"Clang!"
With a dull impact and a low groan of pain, Garp's towering figure appeared out of thin air on the Dog-Head Warship's central deck in an almost bedraggled posture. The moment he appeared, he dropped to one knee, one hand braced firmly against the deck and the other clamped over his lower abdomen.
Blood-dark red, thick, and even mixed with tiny fragments of internal organs-had already soaked through his tattered white shirt, staining it a horrifying reddish brown.
Blood ran down his arms and fingertips, dripping onto the smooth deck of specialized timber and quickly gathering into a small puddle.
His once resolute, square face was swollen and deformed. The flesh over his left brow had split open, a deep gash running across it and steadily seeping blood; his jaw twisted at an unnatural angle, its bones clearly shattered; his lips were split, his nose crooked, and his entire face so bruised and purple that his original features were almost unrecognizable. Every breath came with a bellows-like rasp and bloody froth.
"Vice Admiral Garp!" Adjutant Bogard's startled cry nearly cracked. He lunged forward, but even faster than his voice, Garp's body swayed, on the verge of pitching forward.
Bogard reacted instantly, his arms bursting with strength that belied his lean frame as he barely managed to catch Garp's heavy body.
"Medic! Now! Immediately! Get every doctor and medic here! Prepare emergency equipment! Hurry!" Bogard's voice was hoarse and urgent, his orders brooking no argument. In an instant, the entire deck snapped out of its shock and plunged into frantic activity. The well-trained Marines swiftly got to work.
Bogard and another officer carefully supported Garp, trying to lay him flat. He lifted his swollen eyelids, his somewhat unfocused gaze meeting Bogard's shocked, anxious eyes. The corner of his mouth seemed