Chapter 93: Strange Requests
While the Marines remained locked in a tense standoff with Axel and the others, Commander Weasel finally arrived at a leisurely pace.
The moment he saw the situation, his first reaction was annoyance rather than concern.
There were only a handful of intruders, yet his men had drawn their guns and formed a full encirclement. With such an obvious numerical advantage, they still had the nerve to sound the alarm? Were the guards at this base really that incompetent?
His face darkened.
"What is going on here? Who sounded the alarm? Step forward right now!"
One of the guards hurried out at once, his face pale with fear.
In the heat of the moment, he had forgotten something important. Technically, an attack on a Marine base did warrant an alarm. In practice, though, that rule meant very little when it involved Commander Weasel. Disturbing him over something he considered trivial was asking for trouble.
"Commander Weasel," the guard said cautiously, stealing glances at his superior's expression, "these people attacked one of our men, so I sounded the alarm."
Weasel listened in silence.
Then he kicked the man to the ground.
Before anyone could react, he stepped on him again. And again.
The guard let out a miserable scream, curling up instinctively, but Weasel only seemed more irritated by the noise. He kept stomping until he had vented enough of his temper, then casually waved a hand.
"Throw him in the dungeon. Let him fend for himself."
A chill passed through the surrounding Marines.
Everyone here knew what that meant. "Fend for himself" in the dungeon meant starving to death behind bars.
Some of the soldiers clenched their teeth. Others lowered their heads. Their faces showed anger, fear, disgust, yet none of them dared speak.
At this base, Weasel held absolute authority.
Any defiance could be labeled insubordination against justice itself. Once reported to Headquarters, it would become a crime. And more than that, he had not seized power through rank alone. He had strength to back it up.
In the end, several Marines stepped forward under the weight of his glare and dragged the pleading guard away.
"Commander! Commander Weasel! Please, I was only following regulations! Commander!"
The desperate cries echoed for a while before fading.
Only then did one officer force himself to step forward again.
"Commander, please give your orders."
Weasel glanced at Axel and the others with mild impatience, as though he were deciding what to do about stray dogs blocking a road.
Then he said, almost lazily, "Kill them."
The officer froze.
"Kill... them?"
He stared, unable to believe what he had just heard.
"There is a disabled man and a child among them. Isn't that a little..."
Weasel turned his eyes on him.
That single look was so cold it nearly made the officer stop breathing.
"I do not like repeating myself."
The officer swallowed the rest of his protest whole.
Satisfied, Weasel turned away, already intending to return to his warm room and his ruined tea. On this base, on this island, he was king. No one disobeyed him here, and the feeling never got old.
Then a voice stopped him.
"Commander?"
The tone was light, almost curious, but the disdain beneath it was unmistakable.
Weasel stiffened.
How long had it been since anyone had addressed him like that?
Since gaining power, he had all but forgotten the humiliation of being questioned, the life of careful compromise he used to endure. Hearing it now left him deeply irritated, like a hand dragging him back into filth he had already crawled out of.
He turned.
A child stood there.
No, not just a child.
A strangely delicate, almost beautiful little figure with pale features and blood red eyes that seemed far too calm.
Had that kid been here the whole time?
Weasel's annoyance faded at once, replaced by something greedier.
He had spent years in this filthy trade. He knew what kind of "goods" sold well, what kind of face could fetch outrageous prices, what sort of buyers paid extra without even bargaining.
This one would be worth a fortune.
His lips curled.
"Capture that child," he ordered. "Kill the others."
At least they would not be killing the child. Several Marines had that thought at once, as if that made anything better. Still, it gave them enough excuse to move.
A few of them stepped forward, trying to separate Axel from Issho and Hawkins.
Weasel stood to the side, already imagining the Berries landing in his hands, and watched the scene unfold with interest.
Axel, however, moved first.
He calmly stepped forward on his own, putting a little distance between himself and the other two, giving the Marines exactly the opening they wanted.
Then, before anyone could close in, he spoke.
"Mr. Weasel," he said, clear enough for everyone present to hear, "I want to fight you one on one."
The words struck the crowd like a stone dropped into still water.
Even the Marines forgot to move for a second.
Weasel stared at him.
"You want to fight me one on one?"
He almost laughed.
A child not even ten years old wanted to challenge him? Was this bravery? Ignorance? Stupidity?
He did not care which.
In fact, he found it amusing.
He spread his arms and deliberately exposed his belly in a ridiculous posture, practically inviting a hit.
"Fine. Since you want a chance, I'll give you one." He smirked. "Come here. Throw your best punch. Don't hold back. Hit me as hard as you want."
Then he motioned to his men.
"You lot, move aside. Let the kid come through."
The Marines hesitated, then obeyed.
They parted like a tide opening a path, forming a wide corridor straight to Weasel.
Hawkins took out a card and glanced at it.
"Commander Weasel," he murmured quietly, almost to himself, "the signs on your face say you're about to die."
Axel heard him, and so did Issho.
Neither said anything.
Weasel clearly knew nothing about Axel's power. If he did, he would never have made such a stupid request.
Axel walked down the passage without hurry.
When he stood just a few steps away, Weasel suddenly moved.
He lunged forward and reached out, not to strike, but to seize Axel.
So that was his real plan.
He had only invited the punch to lure Axel in close enough that he could capture him without damaging the "merchandise." If Axel's face was bruised, his price would drop. Weasel had no intention of wasting money.
Unfortunately for him, Axel had already seen through it.
As Weasel's hand shot out, Axel clenched his fist and drove it straight into the colonel's abdomen.
He did not hold back.
For a split second, Weasel still thought he had won. He was prepared to take a child's punch head on if it meant grabbing him afterward.
Then the impact landed.
In that instant, Weasel understood what regret felt like.
A horrifying force tore through his body. It felt as if every bone inside him cracked at once, as though the blood in his veins had gone mad and started bursting outward. The world vanished beneath a storm of pain before he could even scream properly.
His body shot backward like a cannonball.
He smashed through the solid concrete wall behind him in one deafening explosion of rubble, kept flying across the training ground beyond, and finally crashed to the earth after carving a long trench behind him.
Silence swallowed the entire base.
The Marines stared, stunned out of thought.
No one could understand how that kind of destructive force had come from the fist of a child.
Axel lowered his arm and looked toward the hole Weasel had just made in the building.
Then, with complete sincerity, he said, "I've never seen anyone so shameless. He actually asked me to hit him."
The Marines looked at one another.
.....
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