Onigumo wanted to roar, wanted to curse, but all that surged up in his throat was a fishy, sweet liquid mixed with ice crystals, and for a moment, he couldn't even utter a single complete syllable.
He lifted his head with difficulty; beneath his messy hair, that face, usually so fierce and cold, was now filled with humiliation and bewilderment.
He couldn't understand it; as a Vice Admiral of Marine Headquarters, battle-hardened, how could he have been defeated so thoroughly and so quickly?
"Who... exactly... are you..."
Onigumo's voice was broken and weak, every syllable stained with blood foam.
Lorne looked down at him from above, not a trace of emotional fluctuation to be found on that face, as if he were looking at a stray on the roadside.
"Is this the justice you Marines pride yourselves on?"
Lorne spoke, his words devoid of inflection yet permeated with a chill that could freeze one's soul.
"For the sake of such scum, to trample on the lives of innocents at will—is this the order you protect?"
This made Onigumo feel an unprecedented humiliation, and a final wave of madness surged into his mind.
The long hair behind his head writhed once more, attempting to launch a final attack, even if it were only a futile struggle.
Lorne didn't even spare him another glance, merely letting out a faint sneer.
The ice crystals wrapped around Onigumo suddenly contracted inward, emitting a teeth-grinding "creak," while the chill surged wildly through his limbs and bones along the ice spikes piercing his arms.
"For trash like you, death is a merciful release."
"Urgh... Aaaaaah!"
A shrill scream squeezed out of Onigumo's throat, only to come to an abrupt end.
His blood vessels, his internal organs, every drop of blood in his body were frozen into ice crystals in an instant.
Lorne slowly raised his hand, then gently clenched it.
Bang!
The ice crystals covering Onigumo's entire body instantly erupted with a blinding white light, then shattered with a roar, turning into billions of glittering ice dust particles that drifted in the air.
That arrogant Vice Admiral of Marine Headquarters, along with his final dignity and unwillingness, was completely erased; Onigumo was thus annihilated, body and soul, without even a complete corpse left behind.
Lorne took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled a puff of white air; the surging Conquerors Haki, under his conscious control, finally receded like a tide.
The red and black lightning flashing in the sky gradually dissipated, and the oppressive aura that made it hard to breathe also receded.
"Is this Conquerors Haki? It really is... not easy to control."
Lorne stretched his neck, causing a faint cracking sound of bones.
His heart was devoid of ripples; killing a wicked Marine Vice Admiral was no different to him than crushing an insect.
He would have to find an opportunity to practice properly in the future; Old Man Garp seemed to know how, I wonder if he would teach him.
Lorne's thoughts drifted for a moment, then were pulled back by reality, and he cast his gaze toward the center of the plaza.
His gaze crossed over the crowd of people who had fainted all over the ground, finally fixing on that figure who had been knocked unconscious, fallen from a slave's back, and was now lying on the ground with drool flowing everywhere.
A Celestial Dragon, Saint Charlimako.
This so-called highest noble bloodline of the world, the World Nobles, was currently lying paralyzed on the dusty ground in an extremely unseemly posture.
Lorne felt a pure sense of disgust rush straight to his scalp.
His first reaction was to walk over and use the same method to completely evaporate this world-class trash from the world.
Lorne took a step and walked toward Saint Charlimako, a thin layer of frost condensing on the stone slabs beneath his feet with every step.
However, just as he was about to reach Saint Charlimako, his footsteps halted.
He thought of the consequences.
Killing a Marine Vice Admiral might infuriate Marine Headquarters and lead them to send a Marine Admiral to hunt him down, but if he killed a Celestial Dragon here, the consequences would be devastating.
The World Government would never tolerate such blasphemy against "gods"; they would unhesitatingly launch a "Buster Call" and completely wipe Loguetown off the map.
He could kill Saint Charlimako and then just walk away.
With his strength, even if a Marine Admiral arrived in person, he was confident he could escape.
But what about this town? What about these innocent residents? They would suffer a catastrophe because of his moment of gratification.
Just like Ohara more than a decade ago, regardless of gender, age, good, or evil, everything would be reduced to ashes in the cannon fire.
"Tch~ What a huge hassle."
Lorne spat out a low curse and scratched his hair in irritation; he really just wanted to check in at this landmark of the era and reflect on history—who could have imagined he would run into this kind of mess?
He still had to kill him, but not here.
Lorne walked to Saint Charlimako's side, looking down at the fat idiot; seeing that drooling, stupid face, he felt his stomach churn.
He kicked Saint Charlimako in disgust.
"Hey, wake up, don't play dead."
Saint Charlimako showed no reaction, still sleeping soundly.
Lorne lost his patience; he didn't want to touch this disgusting guy with his hands.
The ice crystals beneath his feet flickered slightly, and several slender ice ribbons generated out of thin air, automatically wrapping around Saint Charlimako's body and binding him into a sturdy ice dumpling.
Lorne flicked his hand, and those ice ribbons lifted Saint Charlimako, suspending him in mid-air to follow behind Lorne.
He just left a so-called "god" like that and strode toward the direction of the harbor.
This scene could be called shocking; holiness and baseness, arrogance and humiliation, formed an extremely absurd contrast at this moment.
Unfortunately, no one in the entire plaza could witness this scene that would subvert their worldview.
Lorne dragged that scum through rows of Marines and civilians who had fainted on the ground, quickly arriving at the harbor and finding his inconspicuous little boat.
He walked to the side of the boat and gave a casual flick; Saint Charlimako behind him was thrown onto the deck like a sack, his fat body colliding with the wooden deck with a dull, loud thud.
Lorne untied the cable and gave a gentle push, and the small boat slowly sailed away from the harbor.
He looked back at this Town of Beginnings and Endings; for him, this place had become a spot that made his travel mood extremely terrible.
At the moment Lorne's small boat merged into the vast ocean, a painful groan sounded on the deck.
Saint Charlimako began to wake up.
His small eyes blinked in confusion, his vision gradually becoming clear from blurry.
He saw the strange deck, saw the boundless ocean, and finally saw that young face standing at the bow, coldly watching him.
"You... who are you?"
After a brief moment of confusion, his deep-rooted arrogance quickly took the high ground.
"Where are my Guards! You base fellow, do you know who this Saint is?! Why don't you kneel down immediately!"
He roared with his sharp, shrill voice, as if this could summon his omnipotent power.
A cold curve slowly bloomed on Lorne's face.
"I know."
Lorne spoke softly, his words mixing into the sea breeze and clearly drilling into Saint Charlimako's ears.
"You are the... only entertainment for the journey I have ahead."
As his words fell, a ghastly white chill diffused from Lorne's palm, like a living poisonous snake slowly crawling along the deck toward that Celestial Dragon who had finally realized something was wrong, terror appearing on his face.
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