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The sky darkened as Arthur and Roger's battle raged on, a seemingly endless clash of wills and raw power.
Roger remained stationary, waiting for Arthur to attack. Moving first would give Arthur, with his superior speed, an opening—A defensive counter-attack was the best strategy for an Observation Haki master facing a speed-based opponent...
Crack!
The earth beneath them split—
Risky Red Island, unable to withstand the force of their clash, was breaking apart, the landscape reshaping itself, mountains crumbling, the ground cracking.
The battle raged, the sun rising and setting multiple times, Rayleigh and the others watching intently, only pausing to eat when their stomachs growled.
Eight days and nights.
Finally—Arthur, his stamina depleted, reverted from his Thunder God form.
Roger's face, drained of color, was ashen.
"The Captain's illness…It's acting up!" Crocus, his medical bag clutched in his hand, his face pale with worry, wanted to intervene, but remembered Rayleigh's words. He couldn't interfere. Not now.
"This is it. It's almost over." Gaban, his eyes narrowed behind his round sunglasses, watched intently.
They were all worried, their anxiety growing with each passing moment, but they held back, their faith in Roger unwavering.
"Captain…" Shanks whispered, his gaze fixed on Roger, who, despite coughing up blood, continued to fight, his determination absolute—a refusal to yield, even in the face of death.
Roger usually wore a carefree grin, his expression rarely changing, even when facing Shiki's massive fleet at Edd War. He never retreated, even in the direst situations, always choosing to attack.
Shanks, awestruck by Roger's indomitable spirit, was learning a lesson he would carry with him for the rest of his life. These days, training with the Roger Pirates, were invaluable.
"Captain Roger…He will not lose!" Shanks's belief in his captain was absolute. Roger would never let them down.
——
"Wahahahaha! Even sick, I won't lose to an arrogant brat like you!" Roger grinned, his mustache twitching.
Then, for the first time in eight days—he attacked.
A whirlwind of Haki erupted around him, like a miniature tornado, lifting debris and dust into the air, then holding it suspended, defying gravity.
Arthur's long hair whipped around him as he narrowed his eyes, watching Roger's approach. The tables had turned—Roger was on the offensive now.
"You're not going anywhere, kid!" Roger's laughter boomed, echoing across the shattered island.
He lunged forward, the swirling wind becoming a weapon, a weapon wielded by a master, as if he commanded the very air itself.
Arthur grinned, his own excitement surging, despite his exhaustion, his chapped lips, his aching muscles. He gathered his remaining strength, ready to face Roger's final attack.
"HAHAHAHA! You're finished, Roger!"
As Roger approached, Arthur's electric field flared, a protective barrier of crackling lightning, meeting Roger's Haki head-on.
Their powers clashed, a clear dividing line forming between them, the air crackling with energy.
The world went silent for a heartbeat—then—
BOOOOOOOOOOM!!!
The force of their clash was like a nuclear explosion, the shockwave rippling outwards, the deafening roar causing several pirates to cough up blood, their eardrums ruptured.
A mushroom cloud of dust and debris rose into the sky, a massive crater, hundreds of yards wide, forming where they'd stood, seawater slowly seeping in.
Arthur, his Isolation Field collapsing under the strain, his stamina finally depleted, stumbled back, blood trickling from Roger's lips, staining his teeth crimson.
As Arthur faltered, Roger unleashed one final punch, sending Arthur flying backwards into a pile of rubble.
Arthur crashed into the rocks, the debris collapsing around him, burying him.
Roger, having expended his last ounce of strength, remained standing, his form unwavering, but his body trembled, unable to move.
He coughed, blood splattering the ground. Then, he collapsed.
"CAPTAIN!"
"CAPTAIN ROGER!!"
The Roger Pirates rushed forward, catching him before he hit the ground, Crocus frantically administering medicine from his medical bag.
Long, tense moments later—
Roger's eyes fluttered open. With Rayleigh's help, he slowly got to his feet, his gaze fixed on the pile of rubble where Arthur lay buried.
"Dig him out. I need to stop him…from killing Whitebeard's son," he rasped, his voice weak.
"Captain Roger, we won't forget this," Vista said, his voice filled with gratitude, Namur nodding beside him.
Having witnessed the eight-day battle, they knew they were no match for Arthur. Only Whitebeard himself could defeat him.
They'd contacted Whitebeard, reporting the situation.
A hand, powerful and scarred, emerged from the rubble.
Bang!
The rocks exploded outwards as Arthur slowly pulled himself free, his clothes torn, his upper body bare, his powerful muscles covered in dust. Despite his exhaustion, he'd recovered enough to move.
"Arthur! Your resilience is…monstrous! Wahahaha!" Roger, seeing Arthur emerge, laughed, his relief evident.
"Roger—I lost this round. You want me to spare those two? Fine. But next time—I hope you have something stronger to offer." Arthur, his muscles aching, barely able to stand, agreed to Roger's request.
It had been the most exhilarating battle of his life, a brutal, eight-day clash that had given him a new appreciation for the power of the New World's Emperors.
Roger, weakened by illness, past his prime—had still pushed him to his limits. What then, of Whitebeard, the man rumored to be the strongest in the world?
The Grand Line—thanks to these monsters, these legends—It promised endless thrills and excitement!
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