Onigumo wanted to roar, to curse, but only a metallic-sweet liquid laced with ice shards rose in his throat. For a moment, he could not form a single coherent syllable.
He lifted his head with difficulty, and beneath the tangled hair, the face normally fierce and cold was now etched with humiliation and bewilderment.
He could not understand how he, a vice-admiral of Marines Headquarters, battle-hardened, could lose so completely, so quickly.
"You… who… exactly… are you…?" Onigumo's voice was broken and faint, every syllable carried on a spray of blood.
Ryoma looked down at him from above. Not the faintest ripple of emotion crossed his face, as though he were watching a dog by the roadside.
"Is this the justice your Marines pride themselves on?" Ryoma spoke, his tone flat yet carrying a chill that seemed to freeze the very soul.
"For the sake of such trash, you trample innocent lives at will. This is the order you protect?"
The humiliation Onigumo felt was unlike anything he had ever known. One last surge of madness rushed to his head.
The long hair behind his head twisted again, trying to launch a final attack, even if it was only a futile struggle.
Ryoma did not even spare him a glance, only letting out a soft snort of ridicule.
The ice coiled around Onigumo suddenly contracted inward with a grating crunch, while the cold along the ice thorns piercing his arms surged wildly through every limb and vein.
"For garbage like you, death itself is a merciful release."
"Ugh…"
"AAAHHHH—"
A shrill scream tore from Onigumo's throat and was cut short.
His blood vessels, his organs, every drop of blood in his body were frozen into ice in an instant.
Ryoma slowly raised his hand, then closed it gently.
Bang!
The layer of ice covering Onigumo erupted in a blinding white light, then exploded with a roar, scattering into hundreds of millions of sparkling motes that drifted in the air.
This vice-admiral of Marine Headquarters, together with his final shred of dignity and unwillingness, was erased utterly. Onigumo vanished in body and soul, not even a complete corpse left behind.
Ryoma drew a deep breath, then slowly exhaled a plume of white. The surging Conqueror's Haki that had erupted ebbed away like a tide under his conscious control.
The red-black lightning flashing across the sky gradually faded, and the oppressive might that had crushed every breath also withdrew.
"So this is Conqueror's Haki? Really not easy to control." Ryoma rolled his neck, a faint crackle of bone sounding.
His heart was calm. Killing a vice-admiral who had committed countless atrocities was no different from crushing an insect.
'I'll have to find time to practice later. Garp seems to know it, wonder if he'll teach me.'
Ryoma's thoughts drifted for a moment before reality pulled him back.
He turned his gaze toward the center of the square. His eyes swept over the unconscious crowd and finally fixed on the figure who had fainted, fallen from a slave's back, and now lay sprawled on the ground drooling.
A Celestial Dragon—Saint Charlimako.
The so-called noblest bloodline of this world, a World Noble, now lay in an undignified heap on the dusty ground.
A pure wave of disgust shot straight to Ryoma's skull.
His first instinct was to walk over and evaporate this world-class trash in the same way.
Ryoma stepped toward Charlimako. With every footfall, a thin layer of frost spread across the flagstones.
But just as he reached him, his stride halted and he thought of the consequences.
Killing a vice-admiral would enrage Marine Headquarters and bring an Admiral in pursuit, but killing a Celestial Dragon here would be catastrophic.
The World Government would never tolerate such blasphemy against a "god". They would unleash a Buster Call without hesitation and wipe Loguetown off the map.
He could kill Charlimako and simply walk away. With his strength, he was confident he could escape even if an Admiral came in person.
But what of this town? What of its innocent residents? They would be annihilated for his momentary satisfaction.
Just like Ohara more than a decade ago—men and women, young and old, guilty and innocent alike, all reduced to ash under the cannons.
"Tch. What a pain." Ryoma muttered, ruffling his hair in irritation.
He had only wanted to check out this era's landmark, savor a bit of history.
Who knew he'd stumble into this mess?
He still had to kill him, but not here.
Ryoma walked to Charlimako's side and looked down at the fat fool. The sight of that drooling face made his stomach churn.
He gave the Celestial Dragon a disgusted nudge. "Hey, wake up. Stop playing dead."
Charlimako did not stir, still sleeping soundly.
Ryoma lost patience, he had no wish to touch the revolting man.
The ice at his feet glimmered. Several slender ribbons of ice formed in the air and wound around Charlimako, trussing him into a solid ice dumpling.
With a flick of Ryoma's wrist, the ice ribbons hoisted Charlimako into the air and suspended him behind Ryoma.
Thus he dragged the so-called "god," striding toward the harbor.
The scene was nothing short of shocking. Unfortunately, no one in the square was conscious to witness this world-shaking sight.
Ryoma hauled the trash through rows of unconscious Marines and civilians, quickly reaching the harbor and finding his unremarkable little boat.
Beside the vessel, he casually swung his arm. Charlimako flew like a sack onto the deck, his obese body hitting the planks with a dull thud.
Ryoma untied the mooring rope and gave a light push, the boat slowly drifting away from the port.
He glanced back at the town of beginning and end. For him, the place had become a thorough damper on his journey.
As his small craft merged into the vast sea, a pained groan rose from the deck.
Charlimako was starting to wake. His eyes blinked in confusion, vision clearing from blur. He saw the unfamiliar deck, the endless ocean, and finally the young face at the bow staring coldly at him.
"Who… are you?"
After a brief daze, ingrained arrogance swiftly took over.
"My Guards! You lowly wretch, do you know who I am?! Kneel at once!"
He shrieked in that sharp, grating voice, as if his boundless power could be summoned by sound alone.
A cold arc slowly spread across Ryoma's face.
"I know."
Ryoma spoke softly, the words riding the sea breeze straight into Charlimako's ears.
"You are the only amusement I've reserved for the rest of this voyage."
As the words fell, pale frost spread from Ryoma's palm like living serpents, crawling across the deck toward the Celestial Dragon whose face was finally dawning with terror.
(End of Chapter)
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