Fear seeped into Smoker's bones.
The terror Ryukawa had planted in him was so deep he couldn't break free from it—at least not anytime soon.
Ryukawa left an imprint too strong to erase.
And of course, that imprint was built on one thing:
Power.
Ryukawa was too strong.
So strong it made Smoker feel helpless.
So strong it made him feel despair.
This was the first time in Smoker's life—
The first time he'd been crushed so completely, unable to fight back, and forced to stare at the possibility of instant death.
He was a Logia user.
In East Blue, Logia users could practically rule wherever they stood.
Yet Smoker—a Logia user—had been "one-shot," with zero room to resist.
From start to finish, he had done nothing but get beaten down.
"Cough—!"
Smoker spat dark, clotted blood. His face was pale as paper. His eyes, red with burst veins, were still filled with fear that wouldn't fade.
He lay at the bottom of a sunken pit, his coat soaked through with blood, as if he had fallen into a lake of red.
The smell of iron and death filled the air.
It was brutal.
The injuries on his body were horrifying to look at.
"Captain Smoker—how are you?" the lieutenant asked urgently, his face tight with worry.
"I'm… not dead yet," Smoker rasped, his bloodshot eyes scanning the wreckage around him.
The lieutenant understood what Smoker was asking without being told, and sighed bitterly.
"That monster… left."
"He left?" Smoker froze.
That monster… didn't slaughter them all?
Did he… change his nature?
Smoker hadn't expected that.
He glanced at the corpses on the ground—cold bodies soaked in blood—and couldn't reconcile it.
A butcher like that… sparing people?
It felt unreal.
"Yes, Captain. He didn't kill us," the lieutenant confirmed.
"So he left…" Smoker's voice drifted, empty.
But the fear in his heart refused to fade.
Especially the fear of that world-splitting slash.
A fear that would follow him for the rest of his life.
"That slash… just the aftershock was enough to one-shot me," Smoker muttered, lips trembling.
"If it hit directly…"
He couldn't finish the sentence.
The lieutenant and the marines exchanged glances. They wanted to comfort him.
But there were no words.
Because they understood.
They had felt it too—being ruled by that boy's presence.
Even remembering it made their scalps prickle.
Against a monster like that, there was no strength—only futility.
A creature like that wasn't supposed to exist in East Blue.
"It's only when you experience it yourself," Smoker said hoarsely, "that you understand… despair."
The marines fell silent.
Before today, the word "despair" had been abstract to them.
Now it had a shape.
A weight.
A taste.
It was Ryukawa.
And Smoker's fear was the deepest of all—because he was the only one who had been shredded by the slash's aftershock and pushed to the edge of death.
"That monster is too strong," Smoker whispered.
"He doesn't belong here… not in East Blue."
"Even in the Grand Line, he'd be a top-tier monster."
Yet somehow, in Loguetown, Smoker had collided with him.
Bad luck didn't even begin to describe it.
A one-in-a-million probability.
And it happened to him.
"Captain, should we carry you to the infirmary?" the lieutenant asked anxiously.
Smoker's injuries were far too severe. Even without medical training, anyone could see it.
His ribs were crushed inward. His body was a map of cuts. He couldn't move without risking death.
"Don't move me," Smoker breathed weakly.
"My bones feel shattered."
"And… that aftershock hit my insides. I'm bleeding internally."
"If you lift me… I really might die."
Then—
His eyes widened.
A sudden, horrifying realization hit him.
"Wait—!"
Smoker stared at the lieutenant, urgency flaring in his bloodshot eyes.
"Where did that monster leave from?!"
The lieutenant blinked and pointed to the broken doorway.
"The front door, sir. Where else would he go?"
Smoker sucked in a sharp breath.
His pupils shook with panic.
"That means…"
"Outside that door… the marines I ordered to surround this building…"
"They're about to face that monster!"
The lieutenant and the others went pale as the implication landed.
Those marines were ordinary soldiers.
If they tried to stop Ryukawa—
They would be wiped out.
"Quick!" Smoker forced the words out, coughing blood.
"Go to the front!"
"Tell everyone to spread out—don't block him!"
"Don't provoke him. Let him leave!"
"We can't stop him. If he gets angry…"
"Every marine here will die under his blade!"
"Go—NOW!"
"Y-yes, Captain!" the lieutenant stammered.
With shaking legs, they hurried toward the doorway.
Outside, the world looked like it had been hit by a disaster.
Cracked pavement split into spiderweb fractures.
Nearby streets were scarred the same way.
Walls of surrounding buildings were riddled with damage, trembling under the memory of violent shockwaves.
Every so often—
Rumble—!
Another weakened wall would collapse, stones crashing down and punching fresh dents into the already ruined ground.
The air carried blood and dust.
Around the building stood nearly two hundred marines, rifles raised, sweat on their faces, nerves stretched to the limit.
"W-what happened inside?"
"That pressure… it was terrifying!"
"It felt like a prehistoric beast was sleeping in there."
"I almost wet myself."
"No—actually, I did."
They stared at the broken doorway as if it were the mouth of hell.
Then—
Footsteps.
Light.
Unhurried.
The sound cut through the silence like a blade.
In an instant, the marines stiffened.
Rifles snapped up.
Nearly two hundred black gun barrels locked onto the doorway.
"Someone's coming out!"
"Is it Captain Smoker?!"
"Prepare to fire!"
All eyes burned into the entrance.
A foot stepped out.
Then—
A boy in white walked calmly through the ruined doorway.
Sunlight fell across him.
His figure became painfully clear.
Young face.
Clean, neat white clothing.
Not a stain.
Not a tear.
Not a speck of dust.
He looked completely untouched.
And against the shattered surroundings, the contrast was almost surreal.
In front of him—
Nearly two hundred rifle barrels aimed at his chest.
Standing in the doorway, Ryukawa lifted his head.
He smiled—calm, amused, almost playful—as he looked at the sea of armed soldiers.
"Hello, Marines," he said lightly.
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