Chapter 123: Axel's Return
The wind stirred softly.
Then, in the next instant, the battlefield erupted again.
Yellow light and purple gravity clashed in the distance, tearing through the air with a force that made the ground tremble. Every exchange between Kizaru and Issho sent shockwaves rolling outward, scattering dust and broken roots across the shattered remains of the island.
Rear Admiral DeWitt watched the battle with a grim expression.
Then he lowered his voice.
"Prepare to attack."
Attack?
Attack what?
The Marines around him exchanged uneasy glances. This was no longer a battle ordinary men could enter. It had already gone beyond bullets, beyond numbers, beyond the kind of violence soldiers could understand.
His assistant hesitated, then finally stepped forward. "Rear Admiral DeWitt… this isn't a fight we can get involved in."
"I know."
DeWitt's gaze remained fixed on the two monsters tearing through the battlefield.
"But at that level, a single moment of distraction can decide the outcome. Admiral Kizaru seems to be handling him well enough. If we can distract that criminal, even for an instant, it may be enough."
The assistant's face tightened. "But wouldn't that be a sneak attack? Isn't that against justice?"
"It is a sneak attack," DeWitt said without hesitation. "But it is a sneak attack for the sake of justice."
He spoke as if stating something obvious.
They were Marines. They were not knights from some old tale, bound by pretty rules and ceremonial honor. Their duty was to protect order on the sea. If something threatened that order, they would remove it by whatever means they had.
The assistant lowered his head.
"Yes, sir!"
At the command, the discipline of the Marines showed itself. Even after being scattered and shaken, they quickly regrouped, retrieved their weapons, and formed an attack formation with practiced efficiency.
DeWitt did not give the order immediately.
He stared hard at the battle, waiting for an opening.
Yellow light flashed.
Purple gravity pressed down.
The two figures collided once more, then separated.
DeWitt's eyes sharpened.
Now.
He raised his hand and brought it down.
"Att—!"
His command was swallowed by a roar.
A dazzling blue-white sword aura swept across the battlefield.
It came from the side like a falling crescent moon, beautiful and terrifying, slicing between the Marines and the clash ahead. The slash tore through the ground, splitting stone, soil, and mangrove roots alike.
A long gash appeared across the earth.
Hundreds of meters long.
Nearly a foot wide.
A clean dividing line between the Marine formation and the battle they had tried to interfere with.
For a moment, no one spoke.
The Marines stared at the scar in the ground, their throats dry. The slash had passed in front of them, not through them. That was the only reason they were still alive.
Had it shifted even a little, they could already imagine the result.
Bodies cut apart.
Ranks collapsing.
Blood across the ground.
DeWitt was the first to recover.
His brows furrowed. When that sword aura swept past, even he had instinctively raised his guard. But now that he thought about it, the slash had not missed.
It had landed exactly where it was meant to land.
Someone had deliberately stopped them.
He turned, following the direction the slash had come from.
"That's…"
His voice caught.
"A child?"
Not far away, a white-haired boy walked toward them.
His face was delicate and handsome, almost too refined to be connected to the slash that had just carved open the battlefield. His steps were unhurried. In his hand was what first looked like a simple wooden stick, and every few steps, he tapped it lightly against the ground.
Tap. Tap.
Tap. Tap.
The rhythm was strangely similar to the way a blind man used a cane.
But the boy's eyes were open.
A pair of blood-red pupils stared ahead, bright and clear.
"A wooden stick?"
DeWitt narrowed his eyes.
No.
Not a stick.
The shape, the grip, the faint outline of a blade—
A wooden sword.
Which meant that slash had come from him.
DeWitt's expression turned grave.
"Everyone, be careful," he warned. "That slash may have come from that child."
"A slash from a child?" his assistant blurted. "Are you joking?"
The Navy was strict about hierarchy. Most Marines would never dare question a Rear Admiral so openly, even if doubt was written all over their faces. But this assistant had known DeWitt since childhood. If anyone dared speak freely, it was him.
DeWitt did not explain.
He only said, "Whether it's a joke or not, we'll find out soon enough."
Axel continued walking.
Tap. Tap.
Tap. Tap.
His pace was not fast, yet after DeWitt's warning, not one Marine dared take their eyes off him. Even the terrifying battle between Kizaru and Issho seemed to fade into the background.
Soon, the boy reached the long gash in the ground.
He stopped alone before the Marine formation and turned to face them.
DeWitt met his eyes.
What kind of eyes were those?
Confidence.
Laziness.
Killing intent.
Compassion.
Indifference.
Every time DeWitt tried to read them, he found something different. He had seen pirates, soldiers, nobles, killers, cowards, and madmen—but never eyes like these.
When he stared into those blood-red pupils, it felt as though countless unseen gazes were staring back at him.
DeWitt quietly drew a breath and steadied himself.
"Was that slash yours?"
"Yes."
Axel's reply was calm.
That single word struck the Marine ranks like a wave.
Disbelief spread across their faces.
Such power—from a child?
Most of them wanted to believe he was lying. It would have been easier. More reasonable. Less insulting to common sense.
But DeWitt did not relax.
His instincts told him the child was telling the truth.
What in the world was happening today?
First, a Celestial Dragon had been killed.
Then a blind swordsman strong enough to fight an Admiral had appeared.
And now, a child capable of unleashing a slash like that stood before them.
DeWitt suddenly felt exhausted.
Today was terrible.
Truly terrible.
He forced his thoughts back into order and asked carefully, "Why are you stopping us? Are you with that man?"
"You can understand it that way."
Axel rested the tip of his wooden sword against the ground.
"I hope you'll stay where you are and not move. You won't be able to interfere much either way, but I still don't want you interrupting their fight."
His gaze drifted briefly toward the clash of yellow and purple in the distance.
"After all, a battle like that is rare."
DeWitt answered with action.
He raised his hand.
The Marines immediately lifted their weapons and aimed at Axel. Even though their opponent was a child, none of them dared be careless now. Those who had lost their firearms began circling from the sides, preparing to surround him.
Axel tilted his head slightly.
"So that's your answer?"
DeWitt's eyes hardened.
"Fire!"
Bang, bang, bang, bang!
Gunfire exploded across the battlefield.
The smell of gunpowder filled the air.
Then, in the next instant, a scene that made every Marine's scalp go numb unfolded.
Their weapons exploded.
The bullets that struck Axel did not pierce him.
They reversed.
As though time had been wound backward, every bullet flew back along its original path, returning straight into the muzzles that had fired them. Pistols shattered. Rifle barrels burst apart. Sparks, splinters, and broken metal scattered through the Marine ranks.
Cries of shock rang out.
Axel gave them no time to recover.
He stepped forward.
Boom!
The ground beneath his foot caved in.
Cracks spread outward several meters, and Axel's small body shot forward like a cannonball.
It resembled Soru, but it was not quite the same. There was no flurry of rapid steps, no clean footwork from the Rokushiki manual. It was simpler than that.
Cruder.
More direct.
He used one step to redirect force through the ground and launch himself forward at terrifying speed.
In the blink of an eye, he appeared inside the Marine formation.
The ground he had shattered erupted behind him.
Fragments of stone and splintered roots flew upward, then scattered like bullets. The pieces tore through the formation with precise, controlled force.
Marines fell in droves.
One after another, they were knocked from their feet, their weapons broken, their bodies thrown aside before they could even understand what had happened.
Like wheat before a scythe, the ranks collapsed around him.
.....
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