"Fish-Man Karate?!!"
"He even knows that!!!"
When they saw Orin assume a striking stance, executing the flawless movements of Fish-Man Karate, Roger and the others were left dumbfounded.
They even suspected that Orin could reproduce all of their techniques.
And clearly, that was exactly his intention.
Withdrawing his fist to his waist, a ripple like flowing water spread out as Orin suddenly punched forward, colliding head-on with Sunbell's Punch.
The moment their fists connected, blood vessels burst in Sunbell's eyes!!!
This force…
Is this guy really human!!?
As a member of the Fish-Men—naturally five times stronger than humans—Sunbell was among the most physically powerful of his kind. In battle, he was always the Roger Pirates' main force in the front lines.
But facing Orin, he felt as though he was confronting a Sea King.
Not the kind that could be scared off with a glare, but the colossal kind, tens of thousands of meters long, whose every movement brought disaster!!!
Fish-Man striking technique combined with Orin's monstrous strength made Sunbell's hand bones throb in agony, as though they had cracked.
Bang—
Orin grinned, adding a second burst of power. In an instant—
A clean, decisive punch landed, blasting Sunbell straight into the sea.
Luckily, being a Fish-Man, crashing into the ocean wasn't a big problem.
But when he surfaced again, Orin was already clashing with the other members of the Roger Pirates.
Without exception, apart from truly unique, talent-based moves, Orin could use everything.
No matter the martial art or technique, he could beat them using their own skills.
This was the power of copying!
Roger and his crew just stared in shock. Seeing their comrades defeated by Orin but still alive, they weren't panicked, just wide-eyed.
"No way…"
"You can even do that??"
Finally, Rayleigh, blood at the corner of his mouth, stumbled back from a deep crater and rejoined them. Only then did they remember—
Oh right, they were still in the middle of a battle.
But Rayleigh wasn't in the mood to scold the two hotheads. Clutching his chest, he looked at Orin thoughtfully.
"Holding Ace, showing no real hostility or killing intent toward us, able to use all our techniques, black hair, Conqueror's Haki not inferior to Roger's…"
"Who exactly is this young man…?"
...
In the blink of an eye, nearly everyone was down. The only one left facing Orin in his own field was Petermoo.
Orin's true teacher stood on the lookout platform, rifle in hand, crosshairs locked on Orin.
"You martial arts masters lost to a youngster, huh?"
"Guess it's time for a sniper to show what we can do. I don't believe you can copy this…"
Through careful observation, Petermoo had already judged Orin to be a top-class expert in both martial arts and swordsmanship.
So while the other crewmates despaired after being beaten in their specialties, Petermoo was smug.
Standing tall, Observation Haki fixed on Orin, his scope constantly tracking, crosshairs locked.
But then, Orin slowly turned his head toward him and snapped his fingers.
Click—
A black sniper rifle appeared in his hand.
"???"
Petermoo froze. His eyes twitched as he saw Orin raise the gun in a stance so perfect, so professional, that it was terrifying.
"Hey… you've got to be kidding me…"
Cold sweat trickled down his forehead. Forcing himself to remain calm—since composure and steady breathing were essential to a sniper—he focused.
And Orin did it flawlessly.
But he didn't fire first. He simply aimed back at Petermoo, calm and steady.
Moments later—
Bang—
The first gunshot came from Petermoo's side. The bullet, coated in Armament Haki, ripped through the air like a line of light.
But to Orin's Observation Haki, the trajectory was clear.
Bang—
Without hesitation, Orin fired back. His reaction speed was almost too fast, as though he could respond to bullets themselves.
The counter-shot made Petermoo's pupils contract violently, his carefully controlled breathing and heartbeat thrown into chaos.
What had he just seen?
His bullet… had been shot down?!!!
"Useless…"
Scarlet light flickered in Orin's eyes. One after another, Petermoo's shots failed.
Orin even showed off—
For instance, when Petermoo fired two shots in succession, Orin deflected the first, which then ricocheted perfectly into the second.
That was true skill.
Did you really think Orin's title of "World's Greatest Sniper" came only from Haki and a Devil Fruit?
Eventually, Petermoo stopped shooting altogether.
This was just bullying…
After shattering the Roger Pirates' confidence, Orin sat cross-legged on the Oro Jackson, Ace and the black rifle resting at his side. Looking down at the trio of Gold, Silver, and Bronze, he smiled nostalgically.
"My name is Orin. Want to keep fighting?"
"This isn't over, of course…"
Then came a storm of Conqueror's Haki Infusion and slashing strikes, tearing sky and earth apart. Half of Narcissus Star Island was reduced to ruins.
Yet Orin endured, holding out against the three of them for seven days and seven nights.
...
"Banquet time!!!"
"Yeahhhh!!!"
Both Orin and the Roger Pirates had subconsciously protected the Oro Jackson throughout the battle.
Now, a festive atmosphere covered the entire deck.
Sitting aboard the ship, Orin looked at the all-too-familiar scene, memories flooding back.
His vision blurred.
Drip…
Drip…
"Hey!!! You beat the crap out of us, and you're the one crying?!"
Roger, face bruised and body wrapped in bandages, glared at Orin—who looked almost completely unscathed aside from his pale face.
What the hell was this guy crying for?
"No… it's nothing…"
Orin tried to control it, but failed. He could only teleport his tears away.
Roger gave him a strange look, suspicion in his eyes, before turning toward Ace at Orin's waist.
He could tell—this was the real Ace.
Instinctively, he used the "Voice of All Things" to listen.
But the sword only mumbled vague, incoherent words.
Expressions of nostalgia, emotion, reunion…
Roger paused, then glanced back at the lively banquet on the Oro Jackson, and the dazed Orin sitting silently.
For some reason, his own heart felt heavy.
After a brief silence, he broke into a broad grin.
He didn't say much to comfort him—just patted Orin on the shoulder.
It was the same gesture he used to make when Orin was a child, gnawing on a meat bone while listening to the crew's tall tales. Roger would grin, teeth flashing, and throw an arm around him.
"Orin, as a man of the sea… you can't cry so easily."
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Pls Drop some Power Stones
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