Many years later, gazing out at the clear, bright sea, Ace, captain of God's Knights, would remember that distant afternoon when God Randall had come to save him.
Facing the sharp blade of Red-Haired Shanks, one of the old Three Emperors, God Randall seemed far more unassuming.
With nothing but his flesh-and-blood body, God Randall had left Shanks utterly helpless.
Before God Randall arrived, Ace had already tasted that supreme sharpness with his own body.
It was a power he could neither escape nor resist.
Yet before God Randall, that same power seemed pitifully weak.
Beside Randall, Ace sat on his knees.
When Randall had crushed him at the G-1 Branch, it had not struck him quite so deeply.
But now Shanks, who had just brutalized him, was being toyed with by Randall like a child.
That drove the impact home all at once.
Ace felt something building in his chest, making him desperately want to shout.
Shanks gritted his teeth and pushed down with all his might.
His arm had swollen a size larger than before.
Veins bulged across it, his muscles like strangely shaped rocks.
Gryphon, one of the Twelve Supreme Grade Blades, scraped against Randall's palm with a shrill squeak.
Even coated in Armament Haki and Conqueror's Haki, it could not hurt Randall in the slightest.
Benn Beckman's expression turned utterly grim.
While the two were "deadlocked," he circled around to Randall's side.
He swung the club in his hand viciously at Randall's head.
Clang!
Did it sound good? If it did, that was a good head.
Clearly, the sound was good, and Randall's head was a good one, too.
But Benn Beckman was not at all happy to have encountered such a good head.
Cold sweat poured down his face as he stared at that smooth