In the center of the battlefield, the dim-witted look on Edward Weevil's bloated face had completely vanished, replaced by an expression of boundless rage.
He swung his naginata with terrifying force, the blade whistling through the air as it smashed down toward Zephyr, who was already at his wit's end. It seemed he intended to slaughter this "culprit who stopped him from finding his father" once and for all.
Weevil didn't actually know why this old man was stopping him. But if Mama said he was a villain, then he was.
"Master Zephyr!"
Outside the immediate conflict, the instructors of the Guerilla Unit and the recruits about to graduate from the training camp watched with pure despair. Many had already broken into loud sobs. They refused to believe—and refused to watch—their beloved teacher die so miserably at the hands of that cursed monster.
Why?! Why is it that Master Zephyr has dedicated his entire life to Justice, only to be defeated by an evil pirate in the end?!
Hearing the roars and wails from the sidelines, a flash of tragic sorrow appeared in Zephyr's eyes. Though he desperately wanted to stand up and turn the tide, he knew his body was spent. Forget finding the strength to counterattack; he didn't even have the energy left to maintain his Armament Haki.
A trace of bitterness welled up in his heart. He had searched for this man for years, and now that he had finally found him, the result was the same tragic end. In fact, this was even worse than before. Last time, he had only lost an arm. This time, his life would end on this island.
Master Rowan, I am truly sorry. Having a disciple of my level must be a disgrace to your name.
As the whistling of the blade drew closer, Weevil's face—distorted with rage—loomed large in his vision.
"Hateful old man! Why stop me from finding Papa?! Die!"
Infinite killing intent radiated from Weevil's tiny, bead-like eyes. As he drew closer to Zephyr, the muscles in his massive arms wound tight. With veins twisting like snakes, he gripped the naginata with both hands and brought it down like a thunderbolt toward Zephyr's head.
As the freezing edge of the blade descended, the entire island seemed to fall silent.
Hundreds of Marine recruits collapsed to the ground in despair. Dozens of instructors wept into their hands, roared in anger, or tried to drag the recruits back toward the warship. Binz, heavily wounded, roared until his eyes turned blood-red; had he been able to run, he would have thrown himself in front of the blade to shield his teacher.
A desperate Ain turned her head and shrieked, "Mr. Rowan, please save—!"
Mr. Rowan? Hearing Ain's shriek, Zephyr's bitterness deepened.
Though he forced himself to stay upright, his internal injuries were too severe. The blood was no longer merely seeping from the corners of his mouth; it flowed in a constant, shocking crimson stream. His only hope now was that Master Rowan would take command and lead the others to the warship, escaping the monster's clutches.
In Zephyr's heart, he knew Master Rowan's strength could never match this monster with the title of Whitebeard Jr. The boy's power and stamina were simply too horrific. If anyone in the current Navy could truly defeat this creature, it was only Garp, Sengoku, or his three Admiral disciples.
But Marine Headquarters was far too away. Even if they sent a signal now, it was impossible for reinforcements to arrive in time.
Hum!
The gleaming blade sliced downward. In Zephyr's eyes, it seemed to cleave through space itself. He even felt his vision begin to fade into monochrome gray.
CHING!
Just as the razor-sharp edge was less than three feet from Zephyr's head, a crisp, metallic ring echoed across the island.
An unassuming longsword appeared out of nowhere, blocking the path of the naginata. Weevil's full-power strike came to a dead halt in mid-air the moment it touched that blade.
Seeing this, even Weevil's dim-witted face registered a flicker of shock. That longsword looked thin and weak, yet his naginata—wielded with all his monstrous strength—couldn't budge it an inch. At the moment of impact, a jolt of numbness traveled through his arms, and a tearing pain flared in his palms.
What is happening?!
Incredulity washed over Weevil's face. He followed the length of the blade with his eyes and saw a robust old man with white hair and beard, wearing a meaningful smile. The man looked ordinary, with nothing remarkable about him. Yet, this "ordinary" old man made Weevil's heart skip a beat for no reason.
His primal combat instincts detected a faint, terrifying presence radiating from the elder.
"You want to kill the Old Man's disciple? Did you ask for my permission?"
A relaxed, casual voice reached Weevil's ears.
Gritting his teeth against the pain in his hands, Weevil spoke warily, stuttering, "Y-you... who are you?!"
"Who am I?" Rowan said with a light chuckle. "The Old Man is nobody special. Just a plain, ordinary Marine."
As the words fell, Rowan's gaze sharpened, and his aura suddenly skyrocketed. A bone-chilling Sword Intent surged into the sky.
Feeling the horrific pressure erupting from the old man, even the bold and brainless Weevil felt a chill run down his spine. The fear in his tiny eyes intensified. Accompanying that Sword Intent was a concentrated, peerless killing intent that felt nearly physical.
Under the dual assault of intent and malice, Weevil actually lost control of his footing and stumbled back several steps!
"Who is that?" "Such powerful Sword Intent..."
Sensing the sudden shift on the battlefield, the people on the sidelines—who had closed their eyes in despair—looked back. When they saw the silhouette standing before Zephyr like a god of war, every single person was frozen in shock.
"That's... Master Zephyr's mentor, Mr. Rowan?!"