A Marine warship was docked along the coastline.
On the deck, Vice Admiral Momonga stood with arms crossed, coldly watching the numerous ships moored not far away.
Rather than immediately disembarking to confront Bacardi Maude, he had his subordinates scout the ships first.
Half an hour passed...
"Vice Admiral Momonga, there's no one on board the ships."
The commanding officer leading the reconnaissance team reported the findings to Momonga.
"Every single one?"
A glint flashed in Momonga's eyes.
"Yes!"
The officer answered firmly without hesitation.
Hearing this, Momonga raised his gaze, staring toward the island's interior.
The expansive coastline was lined with thirty-six ships, yet they all seemed lifeless at this moment—empty, abandoned.
From the intelligence provided by Marine Headquarters, Momonga was well aware of the identities of these vessels' crews: simple-minded individuals driven by greed.
However, the sheer number of ships now devoid of life carried a grim implication.
With Maude's notorious reputation, such a situation could only mean one thing.
Momonga's expression grew grave as he mentally prepared for a brutal confrontation.
"Form up. Move out."
"Yes, sir!"
Hundreds of elite Marines armed with swords and firearms disembarked from the warship, following Vice Admiral Momonga in an orderly march toward the island's interior.
Though newcomers to this location, they had no precise information on Maude's whereabouts.
Due to Servis providing false intelligence, Momonga chose not to contact him after making landfall.
With the flat terrain of Lorre Island and their superior manpower and mobility, they were confident they could locate the Maude Pirates before sunset.
However, the troops had barely marched beyond the coastline when they unexpectedly encountered their target—Bacardi Maude.
Standing tall with a sword strapped to his waist, Maude silently observed the approaching Marine formation from a grassy plain.
Beside him were Lafitte and Issho.
Thanks to Issho's acute sensory abilities, he could detect any landing vessels in an instant.
Whenever this happened, they would immediately leave the village and intercept those seeking Maude's head on the open plains.
Because the Marines had lingered near the coastline for a while, the two parties met on the plains not far from the shore.
"So, the Marines have finally come…"
Maude's gaze swept across the hundreds of Marines, all exuding an aura of battle-hardened experience.
From the concentrated aura emanating from their ranks, it was evident that this was an elite unit.
His eyes lingered momentarily on the Marine leading the formation, draped in a Justice Coat.
Drawing on his memory, Maude barely recognized the man as a seasoned Vice Admiral with considerable strength.
"What a pity."
Maude mused silently.
He was well aware that this elite Marine force had come for him.
However, with Issho by his side, the Marines posed no real threat. Yet, Issho wouldn't allow harm to come to them either.
This meant Maude would miss out on the opportunity to reap high-quality "prey."
Even so, it didn't bother him. Compared to earning Issho's goodwill, sacrificing a potential gain was a small price to pay.
"Bacardi Maude."
Momonga's cold eyes locked onto Maude as his right hand gripped the hilt of his blade.
With a sharp metallic ring, he drew his sword.
At the same time, the gathered Marines unsheathed their weapons, their hostility evident.
"Issho-san," Maude said, glancing at the calm man beside him. "Given your position, it's not ideal for you to make a move against the Marines. Let me handle this one."
Issho turned toward Maude, a trace of surprise crossing his face.
For the past several days, Issho had taken it upon himself to ensure the safety of the Maude Pirates while they worked to eradicate the plague afflicting the island.
Even if it meant clashing with the Marines—something he deeply disliked—he would not hesitate to protect the innocent civilians of the island.
He had already resolved himself to act against his principles, should the need arise.
Yet Maude's considerate gesture, sparing him from such moral conflict, caught him off guard.
Seeing the surprise on Issho's face, Maude smiled. "Don't worry. I'll spare their lives."
Issho nodded. To him, such words were only natural coming from Maude.
However, to Momonga, Maude's words were unbearably provocative.
"Spare our lives?"
Dalmatian let out an angry, mocking laugh, utterly baffled by where Maude's confidence came from.
If he voiced this question aloud, Maude would answer plainly: Where does my confidence come from? Why, it's standing right beside me.
Though Issho refrained from direct involvement, his presence alone ensured Maude's safety.
This assurance was Maude's "confidence."
Additionally, Maude saw this as an opportunity to test the limits of his newfound strength.
With Issho and Lafitte watching his back, Momonga, a seasoned Vice Admiral, was the perfect sparring partner.
With a resonant metallic clang, Maude drew his blade, Chidori, and began advancing.
Lafitte and Issho stood still, silently observing his retreating figure.
Momonga sneered as he watched Maude approach.
An adept swordsman himself, Momonga was also highly skilled in the Rokushiki techniques.
"Shave!"
With a burst of speed generated by explosive footwork, Momonga dashed toward Maude, disappearing from sight.
However, such speed was inconsequential before the perception of Observation Haki.
A faint red glimmer flashed in Maude's eyes as he effortlessly shifted his position, vanishing into the breeze.
Clang!
Fire sparks burst into the air as their blades clashed mid-strike.
The surrounding Marines, who had formed a battle line, watched with grim faces.
Though they could vaguely sense the movements of Maude and Momonga, they were incapable of keeping up with their precise actions or providing any assistance.
In the midst of the battlefield, after a brief initial clash, Maude and Momonga reappeared, locking eyes for a fleeting moment.
They immediately vanished again, their movements too fast for the naked eye to follow.
Sparks flared repeatedly in the open plain, each clash releasing waves of slashing energy that scarred the ground with jagged gashes.
"So, this is what it means to be six-star level…"
Within mere seconds, Maude and Momonga had exchanged dozens of strikes.
In terms of both strength and speed, Maude was evenly matched, feeling no pressure.
As he adapted to the rhythm of battle, Maude discovered the most significant change brought by his ascension to six-star level: an unparalleled harmony of strength, agility, and coordination.
Previously, against formidable opponents, he would occasionally feel stifled—whether when deflecting a strike, counterattacking, or adjusting to his opponent's rhythm.
But now, that suffocating feeling was gone.
Was it because Momonga's strength fell short? Or had Maude truly reached a new plateau?
Embracing this newfound clarity, Maude abandoned all reservations.
No longer holding back, every move he made carried his full intent and strength, leaving no room for retreat.
To wield every strike with unrelenting momentum—this was his approach now.
The essence of Haki was, at its core, the embodiment of one's will.
By overwhelming his opponent, Maude infused his attacks with an undeniable force, amplifying their impact.
In a battle of equals, this could tilt the scales in a single decisive moment.
"Leave no room for retreat, and no room for hesitation."
Fully grasping the transformations brought by his six-star level physique, Maude's eyes gleamed brightly.
With a sudden, decisive slash, he unleashed a blade of deep blue energy, forcing Momonga back several steps.
Momonga retreated, his gaze sharpening as he noticed Maude's blade now coated in dense Armament Haki.
After hundreds of exchanges, Momonga now had a clearer grasp of Maude's abilities.
Maude's strength was undeniably worthy of his 360-million bounty. If that bounty were raised to 500 million, Momonga wouldn't find it unreasonable.
"Hmm?"
At that moment, Vice Admiral Momonga sharply sensed Maude's aura rising.
With a single thought, he unleashed his Armament Haki at full power, coating his blade and entire arm.
"So you want to settle this in a single move, huh?"
Realizing Maude's intent, Vice Admiral Momonga gripped his sword with both hands, angling the blade toward his opponent.
"If you think you can, then give it a shot!"
Flying Squirrel Style: Gale Slash!
With a forceful step forward, Vice Admiral Momonga shot toward Maude like an arrow, but without utilizing the "Shave" technique.
His body, charging low across the open field, stirred up visible whirlwinds that spiraled around his blade.
The disturbed airflow carved deep, dirt-exposing grooves into the grass along his path.
Vice Admiral Momonga advanced with overwhelming momentum.
Maude's expression remained calm as he flipped his wrist, leveling the Chidori blade in front of him.
The essence of the Hidden Blade Style lay in its sensory deception. In principle, the more afterimages created during an attack, the more effective the technique.
Only by perfecting this deception could one truly mask the fatal strike.
However—
To an experienced master, no matter how many afterimages there were, they would amount to nothing more than flashy, superficial tricks.
"One will suffice."
Suddenly, Maude grinned, his leg muscles tensing before he pushed off the ground.
Boom!
The earth shattered beneath him, sending dust and debris flying.
Maude shot forward.
Hidden Blade Style: Pisces!
The Chidori swung out, unleashing a crescent-shaped arc of black energy that raced straight toward Vice Admiral Momonga's wind-shrouded blade.
"You're too slow," Momonga declared, a sharp glint flashing in his eyes.
His wind-wrapped sword outpaced the incoming black arc, striking directly at Maude's vital point.
In a duel like this, even a 0.1-second advantage could decisively determine the outcome.
It was this tiny edge in speed that led Momonga to believe he already saw the conclusion.
The outcome was set.
The 360-million-berry bounty pirate, Bacardi Maude, would undoubtedly die under this strike.
As Momonga's Gale Slash closed in on Maude's death line, the decisive moment arrived—
But then—
Within the seemingly slower black crescent slash, a smaller, faster white blade projection suddenly emerged.
Black for feint, white for reality.
The black slash was slower by a fraction, but the white slash was faster by the same margin.
The white blade projection struck Momonga directly.
As the strike landed, Momonga's Gale Slash, which was poised to take Maude's life in the next instant, suddenly froze mid-air as if time itself had stopped.
It could advance no further, falling short by the most crucial inch.
And it was that single inch that left Momonga sighing in defeat.
Maude, without losing momentum, passed by Momonga's body, halting only after advancing ten paces.
"Looks like my blade was faster."
Stopping in place, Maude held the Chidori aloft. The glaring sunlight reflected off the blade, scattering white light in all directions.
Behind him, Vice Admiral Momonga stood frozen, his pupils trembling violently, his face painted with disbelief.
"Urgh!"
Suddenly, Momonga tilted his head back and coughed up a large mouthful of blood. The impact of the strike forced him to his knees.
"How could this happen?!"
The Marines who had followed Vice Admiral Momonga onto the battlefield watched in shock as their formidable leader was defeated by Maude.
This pirate, infamously known as the "Cold-Blooded Butcher," had just demonstrated overwhelming strength that even Momonga could not match.
The morale of the Marine forces, which had been soaring moments ago, now cracked under the weight of their leader's defeat.
Maude ignored the stunned stares of the surrounding Marines and didn't even glance back at Momonga.
He said indifferently, "You should consider yourself lucky. In the last moment, I managed to spare enough time to flip my blade, so you wouldn't meet your end here."
"You…"
Momonga, still facing away from Maude, trembled as his pupils flickered.
In a life-or-death clash where victory was decided in an instant, this man had managed to reverse his blade at the last moment.
Completely defeated.
The breath Momonga had been barely holding onto now faltered entirely, becoming chaotic.
He would have preferred to die by Maude's hand than endure the humiliation of this outcome.
"Kill me!"
On his knees, the utterly defeated Momonga stared blankly, his face drained of color.
"I already told you—I'm leaving you alive. But you seem to think that's a joke."
Maude's gaze was sharp as a blade, though his tone remained calm.
"..."
Momonga coughed up another mouthful of thick blood.
The back-handed slash hadn't killed him, but it had inflicted devastating internal injuries.
"Next time, you won't be so lucky. Cherish this chance."
Before his words had fully landed, Maude turned toward the elite Marine troops who had begun to advance.
In just a few swift motions, Maude used the back of his blade to knock down over ten Marines.
Without being occupied by a high-level opponent, dealing with these Marines was merely a matter of time.
Lafitte, standing nearby, didn't just observe idly; he joined the fray.
Following Maude's lead, Lafitte refrained from lethal blows. He didn't even draw his sword, opting instead to knock out Marines with his cane.
The two of them worked in unison, toppling the entire squad of elite Marines in less than twenty minutes.
From beginning to end, Issho remained on the sidelines, quietly observing the battle.
However, his "gaze" had been fixed on Maude throughout.
That one strike, which defeated Vice Admiral Momonga, left Issho inwardly amazed.
It wasn't merely about its brilliance; it was the seamless integration of aura into technique, as well as the rapid progress Maude had made in such a short time.
When Issho had sparred with him not long ago, Maude had yet to display such evident strength.
But now, it was as if Maude had undergone a transformation.
"Even his Haki has grown stronger," Issho thought silently.
Not far away, Vice Admiral Momonga could only watch helplessly as Maude and Lafitte dismantled his forces one by one.
As Maude had said—
They were lucky.
Otherwise, they'd all be corpses by now.
And the reason for this outcome was…
Vice Admiral Momonga struggled to turn his head, glancing at Issho, who stood with an unchanging calm.
Just who is this man?
In the field, Maude stood amidst the fallen Marines, some groaning in pain, others unconscious. Slowly, he sheathed the Chidori.
"Let's go back."
He glanced at Lafitte, who seemed less than satisfied with the battle.
Lafitte nodded.
"Ding ding—"
At that moment, the distinct sound of a bicycle bell rang out in the distance.
A tall man in a white suit pedaled into view.
"Aokiji…"
Seeing the towering figure riding toward them, Maude and Lafitte's expressions shifted.
Issho quickly turned toward Aokiji, sighing, "Now, that's quite the arrival."
The appearance of Aokiji filled the injured Momonga and his defeated Marines with renewed hope and relief.
"Ah, did I… miss something?"
Aokiji stopped his bike, his eyes landing on Maude standing amidst the Marine troops.
Yawning widely, he sighed, "Seems like oversleeping isn't such a great habit. Guess I'll have to work on that."
He glanced over the injured and fallen Marines, his gaze lingering on Momonga's critical state.
What puzzled him most was that Maude—known for his ruthless ways—had chosen not to deliver fatal blows.
Confusion flickered briefly in Aokiji's eyes before he looked back at Maude, remarking, "It's been a while since I last saw you, Maude. What was it—a year? Two? Eh, not important. What's important is… you've changed."
Maude replied calmly, "Not bad, I guess. But if it's you, I'd still have to run. By the way, there's an eye booger near your eye."
"Oh? Then why haven't you run yet?"
Aokiji casually wiped at his eye, his attention shifting toward Issho.
"Is it because of him?"
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