The ship sailed across the vast ocean for several days.
Kyle's body had an astonishing recovery ability. With no need to worry about food or water over the past few days, the wound beneath his ribs had completely healed. Now, he felt more energetic than ever.
Each day, he watched Roger laughing into the sea breeze at the bow, arm wrestling with Rayleigh (usually ending with Roger cheating), or humming some tuneless sea shanty. The overflowing vitality radiating from the deck ignited a burning desire in Kyle's heart.
That afternoon, the sun was high and bright, and the sea breeze was gentle.
Roger had just finished gnawing on a large piece of roasted sea monster leg and was picking his teeth with satisfaction.
Rayleigh leaned against the mast, quietly polishing his plain but deadly sharp Western sword.
Kyle stretched out his limbs, feeling the power surging through his body. Finally, he could no longer hold back. He strode over to Roger with blazing determination in his eyes.
"Captain!" Roger lazily looked up. "Hm? What is it, little Kyle—hungry again?"
"Fight me, Captain!" Kyle's voice wasn't loud, but it burned with the courage of a youth unafraid of tigers. He needed to understand the distance between himself and Roger.
Roger paused mid-toothpick, then erupted into his signature laugh: "Hahaha! Interesting!"
Rayleigh paused as well, a glint of amusement behind his glasses as he glanced over, clearly intrigued.
The deck was quickly cleared to make space.
Kyle took a deep breath and settled into a fighting stance.
He knew the gap between him and Roger was enormous—but that very gap fueled his desire to challenge it. He wanted to know how many moves he could last against the man destined to become Pirate King if he went all out.
"Here I come, Captain!" As soon as he finished speaking, Kyle's figure wavered slightly.
"Light Veil Mirage!"
The waves in the air shimmered like ripples on the water. In the blink of an eye, three identical Kyles appeared on the deck!
Each one radiated the same energy, wore the same expression, and it was impossible to distinguish the real from the fake.
All three rushed at Roger from different directions with a whistling momentum!
Kyle, on the left, went for a knife-hand strike to Roger's neck. The one on the right aimed a fierce kick at Roger's lower body. And the frontmost Kyle clenched his fists, ready to deliver a shock punch straight to the chest.
This was the best combination Kyle could think of—merging illusion with offense. Even if only one was real, the other two were enough to confuse and disrupt the enemy, creating that crucial opening.
Roger! Let's see how you handle this threefold combo of devil fruit ability applied with physics!
Faced with the sudden multi-directional assault, Roger merely stood there lazily, still picking his nose. His grin didn't waver—but there was a flicker of approval in his eyes.
Just as the three Kyles' attacks were about to land, Roger moved. His motion wasn't fast. In fact, it was shockingly simple.
No dodging. No blocking.
He casually raised his right hand and threw a laid-back hook toward Kyle directly in front of him.
"Bang!" A muffled impact.
"Pfft—!" The illusions shattered in an instant. Kyle felt an overwhelming force slam into his abdomen. His vision spun violently, and his mind went completely blank.
His body curled mid-air like a boiled shrimp, both feet lifting off the deck before he crumpled like a rag doll. He hit the planks with a soft thud, eyes rolling back as he passed out cold.
The entire exchange was so fast it felt like a blink.
One second, three Kyles were charging forward with flair. Next, there was only one Kyle—unconscious on the deck, sleeping like a peaceful baby.
Silence blanketed the ship, broken only by the canvas fluttering in the wind.
Roger withdrew his fist and casually shook his hand, as if brushing off a speck of dust.
He looked down at the unconscious Kyle and grinned. "Haha! It's good to be young—you can fall asleep just like that!"
Rayleigh strolled over, glanced at Kyle lying on the deck, and let out a helpless chuckle. "Looks like he won't wake up before dinner. Roger, you're still as merciless as ever."
"Hahaha! Little Kyle's got strength!" Roger laughed heartily, bent down, and effortlessly hoisted Kyle up like a sack of potatoes, slinging him over his shoulder.
"Come on, Rayleigh! Let's see if we can reel in something big for tomorrow's dinner!"
---
The rich aroma of roasting meat acted like an invisible hook, slowly reeling Kyle back to consciousness.
He opened his eyes to the warm afterglow of sunset filtering through the porthole, casting orange-red hues across the gently rocking cabin.
His stomach growled loudly, and the dull ache in his ribs and gut reminded him of the brutal 'duel' he had lost that afternoon.
"Ugh…" Kyle groaned, holding his forehead as he sat up. Thankfully, he hadn't traveled through time again.
"Hey, you're awake?" Roger's booming voice came from outside the cabin, clearly amused.
Supporting himself on the wall, Kyle staggered out.
On the deck, a bonfire blazed. A plump seabird of unknown species was being roasted to a golden brown over the flames, its fat dripping and crackling, releasing a mouthwatering aroma.
Roger sat nearby with a dagger in hand, carving off hunks of meat and stuffing them into his mouth, his lips gleaming with grease.
Rayleigh sat neatly to the side, slicing his meat with refined elegance—his composed manner a striking contrast to Roger's wild feasting.
"Hahaha! Perfect timing, little Kyle! Tomorrow's catch is gonna be even better!" Roger spotted him, waved enthusiastically, and pointed to an empty wooden crate by the fire.
Kyle's stomach rumbled louder in protest. He shuffled over and plopped down, accepting the knife and fork Rayleigh silently handed him.
He was so starved he had no time for manners. Following Roger's lead, he grabbed a bird's leg with both hands and tore into it ravenously.
"Mmm… Very good!" The meat was juicy and tender, with a subtle smokiness. To Kyle, it was the most delicious thing he'd eaten since arriving in this world.
After devouring most of the roast, Kyle finally quelled the gnawing hunger. He let out a loud burp—then suddenly recalled the humiliation of the afternoon.
Setting down the gnawed bone, he turned toward Roger, who was now leisurely picking his teeth, looking thoroughly pleased.
"Captain," Kyle's voice was laced with mixed emotions—respect, frustration, and curiosity, "What was that punch earlier today? I used Wave Mirage to attack from three directions at once…"
He still couldn't figure out how Roger had instantly locked onto his real body and knocked him out cold with one effortless strike.
Roger paused, glanced at him, then flashed a broad grin. "Oh, that?" He raised the fist that had sent Kyle flying and gave it a playful shake in front of him. With the air of someone stating the obvious, he said, "Just a 'bang'—and you fell asleep! Hahaha!"
Kyle's mouth twitched. "I mean… how did you do it?"
"Hmm…" Roger rubbed his chin, pretending to ponder. After a moment, he slapped his thigh and exclaimed, "Maybe you're just too fragile? Those three shadows confused my eyes, so I picked the one I liked best and punched him! Didn't expect to hit the jackpot! Pure luck! Hahaha!"
Pure luck?! Kyle nearly choked. That kind of Versailles-style answer hurt more than just being called weak.
Rayleigh, who had been quietly observing, set down his utensils, dabbed his mouth with a napkin, and said with a faint smile behind his glasses, "Roger simply didn't want to waste energy figuring out your illusions. To him, it doesn't matter which one he hits."
Kyle: "…"
Roger roared with laughter. "Rayleigh gets me! Little Kyle, your devil fruit ability isn't bad, and the idea's clever—but you've got a long way to go!"
Kyle was speechless, his face flushed. Even though they weren't mocking him, the brutal truth still hit hard. He had thought his ability gave him a clear edge among peers, but he hadn't even lasted one move against Roger.
Frustration swelled in his chest—but so did something fiercer: determination.
"Captain!" Kyle suddenly stood, his eyes blazing with resolve. "Please teach me how to become stronger!"
Both Roger and Rayleigh turned toward him, visibly surprised.
Roger studied Kyle with newfound interest. His deep eyes gleamed with an unreadable light. He tossed aside the toothpick and grinned—not just teasingly this time, but with a faint, genuine approval.
"Kuhahaha! Look at that fire in your eyes!" Roger stood and stepped forward.
"Want to get stronger?" He clapped a hand on Kyle's shoulder—so hard it nearly made him stumble. "Good!"
Then Roger pulled back, placed his hands on his hips, and with the grandeur of someone making a royal decree, proclaimed, "Since you're so fired up, starting today, Rayleigh and I will personally train you!"
"Kuhahaha! Don't come crying or begging for mercy, little Kyle! And don't you dare die by accident!" Roger's laugh grew louder and more maniacal, as if he could already see Kyle collapsing from exhaustion.
Kyle swallowed hard. Roger's gleeful expression practically screamed I live for chaos, while Rayleigh gave him a calm look that clearly said, Good luck—you'll need it.
"…Yes, Captain!" Even sensing that the road ahead would be filled with blood, sweat, and suffering, Kyle still clenched his fists and shouted his response with unwavering resolve.