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"A falling star—turned into a person!!" The pirates on the ship stared in disbelief as Arthur emerged from the dissipating lightning.
"Captain, what do we do?" The crew looked to Avalo Pizarro for guidance.
"Whose ship do you think this is—kid? You think you can just—borrow it? Meow?" Pizarro, over ten feet tall, his features as fierce as a lion's, his speech oddly cat-like, glared at Arthur.
Such idiosyncrasies were common on the Grand Line, but the cat-like affectation—that was unique to Pizarro.
Arthur chuckled, his voice laced with amusement. "Everything on the sea belongs to pirates. I take what I want, When I want, And I pay If I feel like it. I don't need your permission."
Arthur's casual arrogance infuriated Pizarro, his eyes narrowing, a cruel, predatory glint in them. His epithet, "Corrupt King"—was well-earned.
He was known for his volatile temper, his ruthless nature. Anyone who crossed him, even his own crew faced his wrath.
"You've got guts, kid. Let's see how tough you talk after I crush every bone in your body!" He grinned, a predatory smile that sent shivers down the spines of his crew. Without another word—he charged, his massive frame like a raging lion, his fury palpable.
Even Arthur acknowledged Pizarro's strength—easily Vice Admiral level, surpassing most pirates. That raw power—it was impressive. No wonder he'd ended up in Level 6 of Impel Down.
But such strength no longer impressed Arthur. Only Admiral-level opponents were worthy of his full attention.
The Marines' Admirals were the strongest fighting force in the world, their power far greater than most realized. After all, how else could the Marines maintain control of the Grand Line?
Arthur watched as Pizarro charged, the force of his movement creating a powerful gust of wind that whipped Arthur's hair around him. Pizarro was easily a foot taller—his massive frame dwarfing Arthur's—but in terms of pure strength, two Pizarros wouldn't match Arthur.
As Pizarro's massive hand reached for him, Arthur sidestepped the attack, ignoring the force of the displaced air, his own hand shooting out, chopping down hard on the back of Pizarro's neck.
THUD!
Pizarro, caught off guard, his momentum carrying him forward, crashed headfirst into the ship's cabin.
BOOOOOM!
The cabin wall splintered, the entire ship groaning under the impact. Wood splinters flew—then silence.
"I just wanted to borrow your ship. There was no need for violence." Arthur adjusted his white robe, his voice calm, then turned his gaze to the terrified pirates, frozen on the deck. "Set sail for Sabaody."
Pizarro's crew, forcibly conscripted, their loyalty questionable, watched their captain's defeat without intervening.
Arthur's cold gaze cowed them into submission. They lowered their heads, the helmsman quickly resuming their course.
"Kid! I'll kill you! Meow!"
Pizarro, his thick neck seemingly unaffected by Arthur's blow, his resilience remarkable, emerged from the wreckage of the cabin, his muscular body covered in scars and bullet wounds—a testament to his violent past.
"Die! Meow!" His face a mask of rage, his cat-like eyes blazing with murderous intent, he drew a modified flintlock pistol and fired.
Firearms in the One Piece world, though crude in appearance, were still deadly.
And skilled marksmen were not uncommon.
Van Augur, of the Blackbeard Pirates, could snipe targets beyond the horizon with his modified rifle. Yasopp, of the Red Hair Pirates, could shoot the antennae off an ant from a hundred feet without harming the rest of it. Their skills were legendary.
Pizarro, wielding a pistol confidently, was clearly a skilled marksman.
He aimed, his Observation Haki predicting Arthur's movements, his Armament Haki coating the bullet...
Bang!
A spark erupted from the barrel, the lead ball hurtling towards Arthur like a bolt of lightning.
Coated in Haki, the bullet was immune to Arthur's Electromagnetism. But Arthur wasn't worried.
He smirked, catching the bullet between his teeth. He had done this before. His powerful jaws snapped shut.
He spat the bullet out, sneering. He'd risked this because Seastone bullets didn't exist yet. Vegapunk's technology, for now, was limited to cuffs and ship plating. And Arthur's enhanced bite force could crush almost anything. Against Pizarro—he didn't even need his lightning.
Pizarro stared—stunned, then his face twisted with rage, his pride wounded by Arthur's casual disregard.
"I said—I'm just borrowing your ship. Don't make me kill you." Though smaller than Pizarro, Arthur's voice carried an air of authority.
"I'll kill you! Meow!"
Pizarro, consumed by rage, threw his pistol aside and charged—his body hardening with Armament Haki, the sheer force of his movement creating a shockwave that sent the weaker pirates tumbling off the deck and into the sea.
He unleashed a punch—a blast of compressed air—from several yards away, the force of it exploding the air between them.
Almost every powerful fighter on the Grand Line could weaponize compressed air.
The pressure was intense. Pizarro, still in his prime, not yet weakened by the deprivations of Impel Down, was a formidable opponent.
"Get down—" Arthur roared, meeting Pizarro's attack head-on. He didn't dodge or flinch, his body taking the full force of the air blast. Then, with an explosive burst of speed, he launched himself forward, the deck splintering beneath his feet. Even without the added boost of lightning—his speed was still superhuman.
He closed the distance, his hand shooting out, his fingers clamping around Pizarro's thick neck before the pirate could even react.
Arthur lifted Pizarro's massive form into the air—then slammed him down onto the deck.
BOOOOOM!
Pizarro's head slammed against the wood, the impact knocking him unconscious.
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