"As long as I like what you tell me, I might have a change of heart and let you go."
Loa kept up his act, oblivious to the look on Mark's face, which was growing uglier by the second.
If he had known what Mark was thinking, he would not have known whether to laugh or cry.
He had outsmarted himself.
He had come up with this approach to frighten Mark into giving up. Instead, it had backfired and made Mark even more desperate to survive.
Then again, anyone who tried this in a fight to the death was hardly normal.
Mark took his stance, muscles taut and ready to strike, but kept his voice deliberately casual. "I'd like to believe you, but we're enemies, Mr. Marine. Let's not pretend either of us means that."
"Fair enough. You're just a lackey anyway, right? I can ask your boss about the cannons." Loa shrugged as if he understood.
Inside, though, he was already cursing. So much for what happens on TV!
"A lackey? Yeah, more or less."
"But even a lackey can kill you!"
Mark pushed off the ground and shot toward Loa, his body becoming a black streak.
He held both short swords before him, their tips touching. The dark blades gleamed coldly in the sunlight like a black, venomous dragon lunging straight for Loa's throat.
Mark could not use Soru, but as a light-weapon fighter, he was far from slow.
He had his own techniques for accelerating into close combat or closing the distance with a sudden charge.
From what he knew, Loa was a Mythical Zoan Devil Fruit Powers User. He was no slouch in close combat, but it was much weaker than his special ability.
Mark's greatest strength was staying close and wearing down an opponent, so