Lucas vs. Roberts

"[Zanpa]!"

A slash over ten meters long shot out from behind the door, cleaving the ornate vermilion gate in half from the inside.

Before the flying wood chips could hit the ground, the slash struck Lucas head-on.

"Boom!"

The thick, iron-curtain-like Busoshoku Haki armor shuddered violently with a muffled blast. The carefully planned ambush slash had struck as if against a mountain of refined steel, instantly shattering into a storm of airwaves.

Lucas calmly brushed nonexistent dust from his lapel.

Even with a recovery ability far beyond that of ordinary people, he had never had the bad habit of taking attacks head-on without using Haki.

On this sea, there was no shortage of insidious tricks—Seastone mixed into ordinary bullets, deadly poison smeared into gaps in a blade, even seemingly harmless smoke that could conceal drugs capable of numbing Haki.

It was precisely this nearly obsessive caution that had allowed him to struggle through the blood-soaked underworld for so many years and remain alive to this day.

Behind the door, the veins on the back of Roberts's hand bulged as he gripped his longsword. A vicious glint flashed through his murky eyes as he violently raised his right arm.

Armament Haki surged wildly across the blade like liquid metal, emitting a soul-shaking pressure.

"Die!"

With an angry roar, he slashed forward with all his strength.

Almost at the same moment, Lucas, dozens of meters away, raised the Katana in his hand as well.

The two slashes collided violently in midair. Furious shockwaves instantly swept across the ground, shattering whole stretches of stone tiles and sending dust soaring into the sky.

"Clang!"

Amid the piercing ring of clashing metal, Lucas charged into the dust cloud of his own accord. Moving like lightning, he brought his blade down on Roberts's hastily raised sword.

"Before I kill you, I want to ask you something."

"You gave the order for the Grey Wolf Gang to massacre the orphanage, didn't you?"

Roberts's face twisted viciously as he gritted his teeth.

"If I'd known that little bastard like you would live this long, I should've gone there myself back then and chopped you and that nun to pieces to feed the dogs!"

"Good. That's all I needed."

Lucas grinned, revealing a mouthful of stark white teeth. He suddenly exerted force with his feet, driving them deep into the hard ground.

The muscles in his arms bulged as overwhelming strength poured down the blade.

"Crack!"

Roberts's face instantly turned the color of liver as his right arm bent uncontrollably toward his own chest, inch by inch.

The web between his thumb and forefinger split open, blood dripping down the hilt and blooming into dark red flowers across the ground.

"You want to kill me? It won't be that easy!"

He roared and drew another longsword from his back with his left hand like lightning. The black blade tore through the air with a shriek of wind, chopping straight toward Lucas's head at point-blank range.

Back when he had been in the Flying Pirates, his Two-Sword Style had been personally taught by Golden Lion Shiki.

It was also the only skill in his life worth taking pride in.

"Two-Sword Style?"

"What a pity. I use Three-Sword Style."

Lucas violently kicked out with his right leg.

"[Rankyaku]!"

A crescent-shaped Vacuum Slash infused with projected Busoshoku Haki tore through the air.

"Clang!"

The Rankyaku struck Roberts's left-hand sword with perfect accuracy. The immense impact sent both men flying.

Lucas slashed at the air behind him in midair, using the recoil to land steadily.

Before Roberts could regain his footing, Lucas's feet had already traced countless afterimages through the air.

"[Rankyaku Ran]!"

Vacuum slashes blanketed the sky like a dense meteor shower, bombarding Roberts without restraint.

"[Chikigiri]!"

Roberts's eyes narrowed as both arms moved wildly.

The two longswords in his hands transformed into an impenetrable curtain of black light. Endless flying slashes shot out from it, continuously colliding with and annihilating Lucas's Rankyaku in midair.

Explosions rang out one after another, and the entire Shogun's Castle shook violently.

At the instant when the dust was thickest, two black flashes of blade light suddenly tore through the shockwaves, crossing as they slashed toward Lucas's neck.

"Too slow."

The Katana in Lucas's hand traced a perfect arc.

"Clang!"

After the deafening crash, Roberts was sent flying backward like a kite with its string cut, spraying a mouthful of blood.

Before he could hit the ground, Lucas's right arm had become a blur. Countless condensed, invisible sword energies tore through the air, forming an impenetrable net that completely enveloped Roberts.

"Rip! Rip! Rip!"

The flowing Haki coating over Roberts's body was as fragile as tofu before those sword energies.

In an instant, dense bloodstains covered his entire body. Blood soaked through his kimono, turning him into a man drenched in red.

In terms of Haki strength, Roberts, who had trained for fifty years, and Lucas, who had trained for only three, were indeed evenly matched.

As for technique, Roberts's Two-Sword Style could also be considered masterful.

But a swordsman's destructive power ultimately depended on the purest strength.

Before Lucas's monstrous arm strength, every technique seemed pale and powerless.

"Go repent in the next world!"

A burst of white air exploded beneath Lucas's feet as he launched Geppo at full force. His figure flashed, appearing before the still-flying Roberts.

The Katana in his hand flashed coldly as it stabbed straight forward.

"Thud—"

The blade pierced through Roberts's chest without resistance and emerged from his back, hot blood dripping from its tip.

Lucas expressionlessly pulled out his Katana, flicked his wrist, and shook the blood from it.

He did not even look back at Roberts before turning and walking out of the Shogun's Castle.

Roberts's eyes lost focus as his body collapsed limply to the ground, his eyelids slowly closing.

More than ten minutes later.

Roberts, who had already completely lost all signs of life, suddenly opened his eyes.

He coughed violently, coughing up a large mouthful of blood mixed with clots.

Still shaken, he touched the right side of his chest—completely intact—while the left side, which had just been pierced, was still gushing blood.

His heart had been born on the right side.

A bitter smile appeared on Roberts's face.

He could escape for a while, but not forever. He was already sixty-two years old, and his body had long since fallen apart.

With such severe injuries and so much blood loss, even a strong young man might not have survived, much less an old man like him.

He had at most another ten minutes.

Gritting his teeth, he used the last shred of strength in his body to drag his ruined form toward the room deep within the attic where the Den Den Mushi was kept.

His nails scraped bloody trails across the cold floor.

At last, he crawled to the desk and tremblingly picked up the dust-covered Den Den Mushi.

Purururururu—

After three rings, the call was answered.

"Moshi moshi."

The voice simulated by the Den Den Mushi carried the authority of someone long accustomed to power, along with a faint weariness and age that was hard to detect.

Upon hearing that familiar voice, tears instantly welled up in Roberts's murky eyes.

"Le... Leader... it's me, Roberts..."

His voice came in broken fragments, every word pulling at the agony in his chest.

"I knew it... You're still alive... I'm sorry... I failed to protect the Flying Group... I'm about to die..."

Then, with plenty of embellishment, he recounted how Lucas had been "despicable and shameless," how he had "defied his superiors," and how he had "slaughtered the brothers of the Flying Group," describing Lucas's appearance in detail.

He did not care about the truth. He only knew that even if he died, he absolutely could not let the brat who had killed him get away with it.

"Please... for the sake of the more than forty years I followed you... avenge me... avenge our brothers..."

The other end of the line fell into a long silence.

So long that Roberts thought the call had been disconnected.

"I understand."

Golden Lion's voice rang out again.

"For all these years, thank you for your efforts. Get some rest. I'll avenge you."

Hearing those words, Roberts revealed a relieved smile.

"Being able to follow you... was the greatest honor of my life... I hope you... take this world soon..."

Click.

The Den Den Mushi's eyes slowly closed.

Roberts's head tilted to one side, and he finally stopped breathing.

Blood continued flowing from the wound in his chest, gathering into a dark red puddle on the floor.

TO BE CONTINUED

(PS: Although the previous chapter explained it in detail, I'll say it again: Roberts is set as an ordinary officer of an Emperor crew, roughly at the Flying Six level. The protagonist is at the same level for now, but his strength stats far exceed that level.)

Among the Flying Six, even the strongest, Who's-Who, was beaten badly by Jinbe, but he was still worth over five hundred million, so he was not weak. Blue Fat was simply too strong.

Lastly, the protagonist is not a Devil Fruit user yet.)