(Sarquiss POV)
“Oppresso-“ *SCHLICK*
“And stay down!” The thing, for Sarquiss refused to call it a man, refused to stay down. He wasn't sure what Crack had done to the thing and he was not certain he wanted to know either. But whatever it had been, it had turned what used to be a gladiator into a monstrous entity. To be honest, things were certainly looking better than when he had fought Satori. For one, Sarquiss didn't have any problems hitting this guy and this oppressor-obsessed freak was also a lot more obvious in his movements than Satori had been. The problem however was, that nothing Sarquiss did to the thing, stuck.
Every cut he made just bubbled a bit before healing. A fire dial likewise did precious little except cause more bubbles. It took returning the thing's own punch to its chest via impact dial to knock it down. Even then, a few bubbles later and the broken ribs were healed, and it was back swinging.
And with every bubble, the thing looked less and less human. At first, it had just been some muscle growth, certainly large but still within the bounds of the human physique. Now, it looked like something out of a nightmare or one of those horror books Lily had stashed away.
Jumping out of the way, Sarquiss noted that the created crater was bigger than the ones at the beginning of the fight. Which brought up the question...was it getting stronger?
“Down with the Oppressor!”
“Your bloody oppressor is standing back there, you fricking monster!” Sarquiss screamed at it, though he knew it was futile. There simply was no reasoning with this thing, as it just repeated the same phrase over and over and nothing else.
A couple of quick jumps placed Sarquiss near the thing’s back, the perfect position to take a stab at its unprotected nape. Or at least, what he had thought was unprotected. Turned out, the thing could turn a lot faster than it looked and Sarquiss had to suppress a grunt of pain as he was sent flying by a massive backhand. At least his kukri was still buried in the thing's neck.
Well, if he didn't have a blade anymore, dials would have to do. Quickly whipping out a fire and a breath dial, he engulfed the thing in a blazing inferno. He kept this up for nearly a minute, using his greater mobility to maintain his distance and keep the thing trapped in a continuous stream of fire.
It didn't matter if drugs had addled its mind or even if he had a devil fruit, for what else could that regeneration be if not? It was still based on a human and humans needed to breathe. Good luck trying to inhale oxygen while surrounded by a firestorm.
Sarquiss didn't relent even after the thing collapsed to its knees, only stopping once his dials ran out of fuel. The thing was a charred mess, though patches here and there were still bubbling like a witch’s cauldron. The hilt of his kukri was half encased in flesh…and Sarquiss decided then and there that he was not touching the kukri ever again.
“Why! Won’t! You! Fucking! Die!” he screamed, using an impact dial to repeatedly drive his blade further into the beast, all the way to its heart. The bubbling stopped.
Then it started glowing like an angry red furnace.
“Oh, fuck!”
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(Eddy POV)
“This had to be what people called the Zone” Eddy reflected as he parried another blow from his armored opponent. The man was dressed like a dark knight, complete with black armor and a massive two-handed bastard sword.
And despite having lost his sense of reason due to Crack’s drug cocktail, his skills seemed untouched. Every swing was crisply executed, every thrust on point. Blows rained down on Eddy from every direction, almost seamlessly flowing into each other and forcing him to remain on the defensive.
Occasionally he wouldn’t be able to turn his opponent’s blade aside perfectly and would earn himself a cut here and there, but so far, Eddy had been able to stave off anything too debilitating.
Part of that was thanks to Lily distracting the knight, by using his helmet as an improvised drum. The man’s hearing had to be gone by now, with how often Lily had sent shockwave after shockwave through his helmet using her impact dials.
However, apart from staggering a few times, the knight seemingly shrugged it off much to Lily’s growing frustration, but the mere fact that Lily could repeatedly do that to him, was evidence of how much of a difference mantra had made. The knight was definitely a more skilled swordsman than Ohm had been, which was evident especially in his superior footwork. If it weren’t for his life being on the line, Eddy would have loved to ask the knight for pointers.
Speaking of the knight, he was sent reeling again, this time by courtesy of an aerial barrage from Rivers, blue bolts of plasma hammering into his armour. Unfortunately, it didn't penetrate but the opening was enough for Eddy to start an offensive of his own.
Just like he practiced on Skypiea, he thought to himself, just like he practiced on Skypiea, no more no less. It was a basic combination of attacks, something that the knight before him had likely seen a million times already, but it was the combo Eddy knew best. Sadly, because it was so basic, the knight knew precisely how to counter it. An expert parry and a riposte had Eddy backpedaling desperately out of reach, relying on Lily and Rivers to buy him some time to regain his footing.
The two duelled back and forth for a while, a whirl of dancing blades, bewitching to the eye. And yet, Eddy focused more on his footwork, trying to copy, trying to learn. It was reckless, and he was well aware of that fact, but his time with Zoro had awakened something he liked to think of as his swordsman’s spirit. And now, it was urging him to study his opponent, such that he may grow further, hungering for that peak.
If some random knight, though probably not a total nobody judging from the quality of his armor, was this skilled, what level had Hawkeye reached? What level would Zoro reach?
Lily intervened again before his guard could be broken, giving Eddy the breathing room he needed to regather himself.
Objectively speaking, he was being an idiot. Using a sword to fight someone in full plate armor, something designed specifically to counter swords, was anything but intelligent. But he could feel it, another barrier just waiting to be overcome and requiring just a single step. A single step.
As Lily was thrown off the knight’s back, Eddy stepped forward, evading the responding thrust by a hairsbreadth and slid his sword under the edge of the knight’s helmet and up into his brain.
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(Hewitt POV)
It was a cow zoan. His opponent was a cow zoan. When he woke up this morning, nobody had told him he’d be fighting a minotaur on steroids.
Thankfully, the minotaur also had the intellect of a particularly stupid bovine, so it had limited its offensive tactics to ‘lock on target, charge, repeat’. Of course, while charging, it was also doing its best to punch the living daylights out of him or gore Ross with its horns, but those were minor details.
So far, they had been able to expertly divide its aggro between the three of them: Ross, Laki and himself. And now it was charging at him, leaving its flank open to Ross.
“One order of tenderized meat coming right up! Jet-Impact!” A jet-dial accelerated punch slammed into the minotaur from the side, before its insides were hopefully turned to pulp by the impact dial. This was something Ross had developed after their fight with Gedatsu, his own answer to his lack of destructive potential. It wasn’t enough to stop the minotaur, but it did enough to make the charge falter.
And thus turning the beast into an effectively stationary target for Laki. “Gas barbeque!” she shouted, shooting off a blast of superheated gas and plasma. Unfortunately, the minotaur jerked its head to the side at the last second, no doubt saving its own life by sacrificing a shoulder. Ever since they’d had that one barbeque party, Laki had fallen in love. It had fed his ego quite a bit to have someone enjoy his food that much and making those…orgasmic noises. But naming your attacks after a barbeque was going a bit far in his opinion.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“Chuck! Rib! Plate! Sirloin!” Not that he had any room to talk, though in his case, he was just naming the appropriate areas he was cutting into. This was clearly Sanji’s fault.
Two short impacts from his shoe soles later, Hewitt was a safe distance away. Similarly, Ross and Laki had also widened the gap between themselves and the beast. The minotaur might have been bleeding and it had a fist sized hole in its left shoulder, but the minotaur was still blowing out steam and ready to fight. However, that didn't last long as Rivers pierced its skull with a well-placed plasma bolt.
That had been almost too easy considering they had been fighting a devil fruit user. How come?
“Did that feel easy to you guys too?” Hewitt asked.
“Definitely easier than the priests.” Ross replied.
Wait, what was that glow…?
“God dammit, Sarquiss!”
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(Bellamy POV)
It was honestly exhilarating, being able to absolutely dominate a fight like this. Considering the two real battles I had been in, the first chump on Jaya didn't count, I had never had the opportunity to bask in this feeling…of superiority. It felt great, so much in fact, that I no longer questioned why villains tended to draw out fights and gloat. This was more intoxicating than premium alcohol.
“Come on, you used to be a rear admiral, didn’t you?” I laughed, punching the man in the face. “Show me something worth your rank!”
A benefit of fighting a durable punching bag I’d discovered, had been that it was the perfect training dummy for any new techniques I wanted to try out.
So, after tanking one of his blows to make sure that his punches weren’t strong enough to seriously damage me, I decided to test out my new spring suit…pending a better name. Maybe coil chassis? A minute or two of him flailing at me did nothing. Like, it literally did nothing. I barely even felt any of it, while sending him flying from his own recoil. The closest analogy I could think of to describe what had happened, would have to be a ball thrown into a trampoline standing on its side.
And when he tried to resist…well the reflected force met the original force in the middle of his arm…and the arm kind of just fragmented.
I was fully aware that I wouldn’t be able to do this if my opponent knew haki, which a rear admiral very well might have. But drugged up to his gills as this guy was? He wouldn't be mustering the will needed to use haki anytime soon.
Another benefit of my fruit's ability was, that I didn't need to wind up to punch someone. I simply had to transform my arm into a spring in its already compressed state, release and BAM! Furthermore, if my springs were wider around the middle, I could compress my springs even further, almost like a disc, further increasing their power.
“I KILL YOU!!!” my opponent screamed, sending spittle flying everywhere, including his own face.
And honestly, this was plain sad. He might have had the body of a rear admiral and the toughness of one, but most of his skill was gone, the man just swinging his arms according to instinct and muscle memory. He was fast, certainly, strong too. Only, he could not hope to match me in the state he was in.
Grasping hold of his neck as simply as snatching candy from a child, I slammed my opponent into the ground before my fist began pistoning between his face and my forearm. Just bam bam bam bam, using the recoil generated by each blow to restart the rapid back and forth movement. Each individual punch wasn't that strong, but I didn't think it mattered if you were being hit a dozen times per second. Case in point, the former rear admiral went limp after a mere ten seconds.
With my opponent dealt with, I turned back to my crew to find all of them handily winning. Mani was even holding a knife to Crack’s neck, preventing him from getting away. Judging by her angry scowl, she hadn’t been successful in getting Crack to call off his brutes.
Wait, why was Sarquiss’ opponent glowing?
“BOMB!”
ZZZZZAAAAPPP!!!
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(Muret POV)
Like most people in the courtyard, Muret stared at where little Aisa was standing, huffing and puffing, holding both arms out before her. And at the other end of the yard was a scorched black area, where just moments before Sarquiss’ opponent had been about to self-destruct. Now not even ashes remained.
Apart from Bellamy, the crew hadn’t gotten to see Enel in action and Aisa had never let loose after gaining her devil fruit. Hence, Sarquiss was doing his best goldfish imitation, glancing back and forth between Aisa and the scorched spot by his feet and the rest weren't doing much better.
“Uh…I…had to…” Aisa stammered, slowly backing away.
“Aisa! Well done!” The Captain was positively exuberant, quickly approaching Aisa and hugging her. Too exuberant, even if Sarquiss had just been saved at least a lengthy stay in her medbay. “You saved us! Thank you!”
“I..but…I…voices…” Aisa mumbled, the adrenalin wearing off and her brain catching up to her actions. This was a very vulnerable moment for the little girl, for anyone really. No wonder that the captain was trying to fill it with positivity.
“You removed a bomb, Aisa.” Muret whispered, a clear counter to her captain, even as she garnered Aisa to her chest in a gentle embrace. Men like her captain were too rough at times and in some cases, a more womanly touch was needed. “You just removed a bomb and saved us. Thank you Aisa.”
The rest of the crew answered with a cheer, moderate in volume, but great in enthusiasm. Even Sarquiss had some mixed emotions running across his face before he seemingly made up his mind to approach.
Slowly kneeling before Aisa, Sarquiss took her hand, in what amounted to the most sincere sign of thankfulness he could muster. His whispered message was pretty much the same, even if Aisa had to suppress a giggle at Sarquiss’ distorted facial expression. That was what you got for almost never thanking anyone. Your facial muscles forgot how to.
The cheers, thanks and encouragements only ended when Aisa started smiling, initially unsure but increasingly certain. Laki had told her that Aisa had always wanted to be a brave and ferocious fighter, but had been paradoxically scared of sensing voices disappear with her mantra. This had been very apparent with how Aisa had frozen up during the initial bloodbath today, but Muret was glad that Aisa had broken out of that state on her own.
It might have only been the first step, but it was an important step. The girl wouldn’t be able to survive travelling with this crew otherwise.
But judging from what she was seeing now, Muret was certain that little Aisa would be fine.
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(Bellamy POV)
Now with the excitement out of the way.
“What do we do with you?” I pondered, only half addressing a trembling Crack A. Barrel. Gone was his confidence and the air of superiority. Instead, he was looking at us as if seeing a monster for the first time.
“We should loot the mansion, captain.” What a brilliant idea, Mani.
“Of course! He broke guest rights.” I answered, hitting my palm with my fist. “We definitely deserve some compensation for the emotional, psychological and…physical damages we incurred. Don’t you agree, good sir?”
Crack refused to answer, though that might have been because his soul had fled his body. It wouldn't be that surprising with how pale the man currently was, though Mani did him a service and recalled that soul by poking him with her knife. Just a little.
“Yes, yes, damages. I’ll pay you of course.”
“Wonderful.” I clapped. “Please, lead the way to your safe. You do have one, don’t you?”
And as Crack morosely trudged into his mansion, a knife at his back, I reflected that the day had gone rather well...
…despite Dellinger’s treachery.