Aboard the ship of the Blood Skull Pirates, chaos erupted.
"What in the world!?"
Seeing Silas leap from his ship and sprint across the open air toward the distant island, the eyes of the pirates on deck nearly popped out of their sockets.
"How is that person flying?"
"That has to be the White Wolf, right?"
"This is bad, Captain! Silas is getting away!"
Farrell violently shoved aside a panicking crewman. "Get lost! I don't need you to tell me that," he cursed, his face a mask of fury. "Full speed ahead! Now!"
In the New World, flight was not an impossible feat, but mastering a skill like the Six Powers' Moonwalk was reserved for a select few. Blood Skull Farrell was not one of them. All he could do was furiously order the helmsman to make for the island where Silas had landed.
"Captain Farrell, what about that ship?" the young traitor asked, pointing a trembling finger at Silas's vessel, which was now engulfed in flames from the earlier cannonade.
"Who cares about that wreck?" Farrell snapped, his mood turning fouler by the second. At their current speed, it would take nearly half an hour to reach the island. By then, who knew how much time the old wolf would have had to recover. His entire strategy had revolved around draining Silas's stamina from a safe distance. The sudden appearance of an island had ruined everything.
Dammit! A stamina-depleted Silas and a fully-rested Silas were two completely different opponents. Farrell had been confident he could take on a weakened legend, but a fair fight was another story entirely.
His sour gaze fell upon the young traitor. With ill intent, he said, "Since you care so much about that ship, why don't you go over and take a look? Maybe you can even put out the fire."
Farrell had noticed another person on Silas's ship, likely a helmsman. Silas had abandoned him without a second thought, which only confirmed Farrell's cynical view of the pirate world. When disaster strikes, it is every man for himself. Silas's actions fit the mold perfectly.
"Alright!"
To Farrell's surprise, the young man gritted his teeth, took a running start, and actually jumped overboard, swimming frantically toward the burning vessel.
Farrell had only one assessment for such an act.
Idiot.
On the nameless island, Silas finally touched down on the sandy shore.
After running for over ten kilometers using Moonwalk, even with his old injuries healed, he could not help but pant for breath. Age, it seemed, was a relentless opponent.
Since I've already run off, he thought, catching his breath, those fools from the Blood Skull crew shouldn't keep chasing my ship, right? An old, broken-down vessel was worthless. Pirates fought for fame or fortune, not for scraps. The smart move would be to pursue him with all their might, because with every passing second, his stamina was returning. Once he was fully restored and hidden on this island, it would be difficult to say who was hunting whom.
But what if they continued to fire on his ship?
"Then it's just bad luck for Rocks," Silas concluded coldly. He wasn't going to risk his neck against a 160-million-Belly pirate in his prime without a plan. He was seventy years old, not twenty. The days of reckless rampages were long behind him.
Just as he was contemplating his next move, his idiotic system acted up again. But this time, as he read the information on the glowing panel, an unprecedented light burst forth from his somewhat cloudy eyes.
In a narrow pass, the brave one prevails. Fleeing is the choice of a coward. Faced with an old pirate in his twilight years, you should fight back bravely, not run away.
Mission: Defeat Blood Skull Farrell head-on.
Reward: Aptitude for Conqueror's Haki, slight increase in cellular activity!
Aptitude for Conqueror's Haki!
Silas never imagined the system would offer such a staggering reward for dealing with a relative nobody like Blood Skull Farrell. In the New World, Haki users were plentiful, but Conqueror's Haki was different. It was the quality of kings. You either had it, or you did not. Without it, you lost your ticket to stand at the very pinnacle of the world.
Regrettably, Silas did not possess it. It was the one barrier he could never overcome, the reason he could never truly reach the apex. The strength of a warrior, like a bucket, is determined by its shortest plank. And now, he had a chance to mend that fatal flaw.
"Blood Skull Farrell, is it?" The old pirate licked his lips. Watching the enemy ship draw ever closer, a savage expression appeared on his face for the first time in years. "Since the system is being so generous, you can do me the favor of dying."
Urged on by Farrell, the pirates rowed with all their might, cutting the half-hour voyage down to a mere twenty minutes. Silas had only been on the island for fifteen of them.
"In such a short time, I refuse to believe you've fully recovered!" Farrell planted his feet on the bow, his gaze sweeping across the island. His biggest fear was that Silas had hidden himself, which would force them to split up and search, making them vulnerable. His plan was to swarm the old man, wear him down with numbers, and then deliver the final blow himself. It was a strategy that had felled many opponents stronger than him.
"Will you hide, White Wolf Silas?"
Suddenly, Farrell's pupils constricted into pinpricks, and a cruel smile spread across his lips. He saw him. Silas was standing right there on the beach, waiting.
"Hahahaha, Silas! Since you're so eager to die, then I'll grant your wish!" he roared. Today, he would kill a legend and make the name of the White Wolf his stepping stone to glory. "Fire the cannons!"
But Silas moved faster than his command. On the beach, he began to walk slowly toward the approaching ship. A terrifying aura began to rise from his body, honed from decades of relentless training since the day he first set sail. His mastery had long reached perfection. And the war technique of the giants, Hakoku, was the absolute pinnacle of that skill.
A fierce wind whipped up around him as the very air compressed, creating a vacuum around his form. Unlike the casual demonstration on the ship before, this time was different. This time, Silas would use all his strength to truly manifest the ultimate technique.
He raised his sword.
"Hakoku!"
With a low roar, he swung.
A shockwave of pure, compressed force erupted from his blade, a blast so immense that even Rocks, struggling to put out the fires on the ship far in the distance, could see its white arc.
Under this single, devastating blow, the sea itself was torn asunder. Every obstacle in the shockwave's path was utterly destroyed.
The ship of the Blood Skull Pirates was no exception.
The vessel was torn to pieces, its hull splintering into nothingness. The countless pirates on board had no time to scream, no chance to struggle, before they were pulverized into dust by the terrifying impact.
With one strike, Silas had erased the Blood Skull Pirates from existence.
In that moment, Rocks completely forgot how he had been tricked. He stared, his face flushed beet-red beneath his messy black hair, his heart pounding in his chest.
"That technique… I have to learn it!"
[Chapter Complete]
***
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