Inside the side hall, the joy of reunion and tears still flowed. The men were hugging, laughing, crying, and speaking nonsense.
Rouge smiled at it all, tears in her eyes, under the funny and thoughtful little blood umbrella Rhett had left.
Just as the emotional atmosphere reached its peak, Marx, wiping his face with his sleeve, looked around and asked in a husky voice,
"Hey... where's Barrett? I saw him at the banquet earlier. He was fighting the hardest... How could he not be here at a time like this?"
The noise quieted for a moment. Everyone instinctively looked for that burly figure who always stood with his arms crossed. Yes, that battle maniac whose goal was to defeat Rhett. How could he miss this?
Roger's tears and snot were mixed together.
"Get away from me. Don't wipe that on my clothes." Rhett showed obvious resistance to Roger. If Rouge hadn't been there, Rhett would have wanted him dead.
Rhett's expression didn't change much. He didn't answer Marx directly.
"Who knows what that madman is thinking."
After saying that, he turned around. Amid looks of confusion, the blood mist swirled and faded. He disappeared from the spot. Only the little blood umbrella protecting Rouge remained.
---
Inside the Blood Prison Scroll.
Any time, any place, little old Rhett, seriously... couldn't think of a word.
"ROOOAR!!! BREAK!!!"
Barrett roared. His fists, covered in black Armament Haki, shattered dozens of skeletons with every swing. His dark armor was covered in scratches and dents. His breathing was heavy. Sweat and blood dripped from his temples.
He fought tirelessly, destroying as if to vent some boiling emotion.
But the destroyed skeletons were soon reformed by the mist. They attacked again. Endless. Repeating.
He opened his eyes and he was still here. No one was paying attention to him. Was that acceptable? Was that an insult to little Barrett?
Could you stand that? Barrett couldn't.
"Useless! Come out! Rhett! Fight me!" Barrett roared at the red sky. His voice echoed in the empty world, but there was no answer.
Just then, the blood mist in front of him parted.
Rhett walked out. He was still as lazy as ever, his hands in his pockets. Comfort was the key.
He looked at Barrett's mindless destruction.
Rhett's sales pitch was ready. Decades ago, he had talked Barrett into confusion. Today, decades later, he could do it again.
"Are you done?" Rhett spoke.
Barrett paused. His eyes locked onto Rhett. "You finally came out?! Fight me!"
Rhett ignored his fighting spirit. He looked at the skeletons being destroyed and reformed. He shook his head. "After all these years, you still use meaningless destruction to vent your emotions? Barrett, you really haven't improved at all."
These words were like the sharpest spike, piercing all of Barrett's defenses.
Rhett: No one knows little Barrett better than me.
The reason he had stayed on the Roger Pirates. The reason he saw Rhett as the man he had to surpass. It wasn't just because of Rhett's strength. Deeper than that, he craved this man's approval. The approval of the strong. The approval of the only man who could defeat him.
Roger: Not the only one. Hmm? Wait, I'm sick now, aren't I?
And now, he had been judged "no improvement."
"What... did you say?!" Barrett's pupils contracted with rage. His presence became more dangerous and unstable. "You dare... you dare say I haven't improved?!"
He had worked so hard to become stronger. He had struggled in the hell of Impel Down. He had constantly simulated battles with Rhett in his mind. He had developed his Combine-Combine Fruit to new levels. He had trained his Haki. Everything he did was for the day he could stand before Rhett, defeat him, and prove himself.
But in this man's eyes, he was still "no improvement"?
This contempt was more unbearable than any attack.
"Isn't it true?" Rhett's voice was still flat. He even added a little mockery. "Look at yourself. How are you different from back on the Oro Jackson? Still quick to anger. Still relying on brute strength and your fruit to charge ahead. What do you think power is? Making yourself bigger? Harder? Then charging around like a mad bull?"
"You've only gotten smaller. And you've gotten more afraid, Barrett."
"Who the hell are you calling afraid, you bastard?!"
He took a step forward. His blood-red eyes were calm. "You see me as your lifelong rival? But you don't even understand why I'm strong. Why would I respect you? Why would I get serious?"
"SHUT UP!!!"
Barrett completely lost it. Every word was like a curse, crushing his deepest obsession and pride.
Does this seem familiar? Yes. The same thing he had done to Judge.
Rhett: Was it effective or not?
Black Haki erupted like solid flames. It cleared out the surrounding minions.
"I'll tear you apart! RHETT!!!!"
He charged at Rhett! His fist, packed with all his anger, humiliation, and power.
Facing this world-ending attack, Rhett stood still. He didn't even take his hands out of his pockets.
His eyes were still calm. Beneath that calm, there was a deep tiredness and... loneliness.
He watched Barrett charge. Like watching a child who would never grow up.
The wind from the punch ruffled his hair.
Just as the destructive fist was about to touch his nose—
"Sigh..."
A very soft sigh faded into the red air.
Barrett's punch, just as it was about to shatter Rhett's face, passed through him as if he were a ghost.
Rhett's figure rippled like a reflection in water. He reformed not far behind him. His hands were still in his pockets. The mockery in his eyes was even stronger.
Barrett froze. He had coated his fist in Conqueror's Haki. Wasn't Haki supposed to be above all things? But back then, Rhett hadn't been very good at illusions.
Barrett had thought Rhett was just reacting fast enough to turn into mist and dodge. Old buddy, if you think that, you'll never beat Rhett.