Even space itself seemed to fracture.
Lugart grinned madly and thrust forward without hesitation.
"Blood Feast Thrust—Pierce the Sea!"
The Haki-hardened spear tip collided head-on with the vibrating slash.
Boom.
The resulting blast sent Lugart staggering back several steps. His grip split open, blood dripping down his wrist.
At the same time, a thin line of blood slowly appeared across Gern's chest.
The spearhead of Blood Beak had grazed him.
A wound—on what should have been an elemental body.
"Armament Haki?" Gern retreated half a step, a flicker of surprise flashing in his eyes.
"Hah… hahaha!" Seeing Gern hesitate, Lugart suddenly burst into crazed laughter, his eyes shining with manic delight.
"You don't even know Armament Haki?!"
Gern glanced down at the wound on his chest, genuine surprise flickering through his gaze.
Lugart laughed even harder, slamming the spear into the ground and lifting his chin arrogantly.
"Didn't expect that, did you, brat?! I'm a man who's fought real monsters in the Grand Line!
Haki—that's the proof of the strong!"
Seizing on Gern's weakness, Lugart surged forward. Blood Beak became a storm of thrusts, each strike wrapped in jet-black Armament Haki.
"Blood Feast—Thousand Spears!"
Gern swung his blade rapidly to block. Eight Desolations clashed repeatedly with the spear, sparks spraying in continuous bursts.
But soon, Lugart sensed something else was wrong.
This Marine wasn't just lacking combat experience.
At first, he'd assumed that once Gern drew his blade, he was at least walking the path of a swordsman.
But now…
Gern's swordplay had no structure at all. It relied entirely on brute force—on the amplification from his Devil Fruit and the raw strength of the black blade.
Every swing was powered by violent vibration particles, not refined swordsmanship or technique.