Pat, pat.
Loa lightly brushed the dust from his Scale. His dragon eyes swept slowly across the deck, and his King-like metallic voice drifted on the sea breeze, sending chills through everyone present.
"Now, who else wants to give it a try?"
Standing behind the crowd and staring at that godlike blue figure, young Sabo suddenly understood why both Hack and Drunkard had been so reluctant to talk about Loa.
Only now did he realize that the strength he had taken such pride in—the strength that let him deliberately court danger—was nothing before the world's strongest fighters.
Was Ivankov weak?
Of course not.
Starting a revolution was no small matter. It could cost you your head at any moment. Ivankov was an old acquaintance of Dragon's who had stood beside him from the [Censored] Army's earliest days until now. He was anything but weak.
Yet what had just happened to Ivankov?
He had been the one to attack! He had also been the one whose leg bone broke! Now he was buried in the deck, his fate unknown!
It showed Sabo where he stood in the world. Clever as he was, with his noble upbringing, he knew he would have to work much harder from now on. Otherwise, Ivankov's fate would be his own.
Seeing that no one else rushed forward, Loa was satisfied.
In truth, there were people in Dragon's camp who gave him pause, but none of them were in this group. Thanks to the manga that old bastard Oda had drawn, he knew their Devil Fruit abilities and fighting styles inside out. Armed with that knowledge, he had no chance of losing one-on-one!
Aside from Dragon himself, the only one who worried him was the Shichibukai he couldn't make sense of: "Tyrant" Bartholomew Kuma, the monster who