Cat-Cat Fruit: Ancient Zoan: Giant Leopard Form

Marineford Era 1500 years of history is indeed long enough for an individual, yet when placed under the unified concept of humanity, it is not yet considered particularly ancient. However, even this millennium and a half of history is so fragmented and incomplete.

The disappearance of ancient civilizations, the regression of science and technology... The path of human progress is full of ruggedness and thorns.

Yet the most helpless thing is that ancient civilizations vanish, science and technology regress, but only the art of killing has been passed down from ancient times to the present.

Strangling.

It is a type of killing technique.

Its origins are no longer verifiable, but it is certain that the art of strangling remains active on battlefields and execution grounds, tirelessly snatching away one human life after another. The Strangling Ghost, Farug, a Great Pirate with a bounty of 114 million Berries, a man who broke into the Grand Line from the South Blue, is a master of the strangling arts.

From the South Blue to the New World of the Grand Line, countless corpses laid the foundation for his fearsome reputation as the "Strangling Ghost."

Although after arriving in the New World, a hellish new map teeming with powerful figures, the infamous Strangling Ghost tasted his first defeat, this did not plunge him into an inescapable abyss. He still stubbornly survived in the New World.

Even if he had to be someone's dog, he still survived.

But unfortunately—

"Pfft!!!"

A flash of dark yellow light passed by.

Three more wounds deep enough to see bone were added to his right shoulder. Feeling the fresh pain from his shoulder, Farug's expression turned extremely grim.

As expected, this battle was as difficult as he had predicted, not because of the durable, tough vitality of a Zoan ability user, but because of... the speed he could not catch up to. Every time he reached out, aside from pulling off a few leopard hairs, after five minutes of fighting, he had achieved no actual results.

He was just being beaten one-sidedly.

Dick, transformed into a Giant Leopard, toyed with him at a speed that surpassed his own, like an elusive wind, constantly blowing around him.

Every time it brushed past his body, it left behind a deep and long wound. As the wounds on his body continuously increased and expanded, what flowed out was not only blood but also his strength, draining away along with it.

No matter what methods he used—pretending to be weak, deliberately exposing openings... none of it worked.

"Damn it, who the hell are you? A strongman like you cannot be an unknown nobody on this sea!" Farug roared in fury. He felt he was being toyed with. The New World, this damn place, was indeed full of hidden dragons and crouching tigers, with strongmen as numerous as carp crossing the river.

But, strongmen were still countable. Except for a few extremely isolated countries like Wano Country, as soon as a strongman emerged, they would immediately be known by all forces in the New World.

After all, strongmen need to hone themselves against other strongmen to become stronger, and as long as they have made a move, it is very difficult to hide their information.

Yet no matter how hard he racked his brain, he could not think of a strongman like Dick.

"Who am I?"

Dick's voice was elusive, just like his agile figure that coiled around Farug like a swift wind.

"Since you want to know so badly, I don't mind telling you. I am Dick. I ate the Ancient Zoan Cat-Cat Fruit—Giant Leopard. Remember my name. One day, my name will resound throughout the entire world alongside His Highness Aleus."

The arrogant words fell.

The final heavy blow also arrived abruptly.

Dick changed from Beast Form to Human-Beast Form. The claws of the upright-walking leopard man dug deeply into Farug's shoulder.

The wound became grotesquely large.

Blood gushed out like a fountain.

"I won't die. I absolutely won't die. Teacher said, he said, I am the man who will make the name of the Sallier Strangling Technique known throughout the world. I, I absolutely will not die..." Farug collapsed to the ground, half his face pressed against the hard, rough gravel. He strained to open his eyes, staring straight at Dick, who stood before him in his leopard-man form.

He gasped for breath, muttering to himself, the depths of his eyes filled with despair and unwillingness.

"You lost!"

Dick looked down, meeting Farug's eyes. His golden ponytail fell to rest by his ear, fine strands of hair gently fluttering in the wind.

"I... am I going to die?"

Farug finally faced reality.

He, had fallen again.

And it was a defeat without any fluke. From start to finish, he never once seized an opportunity to use his strangling technique. He was only passively beaten, constantly wounded. The injuries on his body were as numerous as ox hairs, and blood flowed out as if it cost nothing. And what left his body was not just blood, but also his strength, draining away along with it.

By the time Dick delivered the final heavy blow, he could no longer hold on.

Even his tenacious willpower could not resist the dizziness from blood loss.

"Do you want to die?"

Hearing Farug's weak voice, Dick blinked and asked.

The already dim eyes lit up again. Farug squeezed the last of his strength, laboriously lifted his head, and looked at Dick. "Can I still live?"

"I can give you a chance, but whether you ultimately survive will depend on your luck."

"...Thank you!"

With a muttered word of thanks, Farug finally lost all strength; excessive blood loss had sent him into unconsciousness.

"Ah! This guy isn't going to die on us, is he?"

Looking at Farug, drenched in blood, Dick scratched his head in some annoyance.

Fighting was fun in the moment, but cleaning up the aftermath was such a hassle—especially since he'd said he'd give Farug a chance. He couldn't let the guy just kick the bucket; otherwise, wouldn't that make him a man of broken promises?

He sighed, crouched down, pulled out the emergency medical supplies he carried, and began staunching Farug's bleeding.

"Dick, what are you doing?"

The voice came from behind him—it was Eschbach.

"Stopping the bleeding! Can't you see?"

Dick's first aid skills were clearly crude beyond measure; compared to his combat prowess, this bleeding-control technique was a downright eyesore.

"Are you sure you're stopping the bleeding and not draining him dry?"

Eschbach watched Dick's rough handiwork, unable to tolerate this behavior that was nominally saving a life but actually killing one. He kicked the crouching Dick aside. "Get lost! If you keep this up, I guarantee he'll be done for in ten minutes... You're just wasting good hemostatic medicine."

Rough on the outside, fine on the inside—that described someone like Eschbach.

Seeming clumsy and lumbering, his iron-pillar-like fingers were actually nimble enough to thread a needle.

Dick, shoved to the side, didn't get angry. After all, during sparring sessions, he'd been beaten black and blue by Eschbach plenty of times—and that was really a beating to the brink of death! According to His Highness Aleus's instructions, as long as there was still a breath left, they could beat him within an inch of his life. Compared to that misery, what was a light kick like this?

"By the way, Eschbach, what happened to that guy called the Black Beast?"

Watching Eschbach tend to Farug's wounds, Dick, bored, searched for a topic to pass the time.

"In the pit over there! If you want to see, go look yourself."

Eschbach replied without turning his head, focusing intently on the emergency treatment.