Zephyr waved his hand, clearing away all the smoke and dust spreading before him, and looked ahead.
He saw White Ghost drenched in sweat, his hands on his hips as he panted with exhaustion.
"Heh, Ghost brat, I thought you were better than this! And you had the nerve to claim you wanted to challenge an Admiral."
A smile rose at the corners of Zephyr's mouth. He cracked his knuckles, still looking full of energy.
"So you could only last a little over three days against my fists!"
"Whew..."
Adrian stood with his hands on his hips and let out a long breath.
"True, with my swordplay alone, I have absolutely no way of dealing with an opponent as powerful as you, Mr. Zephyr~"
Zephyr frowned, showing displeasure for the first time.
"Boy, did you learn that way of talking from Borsalino?"
Adrian knew that Zephyr and Kizaru had never gotten along particularly well.
More precisely, Zephyr had always believed that Borsalino relied too heavily on his Devil Fruit powers and neglected training his physique and swordplay, which made him strongly dislike the man.
But Adrian had never expected that merely sounding a little like Kizaru would touch such a raw nerve.
"Well, uh..."
Adrian deliberately spoke in a slow, languid drawl.
"I wouldn't know~"
Zephyr's brows knitted tightly, his tone impatient. "White Ghost, I wasn't planning to do anything to you, but now it seems I'll have to teach you some manners with my fists!"
"I'm not so sure about that, Mr. Zephyr~"
Adrian chuckled, his body gradually rising into the air.
The instant his words fell, seemingly endless Spiritual Pressure poured from his body, washing almost everything around him in pale white.
Over the past three days and more, Adrian really had exhausted a tremendous amount of stamina.