This disturbance did not go unnoticed by Fuguki. Eyes narrowing, he immediately surged more chakra into the water prison, trying to tighten its hold. The pressure inside the massive sphere grew rapidly, compressing the water, making it heavier—denser. He knew it would force Shanks to use more chakra just to maintain his stance, let alone escape.
But Shanks remained unfazed.
Instead, without hesitation, he gripped his sword tighter and twisted his body, executing a wide horizontal slash. The blade shimmered with red lightning, and the moment it cut through the water, a massive vacuum pocket formed before him—an empty cavity that displaced the surrounding liquid with sheer force.
The water prison reacted violently.
Its perfectly shaped oval walls began to distort, rippling chaotically. The smooth surface became unstable, thrashing like an ocean caught in a storm. Fuguki's face tightened with horror as he felt his control slipping.
"No… this is impossible—he's disrupting the prison from inside?"
Panicked, Fuguki immediately tried to reinforce the jutsu, pumping even more chakra into it in an attempt to stabilize the structure. But Shanks wasn't done.
In one fluid motion, he raised his sword again—and slashed.
This time, a massive crimson arc burst from the blade, enhanced by lightning and Haki, slicing through the unstable water prison like a blade through paper. The water dome shattered with a violent roar, collapsing under its own weight.
The sword slash didn't stop there.
Fuguki, too focused on saving the prison, never saw it coming. The red arc crashed into him, hurling his massive frame backwards. He hit the ground hard, rolling several times across the soaked field before coming to a stop.
As the massive water prison shattered and crashed onto the field, torrents of water swept across the ground, soaking everything in their path. At the heart of it all, where the prison had once stood, Shanks emerged—his entire body cloaked in crackling red lightning, steam hissing off him like smoke from a forge.
He stood still for a moment, red lightning dancing across his silhouette, his breath deep and steady. Eyes still closed, he exhaled—then opened them.
Those piercing sky-blue eyes gleamed like twin blades.
His gaze locked onto Kazumi.
In the blink of an eye, Shanks disappeared from his position, dashing forward at terrifying speed.
Kazumi's heart pounded as he watched Shanks blur toward him, his instincts screaming in warning. Gritting his teeth, he growled, "Damn it... Juzo was right. This young man is a monster. Just the three of us? It's not enough—we should've brought all seven. Only then could we—"
But there was no time left to think.
He didn't dare turn his back. If he tried to run now, his head would be severed before he took a second step.
Instead, he poured chakra into his twin blades. Pale blue energy surged along the metal, solidifying and extending into a massive weapon—nearly three meters long. He roared and swung it with all his might toward the approaching figure.
But Shanks had already seen it all—the trajectory, the speed, the angle—laid bare by his Observation Haki.
At the perfect moment, Shanks leapt, flipping gracefully over the whistling arc of Kazumi's extended chakra blade. The wind from the swing passed beneath him, harmless.
The instant his feet touched the ground, Shanks vanished again.
He reappeared behind Kazumi.
Kazumi blinked.
The world tilted.
His vision spun wildly—sky, earth, sky again—then everything went dark.
His body collapsed, lifeless, as blood trailed behind him in an arc drawn by Shanks's blade.
One down.
Fuguki staggered to his feet, blood dripping down his side. Samehada writhed faintly in his grip, its scales shifting, releasing a soft growl-like vibration as it transferred some of its stolen chakra into Fuguki's body.
The pain dulled slightly, the worst of the wound closing. But Fuguki knew the truth—this wasn't healing. Not truly. Samehada wasn't a medical tool.
He clenched his jaw, panting, and turned his gaze toward the battlefield.
Kazumi's head was still airborne, slowly spiraling toward the ground like a leaf in the wind. His body stood for half a second longer before crumpling, blood pouring from the neck in a sickening gush.
Fuguki's eyes narrowed.
His instincts screamed louder than they had in years: Run.
Not because he was a coward. But because he was a professional killer—and professionals knew when a mission had failed.
He thought back to the earlier clash. That damn sword energy... even soaked in water, its impact nearly ripped me in half. His hand trembled slightly as he remembered the crushing force, the scorching cut, the raw intent behind the attack.
If that energy had hit me at full strength... I'd have been sliced clean in two.
And now Kazumi was dead. Just like that.
Fuguki tightened his grip on Samehada, which pulsed in his hands. It seemed even the living sword was wary.
He turned his eyes toward Shanks, who stood calmly, lightning flickering across his armour of red lightning chakra, his blade still humming from the kill.
Without hesitation, Fuguki gripped Samehada tightly and turned on his heel, fleeing the battlefield. Blood still seeped from his side, and the pain throbbed with each step, but his survival instincts screamed louder than any wound.
Jūzō, who had been sprinting toward Kazumi to help, came to a sudden halt the moment he saw Kazumi's severed head spinning through the air. His breath caught. The brutal finality of it all froze him for a second. He glanced toward Fuguki, saw him escaping into the shadows, and clenched his jaw.
He didn't want to leave his comrade's body behind. But rushing toward Shanks now was suicide.
Dammit, he cursed inwardly. We underestimated this boy.
With a heavy heart, Jūzō turned and ran in a different direction, vanishing into the darkness beyond the battlefield.
Shanks stood silently at the center of the open field, red lightning crackling softly around him, steam still hissing from his form. He didn't even glance at Kazumi's lifeless body.
Instead, he calmly turned his head, his piercing sky-blue eyes scanning both directions—the paths along which Fuguki and Jūzō had escaped. He could chase them, kill at least one of them before they disappeared completely.
But he didn't move.
There are more of them.
Without a word, Shanks swung his sword horizontally. A massive arc of red sword energy burst forth, howling through the air as it flew toward a dense cluster of trees at the field's edge.
The moment the sword energy closed in, the forest erupted.
Multiple figures in black clothing—clearly Root operatives—scrambled to dodge, leaping from one branch to another as panicked voices barked out, "Dodge!" "Move!" "Scatter!"
The red sword slash sliced through the first three rows of trees as if they were made of paper, exploding trunks and branches in its path. A shockwave followed, scattering birds, shaking the earth, and sending debris flying.
The ambush had failed. And now the rats were exposed.
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