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Chapter 431: Courting Death! Securing the Level 3 Vest
That bastard Akainu sure ran fast.
Kaido stood by the shattered wooden railing on the second floor, tightly gripping a bloodstained pan. A rustling sound echoed from the tall grass below. A battered figure, clutching his bleeding forehead, dove into the dense bushes like a stray dog. Akainu had lost his white Marine cap somewhere along the way, and his red magma suit was torn in several places by the branches.
"Tch," Kaido spat disdainfully.
The Admiral always spouted nonsense about Absolute Justice, but without his Devil Fruit powers, he was just an opportunistic coward. If they were in the outside world, that mad dog would have already lunged at him, spewing magma to fight to the death. Seeing him cling so desperately to his life now was downright laughable.
Kaido had no intention of chasing him down to finish the job. His beast-like pupils narrowed as he glanced at his own ankle, which was still seeping blood. Although he had tied a torn rag around the wound to staunch the bleeding, this mortal body was simply too heavy. With every step, the gash left by the sickle flared with piercing pain. If he gave chase and that treacherous Marine managed to bite back, it wouldn't be worth the risk.
These damn game rules, Kaido thought, cursing as he turned around. They've dragged everyone down to the exact same starting line. A mosquito bite I wouldn't have even noticed before could actually claim my life now.
He wiped the pitch-black pan against the wall, smearing off the Marine Admiral's blood. He needed to find something to keep himself alive, and fast. If that sickle had hit a major artery, Kaido of the Beasts would have met his end right here in this dilapidated red building. He absolutely refused to accept a death that would make the entire world laugh their teeth out.
Kaido pushed open the door to the master bedroom at the end of the second-floor hallway, immediately met with the heavy scent of stale dust. The furnishings were sparse: a half-rotted double bed, two overturned nightstands, and wood shavings gnawed by mice scattered across the floor. His massive frame squeezed into the room, making the space feel incredibly cramped as his head nearly scraped the ceiling chandelier.
The house had clearly been looted already. The wardrobe doors hung wide open, the clothes inside tossed into a chaotic mess. Aside from a few tattered shirts nobody wanted, there wasn't even a decent leather belt left behind.
"Penniless rats," Kaido muttered, kicking aside a torn pillow on the floor.
Just as he was about to turn and leave, he caught a strange reflection in the shadows beneath the bed out of the corner of his eye. It wasn't the cheap gleam of plastic, but the steady, heavy matte finish of solid metal.
Kaido paused. Bending his mountain-like waist, he reached out a hand as massive as a palm leaf and grabbed the dark object. He yanked it out with a forceful tug, the metal scraping heavily against the floorboards. It was actually two pieces of equipment stacked together.
On top was a black helmet that looked like a welder's mask, featuring only a narrow slit for the eyes. The entire thing was stamped from some high-strength alloy steel, feeling dense and highly textured in his grip. Beneath the helmet lay a black tactical vest. It was significantly thicker than any of the armor he had seen downstairs.
Kaido rapped his knuckles against the chest of the vest. Thud, thud, thud. The sound was dull and muffled—the distinct acoustic signature of high-hardness ballistic ceramic plates.
"Level 3 Helmet? Level 3 Vest?" Kaido's wide mouth split into a grin.
Even though he couldn't read the instructions written in this otherworldly text, that silver-haired kid in Blake's tavern had hyped these god-tier items to the heavens. He claimed they were life-saving artifacts capable of stopping large-caliber bullets dead in their tracks. In a game where everyone was as fragile as a sheet of paper, getting his hands on these was like getting his indestructible dragon scales back.
"Mine now."
Without a moment's hesitation, Kaido pulled the heavy black ballistic vest over his head. Originally designed for a normal human physique, the tactical vest stretched incredibly tight across his massive frame. His chest muscles were so absurdly developed that they warped the white "Level 3" spray-painted logo, and the nylon velcro straps on the sides creaked in protest, nearly bursting at the seams. But he managed to get it on.
The sensation of those thick ceramic plates pressing tightly against his chest and back brought him an immense sense of security. Kaido rolled his shoulders; aside from pinching slightly at the armpits, it didn't restrict his range of motion. He was just reaching out to grab the alloy helmet off the mattress when a violently sharp whistling sound tore through the air from outside the window.
There was no killing intent, not even the sound of breathing. It was purely the high-pitched shriek of an object ripping through the air at high speed.
Kaido's beast-like instincts saved his life. He subconsciously jerked his head to the side.
Crash! The windowpane exploded into a shower of glass as a rust-covered rebar grazed Kaido's cheek, the gale it generated stinging his skin. Carrying tremendous kinetic energy, the rebar slammed into the wall behind him, burying itself three inches deep. Only a small section of its tail end remained visible, vibrating with a low hum. If his reaction had been half a second slower, that steel rod would have pierced straight through his temple and pinned him to the wall.
Kaido's expression instantly darkened, a tyrannical and murderous aura erupting from his body.
"Which blind piece of trash?"
He whipped his head around to glare out the window. Crouched on the second-floor sill was a figure wearing an outrageously flashy pink feather coat. Even on a life-or-death battlefield, the man maintained his insufferably arrogant posture. His short blonde hair gleamed obnoxiously in the moonlight, and his signature red sunglasses rested on the bridge of his nose. A loathsome, mocking smile hung on his lips.
Warlord of the Sea. The Heavenly Yaksha, Doflamingo.
"Fuffuffuffuffu..." The unique laughter echoed in the cramped bedroom.
Doflamingo perched on the window frame like a flamingo ready to strike. He wasn't holding his usual flintlock pistol, but rather a rusty crowbar scavenged from some construction site. One end of the crowbar had been ground to a lethal shine, and it was already stained with blood.
"Boss Kaido, long time no see," Doflamingo said, pushing up his sunglasses.
His gaze didn't linger on Kaido's face, however. Instead, it was dead-locked onto the black bulletproof vest Kaido had just equipped. It was a look of naked, unadulterated greed and desperate desire, like a drowning man staring at a lifeline.
"Doflamingo?" Kaido narrowed his eyes. He slowly picked up the black alloy helmet but didn't rush to put it on. "Has this little flamingo lost his mind? Daring to sneak attack me with scrap metal?"
Kaido's voice was low and gravelly, carrying the oppressive weight of a supreme ruler even without his Haki. Across the seas, aside from Whitebeard and that red-haired brat, nobody dared to attack him so brazenly. Even back when they did business, this Joker was always respectfully subservient, not daring to breathe too loudly in his presence.
Now that their powers were stripped away, did this mere bird think it could shit on a dragon's head?
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