Faced with a blow powerful enough to crush the hull into splinters, Vergo merely lowered his gaze and glanced at his feet.
A pitch-black hue spread from his soles, racing across the deck and staining the entire ship a dark, metallic shade.
Then he raised his right arm, curled his fingers into a fist, and punched straight up at the descending hammer.
The disparity was almost absurd.
His fist looked as tiny as a nail before the hammerhead, and even the man throwing it seemed insignificant.
At the instant of impact, a thunderous blast swallowed every other sound.
The massive hammer, which should have swept everything aside, abruptly stopped, then rebounded even faster.
It was as though it had struck not flesh and blood, but bedrock buried deep beneath the sea.
The recoil traveled along the handle. The giant pirate's thick arm muscles shook violently, and the skin between his thumbs and forefingers split, spilling beads of blood.
His eyes widened as he stared at the man on the deck, who had not moved his feet an inch, and disbelieving rasps escaped his throat.
The iron hammer slammed back into its owner's skull, the dull impact erupting alongside the sharp crack of bone.
The enormous figure known as the "Super Giant"
toppled backward, blood mist bursting through the air like splattered paint, then crashed heavily into the sea, raising a second wave of murky water.
The figure at the bow had not budged.
The ship beneath his feet, the vessel called the "Cold Crow · Numancia Flamingo,"
seemed like an extension of his limbs.
His fist remained suspended where it was, without even the faintest tremor.
The black, ironlike hue spread from his soles across the deck, forging man and ship into one whole, unshakable reef.
"What is that thing...?"