From a distance, Dragon observed the unfolding confrontation, his expression impassive. Though separated by hundreds of meters, his keen senses captured every word exchanged.
"A waste of time," he muttered, watching Sige surrender without resistance. This trembling coward hardly warranted his attention. Just as he turned to leave—
Thud. Thud. Thud-Thud.
The mountain quivered with each heartbeat. Dragon froze mid-step, cloak whipping around him as he spun back.
——
The moment the Emperor Engine roared to life, Gilman's bandits staggered like puppets with severed strings. Blades trembled in sweat-slicked palms; gun muzzles dipped toward the dirt.
"Shoot him!" a bandit croaked, yet not a finger twitched.
Sige advanced—one step, then another—his casual stride parting the crowd like Moses through the Red Sea. Bandits scrambled aside, collapsing against boulders or sinking to their knees. Only Gilman remained, a sweating monolith blocking the path.
"X-Xige!" the giant stammered, hefting his sword with palsied arms. "You mocking me?!"
Sige paused, meeting the man's glare. Slowly, deliberately, he clenched his raised hand into a fist...
Gilman blanched, blade tip scraping stone.
...then thrust it downward in a cheery thumbs-up. "Good luck becoming East Blue's Bandit King. Don't forget to brag about defeating me."
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The words, underscored by the Emperor Engine's relentless cadence, struck like hammer blows.
Clang.
Gilman's sword fell. The giant crumpled, staring slack-jawed at his quivering hands. Behind him, his crew sprawled in the dirt, hyperventilating.
Sige stepped over the fallen leader, KING's aura dissipating as swiftly as it came. His men swaggered through the defeated mob, sneering at their whimpering foes.
"Pathetic," a bald bandit jeered, kicking aside a dagger. "The Boss didn't even draw breath!"
——
Dragon's hand rose unconsciously to clutch his chest, still throbbing from the phantom heartbeat. Conqueror's Haki... but distorted.
Memories surfaced—legendary kings whose presence cracked stone, whose fury shook islands. Yet none bore this... rhythm, this orchestral menace.
Can advanced Haki manifest soundwaves? Dragon's mind raced. Or is this some forbidden technique?
His gaze sharpened as Sige's party vanished into the mountain mist. What game are you playing, "Bandit King"?
——
At the ramshackle hideout—barely more than a timber shack—Sige's men buzzed with exhilaration.
"Did you see those pretenders crumble?!"
"Even without lifting a finger, the Boss radiates majesty!"
"A true king doesn't dirty his hands with ants!"
Sige massaged his temples, equal parts baffled and exhausted. KING's life must've been pure agony.
"Silence."
The room stilled instantly. Twenty pairs of eyes gleamed with fanatical devotion.
"The mission," Sige intoned, improvising, "surveillance on Windmill Village and Marine movements. Particularly Vice Admiral Garp."
Blank stares greeted him.
"A diversion!" the bald bandit crowed, snapping his comrades to attention. "The Boss plans to uproot the World Government's roots here!"
Nods rippled through the ranks. Yes... yes! He's sizing up Garp to strike the nobles!
Ignoring their frenzied whispers, Sige retreated to his quarters.
"Peace at last..." he sighed, collapsing onto a straw mat. If only.
Outside, his men debated staging "distractions" near Goa Kingdom's ports.
"The Boss needs time to strategize!"
"Burn some Marine outposts!"
"No—hit the nobles' summer villas!"
Through paper-thin walls, Sige buried his face in his hands.
Three weeks. He prayed to nonexistent gods. Just three weeks hiding, and Garp leaves.