Just as Mr. 3 was feeling smug about capturing the three—Igaram, Vivi, and Gojo—so easily, suddenly, at that very moment, Gojo, who had been eating and ignoring Mr. 3 the entire time, stood up.
The instant he rose to his feet, the air around him vibrated.
A low, invisible pressure spread outward.
The wax surrounding his legs shattered with a sharp cracking sound. The wooden chair from which he had stood was sent flying backward, crashing into another table. The shockwave created by Gojo expanding his Limitless range rippled through the tavern, distorting the air for a brief second before exploding outward with force.
This shockwave did not only shatter the wax around his legs—the cracks spread across the entire floor where the wax had been laid out. In a chain reaction, the hardened wax fractured and broke apart completely.
Vivi and Igaram, who had been trapped moments ago, felt the pressure around their legs vanish as the wax crumbled into useless fragments. Even the other people inside the tavern who had been partially restrained were freed as the wax disintegrated into brittle pieces scattered across the wooden floor.
Seeing Mr. 3, one of the officers of Baroque Works, engaged in a fight with someone who appeared equally formidable, the people inside the tavern panicked. Chairs overturned, mugs fell and shattered, and within seconds, the civilians rushed toward the exit in fear.
Mr. 3 did not bother stopping them.
Gojo turned toward Mr. 3, his eyes still covered with the blindfold, his posture relaxed.
"When I was eating," Gojo said calmly, "I kept hearing the buzz of a mosquito in my ears. So it was you." He tilted his head slightly. "You really are nothing more than a pathetic bug."
The words hung in the air.
As soon as Mr. 3 heard Gojo calling him a mosquito, anger flared across his face.
"You bastard!"
Immediately, thick white wax began pouring out from his hands again. This time, it did not simply spread—it solidified into long, sharp shapes resembling swords. The wax hardened instantly, the tips becoming dense and metallic-looking.
With a sharp gesture from Mr. 3, the wax swords shot forward at extreme speed toward Gojo, slicing through the air with piercing force.
Gojo calmly began walking toward Mr. 3.
He showed no signs of dodging or resisting, as if he intended to take the entire attack head-on with his body.
Mr. 3 sneered. "What a fool! Does he really think that my wax is harmless? When my wax hardens, it is as strong as steel. My wax is no ordinary wax!"
Within moments, the multiple wax swords reached Gojo.
But they never touched him.
An invisible layer—an untouchable space created by Limitless—existed between the blades and his body. The swords halted midair, their tips trembling as if pushing against something they could not see.
Gojo continued walking.
As he advanced step by step, the Limitless force pressed against the wax swords. Though they were as strong as steel, they could only withstand the pressure for a few steps. Slowly, the blades began to bend unnaturally. Mr. 3 tried pouring more wax to increase force behind these swords but mothing happened.
Then, with sharp cracking sounds, they shattered completely—breaking apart like ordinary hardened wax under overwhelming pressure.
Seeing this, Mr. 3's eyes widened in disbelief.
"What?"
Before he could even process what had happened, Gojo—who had been three or four steps away—suddenly appeared directly in front of him.
In an instant, Gojo's palm grabbed Mr. 3's face.
Without hesitation, he lifted him and slammed his head violently onto the wooden floor of the tavern. The impact sent splinters flying as cracks spread across the floorboards.
Before Mr. 3 could recover from the extreme speed of Gojo or even understand what had just happened, Gojo released his grip, pivoted smoothly, and delivered a powerful kick to Mr. 3's stomach.
The force sent Mr. 3 flying out of the tavern.
The wooden gate shattered as his body crashed through it, fragments scattering outward. He rolled across the dusty ground outside, raising a cloud of sand before finally coming to a stop.
He stopped right in front of Mr. 1 and his partner, Miss Doublefinger.
They looked down at Mr. 3, from whose mouth blood could be seen flowing from the corner. It was clear that he had been struck with tremendous force and sent flying backward without any resistance.
Mr. 2, who was standing just beside them, also witnessed the state of Mr. 3.
Miss Goldenweek, who had not gone inside with Mr. 3 earlier, immediately rushed to his side and knelt down.
"Mr. 3, are you alright?" she asked, concern evident in her voice.
Mr. 3 slowly came back to his senses, pushing himself up slightly as he wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth.
"Dammit… I misjudged Gojo's strength," he said through clenched teeth. "He is not that weak… and his speed is also very fast."
As he spoke, a strange silence settled over the area. The noise that had followed his body crashing through the tavern and rolling across the ground had faded. Dust hung in the air, drifting lazily.
Then—
Footsteps.
Calm. Steady.
The sound came from inside the ruined tavern.
Out from the broken entrance walked a young man with white hair, wearing a blindfold, moving casually as if he were not about to face several high-ranking members of Baroque Works—but merely taking a relaxed stroll in a park.
Each step was unhurried.
Miss Doublefinger's eyes fell on Gojo the moment he emerged. For a brief second, she was genuinely mesmerized by his appearance—the white hair moving slightly in the desert breeze, the relaxed posture, the effortless confidence.
What a waste… she thought. Such a handsome young man.
But remembering that he was their enemy, her expression hardened, though a faint trace of regret remained in her eyes.
Mr. 1, however, showed no such distraction.
He looked at Gojo's casual approach—the way he did not seem to take Baroque Works seriously at all. His gaze sharpened.
Raising one hand slightly to stop Mr. 2—who had already taken a step forward with dramatic enthusiasm—Mr. 1 said in a calm but firm voice, "I will deal with him myself and bring him to Mr. 0's side."
Mr. 2, still holding a flamboyant dancing pose, spun lightly on his heel and said, "Oh, as you wish. Anyways, I don't want to fight someone like him. After all, he is such a handsome young man."
Mr. 1 stepped forward.
As he walked toward Gojo, his fingers began to transform. The flesh shifted and sharpened, turning metallic and gleaming under the sun. He raised both arms and swung them in a cross motion.
Instantly—
The tavern behind Gojo was sliced apart.
Deep, clean cut marks appeared across the structure as powerful air slashes were released from Mr. 1's blade-like fingers. The already damaged building could not withstand the pressure and collapsed further, wooden beams splitting and walls crumbling into debris.
Dust exploded outward.
But Gojo remained totally unharmed.
He continued walking forward.
Seeing this, Mr. 3, who had just experienced Gojo's overwhelming defense firsthand, said with a tense expression, "It is of no use. He's also a Devil Fruit user—most probably a barrier-type Devil Fruit user."
Mr. 1 heard those words and gave a slight nod. Though he did not fully believe it yet, he decided to test this so-called barrier power himself.
Without hesitation, both of his arms up to his palms transformed completely into sharp-edged blades. The metallic sheen reflected the sunlight, and he lunged toward Gojo.
He attacked relentlessly.
From the left—slash.
From the right—slash.
From above—downward strike.
From below—rising cut.
His movements were precise and deadly. Each swing released cutting force strong enough to slice through stone. The ground around Gojo was carved apart, deep gashes forming everywhere. Dust and fragments of earth flew in all directions.
Here. There. Again and again.
Within moments, the entire area was destroyed. The earth was torn open with countless cut marks, and a thick cloud of dust rose, covering everything.
For a few seconds, nothing could be seen.
Then slowly, the dust began to settle.
As visibility returned, a single figure stood calmly in the centre of the destruction.
Gojo.
Totally unharmed.
Not even a scratch on his body.
He stood there casually, hands relaxed at his sides, as if none of the violent attacks had ever happened.
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