Ortoren had quite a distinct impression of Aramaki. For one, the guy was a complete poser—claiming he could go years without eating, yet if a pretty lady offered him food, he might graciously take a few bites. Second, he just rubbed Ortoren the wrong way.
Aramaki was a devout supporter of the World Government and a follower of the Celestial Dragons, standing on the absolute opposite end of the spectrum from Issho when it came to his view of ordinary people.
And third, he did possess a strong ability—the Logia-type Mori Mori no Mi. Honestly, if Ortoren hadn't eaten the Goro Goro no Mi, he might've been tempted to challenge this fruit's power himself. Yet despite having such an impressive fruit, his strength never carried the presence or pressure of a true Navy Admiral.
Sure, the Revolutionary Army's giant, Morley, had fought him flashily in Mary Geoise—but that could be chalked up to Aramaki holding back, unable to go all out there. Still, in Wano, when Red-Haired Shanks unleashed his Conqueror's Haki from across the sea and instantly cowed him, Aramaki looked like nothing but a pretender.
Ortoren was usually patient and even fond of strong individuals, but with Aramaki, he felt nothing. When he saw him, he didn't feel the same urge he'd had upon meeting Issho—wanting to bring him under his command. He had absolutely no intention of recruiting Aramaki. The reason was simple: Ortoren couldn't stand the guy. They just didn't mesh.
"Such a fine fruit," Ortoren said with a wicked grin, "left in your hands, it's a waste. You'll only end up disgracing our Marine Admirals someday. Better to hand it over to me instead."
He didn't need the man—but the fruit, he would gladly take!
Meanwhile, Aramaki proved to be a quick mover. After snapping back at Reingal, he was ready to eat the Devil Fruit on the spot and seal his claim!
"Bastard!" Kozuki Oden roared, his face contorted in fury. Forgetting about the hidden masters in the harbor, he drew the Ame no Habakiri from his waist, preparing to stop Aramaki himself.
But just then, a flash of lightning exploded beside Aramaki, and in the next instant, a suffocating sense of danger washed over him.
Even without having eaten a Devil Fruit yet, Aramaki wasn't weak. Otherwise, he wouldn't have had the confidence to meddle in a fruit battle between the Whitebeard Pirates and Reingal.
The moment the lightning struck, Aramaki instinctively unleashed a burst of Armament Haki, shielding himself within its barrier while locking his gaze on the source of the flash.
But it was useless. Before he could react, it was already too late.
The first thing that entered his vision was the sole of a boot—then came a devastating kick that slammed square into his shoulder.
With a loud crack, the lightning-charged kick shattered his hastily raised Haki armor. Standing on the mast, he lost his balance as the sheer force threatened to hurl him away.
Then, from within the lightning, a hand shot out and seized his wrist.
"You're—" Aramaki's eyes widened as he recognized the figure.
Vice Admiral Benn Ortoren, Commander of the G-5 Marine Base—known as the "Bull of Heaven"!
He couldn't believe he was facing such a monster here.
As Ortoren's grip tightened around his wrist, Aramaki quickly shouted, "Don't misunderstand! I'm not a—"
But Ortoren wasn't here to misunderstand anything. He came to hit him—his identity didn't matter in the slightest.
Before Aramaki could finish, Ortoren's massive fist came crashing down.
"Heavenly Flow Burst!!!"
The distance was too close, the speed too fast—and the power gap too great. Aramaki could only watch as that lightning-wrapped fist grew larger in his sight, unable to react in time.
The next instant, the blow smashed straight into his nose. A sharp crack split the air as his nasal bone broke, blood spraying wildly. His body was launched like a cannonball, crashing from the top of the mast straight into the sea, blasting up a towering wave before sinking beneath the surface.
At the same time, Ortoren stood coolly atop the mast. With a simple reach, he caught the Devil Fruit that had nearly fallen into the ocean.
"Oh my, pirate scum—good afternoon," Ortoren said with a calm, easy smile, greeting everyone below.
It had been a long time since Ortoren last fought on the high seas, yet his presence alone carried immense pressure. Just standing there froze both Reingal and the Whitebeard Pirates in place, none daring to make a move.
"Why the hell are you here?" Reingal growled, eyes burning with anger as he glared at Ortoren.
As he spoke, a mane sprouted along his neck, and his body rapidly transformed into his beast form—a lion-like humanoid.
Reingal's hatred for Ortoren ran deep. After all, it was Ortoren who, alongside Admiral Sengoku and Vice Admiral Garp, had been credited in the papers for capturing Shiki back at Marine Headquarters.
"Hmph?" Ortoren shot Reingal a peculiar look before responding with puzzlement tinged with disdain.
"Since when does the Marines need to report to you pirates?"
"Bastard!" A fierce glint flashed in Reingal's eyes as he suddenly thrust his feet forward, shattering the sturdy deck beneath him in an instant. His body seemed poised to launch himself toward Ortoren atop the mast.
But just as splinters of wood erupted from the deck, Reingal's pupils dilated sharply.
For in that instant, Ortoren—who had been perched on the mast—appeared before him. No, not before him, but beside him. Their paths crossed in mid-air.
More crucially, Ortoren radiated thunderous power. His arm rose as if greeting a long-lost friend, extending in an embrace. And the crook of that arm was precisely where Reingal's neck lay.
"Too slow..." Ortoren murmured softly into Reingal's ear.
That whisper seemed to be his final words.
The next instant, blinding lightning erupted. Ortoren's arm slammed down with brutal force, clamping around Reingal's throat. The moment their bodies connected, Reingal's leap—already building momentum—was violently redirected.
His entire body hung suspended in Ortoren's grip, blood already welling up in his throat, ready to spurt forth.
"Lariat!" Ortoren roared.
With a thunderous crash, Reingal's form was hurled backward. Blood spurted like a fountain, tracing a violent arc through the air.
His body didn't plunge into the sea. Instead, like a cannonball launched at breakneck speed, he slammed violently into the Whitebeard Pirates' warship in the distance.
On the deck, Jozu's eyes flashed with a fierce glint. He crossed his arms forward, hardening them into diamond-hard steel. Then, he watched as the flying Reingal slammed violently into his arms.
Had this blow not struck Jozu, Reingal's awakened Zoan powers would likely have allowed him to bounce back a couple of times. But this collision with Jozu felt as though it had shattered Reingal's very soul.
He took the full brunt of Ortoren's Lariat attack!
The sheer force of the impact was so immense that the cracking of his bones could be heard, a testament to its devastating power. Another mouthful of old blood surged up, mixed with fragments of shattered internal organs, before Reingal blacked out completely.
Jozu's feet left cracks in the deck as he absorbed the force of the impact, his gaze fixed intently on Ortoren aboard the enemy ship in the distance.
That man had struck twice. The first blow had sent that guy named Harumaki—whatever his role was—plunging into the sea, never to move again. The second strike had instantly killed the veteran Zoan awakened master, Bloodhand Lion·Reingal!
"So powerful..." Jozu swallowed hard, murmuring softly.
Reingal's strength surpassed even his own by a hair's breadth, yet under Ortoren's hands, he offered not a shred of resistance.
But soon, Jozu suppressed the shock welling up inside him. If he'd been alone here today, he'd have turned tail and fled without a second thought.
But now... there was still Kozuki Oden.
Kozuki Oden—a figure even his father deemed "powerful."
Meanwhile, Kozuki Oden stared intently at Ortoren with a grave expression. Earlier, when he'd intended to strike at Aramaki, he'd only drawn one sword—Ame no Habakiri.
Now, merely gazing at Ortoren, he felt immense pressure. Consequently, his other hand rested on the sword at his waist—the Enma.