The square remained frozen in stunned silence after Arlong's violent ejection. Dust hung in the air like a veil, slowly settling as if the island itself was trying to process what had just happened. The villagers stood motionless, their mouths agape, eyes wide with disbelief. Arlong—once the unshakable tyrant of the East Blue—had been sent flying by a single punch.
But the stillness didn't last.
The remaining Fishman pirates began to stir, twitching with disbelief that gradually morphed into something more dangerous—rage.
"You bastard…!" Kuroobi snarled, his gills flaring and thick veins rising on his muscular neck.
"You laid your filthy human hands on Arlong-sama!" Chew bellowed, his fish-like jaw snapping with every word.
Another Fishman stepped forward, eyes bloodshot. "You're gonna pay for that!"
The tension exploded like a dam breaking. Fishmen unsheathed cutlasses, pulled out makeshift spears, and cracked their knuckles with sick anticipation. Their bodies trembled—not from fear—but from barely contained fury. Yet despite their rage, none dared to take the first step.
They stared at Zino, wary.
He stood calmly at the center of it all, hands in his coat pockets, not even bothering to take a fighting stance. The wind ruffled his coat, and the light glinted off his brass knuckles.
Their instincts screamed revenge—but their eyes had just seen Arlong, their strongest, tossed like driftwood. Fear clawed at the edges of their bravado.
Zino took a slow step forward. His foot crunched against the stone pavement, the sound louder than it had any right to be in the suffocating silence.
"I'll give you one chance," he said, his voice like steel dragged across stone.
"Pick your opponent. Me. Alvida. Or Zoro." Zino said, pointing his finger to himself, Alvida, and Zoro. He added. "If any of you win, I'll let the rest of you go."
The villagers gasped. Some whispered in alarm, unsure if Zino was fearless… or insane. He was vastly outnumbered. Even with Zoro and Alvida at his side, they were only three against more than a dozen trained Fishmen warriors.
"What's he doing?" someone whispered behind Nojiko. "He's going to get himself killed…"
Nojiko clenched her fists but kept her eyes locked on Zino's back. Somehow, she couldn't bring herself to feel afraid.
The Fishmen hesitated. They exchanged uncertain glances. The human was provoking them… but not recklessly. He knew something they didn't—or perhaps he just didn't care.
Chew suddenly stepped forward, spitting onto the cracked stone between them. "Tch. I'll take that woman," he said with a cruel smirk, pointing at Alvida. "She looks slow. Though…" His eyes roamed Alvida's figure with crude interest. "She does look pretty. Maybe I'll keep her after I break her legs."
Alvida's brow twitched.
Slowly, she stepped forward with a lazy sway in her hips. Her iron mace rested on her shoulder like it weighed nothing.
"You like talking, fish boy?" she said with a dangerous grin. "Let's see how much you can say after I've smashed your jaw."
Chew hissed, his webbed fingers curling.
Kuroobi cracked his neck. "Fine. I'll take the swordsman," he growled. "Let's see if the rumors about Roronoa Zoro are true."
Saying so, he gestured to one of the Fishman pirates. The Fishman hurriedly approached him and handed a trident, a large fork like weapon.
Zoro smirked, already loosening the bandana from his arm and tying it over his head. "You'll find out soon enough."
A tense moment passed. Chew and Kuroobi shifted their stances.
And then—they lunged.
But not at their chosen opponents.
Both shot toward Zino like torpedoes in water. Their plan clear: take out the leader first.
But Zino didn't flinch.
CLANG!
Kuroobi's blow was blocked mid-strike by Zoro, who appeared in a flash, his blade catching the Fishman's Trident just in time. Sparks flew.
"I'm your opponent," Zoro said coolly.
On the other side, Chew charged, jaw open to unleash a pressurized water shot. But Alvida moved like a cannonball, slamming her mace downward just as Chew prepared to fire.
BOOM!
The force sent tremors through the ground, and Chew stumbled back, barely managing to dodge the full brunt.
Zino remained still, hands in his pockets. "You see? If you want to win your freedom, you'll have to earn it. No cheap tricks."
Kuroobi bared his sharp teeth and turned to face Zoro properly. "Fine. I'll take you on."
He dropped into a low stance, gripping his Tidal Trident like a spear.
Zoro grinned. "Good. I've been itching for a warm-up."
Alvida spun her mace with one hand, facing Chew confidently. "Let's dance, fish boy."
Chew snarled and rushed her, water shooting from his mouth like a bullet. Alvida tilted her head just enough to dodge it, then countered with a heavy swing that forced him into the defensive.
The square had become a battlefield again, but the villagers no longer looked on in fear—they looked with awe, hope, and anticipation.
Zino turned away from the fight, eyes scanning the horizon toward Arlong Park in the distance.
"This ends today," he murmured, "for Nami… and for this village."
And behind him, the sound of clashing steel and cracking stone filled the air, as Zoro and Alvida each faced their chosen foes.
...
Southern Side of Conomi Island.
The wind howled along the shore as Sanji and Gin clashed once more beneath the graying sky. The tide rolled in and out, waves crashing with each strike they exchanged. Their duel had already stretched for several long minutes—blows traded, kicks dodged, and techniques tested.
Sanji panted, his shirt torn and smudged with blood and sand. His midsection throbbed from the earlier barrage—Gin's tonfa strikes had left deep bruises on his ribs. But despite the pain, the cook held firm, eyes blazing with defiance.
Across from him, Gin's breathing was ragged, his back aching from the sharp kicks he'd received. One strike had nearly knocked him off balance, but the pain only sharpened his focus. He clutched his tonfa tightly, stepping into another advance.
"Don't take me lightly, cook," Gin growled, voice tight with fatigue. "I won't lose."
"I should say the same," Sanji retorted, sliding into a fighting stance, ignoring the blood on his lip. "I don't go down easy either."
Then, with no further words, they lunged.
Sanji's kicks came fast and sharp, slicing through the air with precision, while Gin countered with the cold, metallic rhythm of his tonfa strikes.
Sanji swept low with a sharp *leg hook*, trying to knock Gin off balance, but Gin jumped back and retaliated.
"Crushing Fang!"
He swung his tonfa in an overhead arc, slamming it down into Sanji's shoulder. The cook staggered with a grunt, but grit his teeth and powered through the pain.
"Still not enough," Sanji growled. He twisted his torso and launched a spinning back kick into Gin's ribs. The blow sent Gin sliding through the sand, coughing.
Gin steadied himself, one knee digging into the ground. He breathed heavily, sweat matting his bangs to his forehead. With a growl, he charged in again. Gin went for a horizontal sweep with his tonfa.
"Steel Fang Sweep!"
However, Sanji jumped it, flipping over Gin's head and delivering a *heel drop* that cracked the earth just behind him.
Gin barely dodged, spinning with a counter-strike that landed solidly on Sanji's back.
"Ungh!" Sanji hit the ground, coughing blood, his arms shaking as he tried to rise.
From the deck of the Silent Orca, Johnny and Yosaku had been watching anxiously. Their fists were clenched, teeth grit with concern.
"Sanji!" Johnny called out. "Hang in there, bro!"
Yosaku turned to him, worried. "We should go down—"
But before Johnny and Yosaku could lift themselves to rush to Sanji's side, two great hands shot out from above and grabbed each of them by the heads.
*CRACK!*
Their skulls collided with brutal force. "Guh—!" "Wha—!" broke from their mouths before their eyes rolled back in their sockets. And just like that, they dropped—limp sacks—onto the deck, unconscious.
A hush fell over the battlefield below. The clash of kicks and steel, the roar of wind, even the crashing waves seemed momentarily muted. All eyes turned to the figure towering over them.
Don Krieg.
He stood on the ship's railing, his once-tied wrists free. The ropes had been torn or slipped loose — it didn't matter how. What mattered was his return. Dark metal glinted beneath his coat, and his shoulders squared as he surveyed the scene with cold authority.
Sanji, wounded and battered, was still on his knees. Gin, bruised and steadying himself, crouched a few feet away, his tonfa clenched tightly, gaze locked on Sanji.
"Gin!" Krieg's voice rang out.
Gin turned his head upwards. His eyes widened in surprise, and happiness. "Captain! You… you're free?"
But Krieg offered no answer. Instead, he made a gesture, he pointed downward—at Sanji.
"Finish your fight," Krieg said crisply. "And kill that guy."
Gin's eyes widened at the sudden command. From his eyes, there seems to be a flicker of conflict in it.
A storm raged behind his pupils. On one hand, he owed Krieg loyalty—his captain's orders were absolute. But on the other, something in him hesitated to strike a defenseless man, especially someone like Sanji, who he owes some gratitude.
From a while ago, he was already hesitant to fight Sanji, because he helped him when he was at his lowest. He provided foods for him and his crews.
Now that he received the command, it caused him to falter. While he was undecided, time seemed to stretch. The wind tugged and passes by.
Sanji coughed, head bowed, but clenched his fist. "I'm not done yet," he whispered — more to himself than to Gin or Krieg.
Gin's jaw tightened. He swallowed. He took a half-step forward, tonfa raised. But he did not strike. Instead, he looked up at his captain, then back at Sanji. His body rigid. Finally, he dropped his tonfa.
Gin's voice was low, cold: "Captain… I can't."
"What!?" Don Krieg's voice thundered with disbelief, his face contorting with fury. "What do you mean, you can't?"
As he inquired coldly, Krieg stepped off the railing and dropped down from the Silent Orca. Landing steadily on the shoreline, he strode forward slowly, each step deliberate and heavy.
As he moved, he wore a brass knuckles on his hands. Somehow, he had kept it hidden all this time. Perhaps Zino had missed taking it away, as he 'smuggled' it in his most private armory.
"He gave me food…" Gin said firmly, eyes not leaving Krieg's. "When I collapsed at Baratie… Sanji fed me, even though I was an enemy. He fed our crew too. I can't return that kindness by taking his life." He bowed his head slightly. "I'm sorry, Captain. I just… can't do it."
Krieg's steps halted. The air turned still.
His jaw clenched tightly, the muscle twitching along his temple. "Tch…" he spat, his lips curling into a look of contempt. "Pathetic. I expected more from you, Gin."
He raised the brass-knuckled fist. "Step aside," he ordered, his voice cold as steel. "If you won't finish him, I will. I'll crush that cook's skull and be done with it."
But Gin didn't move.
He planted his feet firmly in the sand, breathing heavily, his body still aching from the earlier fight. "Captain," he said, his voice low but unwavering, "he's already down. There's no honor in killing him now."
Krieg's eyes narrowed, and his face twisted into a sneer. "Honor? Since when did *you* start preaching about honor? We're pirates, Gin. We fight to win. We kill when it's convenient."
And then, without warning—
WHAM!
Krieg's brass knuckles slammed into Gin's ribs with brutal force. The sound echoed—a harsh, *metallic crunch* that cut through the silence like a gunshot. Gin's eyes widened as the pain shot through his side. He gasped, staggered back a step, and then crumpled to the ground, clutching his ribs, coughing hard.
"Captain… why…?" Gin wheezed, clutching his bruised ribs, the sting of betrayal sharper than the blow itself.
Krieg looked down at him with a twisted sneer. "You disappoint me, Gin. I raised you better than this. But now you're hesitating… over a meal? Over kindness?" He scoffed. "If that's the man you've become, then you're no use to me."
Without another word, Krieg marched forward, stepping past his former right hand.
Sanji was already upright, though barely. His shirt clung to his bruised torso, blood streaking down his chin. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes narrowing as he saw the brutish figure approaching.
"Oh… great," Sanji muttered with a wince. "The tin-can captain finally shows up. What, that's the only junk you've got?"
Krieg's grin widened darkly. Unlike before, he had no golden armor, no arsenal of chemical weapons or hidden explosives. Zino had stripped him bare. All he had left was a single brass knuckle—his last ace, somehow smuggled past inspection.
"Doesn't matter," Krieg said, flexing the hand with the knuckle. "One fist is all I need to end you."
Sanji cracked his neck, feet sliding into stance. "Then come try, junkyard."