The battle lines were drawn. The fate of the Baratie now rested on two simultaneous, desperate duels.
Gin, his face a mask of tormented conflict, faced Sanji. "I'm sorry, Sanji-san," he whispered, his voice thick with a regret that seemed to physically pain him. "This is my duty as a loyal officer of the Krieg Pirates."
"Save your apologies for hell," Sanji replied, his voice a low, dangerous rasp as he settled into his fighting stance. "We're on a battlefield. There are no excuses here. Now, come on."
With a roar that was more anguish than aggression, Gin shot forward.
His combat style was a symphony of brutal efficiency. He wielded two massive, steel-tipped tonfas, not as blunt instruments, but as extensions of his own will, spinning them in a dizzying, impenetrable defense that could shift to a deadly offense in a heartbeat. He was no mere brawler; he was a highly disciplined weapon. The steel ends of his weapons met Sanji's hard-soled shoes with a series of sharp, metallic shrieks that set teeth on edge.
Sanji, in contrast, was a whirlwind of dangerous elegance. His kicks were not just powerful; they were precise, fluid, each movement flowing into the next like a deadly dance. For the first few moments, they were perfectly matched, a beautiful, violent ballet of black-suited grace against disciplined, military-style brutality.
The Krieg Pirates, watching from the wreckage, began to mutter nervously. "Is Gin actually struggling against a cook?"
Don Krieg, however, just let out a low, guttural laugh. "You fools know nothing. Look closer."
His voice boomed with a captain's pride, a master appreciating his finest weapon. "Gin is a demon. A cold-blooded, unfeeling demon. I didn't place him as my fleet's battle commander because he was merely strong. I placed him there because he can kill without pity, without hesitation, without a flicker of emotion. Men call him the 'Man-Demon' for a reason. He will not lose to the likes of a mere cook."
And Krieg was right. The longer the fight dragged on, the more the tide began to turn. Sanji's movements, while still graceful, were losing their razor-sharp edge. The wounds he had sustained from Pearl's earlier assault were a debt now coming due with interest. His ribs screamed in protest with every pivot, his head throbbed with a dull, persistent ache that clouded his focus.
Gin, the seasoned warrior, saw this weakness instantly. He pressed his advantage, his attacks becoming more relentless, more ferocious, a storm of steel that forced Sanji onto the back foot. The cooks of the Baratie watched, their knuckles white, their faces pale with worry.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the floating battlefield, Luffy, filled with a straightforward, simple fury, charged directly at Don Krieg.
Krieg's entire suit of golden Wootz steel armor was a symphony of hidden death. With a series of clicks and hisses, small ports slid open all over his shoulder pads and gauntlets, revealing the muzzles of countless hidden weapons.
"Take this, you rubber monkey!"
He unleashed a barrage of micro-bombs and sharp, barbed spears. The deck around Luffy erupted in a series of fiery explosions and splintering wood. Luffy was forced to dodge and weave frantically, his rubbery body contorting in impossible ways to avoid the deadly, unpredictable projectiles.
One of the spears, however, found its mark. It shot forward with vicious speed, and Luffy, misjudging its trajectory, was unable to fully dodge. The sharp, barbed tip pierced clean through his straw sandal and the top of his foot, pinning him to the wooden deck right at the edge of the shattered platform with a sickening thunk.
"GAAAH!" he cried out in pain, the force of the blow nearly sending him toppling into the sea below.
He gritted his teeth, grabbing the spear's shaft and trying to rip it out of his foot as the wood groaned under the strain.
"What's wrong?" Krieg mocked from a distance, his voice dripping with condescension. "Is that all you've got? Aren't you going to fight me directly?"
"Stop hiding behind your stupid toys and fight me like a man!" Luffy roared back, finally yanking the spear free with a spray of blood.
Krieg just laughed, a sound like grinding metal. "You truly are a monkey, attacking with the mindless fury of a beast and not the mind of a conqueror. On the battlefield, the only thing that matters is the elimination of your opponent. Any method that achieves that goal is a valid tactic. Honor is a luxury for fools and corpses!"
Back in the other fight, a wet, snapping sound echoed across the deck, audible even over the chaos.
"I heard it! He broke his bone!" one of the Krieg pirates cheered.
Gin had landed a devastating, bone-jarring blow with his tonfa against Sanji's side, fracturing a rib with the brutal impact. Sanji gasped, the pain a blinding, white-hot nova, his defense faltering for a crucial second.
Gin did not hesitate. He unleashed a merciless, methodical dismantling. It wasn't a wild flurry; it was a calculated ten-hit combination, each blow aimed to maximize damage, to break down the cook's body piece by piece. The Krieg Pirates erupted in cheers as Gin stood over Sanji's broken, barely conscious form. The fight was over.
"Finish him, Gin!" Krieg commanded, his voice booming with satisfaction.
Gin raised his tonfa high, its steel tip glinting, ready to deliver the final, killing blow. This was it. His duty. His loyalty to the man who commanded the most powerful force in the East Blue.
But as he looked down at the bloodied, defeated man at his feet, another image flashed in his mind, a ghost of a memory from a day that felt like a lifetime ago.
It was the memory of a plate of steaming hot pilaf, the aroma a stark contrast to the stench of blood and seawater. The memory of a simple glass of water, more precious than any treasure. The memory of a quiet voice saying, "My job is to feed hungry people. That's all."
The tonfa in his hand began to tremble.
His arm began to shake.
The "Demon" persona, the cold-blooded killer that had been forged in the hell of the Grand Line, began to crack and crumble.
He looked at the man he was about to murder, the only person who had ever treated him with unconditional kindness, who had seen him not as a pirate or a weapon, but simply as a starving human being.
He couldn't do it.
He let his tonfas fall. They clattered loudly on the wooden deck, the sound a final, definitive surrender.
He collapsed to his knees, and the entire battlefield watched in stunned silence as the Man-Demon Gin, the battle commander of the Krieg Pirate Armada, broke down and wept.
Deep, wracking, heartbroken sobs that seemed to carry the weight of his entire brutal life.
"I can't…" he choked out, tears streaming down his face, hidden behind his bandana. "I can't do it… Sanji-san…"
He looked up at the sky, his voice a raw cry of pure, agonizing conflict.
"I can't kill you! I can't kill the one man in this world who ever treated me with kindness!"