But the little old woman beside him shuddered. She leaned on a cane, wore heavy lipstick, sunglasses, and a leopard-print coat, and had a face full of wrinkles. An inexplicable unease gripped her.
She was about to stop Edward Weevil when she felt his presence gathering. He seemed ready to fight the Marines again.
"Son, why don't we leave it?" Although the highest-ranking officer aboard that warship was only a commodore, Miss Bakkin had begun to lose her nerve.
"Mother, let me play a little longer," Edward Weevil pleaded, looking down at Miss Bakkin.
Despite his words, his presence did not weaken. It kept rising, bearing down on everyone around him.
It was the first time she had seen Edward Weevil this excited. Besides, he had accidentally used too much force while playing before and destroyed several Marine warships, and the World Government had merely warned him.
"All right."
At his mother's permission, the towering, heavyset figure stirred. His upper body was thick with flesh, but his legs were remarkably thin.
A white mustache curved upward from his face like Whitebeard's crescent, though his was thinner and longer.
His hair reached his legs, with the locks at either side braided. Three shocking scars marked his body.
Edward Weevil was so happy he almost jumped, though his bulk kept his feet on the ground.
Then his eyes fixed on Wuli. His presence surged and sank, and the formidable blade in his hand swept out, leaving an afterimage in the air.
It looked like a carefree gesture of delight, but no one found it innocent or funny.
Every face turned grave. That slash felt terrifying—several times stronger than the ones before it!
The instant Edward Weevil swung his blade, even space seemed to change. A fearsome shock wave burst outward.
Three-tenths!
The