Sparks Gaban's aging body erupted with astonishing strength and speed.
His strength was one thing, but his speed was almost beyond belief.
Werther gripped his sword with both hands, concentrating as he blocked the long axe that struck from every angle.
After a fierce barrage, Sparks Gaban withdrew. Sweat had appeared on his forehead.
"Phew. I really am getting old. I've barely moved, and I'm already tired."
Sparks Gaban spun the long axe in his hands, and his gaze suddenly sharpened.
"Even so, I've got no choice but to go all out."
As Sparks Gaban attacked Werther, he kept talking.
Werther, by contrast, silently blocked Sparks Gaban's blows.
Gaban brought his axe down at Werther head-on. Long axes were rare weapons, but their striking power was undeniable.
Werther met it with his sword. He wasn't fighting seriously yet; he was only testing Gaban's abilities.
He had a feeling the old man was no simple opponent. Something about him posed an inexplicable threat.
Clang.
Sword met axe. Gaban knew he couldn't match Werther's stamina, so instead of forcing a contest of strength, he rolled the axe with the impact and thrust the haft toward Werther's abdomen.
Though Werther held his sword in both hands, the sudden attack didn't rattle him. He raised one foot, coated it in Haki, and kicked the axe haft hard.
Sparks Gaban hadn't expected Werther to react so quickly. He grunted and slid backward, his feet dragging across the ground.
Scrape. Sparks Gaban's soles skidded along the ground before he stopped.
"Roger's left hand is only capable of this much? You really have gotten old."
Rayleigh of the Sabaody Archipelago had already shown it: no matter how strong someone had been in his youth, a severe decline in physical ability would drag his strength down with it.