[Jobim – Age: 48 | Male]
Strength: A+
Speed: B
Stamina: B+
Devil Fruit: N/A
Armament Haki: A
Observation Haki: B+
Conqueror's Haki: N/A
Intelligence: B
Charisma: D+
Leadership: F
Combat Skill: A+
'Judging by his stats, he doesn't really seem that special, especially since none of his stats are in the S grade.
His stats are so much lower than Boa Hancock's, so I don't need to be scared of someone like him. He only beat Darius because he got lucky.'
That's what I'm thinking right now, which is totally different from what's in the back of my mind. I know his stats don't look that scary, but with his Haki and experience in the New World, he's way above what I can handle.
Since the New World is an extremely dangerous area for anyone who doesn't master at least one Haki, and fighting people who are stronger than him must have pushed his body to develop at a rapid pace.
Plus, his age of almost fifty also helps because even though he is past his prime, the experience he brings with him certainly makes up for that, especially since in this world it is extremely difficult for a mature body to decrease in performance unless you are over sixty, and he still has twelve years to go before reaching that age.
"Ya like the view?" he smiled mockingly at me, as if he was just joking around with his junior.
"Shut your mouth." And with that, I charged at him without a second thought. Rather than playing it safe, I just charged at him like a raged bull.
The distance between us was not that far, only several meters, and because of that I arrived in front of his face in an instant. That said, charging at your enemy without a game plan rarely ever works, y'know.
*BANG*
"AAAHH"
He hit me straight in the head, sending me flying quite some distance. Perhaps from the audience's perspective, it would feel like déjà vu, because what happened to me was very similar to what happened to Darius.
"Is that all you've got, kid? I thought you were supposed to be great. Even my master sent me here to give you a proper lesson."
"Of course not." I stood up again and charged at him once more, but my head was clouded with rage, which prevented me from thinking up a plan to defeat him.
This time, when I was within his hit range, he tried to slash me with his sword, and I refused to make the same mistake twice, so I dodged to the side and tried to punch him in the face.
But he quickly shielded his face with his sword, which I thought was still in the middle of his attack, but it turned out that his first attack was just a feint, and now I received a kick to the stomach because I couldn't see such an obvious feint.
"And here I am preparing myself, boy, you're even weaker than the old fart before you. C'mon, kid, you're still young, where's your spirit?" He taunted me to make me even angrier than I already am, which unfortunately it worked.
"SHUT UP." I yelled at him and charged at him again like a bull seeing a matador holding red cloth.
He bent down slightly as if he were in a fighting stance, then stuck his sword into the ground and tapped his thighs while hopping slightly like a matador waiting for a bull to charge at him.
Seeing that posture made my eyes even redder, and the cheers from those idiots in the stands didn't help one bit.
AAARRRGGHh
With anger in my voice, I continued to charge relentlessly, preparing my hands to strike him mercilessly. In my mind, I imagined him falling from my blows, then I climbed on top of him and punched him in the face until he was covered in blood from every hole in his head.
Of course, that was only in my head. What actually happened was that he hit me on the back of my head with two clenched fists, causing me to hit the ground right after.
My head felt like it had been hit by a truck loaded with elephants, with blood pouring out of my mouth and nose in a torrent like Niagara Falls.
My whole body felt like it was being squeezed by a press machine to the point that I couldn't move, and my soul almost crossed over to the River Styx.
It all happened in a split second. One second I was running towards him with a burning rage, and the next second I was lying on the ground with blood gushing from my mouth and nose.
"Is that all? Boy, you're really disappointing." Those mocking words were the last thing I heard before shadows covered my head, and when I looked up, his foot was above my head, ready to crush my skull.
Then dark.
--
"Ugh, my head." When I opened my eyes, a familiar dark white room greeted me, complete with several tools that I don't know and don't want to know on the wall.
Hmmm hm hmm hmm
Then I heard a humming sound from beside me, and the person I saw was a doctor who was not really a doctor but more like an executioner.
Mario De Marco stood beside my operating table, shaking a glass bottle containing green liquid that I hoped was not for me.
"You're awake, huh?" He placed the glass bottle he was holding on the nearest table, where there were several blood-stained metal tools, which I assumed belonged to the previous victim.
"What's that?" I asked, looking at the bottle containing the green liquid.
"Hmm?" Marco followed my gaze and turned to the bottle he had just put down, then picked it up again.
"Oh, this?" He brought the glass bottle closer to me, probably so I could see it better. "This is acid."
"Why did you bring acid?" I asked him, frowning and praying to every god that it wasn't for me.
"Hmm." He paused for a moment before saying, "For this." Then he poured the liquid all over my face.
"AAAHHHH!?" It was hot, it felt very hot, like the first time I was branded with a burning iron, but this time it was all over my face, which made it even worse.
I screamed and squirmed violently, but even with all my strength, I couldn't break the restraints binding my body.
"Oh, don't be so dramatic. This acid won't hurt the inside of your head, trust me."
Trust you? Trust you, you say? I would rather trust the most vicious and most brutal pirates in the whole world than the people living above the Redline. Do you know why? Because at least pirates are honest that they are the bad guys.
"AAAAAAHHHHH!?!?" In the end, I couldn't bear the pain that grew more and more intense, and my vision began to blur. Finally, I fainted for the second time.
--
.
..
…
Opening my eyes once more, this time I saw the stone ceiling with holes in places that leaked water when it was raining.
The stone floor beneath me felt very familiar, damp and cold, as well as the surrounding walls.
The iron bars that separated this cage from the rest of the world looked very rusty and rough.
This place was one I knew very well, and where I spent most of my time.
But for some reason, it seemed to be darker and colder than usual, even though the lighting candle outside hadn't changed in the last two years, and it was supposed to be summer in this world, so why did this place seem so dark and cold?
I tried to sit down with some difficulty, because my body felt really heavy today.
It was still dark outside, so there should still be some time before construction starts, right? In that case, I'd better write down what happened on today's journal first.
Then I went to one corner of the room where I kept some of my belongings, including my notebook and pen.
After digging around a bit, I took out my bag and opened it to see what was inside.
There was a smaller bag containing my notebook, pen, candles, wooden matches, and my pocket knife—items I had gotten from Oliver or that CP0 Agent addict.
Then I took my notebook and reached for my pen, however, instead of the pen, I ended up grabbing the pocket knife. Without thinking, I wanted to put it back and take my pen instead.
*SLIT*
Blood dripped down my neck, and tears flooded my already disfigured face as the knife in my hand pushed itself toward myself.
Sob sob.
"What am I doing?" I didn't understand what my body was doing, even though I just wanted to do some writing.
Am I under hypnosis, or is this someone's devil fruit?
I'm not sure.
It's better to ask than to be lost, right?
But who should I ask? Boa Hancock? I don't want to burden her any more, she has her own problems.
Draven? I'm not sure that muscle-brained guy can help with something like this. Zyanya? I can only meet her on the weekend, so I'll consider her if no better option comes up.
Captain Oliver? He doesn't seem like the type to talk this kind of thing. What about Liam? But I don't really trust him.
Wait a minute, who I usually talk about things like this?
Then an old man with gray hair and wrinkles all over his face, and a scar on his cheek that extends down to his chest, comes to mind.
"Darius..."
.
..
…
Hwaaa
I cried, the dam built by my subconscious broke, and all the bad memories that had happened came back to haunt me. The mentor who had always been there for me was now gone.
The only pillar in my life is gone. What should I do now? I'm not sure. Two years in this place have drove me crazy, and now the closest person to me is gone—the person who was the reason I could survive in this cruel world.
Two years of being a slave, less than dirt on the street, with torture every single month and with the knowledge that I would never be able to go home and hug my family again, was enough to drive anyone crazy.
I put the knife I was holding to my neck. I wanted to end it all. My reason for surviving had disappeared, leaving only the torturous future ahead of me.
Now I just want to rest after two years of trying to run from reality and survive from the madness of the world. I no longer have the strength to continue all of this.
"Haaah, Rosa, apparently the novels about reincarnation or crossing worlds that you read don't contain any adventures or victories." I sighed, preparing myself. "Father, mother and also Darius, I'm sorry because I couldn't keep my promise." Pulling my hand back slightly, I gathered my strength and stabbed my neck with all my might.
*STAB*