Chapter 282

Ramen's hands trembled as he gripped the transponder snail, his body drenched in cold sweat. His heart pounded against his ribcage, the pulse of pure fear gripping his every thought. Desperation clawed at his voice, each word laced with terror.

"No… you're not understanding what I'm trying to tell you!" Ramen's voice cracked, rising in panic. His eyes darted frantically around the royal chamber, as if the walls themselves were closing in on him. "He's not human! He's a damn monster! If you don't stop him now, my kingdom—my entire kingdom—will be destroyed!"

The transponder snail responded with the dull, uninterested tones of a low-level World Government agent on the other end. The man seemed completely oblivious to the chaos unraveling across the island.

"I don't care about protocol!" Ramen roared, his voice filled with a desperation that bordered on madness. "Stop wasting my time and connect me to the Elders—now!" He slammed his fist onto the desk, the force of it rattling the snail, but his powerlessness only made the pit in his stomach deepen.

The agent's voice remained flat, calm, dismissive. He didn't comprehend the gravity of what was happening. How could he? He wasn't here. He wasn't trapped in a kingdom that was falling apart at the seams, where the very air was heavy with a force that suffocated the soul.

Ramen's breath came in shallow gasps. He could feel the weight of it—Rosinante's Haki. It wasn't just strong—it was suffocating. Like an all-consuming shadow that had swallowed the entire island. Every soldier, every fighter—everyone had felt it.

His mind raced back to the battlefield. He hadn't even been near the front lines; he was safe, hidden within the capital, surrounded by the elite royal guard. But it hadn't mattered. The moment that black storm of Conqueror's Haki had descended on the island, it had hit him like a tidal wave.

The entire kingdom's army had collapsed—overcome by sheer pressure alone. Vice Admirals, Happo Navy elites, mafia thugs—they had all been reduced to trembling wrecks, dropping like flies under the overwhelming force. Falling like weeds, crushed by the weight of a power they couldn't hope to withstand.

And then there was the promised Shichibukai—the supposed safety net, the one they had counted on. Where was he? Where was the protection they had been guaranteed? The pirates, the marines—they had all fallen. They had all been useless. Nothing was stopping this nightmare from tearing his world apart.

Even Ramen—Ramen, who hadn't even stepped foot on the battlefield—had passed out. He had collapsed despite being sheltered within the castle, far from the storm. The suffocating presence of Rosinante's Haki had penetrated everything, like an invisible wave of death sweeping across the land. His consciousness had been ripped away from him, and when he awoke, the capital was in chaos.

The transponder snail continued its indifferent hum, the agent's words blending into the background as Ramen's fear took over. His legs threatened to give out beneath him, his grip on reality slipping with each passing second.

"Connect me to the Elders!" Ramen's scream echoed through the chamber, his voice breaking under the weight of his own fear. "Do you have any idea what's happening here?! This isn't just some pirate attack! It's a massacre! My entire kingdom—my people—they're dying!"

But the World Government agent on the other end remained as detached as ever, a cruel reminder that Ramen was utterly alone in this.

He never thought it would come to this.

Ramen had always believed in the strength of his kingdom, in the promises of the World Government and their influence. He had believed that the marines, the allies, the mafias—all of them would protect him when it came down to it. But now, faced with the overwhelming power of a man like Rosinante, everything he had put his faith in crumbled before his eyes.

There was no help coming.

***

On the deck of the ship, the sea breeze blew past Robin as she stood at the railing, her gaze fixed on the island in the distance. From here, she could see the waves of destruction sweeping across the land, the screams of soldiers and marines carried on the wind.

Robin's brow furrowed, her face betraying her unease. The carnage was overwhelming, even from afar, and in her mind, she couldn't help but question the necessity of it all.

Beside her, Dora sat cross-legged on the deck, her massive frame still, but her eyes sharp as they remained locked on the battlefield. Though she was a warrior by nature, every part of her ached to be out there in the fight, her warrior's blood surging at the sight of combat. But she stayed on the ship—because Ross had commanded it.

Ross, the captain who was often carefree and full of humor, had taken on a different tone today. When he was serious, even those closest to him, like Dora, knew better than to challenge his authority. He'd wanted her here, protecting Robin and Mansherry, and while it went against her instinct to remain on the sidelines, she understood why.

"I can hear them," Robin murmured, her voice almost lost in the wind. "The soldiers, the marines... they're screaming. Is all of this really worth it?"

Dora's eyes shifted from the battlefield to the young girl beside her. She took a deep breath before speaking.

"Robin... in this world, battles like this aren't just about today. They're about the future. It's never just about one fight. If we let these people go—if we show them mercy today—one day, they might return, stronger, with revenge in their hearts. And it could be us or the ones we care about who suffer because of that."

Robin remained silent for a moment, digesting Dora's words. But her face didn't relax, the tension still clear in her expression. "But... the death, the destruction. Do we really need to kill all of them? What if—what if there's another way?"

Dora shifted, leaning slightly closer to Robin, her voice low and firm. "Robin, let me ask you something. Do you think the World Government would have destroyed Ohara if Ohara had been strong? Do you think they would've even dared?"

Robin's breath caught in her throat. The mention of Ohara, of her home, brought a familiar pain to her chest, a tightening that made it hard to breathe. But Dora's words forced her to think. Would Ohara have been safe if they had the power to protect themselves? If they hadn't been so… weak?

Dora pressed on, her voice steady, though there was a rare tenderness beneath it. "In this world, being weak is a sin. People will take advantage of weakness, crush it underfoot without a second thought. And standing out, threatening the strong when you don't have the means to back it up—that's not courage, Robin. It's foolishness."

Robin's fists clenched at her sides. "But… the people of Ohara weren't wrong! They were scholars—they were seeking knowledge. They didn't deserve to be destroyed for wanting to understand the past!"

Dora's gaze softened, but her words remained firm. "No, they didn't deserve it. But that doesn't change what happened. They weren't just victims of the World Government, Robin. They were victims of their own arrogance. The scholars—your people—stood up against the Government without the strength to defend themselves. It's tragic, but it's also a lesson."

Robin's face fell, her eyes reflecting the deep, complex emotions stirring within her. Dora could see the conflict in her, the hurt of a child who had watched her home burn, mixed with the cold reality of the world she now found herself in.

"I'm not saying the massacre of Ohara was justified," Dora continued, her voice now quieter, almost gentle. "But it happened because they were weak. And in this world, weakness invites destruction. That's the truth. And that's why we fight."

Robin stared down at her hands. "But... are we any different? We're killing, too."

Dora gave her a long, thoughtful look before responding. "At least Ross only kills those who would harm us. Or those standing directly in the way of our ambition. A warrior fights for what they believe in, Robin. For their people, for their future. It's not always pretty, but it's necessary. You think the world will leave us alone if we let our enemies walk away today?"

Robin didn't respond, her thoughts racing as she tried to reconcile Dora's words with her own beliefs. She had always believed in the pursuit of knowledge, of understanding, but the cruel reality of the world kept slapping her in the face. She had seen it with her own eyes, over and over again. The strong survived, and the weak were trampled.

Dora's voice broke through her thoughts again, more somber this time. "If we show mercy now, they'll see it as weakness. And tomorrow, it won't just be soldiers out there dying. It could be us. It could be you."

Robin turned toward Dora, her young face filled with uncertainty. "Is that really how it has to be?"

The giantess sighed, her eyes softening with a sort of grim understanding. "In this world, yes. We don't fight because we love the violence. We fight because we must. Because the alternative is worse. And today... if we walk away without finishing what we started, we might as well invite death to our doorsteps."

Dora leaned back, her gaze returning to the battlefield, her massive hands resting on her knees.

"Ross doesn't take joy in this, Robin. He's not some monster who revels in destruction. But he knows what must be done. He knows that the only way to build something lasting is to clear out the threats first. This is how a warrior thinks. We fight not just for the sake of fighting—but for survival. For those we care about. For our future."

The two stood in silence for a moment, the weight of the conversation hanging heavily in the air.

Robin's voice was soft when she finally spoke again. "It's still hard to accept."

Dora smiled faintly. "It always is, at first. But one day, you'll understand."

***

"Ptuuui…!"

Blood dripped from Smoker's lip as he spat out another glob, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. His white tailored trench coat, usually pristine, was torn and stained with dirt and blood.

The battlefield was a chaotic blur around him, but right now, his entire world was focused on one man: Don Chinjao, the legendary pirate with a bounty that currently surpassed most of the pirates from West Blue over half a billion berries.

The older pirate stood before him, a hulking figure with a massive frame, his head bent in that bizarre, infamous shape that had crushed mountains in his prime.

Smoker could feel the weight of Chinjao's Conqueror's Haki bearing down on him, but to Smoker, it felt like nothing more than a breeze compared to what he'd faced under Ross's brutal training. Still, Chinjao's raw power was no joke.

Smoker's eyes briefly flicked across the battlefield. In the distance, he could see Lucci, just a blur of lethal precision, moving through the ranks of marines and pirates alike. His entire body was drenched in blood, his face cold and emotionless, taking down one of the masked CP0 agents with brutal efficiency. For a moment, Smoker felt a pang of jealousy. Lucci, despite being several years younger, was already in a league of his own.

"Focus!" Smoker growled to himself just in time to see Chinjao charging at him again, roaring with bloodlust.

"Brat! You've signed your death warrant today! Garp's protégé may be currently out of my league, but you? You're nothing! By the end of this, I'll have your head on a pike!" Chinjao's voice was like thunder as he slammed his fist into the ground, sending shockwaves through the earth.

His Conqueror's Haki rippled through the battlefield, momentarily slowing the chaos around them.

Smoker grinned, wiping the blood from his mouth. "Bring it on, you fat pig!"

With a roar of his own, Smoker surged forward, his jutte infused with blackened Armament Haki.

"White Fang!" His weapon crackled with smoke and power as he thrust it toward Chinjao's chest.

Chinjao sneered and sidestepped with surprising agility for someone his size, his fist crashing down on Smoker's shoulder like a hammer. The force was immense—Smoker felt his bones creak and his muscles scream in protest as he was driven into the dirt, but he didn't stop.

He rolled with the impact, his smoke-based powers dissipating his body before the full brunt could land. He shot up again in an instant, swinging his weapon in a wide arc.

But Chinjao was faster than expected. His fist, coated with a devastating layer of Armament Haki, collided with Smoker's chest, the impact so powerful it cracked the ground beneath them.

Smoker's breath was driven from his lungs, pain exploding through his ribs as he was hurled back like a ragdoll, skidding across the battlefield.

But he didn't stay down.

Gasping for air, Smoker forced himself to his feet, his body aching, his muscles screaming in agony. Chinjao's eyes narrowed as he watched the young teen rise once again, a mocking grin pulling at the corner of his lips.

"Stubborn fool," Chinjao growled. "Stay down if you want to live!"

Smoker spat out a mouthful of blood, his grip tightening around his jutte. He could hear Ross's voice echoing in his mind: "It's the battles on the edge of death that force us to grow, Smoker. Push yourself beyond your limits, or you'll always stay the same."

He knew that Lucci had always thrown himself into the most dangerous fights, taking on impossible opponents. But Smoker had thought Lucci was only so reckless because Ross was always there, watching, ready to step in if things went south.

But now, standing here alone, battered and broken, Smoker understood. It wasn't recklessness. It was necessary. He could feel it—his haki, his Devil Fruit powers—everything was becoming more in tune, more natural. The more he was pushed, the more he felt his strength grow.

"Damn it…" Smoker muttered through gritted teeth. "I'm not…done yet."

Chinjao snarled, enraged that the young teen wouldn't stay down. "Then I'll make sure you never get up again!"

With a roar, Chinjao leaped into the air, his massive form casting a shadow over Smoker as he came down with a devastating headbutt, his signature Drill Dragon Nail. The sheer force behind the attack caused the very air to tremble, and Smoker had barely a second to react.

"Smoke Escalation!" Smoker's body turned into smoke, barely dodging the brunt of the blow as the ground exploded where he once stood. Chinjao's attack left a massive crater, the shockwave sending debris flying in every direction.

Smoker reformed a few meters away, panting heavily, but his eyes were sharp. He infused his jutte with even more Armament Haki, smoke swirling around him like a storm.

Chinjao landed with a crash, his fist glowing with haki as he charged again. Smoker raised his jutte, intercepting the attack, but the force sent him skidding back, his feet digging trenches into the ground.

"You're tougher than I thought, little brat," Chinjao growled. "But not tough enough!"

Chinjao unleashed a flurry of blows, each one faster and more powerful than the last. Smoker blocked as best as he could, his jutte clashing with Chinjao's fists, but each impact felt like a cannonball hitting his body. His bones rattled with every strike, his muscles screamed in agony, but Smoker refused to fall.

With a furious yell, Smoker lunged forward, his jutte glowing with black Armament Haki. "White Out!" He swung with all his might, aiming for Chinjao's head.

But Chinjao was ready.

The old pirate ducked under the swing and delivered a devastating punch to Smoker's gut. The impact was like being hit by a freight train. Smoker's vision blurred, blood spewing from his mouth as he was sent flying back once again, crashing through debris and skidding to a stop.

Everything hurt. His ribs were cracked, his vision was swimming, but despite it all, Smoker gritted his teeth and forced himself up.

"I'm just warming up you old bastard; I have seen worse in my training session; for all I know my gradma could punch better than you do…" he rasped and cackled, coughing up blood but refusing to stay down.

His smoke swirled around him, thicker, more alive, as if his Devil Fruit was responding to his sheer willpower. He felt the power surge through him, his haki growing stronger, more potent with every second.

Chinjao's eyes widened in disbelief. "Why don't you just stay down, kid…? You're nothing but a hunting dog for the Donquixote family!"

Smoker grinned, blood staining his teeth. "Because that's not who I am…"

With a roar, Smoker surged forward, his body a blur of smoke and haki, charging at Chinjao with reckless abandon.

"White Fang…!" Smoker's weapon clashed with Chinjao's fists once more, but this time, Smoker pushed back harder, his will indomitable.

Chinjao grunted, his expression darkening as he realized this little Donquixote family member wouldn't stop.

"Stupid brat!" He sent a massive punch crashing down on Smoker, but Smoker didn't flinch. His smoke twisted around the blow, cushioning the impact, and then he struck back with everything he had.

The battle raged on, blow after blow, but despite the punishment Smoker took, he kept getting up. He refused to give in.

And with every step, every attack, he felt himself grow stronger.

Amidst the chaos of the battlefield, my attention briefly shifted away from Agana to Smoker's fight with Don Chinjao. Smoker had insisted on taking on the legendary pirate alone, and now he was paying for it—taking one hell of a beating.

Despite the intensity of my clash with Agana, my observation haki allowed me to keep track of every movement around me. I could feel the pulse of Robin's concern from the ship, hear the desperate breaths of Smoker as he struggled against Chinjao, and even sense the faint tremors of the battlefield far beyond us.

For a moment, I almost considered intervening. Chinjao's brute strength was overwhelming Smoker, who was barely holding on. But then, in the brief flicker of future sight, I glimpsed what was coming next. A smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth. Smoker didn't need saving—he was about to witness something far more terrifying than Chinjao.

I turned back to Agana, who was panting heavily, her chest rising and falling with every ragged breath. She was giving everything she had now, but my mind had already left the fight for a moment, focused on something far more interesting.

Back where Smoker was fighting, Chinjao was seething with rage. Years of hard work, his pride as the head of the Chinjao family, everything was on the line. If things kept going like this, the Happo Navy would be reduced to nothing, and his legacy would be shattered.

"Boom!"

Chinjao's fist, massive and coated in Armament Haki, slammed into Smoker's chest with a sickening crunch. Ribs shattered under the blow as Smoker was sent flying through the air, crashing through multiple buildings like a ragdoll. The impact left a deep trench in the earth, debris scattering in every direction.

For a moment, all was still.

Then, amidst the rubble, Smoker began to stir. Bruised and battered, blood dripping from his lips, he pushed the wreckage aside, his eyes filled with burning determination. His body was on the verge of collapse, but his will remained unbroken.

Every instinct in his body screamed at him to move—Chinjao was already upon him, the pirate's immense figure casting a shadow over Smoker as he closed in for the kill. But Smoker's body refused to obey. His legs trembled, his arms were heavy—he couldn't dodge this one.

"Die, you little bastard!" Chinjao roared, his fist coated with jet-black Armament Haki, aiming to crush Smoker's skull into the ground. The air crackled with tension as Chinjao's fist descended with deadly intent.

"Dragon Rage...!!"

Time seemed to slow for Smoker as he watched the attack come down, unable to react in time. But just before the blow could land, something incredible happened.

Out of nowhere, a small figure materialized between Smoker and Chinjao, faster than the eye could track. The air rippled with pressure as the ground beneath them cracked under the sheer force of the arrival.

It was Lucci.

His entire body was coated in an impenetrable layer of Armament Haki, his skin gleaming with the sheen of black iron. But that wasn't all. His body was covered with ominous crimson scales, like a dragon from legend, his presence radiating a chilling bloodlust.

Every inch of his form screamed lethal precision. He had appeared out of thin air—silent, deadly, and completely unstoppable.

In an instant, Lucci met Chinjao's descending fist with his own counterattack. His voice rang out like thunder across the battlefield.

"Sai Dai Rin: Rokuogan!!"

The sound of their clash was like a cannon going off. Lucci's fist collided with Chinjao's Armament-coated punch, and the sheer power of the two attacks meeting head-on created a shockwave that rattled the entire battlefield.

It was as if the earth itself groaned under the pressure, the ground beneath them cracking and collapsing into a massive crater that stretched for hundreds of meters in every direction. The very air vibrated with energy, debris swirling as the force of their clash sent tremors through the island.

For a moment, time seemed to freeze as Lucci held his ground. Despite the overwhelming strength of Chinjao's blow, Lucci barely budged. His feet were planted firmly, and the scales covering his body seemed to absorb the impact like it was nothing. Chinjao, however, was not so fortunate.

The force of the counterattack sent the legendary pirate rocketing backward like a missile, his body tearing through the ground as if he'd been launched from a cannon. He crashed through buildings, leaving a deep trail of destruction in his wake as he was hurled hundreds of meters across the battlefield.

Silence fell over the area as the dust settled. Smoker, barely able to stand, looked up in disbelief at the figure that had saved him. Lucci stood there, unmoving, his expression cold and indifferent as if what had just happened was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

For Smoker, it was a sight that sent chills down his spine. The raw power Lucci had just displayed wasn't something a normal human should possess. It was monstrous—something far beyond anyone could possess at his age. Now he understood why master Doffy always insisted if there was one person in the family who could truly catch up to Rosinante's standard, then it was Rob Lucci.

Smoker coughed, his voice raspy, barely able to speak. "Lucci… you…"

But Lucci didn't respond, his piercing gaze fixed on the distance where Chinjao had been thrown. His blood-soaked form, his crimson scales, the overwhelming aura of death that clung to him—it was clear that Lucci wasn't just here to help. He was here to end this.

For the first time since the battle began, the realization hit Smoker like a ton of bricks.

Lucci wasn't just saving him. He was here to remind the battlefield of why they should fear him.

And the fear was very, very real.

*****

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