Osten's attacks grew increasingly frenzied as his frustration mounted. Rebecca was barely holding on—one misstep, and she'd be gravely injured.
Now in his hybrid form, Osten adopted a peculiar stance—wings spread wide, one claw forward, the other back, balancing on a single leg like a deranged crane.
'This is his trump card.'
Rebecca's grip tightened on her sword. She focused entirely on him, bracing for the coming assault.
"Spiral Skyrend Claw!"
Osten spun.
Faster.
Faster.
A whirlwind erupted, tearing planks from the deck and hurling them into the sea. His form blurred into a living tornado, barreling toward Rebecca.
She slashed—deflected.
Again—knocked back.
Now, she was the one retreating.
Victor watched closely, ready to intervene.
His own battle with Queen had reached a stalemate—if he pressed further, Queen would crush the Mummy Bomb. If he didn't, this dragged on.
A deadly game of chicken.
Meanwhile, Rebecca hit the ship's railing—nowhere left to run.
Osten's cyclone closed in.
In that moment, Wendy's words echoed in her mind:
'"Victor and Gion train together because they're equals. Strength calls to strength."'
A fire ignited in Rebecca's chest.
"I 'will' get stronger."
"I 'won't' rely on Victor forever."
"I'll stand beside him—not behind him!"
She closed her eyes.
Darkness.
Then—light.
Her mind's eye unfolded the battlefield:
- Osten's spinning form, muscles straining, tongue lolling—fatigue setting in.
- The cracked deck.
- Gion's worried gaze.
- Victor's towering silhouette.
- Even the frozen sea below, its infected fish darting wildly.
"The world... is so 'clear' now."
She stepped forward—past Osten's whirlwind untouched.
Her eyes snapped open.
Observation Haki—awakened.
A grin split her face. '"This is what Victor meant by 'Will'! I can help him now! I—"'
Then—Victor's face.
His mouth open in a shout.
His eyes—terrified.
"REBECCA! BEHIND—!"
Too late.
CRUNCH.
Pain exploded across her back as Osten's claw struck. Her vision whited out.
The last thing she heard was Victor's voice, distant yet desperate:
"NO—!"
---
Victor's blade bisected Osten mid-leap, the raptor's two halves hitting the deck with a wet thud. He caught Rebecca mid-air, her body limp.
---
Moments Later
Victor soared away from the 'Brachiosaurus', Rebecca and Gion in his arms.
Queen watched them shrink into the horizon, then glanced at the carnage—Osten's corpse, the fallen pirates.
A cruel smirk twisted his lips.
Stumbling into his quarters, he retrieved a Den Den Mushi. Back on deck, he dialed.
No answer.
He redialed.
This time, the snail's face morphed—not into Kaido's, but King's.
"You're alive, trash?" King's voice dripped disdain. "Saw your ugly mug earlier and almost didn't pick up."
"Shut it, scum," Queen growled. "Where's Lord Kaido?"
"Rushed off when your Vivre Card started burning. Wasted trip, apparently."
Queen exhaled. "Good. Tell him—this isn't just about me. It's about 'Wano'."
King's mockery vanished. "...Explain."
"It's related to my injuries today," Queen growled into the Den Den Mushi. "We ran into a Marine brat who somehow knew we've taken over Wano. If this leaks, the Roger and Whitebeard Pirates will come knocking."
A pause. Then King's voice turned deadly serious. "...That 'is' critical. But the All-King's already left—you know he never carries a Den Den Mushi. No way to contact him now."
"Doesn't matter," Queen spat, wincing as he pressed a bandage to his deepest wound. "As long as Lord Kaido's coming, that's enough. I've got patching up to do."
His body was a mess of unhealing gashes—Victor's slashes resisted even Ancient Zoan regeneration. Blood loss would've killed a lesser man, but Queen's lineage factor was stubborn.
---
Meanwhile, On the Marine Ship
The training vessel had put considerable distance between itself and the battlefield—thanks largely to Little Yellow's frantic paddling.
"Barnett... Do you think they'll be okay?" Phoebe asked, fingers gripping the railing. Their enemies weren't just any pirates—they were elites of the New World.
Barnett didn't hesitate. "Of course. Victor's beaten Vice Admirals. He won't fall here."
This wasn't blind reassurance. From the first day of training, every rumor, every witnessed feat, had cemented Barnett's belief:
'If they were pirates, he'd say Victor would be Pirate King.'
As Marines?
"He'll be Fleet Admiral. Sakazuki, Borsalino, Kuzan—they'll step aside. Mark my words, even the gods would applaud."
Barnett had already decided—after graduation, he'd follow Victor. Handle the politics Victor ignored. Do the dirty work Victor wouldn't. (Though he drew the line at romantic entanglements—some boundaries existed.)
Victor carried the weight of something monumental. While others slept, he trained. His weighted gear never came off. Conversations were transactional, not social. A man perpetually sharpening his blade for a storm only he saw coming.
Every cadet stared at the horizon where the pirate ship had vanished—except Little Yellow, who kept paddling obliviously.
"We've all seen Victor's strength. Have faith," Kevin added, his usual sarcasm absent.
"Kevin," Barnett turned. "Your Devil Fruit lets you fly. Can you scout ahead?"
"We owe him our lives again. Useless as we are..." Kevin sighed, stretching his wings. "I'll see what I—"
"LOOK! Something's coming!"
All eyes snapped to the bouncing black dot in the distance.
Closer.
Closer.
Then—recognition.
Victor, leaping across the waves via Moon Step, cradling both women. Blood streaked their uniforms.
"Gion! Rebecca! We're back!" Victor called as the ship came into view.
Gion lifted her head weakly, managing a smile. Rebecca remained unconscious.
The cadets cheered their return—then gasped at the injuries.
"Gion's alive! But Rebecca...!"