"There's another rule!"
Rocks stood on the rooftop, his voice booming over the destruction.
"Any pirate who comes here for Shakky's Bar is protected! Fighting is forbidden within the island limits to keep the business running!"
This rule was Shakky's condition for setting up shop. She refused to rebuild her bar every other day because some drunk legends decided to spar.
York grinned, resting his sword on his shoulder.
"Roger and his crew are definitely here for Shakky. They are customers."
York pointed his blade at Rayleigh, who was dripping wet.
"But he isn't."
Rocks blinked. He realized York was right. Rayleigh hadn't entered the bar. In fact, until York dragged him out, he hadn't even stepped foot on the island.
How could a man hiding on his ship be considered a customer?
Rocks' anger subsided, replaced by an amused smirk. He crossed his arms.
"He has a point."
Silence fell over the port. Even Roger scratched his head, unable to argue. If Rayleigh didn't admit he was here for Shakky, he wasn't protected by the 'Simp Shield'.
York turned his gaze to the Dark King.
"Hey! Rayleigh!"
"If you admit right now that you came to this island because you missed Shakky, I'll stop fighting you."
"Admit you're a love-struck fool, and you can walk away."
Rayleigh's expression froze. His face flushed red. Admit that in front of everyone? In front of Roger?
He stiffened his neck, his pride winning over his heart.
"Continue the fight!"
York scoffed. "What a coward."
BOOM!
York kicked the ground, shattering the concrete. He charged.
Rayleigh met him head-on, his blade wreathed in black-red lightning.
The battle reignited in the center of the ruins.
Roger watched, scratching his chin. He knew why Rayleigh wouldn't admit it, but he couldn't help his mate now. It was a duel.
For the Rocks Pirates, this was a show. They wanted to see York's limits.
York created distance, swinging his blade rapidly.
"Lion's Ravine!"
Dozens of golden flying slashes erupted from his blade, tearing up the earth.
Shiki, watching from the roof, dropped his cigar. "That's my move?! When did that brat steal it?!"
Rayleigh deflected the golden slashes easily, sending them into the clouds. He countered with a vertical strike.
This time, York didn't dodge. He gripped his hilt with both hands, muscles bulging.
"Heaven and Earth: Severance!"
He swung horizontally. A massive, pure white shockwave expanded outward in a perfect 180-degree ring, slicing through the ruins.
Whitebeard narrowed his eyes. "That's my swing."
Although York's execution was rougher, the principle was identical to Newgate's bisento technique.
CRACK!
But a copy is just a copy. Without Conqueror's Haki, the white slash shattered against Rayleigh's black-red blade.
Rayleigh broke through the defense.
"It's over!"
SLASH!
Rayleigh cut diagonally across York's chest. Blood sprayed in a grim arc. York was sent flying, crashing through a brick wall and burying himself in rubble.
Smoke rose. Rayleigh sheathed his sword calmly.
"The victor is decided."
However, neither Roger nor Rocks moved.
Cough.
A sound came from the ruins.
WHOOSH!
A storm of pressure blew away the debris. York stood there, blood pouring from a deep gash from shoulder to hip. His ribs were visible.
But he was smiling.
"Holy Communion."
A blinding, holy white light bloomed from his body.
"Ohhh..."
"Shakky-chan..."
Around the perimeter, the spectators—the pirates who had been knocked down earlier—groaned. Their faces twisted into expressions of euphoric bliss. They hallucinated their deepest desires.
Zip! Zip! Zip!
Tentacles of light shot out from York, latching onto the blissed-out pirates.
Life force flowed.
Visibly, the pirates grew slightly paler, while the horrific wound on York's chest knit together. Muscle reconnected. Skin sealed. Within seconds, the gash was gone, leaving only a faint white scar.
York retracted the light. He looked as fresh as he did at the start.
"Conqueror's Coating..." York murmured, staring at his hands. "So that's how it flows."
Getting cut by it had been the final lesson.
RUMBLE...
Black-red energy surged from York's body.
It shot into the sky, tearing the clouds apart and twisting them into a dark vortex.
"So... so powerful..."
The Roger Pirates gasped.
Even Rocks and Roger narrowed their eyes. This wasn't just basic intimidation. This was the real deal.
York controlled the raging energy. He forced it down, compressing it.
It wrapped around his arm. Then his hand. Then the hilt of his sword.
ZZZZZT!
The Haki was so dense it glowed a dazzling crimson before settling into thick, crackling black lightning. It coated the blade, inch by inch, from hilt to tip.
Advanced Conqueror's Haki.
York raised the blade, ready to unleash his first true attack.
CLINK.
A crisp, pathetic sound echoed through the silent battlefield.
The one-meter-long katana—a standard-grade weapon already chipped from the fight—couldn't handle the pressure.
It shattered into a thousand pieces like glass.
York froze, holding just a hilt.
Rayleigh froze, his hand halfway to his sword.
The tension popped like a balloon.
"Your sword is trash," Rocks called out from the roof, casually picking his ear. "It can't withstand that level of Haki."
York sighed, tossing the hilt away.
"I guess that's it."
He had no desire to continue fighting with his bare hands against a swordsman. He had achieved his goal.
"Roger!"
York looked up at the Pirate King.
"Don't forget our agreement! We'll fight before you leave!"
Roger grinned, his expression serious.
"Ah. I look forward to it."
He wasn't humoring a rookie anymore. A man who mastered ACoC in the middle of a fight was a true rival.
York didn't linger. He turned and walked away, ignoring the stunned crowd.
He needed to find a new sword. And he needed to consolidate this power.
The gap between him and the monsters was closing.
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