Pedro and Shishilian exchanged a subtle glance, secretly breathing a sigh of relief. It seemed Cavendish hadn't yet deduced their true objective. Taking advantage of the misunderstanding, Pedro kept his voice low and gravelly. "We're taking that Flame-Flame Fruit for ourselves. We won't be handing it over to you!"
Zzt—! Crackle—!
Shishilian remained silent, but visible arcs of intense electricity danced along his blade.
Cavendish's expression hardened, his stance shifting into a wary guard. He had already tasted the sting of that technique once and wasn't about to let it happen again.
"Generating high-voltage static through your fur... a formidable ability indeed," Cavendish mused, recalling intelligence reports regarding the Mink Tribe. "Against an average opponent, or anyone with weak Armament Haki, one exchange with you two would be fatal."
Exposed, Pedro and Shishilian offered no rebuttal. On this stage, the victors spoke while the defeated could only howl in grief. Winning the clash would say more than words ever could.
"Take this! Beast Sword: Mad Lion!!!"
Shishilian let out a ferocious roar. The shock of red mane surrounding his neck and jaw billowed outward like flickering flames. He sprinted forward, launched himself high into the air, and used the momentum of his descent to drive a piercing thrust straight at Cavendish.
In the blink of an eye, the strike was upon him, the sharp wind of the blade stinging his face. Cavendish didn't even blink. Instead of retreating, he stepped into the attack, unleashing a direct counter-thrust of his own. The sheer speed of his blade tore through the surrounding air, lending the strike explosive power.
Clang—!
A spark erupted in the air, followed by a shockwave of wind. The two figures blurred past each other, coming to a halt a single pace apart, backs turned to one another.
"Decent swordsmanship. Sadly..." Cavendish began, shaking his head before he could finish.
Spurt—!
The next moment, a spray of blood erupted from Shishilian's body. A long, jagged wound tore open from his abdomen up to his right shoulder, instantly staining his white shirt crimson.
Shishilian staggered, his legs failing him. He leaned heavily on his sword, dropping to one knee as he coughed up a mouthful of blood that splattered across the ring. A second later, he pitched forward into the stone, unconscious.
"Shishilian!" Pedro cried out in shock. He hadn't expected his comrade to fall in a single exchange.
"This is bad!"
"Shishilian!"
In the spectator stands, Duke Inuarashi and Master Nekomamushi turned pale, nearly leaping out of their seats. Had it not been for the stakes of their mission, they would have stormed the ring to save him. But they were warriors; interfering would not only risk exposing their identities but would also be a supreme insult to Shishilian's honor as a soldier.
"You bastard! I'll slaughter you!"
Grief and rage fueled Pedro's roar. He lunged at Cavendish, his blade becoming a blur of desperate, slashing attacks.
Clang!
Cavendish raised his sword in a casual parry, effortlessly rebuffing the assault.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Pedro unleashed a frantic barrage, but Cavendish remained composed, his blade meeting every strike with clinical precision. Sparks showered the arena as the rhythmic chime of clashing steel rang out incessantly.
After a dozen failed exchanges that couldn't even touch the hem of Cavendish's cloak, Pedro was forced to retreat several steps, gasping for air.
"You can't possibly win..." Cavendish began to mock, but the words were cut short by a massive, jaw-stretching yawn. "Haaa-ah-nnn..."
Suddenly, Cavendish's eyes drifted half-shut. He became visibly drowsy, his posture drooping and his footing turning unsteady as if he were in a trance.
"What's wrong with this guy?" Pedro frowned, suspicious that it was some sort of trap.
Seconds passed, and instead of snapping out of it, Cavendish began to sway on his feet, looking as though he might fall asleep at any second.
Does this guy have narcolepsy? Pedro wondered.
He couldn't pass up the opening. The spectral image of a guardian lion flickered behind him as he unleashed a whirlwind of slashes.
"Beast Sword: Karajishi!!!"
Slash! Slash! Slash!
Countless strikes tore through Cavendish's space, yet they eerily passed through his silhouette.
"Another afterimage!"
Pedro's heart hammered against his ribs as the blurry figure vanished. He spotted Cavendish, now crouching low, and instinctively leapt backward to create distance.
Moving purely on physical instinct, Cavendish's speed was so great he left trails in the air. He swayed on the spot before stumbling back a few steps.
Zzz... Zzz...
Then, his eyes clamped shut. A snot bubble appeared at his nose, and he collapsed onto the stone, falling into a deep, snoring slumber.
"He... he's actually asleep?!" Pedro's brow twitched.
As a cadre of the Chris Pirates, every move Cavendish made was under a microscope. Even while fighting others, the contestants had kept one eye on the man. Seeing him suddenly pass out mid-battle left everyone stunned.
A bizarre, heavy atmosphere settled over the ring. Pedro's instincts screamed at him, a sense of lethal dread washed over him. He didn't dare approach; instead, he backed away even further.
At that moment, Pedro's foot scuffed the ground.
The sleeping Cavendish's face twisted. His mouth curled into a chilling, malicious grin, and his eyes, hidden behind his lids, seemed to radiate a cold, predatory malice. It was as if a completely different soul had taken control.
"Hehehe... the smell of blood... time to kill again... Kekehehahaha!"
Suddenly, Cavendish vanished from the ground. Only a haunting, grating laugh echoed through the air.
"Where is he?! Wait—" Pedro sensed a sudden, violent gale rushing toward him.
Pshhh—!
"Aaaagh!"
In an instant, Pedro let out a blood-curdling scream as several deep, bone-deep gashes appeared across his body, blood erupting in sprays.
The "strange wind" swept across the arena like a hurricane of blades.
Slash! Rip! Tear!
Crimson bloomed throughout the crowd. One after another, the contestants cried out as they were cut down by the invisible gale. "Executioner" Sleiman, "Massacre Ruler" Orlumbus... no one was spared.
Clang!
A sudden metallic ring echoed as Rebecca's golden helmet was sent flying into the air.
A second later, the wind died down. Cavendish appeared behind Rebecca, collapsing back onto the ground in a snoring heap once more.
Rebecca looked around the arena. Aside from her, not a single soul remained standing. Her legs gave out, and she sank to her knees, trembling.
On the commentary platform, Gatz hadn't been able to track Cavendish's movements with his eyes, but he had recognized the terrifying phenomenon.
"It... it has appeared! The legendary wind of the Rommel Kingdom, the Kamaitachi of Rommel!!!"
"There isn't a single person left standing on the ring! This is horrifying!"
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