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Signs of activation-a defensive technique that tempered ** into steel.
But his thoughts moved a step ahead of his body: No, this man's ability is silence. He couldn't possibly-
His vision turned black-red.
It was not a color, but something more primal.
It was an optical illusion given shape by overwhelming pressure, a domain formed by overflowing power.
At the center of the black-red, that open palm became impossibly huge, its five fingers like toppling mountains, crushing down with the weight of the entire sky.
Boom-
The warship sank a second time.
This time, it was more violent, more complete.
Centered on where the man in black stood, cracks spread madly across the deck in every direction like a spiderweb.
The snapping planks sounded like ice breaking in the depths of winter, sharp and rapid.
But no dust rose, and no splinters flew. That force pinned every fragment firmly in place.
When the shaking stopped, a human-shaped depression had appeared in the deck.
The man in black was embedded deep in the planks, with only his head exposed.
His top hat had flown who knew where, and his disheveled hair clung to his forehead.
His eyes had rolled upward, revealing broad expanses of white.
White foam seeped from the corners of his mouth, dripping down his chin onto the broken wood.
"Precise control."
Sengoku spoke.
There was no discernible emotion in his voice, as though he were evaluating a demonstration during training.
"To emit Haki to that extent, yet still limit the destruction to a single person."
He paused. "Few people on these seas can do that."
Rossi's hand settled on the sword hilt at his waist.
It was a curved longsword, its scabbard dark red, like congealed blood.
His fingers rested lightly against the sword guard, his knuckles