Rumble—rumble—rumble!
The shattered wall—its fractures too deep, its structure too ruined—finally couldn't endure any longer. It collapsed sideways, crashing down into a chaotic mound of rubble like a broken, jagged hill.
Crack! Crack!
The ground split even further. Spidery cracks spread in all directions, webbing across the entire ruined hall. One fracture connected to another until the floor tiles loosened and softened, as if the earth beneath them might cave in at any moment.
This building was already on the edge.
It had suffered a burden it never should've been forced to bear.
Wave after wave of terrifying shock impacts… violent gusts… crushing pressure…
A structure this old was never meant to withstand that kind of devastation.
Collapse wasn't a possibility anymore.
It was a countdown.
In the corner of the hall—
The marine lieutenant and ten elite marines stared blankly at the rubble pile, their faces frozen in shock. Their eyes wouldn't move.
In their minds, the battle was already over.
Smoker had lost.
Completely.
From start to finish, he never had a chance.
The gap between him and that monster of a boy was like a canyon—impossible to cross.
Not "a little stronger."
Not "one level higher."
It was the difference between a stream and the ocean.
If Smoker was a river—
Then that boy could only be described as a vast, boundless sea.
Two entirely different worlds.
And yet… what they still couldn't accept, even now, was this:
Smoker—a Logia user—had been one-shot.
Yes.
One exchange.
Instant defeat.
A result none of them could have predicted.
It was brutal.
It was humiliating.
It was horrifying.
Smoker hadn't even been allowed to "fight."
He had been crushed.
"Smoker… lost…"
"The captain was completely defeated…"
"One instant—and he was gone!"
"If even Captain Smoker can be dropped in a blink…"
"How terrifying is that monster's strength?!"
"It's over…"
"We're finished…"
To them, the last hope had died.
If Smoker couldn't stop him—
Then who in Loguetown could?
No one.
No one at all.
"Is Loguetown going to be destroyed?"
"With Smoker gone, that monster can overturn the entire town without effort!"
"He's too strong… I've never seen anything like this in my life!"
"And the scariest part…"
"He's so young… but he already has power and talent like this. Give him time, and he'll become one of the great monsters of the sea!"
They didn't need imagination to foresee it.
If Ryukawa didn't die early—
His name would eventually echo across the ocean.
His talent was too frightening.
So frightening they couldn't even describe it properly.
They used to laugh at the word "genius."
Until they saw him.
Now they believed.
This world truly had monsters you could only look up at—never reach.
And Ryukawa…
Was exactly that.
Then a marine, lips shaking, spoke again.
"Did you all notice something…?"
Everyone turned.
"What?"
"That slash… the one the monster used…"
"Captain Smoker wasn't even hit head-on."
Silence fell instantly.
A thick, unnatural silence.
Then the realization hit like a hammer.
Not head-on…?
Yet still one-shot?
That meant—
Smoker had been defeated by the aftershock.
Just the spillover.
Just the residual force.
Their hearts felt like they stopped beating.
The lieutenant swallowed hard, his eyes turning empty as he followed the enormous crack in the floor—half a meter deep—stretching across the hall, passing through the wall, continuing outside.
Over a hundred meters.
A hundred meters.
What kind of power did that require?
It didn't make sense.
Their minds couldn't even hold the information.
"Th-that slash…"
"Even from far away, I felt it."
"It felt like the end of the world… like absolute despair."
"Me too!"
"Who… who is that monster?!"
Their terrified eyes shifted toward the center of the corpse pile.
Toward him.
Ryukawa stood there in white.
Not a tear.
Not a stain.
Not even dust.
Looking at him, no one would believe he was the one who had turned this place into a collapsing ruin.
His clean, untouched appearance clashed violently with the broken hall and the rivers of blood.
Then his gaze drifted to the long fissure on the ground—
And finally to the rubble pile burying Smoker.
For a moment, he simply watched.
His Observation Haki made it clear:
Smoker wasn't dead.
Not yet.
But barely alive.
A faint life signal—like a candle flame in the wind.
One breath away from being snuffed out.
The lieutenant had thought Smoker was weak.
But no.
Smoker wasn't weak.
It was just that Ryukawa was too strong.
Strong enough that even the aftershock of his sword energy could shatter a marine captain into the brink of death.
"Should I silence him?"
Ryukawa fell into thought.
The hall was so quiet it felt haunted.
After a short pause—
He made his decision.
Smoker would live.
For now.
It was a casual choice.
His main objective was already complete.
The CP organization here was essentially destroyed—especially after the head of it had died in this very place.
As for the remaining trash—
Ryukawa didn't feel like wasting time.
They couldn't make waves anyway.
And Smoker…
Smoker still had value in the larger plan.
Kill him or spare him—
It truly was a matter of mood.
"For now… I'll let you live."
Ryukawa's eyes lingered on the rubble pile, his expression almost amused.
Then he turned.
His gaze landed on the corner.
On the trembling marines.
The moment they felt his eyes—
The lieutenant and the others felt as if they'd been dropped into an ice pit.
Cold crawled across their bones.
Fear drilled straight into their hearts and took control of their bodies.
They finally understood what "terror" truly meant.
He wasn't even attacking them.
He was only looking.
And yet they felt death was one thought away.
One decision away.
One heartbeat away.
"Is… is he going to kill us?"
The lieutenant's entire body shook.
But Ryukawa simply withdrew his gaze.
He didn't kill them.
He didn't even raise his sword.
Instead, he sighed.
"Sigh… I really am too merciful."
"This bad habit… I'll have to fix it someday."
Then he began to walk.
Step by step.
He crossed over cold bodies.
He stepped through blood-soaked tiles.
He moved toward the shattered doorway.
In his right hand—
A plain wooden sword drenched in blood.
Red streams slid down the blade and dripped onto the ruined floor.
And as he walked—
He looked less like a boy…
And more like something that had crawled out of hell itself.
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