Ron, now armed with the Ultimate Kick and the great sword Shusui, departed the fog-laden Florian Triangle.
His next destination was Water 7, a place he had visited before.
He planned to purchase a new and better ship, along with various furnishings and mechanical equipment, intending to modify it himself.
Upon arriving in Water 7, Ron spent two days exploring the city, buying a large supply of the island's specialty—Plon Wine—as well as local delicacies, clothes, and shoes.
His behavior of lavish spending drew the attention of some greedy thugs.
One day, as he stepped out of a store carrying two large bags, a group of troublemakers blocked his path.
"Hey, kid, you look pretty wealthy. Why don't you lend us some cash?" sneered the leader, a tattooed man with hands in his pockets and a cigarette dangling from his mouth.
His gang members, smirking and cracking their knuckles, glared at the black-haired youth who appeared much leaner than them.
"What if I say no?" Ron replied, smiling faintly.
"You can try," said the leader, exhaling a puff of smoke.
"Boss, why waste words? Let me take care of him," grinned a burly man wielding a spiked club.
Ron's eyes narrowed slightly.
"What's going on here?" A displeased male voice rang out from behind.
The thugs turned to look and their eyes widened when they recognized the two figures. The cigarette fell from the tattooed leader's mouth.
"B-Barry!" he stammered.
Barry, a blond man with stubble and goggles on his head, a cigar clenched between his teeth, glared at the tattooed man. "You really don't learn, do you? Didn't last time teach you enough?"
The leader of the thugs broke out in a cold sweat. "It did… it did."
"Then get lost," Barry commanded.
The gang fled, the burly man casting Ron a venomous glare as he passed.
Ron chuckled inwardly. Such boldness, yet such foolishness to waste a chance to escape unscathed.
Ron turned to the man beside Barry, dressed in a mechanic's jumpsuit, a black top hat perched on his head, and a pigeon on his shoulder. It was none other than Rob Lucci, who had come to Water 7 for a covert mission related to the Pluton blueprints.
Lucci's gaze fixed on Ron, clearly recognizing him.
Ron gave him a slight smile.
Lucci's eyes narrowed in response.
He turned to Barry. "Barry, I just remembered there's something else I need to buy. Head back without me; I'll catch up later."
"Alright," Barry nodded.
Lucci walked off, but not before pausing mid-step. He moved toward Ron's direction, passing him and muttering, "Next time, avoid troublemakers like those."
Ron said nothing, continuing forward with his bags. At the entrance of an alleyway, as he expected, Rob Lucci stood waiting, arms crossed and leaning against the wall.
"Ron, former Special Recruitment trainee for the Marines. Why are you here?" Lucci asked directly.
"I'm no longer affiliated with the Marines' Special Recruitment."
"What?" Lucci's eyes widened.
"Before I answer, let's go find those guys from earlier," Ron said, stepping past Lucci.
Lucci frowned but followed.
The alley stretched long, with Ron walking ahead and Lucci keeping a cautious six steps behind.
"You said you're no longer a Marine recruit. Does that mean you deserted the Marines?" Lucci's eyes were sharp as he spoke.
"Deserted? I never officially joined the Marines, so 'deserted' isn't the right word."
"Close enough," Lucci countered. "You haven't answered me. What brings you here? Are you looking for me?"
Ron said calmly, "Put away your killing intent."
As they spoke, Ron's eyes spotted the group of thugs from earlier.
The tattooed leader was squatting against the wall, smoking. One of his lackeys nudged him. "Boss, look."
"Look at what? Don't bother me, I'm in a foul mood," the tattooed man snapped.
"It's that kid from before."
"Huh?" He turned his head and saw the black-haired youth from earlier approaching, still dressed in his military-green coat and carrying two large bags.
The leader blinked in surprise.
It really was that kid.
The burly man picked up his spiked club, staring eagerly at the approaching figure with excitement. "Didn't expect the prey to come right to us. Lucky!"
"No one's going to step in for him this time," he sneered, hefting the club as he advanced.
A sudden sense of foreboding washed over the tattooed leader.
Before he could finish, a thin, sharp blade of wind slashed across the burly man's neck.
The tattooed leader hadn't even processed what happened.
His subordinate's head fell to the ground like a ball, blood spurting everywhere. The body wobbled before collapsing forward, witnessed by the wide, terrified eyes of the remaining thugs.
The black-haired youth, his expression unchanged, sent out a few more wind blades with a flick of his leg.
Amid the cries of despair, silence soon fell.
Ron's actions caught Lucci's attention, his eyes narrowing with a hint of seriousness.
This was Tempest Kick, one of the Six Powers.
And Ron had mastered it to a high degree.
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