Sanji instinctively took half a step back and assumed a defensive stance, every nerve in his body tensing again-he knew this fat man was finally about to get serious.
But Lucky Roux did not attack immediately. Instead, he drew a deep breath, his chest and abdomen visibly swelling. His already round belly grew even larger, like a giant inflated balloon that might burst at any moment. Then a layer of pitch-black Armament Haki began slowly spreading from his chest.
There were no strange patterns, no dazzling sheen, only the purest, densest Armament Haki Hardening. Like molten black iron, it gradually covered his upper body, arms, and cheeks, until even his bald head had turned pitch-black.
At that moment, he resembled a fat Buddha statue cast from thoroughly refined black iron, standing firmly on the plain. Steady and solid, he radiated an unshakable presence, as though no attack, however powerful, could budge him an inch.
"This is the 'Fat Armament' I spent twenty years training." Lucky Roux grinned, his white teeth especially striking against his pitch-black Armament Haki. His voice carried a steady power that made the surrounding air tremble slightly. "By fusing Armament Haki with all this fat, I can absorb over ninety percent of an impact. Whatever the attack, hitting me is no different from tickling me. Come on, blond boy. Let me see whether those kicks of yours can break through this defense."
Twenty years of dedicated training had allowed him to fuse his Armament Haki perfectly with his own fat. This ability was his alone, the ultimate defense he had honed through decades of roaming the New World and countless brushes with death. Over all those years, very few people had managed to break through it. Even Marine Admirals would struggle to hurt him easily.
Sanji stared