To Yuno, the items scattered before him were nothing more than junk to be exchanged for money.
They were mediocre, their power unimpressive—far beneath even his casual strikes.
'Still... they might make good bargaining chips.'
Some factions always craved rare weapons, no matter how weak. If others wanted them, he could use them to trade for something worthwhile.
With that in mind, Yuno carefully sorted the salvageable loot, packing what he could and destroying the rest.
Then, before leaving, he pointed a hand at the remnants of the Orleans Family's base and unleashed a Sokatsui.
A violent spiral of blue flames roared outward, engulfing the entire compound in a blazing inferno.
But just as he emerged from the flames, Yuno's gaze sharpened—a naval force was approaching.
Unwilling to clash with the island's marines, he slipped into hiding using Shunpo, vanishing without a sound.
Moments later, his senses flared again—another figure was racing toward the navy at blinding speed.
In mere seconds, the naval unit was wiped out.
Yuno's first instinct was to ignore the man.
Until he heard those cold words:
"Then don't blame me for slaughtering everyone on the island."
Yuno's eyes narrowed.
He stepped out from the shadows, his voice calm and low.
"What did you just say you were going to do to the people on this island?"
"Who?"
Startled, Lawrence spun around. A masked figure approached slowly, calmly, from the smoke.
"Repeat what you just said," Yuno said again, his tone razor-sharp.
Lawrence scowled. "Who's there? You think I'm in the mood for jokes?"
Already in a foul temper, he raised his gun and fired without hesitation.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Bullets ripped through the air—but Yuno was gone. His figure flickered and weaved through the volley like a ghost.
"What the hell—?!"
Lawrence's eyes widened. This wasn't just some thug. His shots had missed completely.
Quick to adapt, he fired again—this time predicting Yuno's movements, cutting off every possible angle of retreat.
His aim was uncanny. Each shot landed exactly where Yuno should have dodged next.
Even Yuno had to admit—this man's marksmanship was exceptional. The precision was abnormal.
'Can he see my movement trajectory? Does he have Observation Haki?'
But Lawrence wanted to kill him? That was a fantasy.
Yuno calmly drew his blade.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Each bullet was knocked away mid-air by a flurry of sword strikes.
Yuno advanced with slow menace, voice ice-cold:
"Answer me. What do you plan to do to this island's people?"
"A swordsman?" Lawrence muttered, stepping back.
He fired again, but Yuno's movements were unreadable.
Grimacing, Lawrence said, "Righteous protector, huh? Well then, hear me loud and clear..."
He raised his pistol. "I said I'm going to kill everyone on this island. If you've got the guts, try and stop me!"
Yuno's expression froze into a glare.
"You'll regret that."
Lawrence dashed forward, guns blazing.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Yuno ducked, twisted, slid past one shot—and then, in a flash, extended a single finger.
"Hado #4: White Thunder!"
A searing bolt of white lightning burst from his fingertip.
CRACK!
The beam streaked through the darkness—faster than thought.
Lawrence's instincts screamed. He tried to twist away, but—
Too slow.
The lightning was already there.
It crashed toward him with unstoppable force, and unless he had more than just skill with guns—
In that critical instant, Lawrence's hands blurred, moving with an almost inhuman speed—a ghost of motion. The moment Yuno's white lightning surged toward him, his arms crossed before his chest in a perfect block, intercepting the bolt just in time.
"BOOM!"
The lightning struck.
But unlike the others before him—men who had been vaporized or pierced through—Lawrence didn't fall. The white lightning collided with his forearms and exploded, the blast sending a shockwave rippling through the air.
Lawrence grunted. His body was flung backward, his boots carving deep trenches in the scorched ground. When he stopped, steam rose from his charred arms, skin blackened from the heat, but his stance was still firm.
"...That was the Six-Heeled Razor Finger Gun, wasn't it?" he growled, rotating his neck with a crack. His eyes gleamed with suspicion. "Are you with the World Government?"
The way Yuno dodged his bullet earlier... that instantaneous acceleration... and the piercing force from his fingertip—a mimicry of the Shigan.
He'd fought Six Styles users before—Marines trained in Rokushiki. Tough bastards. And sometimes, they were worse: agents who mixed the Six Styles with Devil Fruit powers, crafting techniques beyond comprehension.
Now, the masked man before him moved with the same finesse. The air around him felt... rehearsed. Too smooth. Too practiced.
"CP, huh?" Lawrence muttered, eyes narrowing. "The ones who wear masks and slither in shadows like snakes... I should've known."
The realization set in like cold steel—even the World Government was after the data.
Yuno said nothing for a moment. Then, calmly, he replied, "So you think."
It didn't surprise him that Lawrence had endured his strike. In this world, the truly strong could shrug off what would kill others outright. Those who'd fallen before were just fodder, not warriors.
Lawrence snorted. "So this was all planned. The research was barely exposed for a day—and you leeches are already crawling in. You really think we're that soft?"
His gaze hardened like tempered iron, fists clenching. A deep thud echoed as his knuckles crashed together. Sparks danced between his fingers.
"But don't get cocky!" he roared. "As long as I draw breath, as long as this island stands—you won't leave with anything!"
With a deafening clang, he donned his brass knuckles—jagged, brutal, shaped like the maw of a beast. He struck the air twice with them, each punch so fast it seared sparks into the wind.
Then, he let out a furious bellow.
His right arm bulged grotesquely—veins surging, muscles ballooning, the skin pulsing with raw power. The very ground beneath his feet cracked as if recoiling from the energy.
"Explosive Punch!"
Lawrence lunged, his fist slamming forward—not at Yuno, but at the very air. Yet it struck something—an invisible wall of resistance—and a thunderous shockwave burst out.
A raw, concussive force roared from the strike, expanding toward Yuno like a collapsing mountain of wind and fury.
Yuno's eyes flickered, brows tightening.
That... was indeed a serious blow.
No time to test defenses.
He gripped his sword tightly, both hands wrapping around the hilt as a silent storm of blade aura gathered. The edge of his blade shimmered—not visibly, but as a pressure, a sharpness felt in the air.
He compressed all the force into a single point.
And then—
"Slash!"
His voice rang out like a blade drawn in moonlight.
The strike unleashed was invisible to the eye, yet the moment it launched, the pressure snapped, like a dam breaking. The compressed slashing force erupted violently from the sword's tip, a spring uncoiled—sharp enough to split thunder.