"Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it."
Bluhm attacked like a madman, muttering to himself as his eyes burned red. He had clearly lost it.
He had to stab this freak to death!
But somehow, the other guy kept dodging his attacks, over and over. He couldn't even graze a hair on his head.
And with this freak constantly provoking him, even Bluhm—a renowned powerhouse who had fought his way through mountains of corpses and was the Whitebeard Pirates' Captain of the 9th Division—had completely lost his cool.
"Fish-Man Karate: Straight Fist!"
Namyul shot forward, joining the fight with murderous intent.
He and Bluhm were in the same frame of mind.
"Hyah-ha!"
"That was close, that was close!"
A flash of red crossed Ivankov's eyes. Having foreseen Namyul's attack, he leaned back on the spot and braced himself with both hands against the ground. The impressive mounds on his chest swayed back and forth.
On another woman, this pose would have been easy on the eyes—as long as she was normal.
But on Ivankov, it was a weapon in its own right, nearly blinding Namyul and Bluhm.
Whoosh!
Bluhm seized his chance. His long blade flashed coldly as he leaped high and brought it down, aiming straight for Ivankov's heart.
But he failed again.
Ivankov twisted his waist in a way that defied belief, and the blade just barely missed, skimming past his shoulder.
Ivankov did several backflips in a row, then landed and looked at Namyul and Bluhm. He wiped a bead of nonexistent sweat from his forehead and patted his wobbling chest, putting on a thoroughly shaken expression.
"That was close, that was close!"
Seeing Ivankov's feigned reaction, Bluhm and Namyul gritted their teeth, their faces twisted with rage. Blood rushed to their heads. They