As Kuro's body—twisted by agony—finally went limp in the dust, the scorching heat that had been surging through Ronan's blood ebbed away like a receding tide.
[Deathmatch Mode ended. Current multiplier restored to normal.]
The mechanical notification echoed in his mind. Ronan let out a long breath, tinged with lingering exhilaration.
That breath condensed into a pale white plume in the cool morning air, hanging there for a long moment before dispersing.
The sudden drop from peak condition back to normal left a faint sense of emptiness. Ronan clenched his fist reflexively.
He immediately checked his attribute panel.
As expected—
Strength, Speed, Constitution—all unchanged, still frozen at 12.
"Growth has slowed, huh…" Ronan thought.
As his physical stats improved, battles of this intensity no longer produced the explosive gains he'd enjoyed early on. Just like leveling in a game—the higher you go, the more absurd the experience requirements become.
Still, a satisfied curve lifted the corner of his mouth. His eyes moved to the newly added line in his skill panel:
[Observation Haki: Beginner (7/100)]
"Even if my stats didn't rise… this is Observation Haki."
Looking at the unconscious Kuro, Ronan actually felt a trace of regret.
"What a shame this guy's body is so fragile. He didn't last long at all. If he could've sparred with me for another half hour, I might've pushed this to ten points or more."
If Kuro had been awake to hear that, he probably would've coughed up another mouthful of blood on the spot.
…
Just then, the terrace doors on the second floor swung open. Nami and Usopp emerged, supporting Kaya, whose face was pale but whose expression was resolute.
Nami glanced at Kuro lying motionless amid the wrecked flowerbeds.
She'd prepared herself mentally, but seeing a 16-million-berri pirate captain sprawled there like a dead dog still made her suck in a sharp breath.
She looked back at Ronan and the others with a more appraising gaze, then slipped back into her trademark confident smile.
"Looks like you handled him. Not bad at all."
Zoro, seated nearby while wiping down Wado Ichimonji, snorted when he heard that.
"Easy for you to say. That lunatic nearly sliced us into pieces."
Luffy, meanwhile, showed zero signs of post-battle fatigue. He squatted beside Kuro, poked his face with a finger, then turned to Kaya.
"Hey, what should we do with this glasses-wearing bad guy?"
Kaya looked at the man who had stayed by her side for three years—someone she'd once trusted like family. A complicated sorrow flickered through her eyes, before hardening into resolve.
"Tie him up and hand him over to the Marines. He killed my parents and tried to steal this house. The law will judge him."
Just as the tension began to ease, Usopp suddenly remembered something horrifying. His legs started shaking, his face turning deathly pale.
"W–wait! This isn't over yet! When I was upstairs taking care of Kaya, I heard Kuro say something—"
"He said he still has a force called the Black Cat Pirates! According to his plan, they're supposed to attack our village tomorrow morning!"
"What?!" Nami cried. "A whole pirate crew?!"
Usopp clutched his head in panic. "It's over, it's over! Even if Kuro's down, his men don't know that! If they charge into the village, everyone will be killed!"
Just as Usopp spiraled into despair, an arm suddenly stretched out and hooked around his neck.
Luffy's grinning face popped up beside him, his tone as casual as if they were discussing a picnic.
"Leave it to us!"
"Huh?" Usopp froze.
Luffy flashed a huge smile. "Since we ate your food, we'll just knock them all flying!"
Ronan stepped forward as well, giving Usopp a reassuring pat on the shoulder, his gaze calm as still water.
"Perfect timing. That last fight didn't quite scratch the itch. I'll take these remaining 'experience packs.'"
Looking at these monster-strong people standing in front of him, the fear in Usopp's eyes slowly melted away, replaced by gratitude. He nodded hard.
"Th–then… thank you so much!"
…
That night, to thank Ronan and the others for saving her life—and to prepare for the coming battle—Kaya brought out the best food the household had.
The spacious dining hall was brightly lit.
The long table overflowed with roast chicken, ham, fruit, and carefully prepared soups.
Luffy once again demonstrated his black-hole-like appetite, attacking the food with both hands like a human whirlwind.
Zoro cradled a bottle of aged liquor, drinking with pure satisfaction.
Ronan ate neatly, but at remarkable speed.
In traditional martial arts, "nourishment through food" is essential—depleted qi and blood demand massive energy replenishment.
As he chewed through calorie-dense meat, Ronan replayed the battle with Kuro in his mind, simulating possible developments for the next day.
For that night, laughter and conversation filled the mansion, temporarily washing away the looming shadow of battle.
…
Early the next morning, just before dawn.
The East Blue morning carried a cool, damp freshness. Sea breeze rustled through the treetops with a soft whisper.
On the wide lawn behind the mansion, three figures were already deep into their morning training.
Ronan stood rooted in his standard stance, breathing long and deep, blending seamlessly with his surroundings.
Beside him, Luffy and Zoro were also holding horse stances.
After several days of Ronan's guidance, their posture was no longer sloppy. Though they hadn't yet grasped the use of force, their lower-body stability was already showing results.
"Huu—inhale—"
Their synchronized breathing echoed clearly in the quiet dawn.
"Hey! You guys! Stop training!"
Usopp came running over with a huge pack on his back, panting hard as he shattered the calm.
"The Black Cat Pirates could land any minute! We need to go set traps!"
Ronan slowly ended his stance, exhaled, and opened his eyes—sharp light flashing within them.
"Let's go." He stood and looked at Luffy and Zoro. "Warm-up's over. Time to get my weapon."
…
Syrup Village – Blacksmith's Shop
When Ronan pushed open the simple wooden door again, the honest-looking blacksmith uncle was seated before a long object wrapped in cloth. He looked tired—but there was unmistakable pride in his eyes.
"You're here, kid."
The blacksmith stood and gestured to the long bundle on the table. "Your order's finished."
"I worked through the night on this—melted down the best iron I had at home to make it."
Ronan stepped forward and pulled back the coarse cloth.
Humm—
A wave of cold air rushed out.
Before them lay a jet-black Zhangba iron spear, its surface gleaming with a cold metallic sheen!
The shaft measured one zhang and eight chi—about 3.6 meters long—thick as a child's arm. Rather than polished smooth, it bore dense hammer marks from forging.
That rough texture actually improved grip, making it less likely to slip.
The spearhead was long, faceted, and razor-sharp, its chilling glint radiating a brutal killing intent.
It wasn't made of any mystical metal—just ordinary steel, cast in one piece. Without proper care, it would rust quickly in the rain.
But in that moment, the sheer weight and savage presence it exuded was enough to make any enemy hesitate.