Seeing Lancelot instantly bypass him, appearing directly beside his designated target, Mr. 1 inwardly cursed.
He immediately shouted, his voice a sharp warning cutting through the sudden tension, "Mr. 3! Be careful!"
When Lancelot reappeared, having used Soru to cross the intervening distance in less than a heartbeat, he was indeed standing right beside Mr. 3.
"Huh?" Mr. 3, Galdino, had also noticed Lancelot's impossible movement.
His pupils contracted sharply, his flamboyant composure shattering into pure, abject panic.
He could feel the terrifying aura radiating from the Marine Major.
"Candle Champion: Candle Ball!" It must be said, despite his fear, Mr. 3 reacted with surprising swiftness.
Wax erupted from his body, instantly encasing him in a thick, spherical wax shell for protection.
"Huff..." Trapped inside his hastily constructed bunker, he couldn't help but let out a shaky sigh of relief.
He inwardly wondered, his mind reeling,
'What kind of rotten luck is this? Out of all the opponents, why did he specifically target me first?'
Swish...
Simultaneously, Lancelot's cursed blade, Sandai Kitetsu, left its scabbard in a near-invisible blur.
As a newly minted Sword Master, further enhanced by Observation Haki, he could immediately perceive the subtle flaw, the weakest point, in the hastily formed wax sphere.
It was akin to sensing the 'breath' or weaknesses in iron, allowing him to cut through it.
The Sandai Kitetsu, imbued with Lancelot's Armament Haki, traced a graceful, almost effortless arc through the air.
With a faint shlick, it cleanly sliced the supposedly iron-hard wax sphere apart.
The upper half of the protective shell slid slowly down and crashed onto the ground with a dull thud.
"Hiss..." Mr. 3 gasped sharply, a chill running up his spine, freezing him to the marrow.
His ridiculously styled hair practically stood on end. In that single, terrifying moment, cold sweat drenched his back.
Because the blade... the blade had passed just millimeters from his face.
It felt as if his hastily erected wax sphere, his ultimate defense, were made of paper.
It had cleanly, effortlessly, cut through his wax... Yet he knew the wax he created was as hard as iron!
How could it possibly be sliced apart so easily?!
Most importantly, he realized with sickening clarity, had the blade been just a fraction of an inch lower, his head would have been severed just like the wax sphere.
This was, without a doubt, the closest he had ever come to death.
"You're dead!" Mr. 1 roared, enraged.
Lancelot's act of completely bypassing him, the designated opponent, to attack Mr. 3 first was nothing short of a profound humiliation.
After all, he was the strongest Officer Agent present.
Lancelot's opponent should have been him.
"Supaa Supaa no Mi: Micro-Dust Quick-Slash Blade!" Mr. 1 took a deep breath, focusing his mind.
The power of his Dice-Dice Fruit surged forth from within.
What happened next was astounding—the soles of his feet began to shimmer and transform, magically shifting into razor-sharp blades of solid steel!
The edges gleamed coldly, seeming capable of slicing through anything with ease.
Once the transformation was complete, he shot forward like an arrow released from its bow, skating across the ground on his bladed feet with lightning speed.
His figure became a blur, leaving only a faint afterimage.
In the blink of an eye, he was already right in front of Lancelot, the entire motion fluid and seamless.
At the same time, his hands underwent a strange, deadly metamorphosis.
His palms and fingers rapidly morphed into long, sharp blades—thin as cicada wings yet incredibly sturdy, exuding a lethal aura.
With a powerful sweep of his arm, these hand-blades whistled through the air, thrusting straight toward Lancelot's chest.
Faced with such a swift and vicious assault, an ordinary person would likely have no time to react.
If struck by Mr. 1's full-body blade attack, the consequences would be dire—not just simple stab wounds, but likely being sliced into multiple pieces on the spot.
"Soru..."
Just as Mr. 1 launched his attack, Gin, following Lancelot's pre-arranged plan, vanished from his original position.
He reappeared instantly, not beside Mr. 3, but right in front of the small, unassuming figure of Miss Goldenweek.
Miss Goldenweek froze completely, her large, perpetually-bored eyes widening in shock.
Her pupils contracted to needle points.
"Gulp..." She instinctively swallowed hard, her brush and palette falling from her suddenly numb fingers.
"Not good!" Mr. 3's face paled dramatically.
He understood instantly.
A sly, triumphant smile curled at the corner of Lancelot's lips.
His earlier, dramatic attack that had seemed aimed solely at Mr. 3 had actually been nothing more than an elaborately staged feint.
The reason was simple: the long-standing, infamous partnership between Mr. 3 and Miss Goldenweek.
They had developed an exceptional, almost telepathic rapport over time.
This tacit understanding allowed them to coordinate seamlessly in battle, with Mr. 3 providing the defense and offense while Miss Goldenweek applied her debilitating 'Color Traps'.
Lancelot knew Mr. 3 was constantly, almost subconsciously, observing Miss Goldenweek's every move because he knew her critical weakness: she had absolutely zero physical combat ability.
If Lancelot had rashly launched a direct attack on Miss Goldenweek first, given the distance between them and Mr. 3's defensive wax abilities, rescuing her would have been as easy as turning over his hand.
Doing so would not only have failed to capture Miss Goldenweek but might also have trapped Lancelot himself in a pincer attack from both sides.
Just as it was happening now—once Mr. 1 realized what was truly happening, he would rush to her aid without hesitation.
Therefore, after careful consideration, Lancelot had decided to employ a feint attack on Mr. 3.
This would not only draw the attention of everyone present but also keep Mr. 3 fully occupied in defending against his seemingly overwhelming assault, leaving him absolutely no time or focus to protect his vulnerable partner.
Without Mr. 3's immediate protection, Miss Goldenweek was, as Lancelot had planned, like a lamb waiting to be slaughtered.
After all, her strength lay in being a powerful, psychologically-based controller, but her physical combat skills were severely, almost comically, lacking.
If given the opportunity, with Gin's enhanced speed and ruthless efficiency, she wouldn't even have time to think about painting a 'Betrayal Black' symbol before being struck down.
"Oh no!"
At that exact moment, both Mr. 1 and Mr. 3 snapped out of their daze, realizing the feint.
But it was already far too late.
Like them, everyone else—Mr. 2, Miss Doublefinger, even Zoro and Lina who were preparing to engage their own opponents—had been completely captivated by Lancelot's dramatic, high-speed actions, utterly neglecting the small, seemingly harmless painter's presence.
With a loud, sickening "thud," Gin swung his heavy steel tonfa down, landing a heavy, precise blow squarely on the back of Miss Goldenweek's head.
Instantly, her eyes glazed over as if she had lost consciousness, and her small body went limp as she collapsed to the ground, out of the fight before it had even truly begun for her.
Almost simultaneously, Lancelot's Sandai Kitetsu, already drawn, flashed forward like lightning.
Imbued with Armament Haki, it met Mr. 1's bladed hand-strike precisely.
CLANG!
Sparks flew as steel met steel.
In that instant, an astonishingly powerful recoil traveled through the cursed blade, causing Lancelot's body to sway slightly from the sheer force, but he quickly steadied himself, absorbing the impact with his Fishman-enhanced physique.
In contrast, Mr. 1, whose attack relied on momentum, was completely stopped and forced back by the immense counter-force.
He stumbled three full steps before barely regaining his footing, his blade-hand numb from the impact.
The difference in their raw strength, even without Devil Fruits factored in, was already clear.
"Miss Goldenweek!" Mr. 3 exclaimed in shock and rage, seeing his partner fall.
His carefully laid plans were already falling apart.
"Doru Doru Arts: Candle Champion - Sword!"
Enraged, Mr. 3 unleashed his power.
The originally soft wax flowing from his body rapidly solidified, forming a massive, incredibly hard wax sword in the blink of an eye.
The blade gleamed with a dull, white light, yet it felt immensely heavy, brimming with boundless power and authority.
It is worth noting that in the original story, Mr. 3 had used this very technique to successfully pin the powerful Giant, Brogy's, hand to the ground.
This alone demonstrated the formidable might of this seemingly unassuming move.
However, at this moment, Mr. 3's target was not a giant... but Gin!
Faced with such a formidable, uniquely powerful enemy, Gin showed not a trace of fear.
He took a deep breath, tensed his muscles, and began spinning rapidly in place, digging his heels into the ground.
He spun like a rapidly rotating top, gaining speed and momentum until he completed a full 360-degree turn.
The moment his rotation ceased, Gin harnessed the immense centrifugal force generated by the spin, swinging his heavy tonfa with thunderous momentum to smash directly against the great wax sword Mr. 3 had thrust toward him.