He charged, the force of his punch tearing through the air as white shock waves burst outward as though solid.
The mast creaked and swayed in the aftermath, the rigging pulled taut as bowstrings.
He had been the first in the Family to touch that power.
Many years ago, a whip-wielding martial artist from West Blue had left behind a scroll, its ink recording the art of forging an invisible force into armor.
In Flower Country, people called it Protective Gang Qi; in Wano Country, it was called Ryuo.
The names differed, but at their core, all were a pitch-black will wrapped around the body.
Vergo excelled at defense.
He compressed that power against the surface of his skin, forging an iron wall.
As for its subtler applications-destroying the interior without contact, or projecting Haki beyond his body-his mastery had always fallen just short.
Blue ripples spread through the air.
Jinbe's fist seemed slow, yet it had already stirred the moisture around him.
Vergo's attack plunged into that invisible deep pool, its force swallowed layer by layer.
Their fists met.
A muffled boom rang out like a boulder plunging into a mire.
The deck caved beneath their feet.
Jinbe's brow tightened.
He had used his full strength, yet failed to move his opponent an inch.
An officer serving under a Shichibukai truly could not be judged by ordinary standards.
Vergo raised his arm again.
His fists, coated in a pitch-black sheen, hammered down in succession, each swing carrying the resolve to grind flesh and blood into fragments.
The tremors kept spreading.
Rossi leaned against the railing, his gaze sweeping over the two battling figures before turning to Doffy beside him.
"Impressive, isn't he?"
The blond young man nodded at first, then shook his head.
"He's strong enough."
His voice was