Chapter 10

He and Doffy could indeed fight better than ordinary sailors-the nights spent fleeing through the alleys of port towns, the dawns spent pursued by crowds carrying torches and pitchforks, had long since carved flight and retaliation into their bones.

But against someone truly trained, someone who had spilled blood, that experience was a paper shield.

Another heavy thud sounded.

Doffy crashed down beside him, spraying wood splinters into Rossi's face.

The blond boy coughed, bloody foam spilling from the corner of his mouth, but his grip on his blade did not loosen, and his other hand still clutched the Flintlock Pistol tightly.

"You see,"

Rossi spat out the blood in his mouth, his voice carrying an odd hint of laughter, "I told you this plan was full of holes."

"Is now... really the time to discuss that?"

Doffy struggled to rise, but his knees struck the deck first.

Gritting his teeth, he braced his blade's tip against the planks and pushed himself upright, inch by inch.

Blood dripped from his chin, spreading into dark circles on the wood.

Just as he was almost standing straight-

Doffy's body suddenly arched backward.

Rossi saw a dark red flower abruptly bloom on the ragged shirt over his chest.

At its center was a small piece of metal, half embedded in his flesh, its edges still smeared with the foul blood from the Navigator's shoulder wound.

It gleamed an unnatural grayish white in the moonlight.

"Whatever your ability is,"

the Navigator flicked his fingers, sending droplets of blood arcing into the darkness, "you can't use it now, can you?"

Rossi saw it clearly.

The man had dug the bullet out of his own shoulder wound-it was no ordinary **. Its body was steel, its surface coated in fine powder that gave off a quartz-like glimmer beneath the dim ship's lanterns.

Seastone powder.

Even a trace amount cost enough to make an ordinary sailor work for more than half a year.

That tiny dose could not kill anyone or even make a particularly deep wound, but it was enough to deal with a Devil Fruit user.

Doffy sank to his knees.

His blade clattered onto the deck, and the Flintlock Pistol slipped from his hand and rolled aside.

The boy's arms trembled as he braced them against the ground, his forehead pressed to the planks, his blond hair hanging down over his face.

His breathing grew heavy and rapid, like a fish thrown ashore.

"The sea and Seastone,"

a trace of relief finally entered the Navigator's voice, "are the natural enemies of Devil Fruits.

"Until I figure out exactly what strange abilities you have, sealing them off first is the safest approach."

He took two steps forward, his boots striking the planks in a steady rhythm.

The sound was soft, but in the silent night, it was piercingly clear.

Now these two children were like shellfish stranded on a beach, their shells already pried open a crack.

"Don't be afraid."

Doffy's voice came from below, so hoarse it was almost inaudible.

But he moved again-his trembling hand grabbed the blade that had rolled aside, and he braced its tip against the deck, slowly pushing himself back up.

He stood in front of Rossi, his spine bent like a fully drawn bow, a large patch of his shirt soaked through with blood.

"I'll protect you."

He panted out the words, each one seemingly squeezed through his teeth.

"We're going to the highest place in the world... how could we fall somewhere like this? Something will turn this around-it will."

A turn for the better?

Watching Doffy's trembling back, Rossi suddenly remembered that evening three years ago.

The city wall was tall, its stone bricks baked hot by the setting sun.

Ropes bit into the flesh of his wrists, and the firewood piled beneath his feet had already been doused in oil.

His father hung his head on the post beside him, his breathing so faint that the rise and fall of his chest was barely visible.

When the torches rose, Rossi closed his eyes.

Then something really did turn it around.

Although Doffy had always called it "a blessing from fate"

, Rossi knew it was not.

A year ago, three children had been surrounded by ** wielding blades and guns, on the verge of being reduced to a mangled pool of flesh and blood-right then, something inexplicable had happened.

It had been the same a few months ago, when that child whom the Celestial Dragons had turned away faced the guards of the Holy Land. The same thing had happened again.

Every time, their enemies would collapse without warning, as though knocked unconscious by an invisible force, allowing the two children to claw their way out of desperate situations time and again.

That was no blessing from heaven, but an innate power, an intimidating force that would erupt uncontrollably only on the brink of death.

It was this power that had kept them alive until today.

"We don't need that kind of 'coincidence.'"

Rossi took a small step forward and pressed a hand to Doffy's shoulder, stopping his emotions from erupting.

"Mr. Navigator, there are still plenty of people hiding aboard this ship."

Not every sailor had joined the fighting on deck. Some honest men who only wanted to earn a living were huddled deep in the hold, along with passengers who had paid their fares and wanted only to reach their destination safely.

"Even if you kill the captain and everyone here, once the ship docks in the Kingdom of Rafal, all your actions will earn you is a wanted poster-you'll have no way out except to become a pirate."

"So,"

the refined Navigator's lips curled slightly, dark red liquid slowly dripping from the tip of his slender sword, "are you reminding me?"

"Rest assured.

"Once I've dealt with you, I'll clean out... this entire ship."

As long as no survivors remained, everything could be blamed on pirates.

Once Dafuransi, having inherited the wealth of the entire ship, had paid off the kingdom's officials, he could wash the blood from his hands and openly don a nobleman's sash.

"Is that so?"

Instead, Rossi nodded, his tone betraying no disturbance. "Then I can rest easy."

"Because everything we're about to do... is 'justified.'"

"...What?"

Before the Navigator could finish speaking, a violent impact struck his back!

As though smashed by an invisible iron hammer, his entire body pitched forward involuntarily.

At the same time, warm liquid quickly soaked through the fabric on his back, staining his finely tailored waistcoat dark red.

"You-?!"

He whipped his head around.

At the exit leading to the lower hold stood a group of men in everyday clothes, who had appeared at some point without his noticing.

They held old-fashioned ** of varying lengths, wisps of gun smoke still drifting from their muzzles.

Among them were burly men with cold sweat beading their foreheads, pale-faced middle-aged merchants, and a thick-bearded swordsman with a calm gaze...

The volley just now had come from them.

What the Navigator could not understand was-

Hadn't that brat in sunglasses already had his ability suppressed by Seastone?

In the instant the attack from behind distracted him, two small figures lunged at him simultaneously from either side.

Two sharp weapons plunged viciously into his lower back, one from the left, one from the right.

Shhk.

Shhk.

The dull sounds of flesh being pierced almost overlapped.

Doffy's and Rossi's hands still gripped the weapons buried in his body tightly.

"It's me. I'm the one with the Devil Fruit ability."

The Navigator's expression changed abruptly as Rossi's words fell.

First came the understanding that instantly illuminated his confusion. Then that understanding twisted into undisguised malice.

He had never imagined that the quietest, most unassuming-looking boy was the real target.

Agony radiated from his back and waist, the cold ** and blade still embedded in his flesh, but none of it could stop the one thought in his mind-even if he fell into hell, he would drag this boy down with him.

He violently twisted his body, ignoring his tearing wounds, and his slender Rapier sliced through the air, thrusting straight at Rossi's throat!

"Get out of the way-"

Doffy's heart almost stopped.

He saw his brother about to be pierced by the blade, and an indescribable force erupted from within him without warning.

It was not strength, but something more like an oppressive presence, a cold will that towered over all living things and regarded everything as worthless grass.

It struck directly at life's most primal instinct of fear. Any resilience, courage, or emotion acquired later in life was utterly powerless before that will.

It was an innate quality-the mark of a king.

"Enough."

The instant the voice sounded, a small figure wearing a pink cloak slipped between the three of them like a phantom.

The arc of the long blade in her hand did not slash toward anyone, but instead settled lightly against the bloodstained deck.

"Wind Scythe, rise."

What?

The Navigator did not even see what happened. He only felt his right arm grow light.

His sword arm had already separated from his body, tracing an arc through the air before landing with a splat in a sticky pool of blood nearby.

"You... you little monster! What did you do?!"

The agony of his severed arm and the fury of his ruined plan made him lose all composure, and he roared with his face contorted.

The little girl in the pink hood merely returned her long blade calmly to the scabbard at her waist, her movement smooth and without a trace of wasted motion.

"Dafuransi."

She spoke, her voice clear and cold, as though reading a verdict written long ago. "You committed **** aboard the Pinta, murdered the captain and multiple crew members, and threatened to kill every civilian passenger."

She turned, the gaze beneath her hood settling calmly on the Navigator's face, deathly pale from blood loss.

"Remember the name of the person taking your life: Gion.

"One of the future candidates for the Navy's highest fighting force."

She paused slightly, as though merely stating an established fact, then softly uttered the final words:

"Wind Scythe, fall."

The Navigator's vision suddenly tilted and spun.

The last things he saw were his own black top hat, which had rolled onto the deck, and a headless body spurting blood.

So that was his own perspective.

Thud.

His head struck the planks with a dull sound, rolled a few times, and stopped beside the hat.

The madness and ambition in those eyes had not yet fully faded before they froze.

The ambition named Dafuransi, along with his life, sank into the scarlet he had created and silently vanished.

Rossi's pupils abruptly contracted.

Although he had already noticed that the full-bearded swordsman and this little girl were far from ordinary, the sight before him, and that name in particular, still stirred his heart.

Gion?

That woman who, in the future, would stand among the world's strongest under the code name "Momousagi"

*?*

Gentle ripples spread across the azure waters of the North Blue.

A three-masted armed merchant ship cut through the waves along a winding course.

Although the Captain's Quarters at the stern had been reduced to a wrecked ruin, this had not affected the ship's ability to sail.

Under the instructions of a boy wearing sunglasses, the surviving sailors worked the rigging and helm, driving the ship steadily toward its intended destination-the Kingdom of Rafal.

The deck had been cleaned until not a single stain remained. Two small figures darted past each other there-gray and pink standing out vividly in the sunlight.

The watching sailors and passengers held their breath, their eyes following fists and feet moving so quickly they almost left afterimages.

Wind whistled with their movements, and every step drew a faint ** from the planks.

Had children these days all become beings like this?

"Your foundation isn't bad, and your reactions are fast enough.

"Unfortunately-"

Before she finished speaking, the pink figure's rear foot drove hard against the ground, her front foot immediately stepping forward, her legs releasing like fully drawn bowstrings.

Her small body shot forward like a stone hurled through the air.

That punch came too fast. The shriek of torn air arrived before the fist, lashing against his chest like an invisible whip.

Rossi's heart tightened, and he instinctively retreated.

He had to admit that, ever since he had stopped going hungry, something slumbering within this body had gradually begun to awaken.

With a push from his feet, he actually managed to slide several feet backward.

But his opponent clearly had not used her full strength.