So fast!
Saint Michael's expression shifted.
This man… He was dozens of meters away just a heartbeat ago. Now he's right in front of me.
Almost like teleportation.
"Die."
The rasping, low voice growled out as a fist wrapped in what looked like boiling Armament Haki tore through the air and smashed straight into the Celestial Dragon's pale, handsome face.
BOOM!
The impact sent out white shockwaves in concentric rings, shredding the air. Saint Michael's body shot backward like a cannonball, hurtling over a hundred meters before slamming into a distant mountainside.
Smoke and dust billowed upward. Massive slabs of rock crashed down, and a deep rumble rolled through the ground underfoot.
The sudden, brutal turn of events left all the World Government troops frozen in place.
Silence.
A deathly stillness fell over the shore.
The soldiers and agents tightened their grips on cold steel and gunmetal, staring blankly ahead, their minds struggling to comprehend what they had just seen.
The great Commander of the Knights of God—Saint Michael—had been blown away with a single punch?
They stared at the towering figure still standing there, chest heaving, like an upright, breathing mountain bear.
"A Freedom Fighters executive..."
"Bartholomew Kuma!"
"How did he suddenly appear here?!"
"Our course and coordinates... were leaked?!"
"..."
While the soldiers were still reeling, Ginny's eyes widened. Her irises reddened as tears sprang up all at once. Overwhelmed with joy, she cried out:
"Kuma-chi!!"
Kuma turned. A gentle smile slowly spread across his usually impassive face.
"Ginny," he said softly, guilt tightening his jaw, "I'm sorry I'm late."
His fists clenched until the knuckles went white.
Ginny shook her head, smiling through the tears streaking her cheeks. "I knew you'd come!"
Kuma forced his smile to hold, but in the depths of his normally calm, kind eyes, a murderous fury seethed.
That damned Celestial Dragon… He actually dared to lay a hand on Ginny.
"...I didn't expect you to have developed the Paw-Paw Fruit's abilities this far. I underestimated you."
Saint Michael's voice, carrying a faint smile, drifted out from the shattered mountain.
"The paths this world takes truly are beyond prediction."
Kuma and Ginny's faces went rigid. They whirled toward the sound, expressions dark.
Amid the swirling dust and smoke, a tall, slender silhouette slowly stepped out from the collapsed rubble, wavering ghostlike in the distorted haze.
He's still alive?!
And judging by that aura and the way he moves... barely injured.
Kuma's heart sank.
A chill climbed his spine, dragging him back to that day on Felsek Island in the North Blue—"Godfall Island."
Ginny, who knew Kuma's abilities and strength better than anyone, stared in disbelief.
"Kuma-chi, didn't you use your Devil Fruit just now?!"
Kuma shook his head, voice hoarse.
"His Haki is too strong. It's repelling the Paw-Paw Fruit's power."
The Freedom Fighters were no longer the underfunded, undermanned, poorly equipped band they had once been. They had become a battle-forged army, tempered in high-level conflicts and expanding relentlessly.
Kuma and his comrades had grown along with them, accumulating knowledge, intelligence, and experience. Their understanding of Haki and Devil Fruits had reached heights they could never have imagined before.
Zoan, Logia, Paramecia—each Devil Fruit category had its own strengths and weaknesses. None was inherently supreme.
But Paramecia-type fruits were undeniably the strangest of all.
And among them, Kuma's Paw-Paw Fruit was infamous for its rule-defying power.
He could even drive out intangible things like pain and fatigue.
Yet that power had limits.
If the target's Haki was strong enough—and actively unleashed to resist—the Devil Fruit's ability could simply fail.
It was obvious now: this man's Haki was far beyond what the Paw-Paw Fruit could affect.
Tap... tap... tap...
Measured, unhurried footsteps drew closer until Saint Michael finally came fully into view.
His handsome face was almost entirely unmarked—only a light dusting of grime clung to his skin.
"Bartholomew Kuma, last remnant of the Buccaneer race," Saint Michael said with amused interest. "You look rather shocked."
He produced a spotless white handkerchief and gently wiped the dirt from his face.
"The Paw-Paw Fruit was one of the prizes in the God Valley hunting festival back then," he went on. "I personally retrieved it from my vault. I'd planned to give it to the Red-Haired Kid of House Figarland."
"Who could have predicted that you, a filthy slave, would be the one to eat it instead?"
"That's why I know the Paw-Paw Fruit's abilities better than anyone else."
The Red-Haired Kid of House Figarland...
At that description, a darkness flitted through Kuma and Ginny's eyes.
A memory surfaced: a rampaging young man, radiating arrogance.
During the God Valley incident, a red-haired Celestial Dragon prodigy had slaughtered his way across the island and effortlessly taken first place in the hunt. To countless slaves, he had been the embodiment of terror.
He was remembered as the "King of God Valley."
The current Vice-Commander of the Knights of God: Saint Figarland Garling.
According to intel collected by the Freedom Fighters, this disturbingly young, red-haired Celestial Dragon was the most likely candidate to become the next Commander of the Knights of God.
As he spoke, Saint Michael drew the sword at his waist with a small, pleasant smile.
It was a silver-white rapier, its slender blade gleaming with a razor edge.
Just one glance at it made their eyes ache, as if that cold glint had pierced straight through their pupils.
"Ready?"
He cocked his head, studying Kuma with a sudden smirk.
Kuma tensed instantly. It felt like standing before an unscalable wall.
A violent gust surged out.
The Celestial Dragon's figure vanished.
Kuma's face twisted.
His Observation Haki couldn't sense the man at all.
An indescribable, bone-deep danger flooded his mind. Acting on pure instinct, he snapped his arms up to guard.
A thin, icy flash cut through the air, shrieking as it slashed down.
Rip!
Kuma's black gloves burst apart, shredded into countless scraps.
The rapier's point plunged into the soft flesh of his palm—yet no blood spilled. It was as if that tender, pink pad had swallowed the force of the blow whole.
He blocked it!
Hope flashed in Ginny's eyes.
But in the next instant—
Saint Michael's lips curved into a sudden, sinister smile.
Zzzzzzzz!
A twisted bolt of crimson-black lightning erupted from the rapier, surging like a roaring dragon and crashing into Kuma's palm.
Sizzle!
The sound of flesh tearing rang out.
Under Ginny's horrified, bloodless stare—
A spray of blood burst from Kuma's hands.
The hands that had always been believed to be utterly indestructible.
To be continued...