Escape

Jack raised his right fist from his side, charging it with Colossal Consumption, and drove it at the nearest guard. The man was still stunned by the Devil Fruit's explosion. His mouth hung open, his eyes were wide, and his hand was still in his pocket. Jack's fist filled his vision, growing from the size of a fist to the size of a basin, then blocking out everything he could see.

The fist struck his chest.

Ribs cracked through the private room like dry sticks snapping underfoot. The guard's chest caved in. Blood sprayed from his mouth, arced through the air, and splashed into a wineglass on the coffee table. He flew back three or four meters and slammed into the solid wood wall paneling. The panels split down the middle, leaving him wedged in the crack, limbs hanging limp and head lolling to one side. Blood kept spilling from the corner of his mouth.

The remaining three guards finally reacted.

They had worked for Bege for at least five years and seen every kind of trouble, but none had ever seen someone crush a Devil Fruit and attack without a word. They were half a second too slow. That half second decided their fate.

The first guard drew a pistol and aimed at Jack's forehead. He pulled the trigger. The bullet shot from the barrel, leaving a trail of heat in the air. It struck Jack's forehead, but his Hardened Skin deflected it. The bullet hit the wall and left a shallow dent in the paneling. All Jack had was a tiny white mark.

The second guard drew a Short Knife and lunged at Jack's waist from the side. The point pierced his prison uniform and met his Hardened Skin. The blade slid off, leaving a white mark but failing to penetrate. The impact numbed the guard's wrist, and he nearly dropped the knife.

The third guard was the smartest. Instead of attacking Jack, he rushed for the door to call for help. He made it two steps before stopping. Jack stood between him and the door. He had no idea when Jack had moved. One moment Jack had been beside the coffee table; the next, he was right in front of him.

Jack caught the third guard by the collar. His hardened fingers clenched the collar and the shirt beneath it, then lifted him off the floor. The guard's feet kicked wildly in the air, his face turning dark red.

The second guard charged again, stabbing at Jack's neck with the Short Knife. Jack neither dodged nor looked at him. The knife struck his neck and scraped a white line across his Hardened Skin. This time, the impact dislocated the guard's wrist. He screamed and let go of the hilt.

Jack hurled the guard he was holding into the second guard. They collided and rolled across the carpet in a tangle.

The first guard fired twice more, hitting Jack in the chest and left arm. Both bullets bounced off his Hardened Skin and buried themselves in the wall paneling. The guard looked down at his gun, then at the white marks on Jack. Disbelief filled his face.

Jack's Colossal Consumption finished charging.

He raised his right arm. The muscles in both arms swelled beneath his Hardened Skin, veins bulging like twisted worms. He aimed at the center of the room, where the first guard stood beside the second, who had just struggled to his feet.

His fist slammed into the floor.

A shock wave burst from his fist and exploded outward, with Jack at its center. The solid wood floor shattered from the point of impact. Boards flew up and broke into countless splinters, which the shock wave hurled outward like shrapnel, as fast as bullets.

A palm-sized shard of wood stabbed into the first guard's thigh, punched through the muscle, and pinned itself to the wall beyond. He screamed and dropped to one knee. Blood poured from the splinter-filled wound.

Another shard sliced across the second guard's cheek, opening a gash deep enough to expose bone. He clutched his face and rolled on the floor. Blood seeped between his fingers, leaving a long smear across the carpet.

The third guard had just gotten up when the shock wave knocked him over. The back of his head struck the corner of the coffee table, and his eyes rolled back as he passed out.

Within seconds, the entire room was wrecked. The rosewood coffee table lay overturned, glasses littered the floor in pieces, and a fallen cigar burned a black hole in the carpet. Shattered wall panels exposed the wooden framing beneath. The chandelier still swayed, its light dim and yellow through the haze.

The Arena Master curled up in a corner with both hands over his head. His bottle slipped from his grasp and shattered on the floor. He muttered something too softly to hear, but his lips seemed to repeat the same words: "It's got nothing to do with me. Nothing to do with me."

Bege had not moved.

He sat on the sofa with one leg crossed over the other and his hands on the armrests. The coffee table had overturned, the glasses had shattered, and guards lay all over the floor, yet not a drop of blood stained his suit. Not a hair was out of place.

But Jack was no longer there.

He had gone out the window. The second-floor frame broke under his hands like paper. Wood snapped in half, and shards of glass scattered through the air. He vaulted into the night, arced down, and landed in a stone-paved alley beside Iron Cage City.

Gunfire sounded behind him. A bullet struck the window frame and punched another hole through the broken wood.

Jack's feet hit the alley stones with a heavy thud. Blood still seeped from his right arm, and the ribs Doberman had bitten ached. Charging Overawe had drained some of his strength, leaving him breathing harder.

But he did not stop.

The alley was narrow, with high walls on both sides and only a strip of sky overhead. Jack's shoulders nearly brushed the walls, and his Hardened Skin scraped sparks from the stone. After about fifty meters, the alley split three ways. He chose the narrowest path and had to turn sideways to squeeze through.

Footsteps sounded behind him. At least five or six pursuers, their rubber-soled boots striking the stones in a hurried rhythm. Someone shouted, "This way!" Another called, "Report to Mr. Bege! The target's heading toward the docks!"

Jack did not look back. He turned twice at the forks, then crouched at the third corner and hid in a gap between two wooden crates. The crates were empty and smelled of fish. They had probably held salted fish. Salt stains on the boards gleamed white in the moonlight.

The pursuers ran past the mouth of the alley without stopping. They kept going, their shouts fading until they vanished into the wind from the docks.

Jack waited a minute, stood, and moved on.

The abandoned warehouse by the dock stood on the westernmost edge of Banaro Island. A storm had torn off its roof three years ago, and no one had used it since. Its iron door hung half open, its hinges rusted solid and impossible to budge. Jack slipped in through a hole in the side.

It was dark inside. Moonlight spilled through the broken roof, casting an irregular patch of light on the floor. The air smelled of salt water and rotting timber. Damp had softened the floorboards, and they creaked beneath his feet.

Jack went to the back of the warehouse and sat against the wall. He leaned back against a wooden post, which groaned under his weight, then lowered his head to inspect the wound on his right arm.

Four tooth marks. Bone was visible in the deepest one. Under the healing effects of Hardened Skin, the cracks in the bone began to close, their edges smoothing as they narrowed. Blood still seeped out, but more slowly now. Heartsteel's effect continued to work. With every pulse, a trace of life energy flowed back from the system into the wound, spurring cell division and the regrowth of blood vessels.

He flexed his right hand. His fingers bent and straightened normally. Making a fist sent a dull ache through the fractured bone, but he could bear it. His ribs hurt too. The membrane around the bone, cracked when Doberman bit him, gave a faint rasp with every breath, like two sheets of sandpaper rubbing together.

The system panel glowed at the edge of his vision. Heartsteel stacks: 5/60. The limit had just risen to 60. Colossal Consumption's charge had reset to zero and was slowly building again.

He leaned against the post and closed his eyes.

The gunshots had come from Iron Cage City. Colin was still there, along with Garma and all the pit slaves and disposable workers locked in cages. The Arena Master would not spare Colin. That navy deserter was still crouched in the corridor. Without Jack beside him, he would not survive the night.

Bege would not let it go either. His plan had been ruined. A Devil Fruit worth two hundred million Beli had been crushed, and one of his guards was dead while three more were injured. He would not leave matters there.

But Jack could not go back yet. His right arm needed time to heal, and Colossal Consumption needed time to recharge. It would take time to get a count of Bege's guards, too. He needed to know how many men Bege had brought, how many had abilities, and how many were ordinary gunmen.

In the dark warehouse, there was only moonlight and the sound of the waves.

Jack closed his eyes. He was not sleeping. He was waiting for his wound to heal, for the charge to fill, and for a chance to go back.