It looked to them as if the newcomer were not a person at all, but a demon wearing human skin — a fiend from the abyss.
Sengoku's eyes widened. He was taken aback, then blurted, "Uchiha Madara?"
Yes. The man who had suddenly descended from the sky and landed before them was Uchiha Madara, thirsting for a worthy opponent.
Anyone familiar with Uchiha Madara knew he would never remain quiet. Faced with such an occasion, he would act — he could not do nothing.
He had already fought Akainu earlier, and he had no intention of stopping. For Uchiha Madara, battle was endless: as long as he breathed, he would keep fighting.
"Sengoku! Let's have a proper fight!" he cried.
As soon as Uchiha Madara saw Sengoku, it was as if he had found a prize. The Sharingan slowly appeared. A murderous aura surged from his body and reached its peak.
That silent, oppressive momentum rippled through the Marine heavyweights nearby. It wasn't exactly Conqueror's Haki, but it carried the same overwhelming force — and it terrified them.
"You come alone—do you look down on me?" Sengoku snapped, furious. "Do you think I, Fleet Admiral Sengoku, am worthless? Is that why you dare appear before me unaided?"
Sengoku's face burned with anger; he felt insulted. He hesitated for a moment, then asked, "Did Kronos personally order you to come fight me?"
It seemed plausible to Sengoku. The Marines had wanted to seize the thief and capture the king; they had dispatched two peerless powerhouses to intercept Kronos. Perhaps Kronos had planned a countermove.
But Uchiha Madara shook his head. "By orders? No." He slung a wine gourd at his waist — a bad habit he never lost — and took a long drink before answering. "I didn't come on anyone's orders. I came because I think you, Fleet Admiral, are strong — a worthy opponent. Nothing more."
The Marine soldiers stood dumbfounded. Did this Uchiha Madara really not care about appearances? Drinking openly in front of them like that?
They all knew he looked down on them; he treated them like trash. But what could they do? Even if he used only ten percent of his strength, that ten percent could crush them. A single finger might be enough.
Sometimes the gap between people is so enormous it breeds despair.
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