"Hahaha!"
Commander Hammer laughed wildly, finally unleashing all the frustration he had kept bottled up inside.
"If you had just taken the money and shut up, that would've been the end of it!"
"But I didn't expect you to be so greedy—it's like you're begging to die!"
The triumphant grin on Hammer's face gradually twisted into something far more sinister.
"Don't worry, I've already found the perfect scapegoat pirate to take the fall!"
"How about this for a headline: 'Pirates Cause Riot in Loguetown – Captain Smoker Killed in the Chaos'?"
"Hahaha! And I'll personally execute that pirate to avenge you, dear Captain Smoker!"
But Nami simply gave him a strange look and said,
"Are you crazy?"
"You're planning to kill a Marine HQ Captain and think they won't notice anything suspicious?"
"Haha!"
Hammer just laughed even more maniacally.
"So, what if they find out?"
"By then, I'll have transferred all my assets and vanished without a trace!"
"People die for wealth, birds die for food… such is life."
Just then, a cold voice suddenly echoed by Hammer's ear:
"And even now, you're still thinking about moving your assets before making your escape?"
"Huh?"
Hammer sensed something was off.
A gust of wind surged—then, a dazzling, golden greatsword came crashing straight toward him.
Despite everything, Commander Hammer was still an elite trained by Marine HQ. His years of assignment in Loguetown hadn't dulled his instincts—on the contrary, the bitterness and repression had sharpened him.
He reacted instantly, raising his arms to shield his face while pushing off with both feet to leap backward.
But it didn't help.
The greatsword still landed, slicing deep gashes into his forearms even through his defense.
Hammer staggered back several steps, barely managing to steady himself—only then did he finally see who had attacked him.
His expression immediately turned from stunned to terrified.
The "Smoker" he had shot earlier was now standing upright, somehow clad in a set of ornate armor and gripping a massive broadsword.
How the hell did shooting him put more gear on him?!
"This… this can't be possible!" Hammer stammered in disbelief. "I hit you with a Seastone bullet!"
"You did," Garen said with a small smile, his face still showing faint traces of pain. "It hurt a lot."
He had been in his normal human state when shot and had genuinely felt the pain. But almost simultaneously, his digitalized combat mode had been auto-triggered by the external damage.
"You…"
Hammer's gaze sharpened. He finally realized something was off.
"You're not Smoker at all!"
"Ha…"
Garen couldn't help but smirk mockingly. "I never said I was."
"Thanks again for your generosity, Commander Hammer!"
"Y-You bastard!"
Hammer trembled with rage, grinding his teeth in fury.
He reached beneath the conference table, pulling out a longsword he had hidden earlier.
"Die!"
Soru!
Though not exceptionally gifted, Hammer had still mastered the basics of the Marine's "Rokushiki" techniques as a headquarters officer.
With a burst of explosive speed under his feet, he shot toward Garen like a gust of wind, bringing his blade down on Garen's mocking face.
Garen remained unfazed, his confidence growing.
After witnessing Garp's "Shave," this slow version—which he could still track with dynamic vision—wasn't remotely threatening.
He didn't even try to dodge.
He just stood there as the sword came crashing down.
The blade struck him square in the forehead and continued descending with brutal force. The scene was almost grotesque, like something out of a gory war film.
Even though she'd seen Garen shrug off bullets, Nami still couldn't bear to watch and gasped, covering her mouth in horror.
But Hammer, who had his hands on the hilt, sensed something was wrong.
He had literally buried the blade into the guy's skull—and there wasn't even a drop of blood?!
Too late.
A ghostly figure appeared behind him from invisibility and slammed a sword into Hammer's back.
Hammer was sent flying several meters, crashing straight through the conference room wall.
Debris scattered everywhere. His previously immaculate uniform was now covered in dust and grime.
But moments later, Commander Hammer stood back up from the rubble—steady, composed, though bleeding from wounds on his arms and back.
In this world, everyone was ridiculously tough—especially martial artists, who were practically unkillable.
"How annoying…"
Garen let out a small sigh. "Looks like this is going to be a war of attrition."
Hammer, trained in Marine HQ and honed through years of real combat, may have only held the rank of Commander, but his physical prowess easily matched that of fruit-powered Smoker.
And Garen—despite boasting he could fight Garp to a draw—had actually won his previous fight with Smoker purely by trickery.
If Smoker had been cautious, just relying on his physical resilience would have been enough to beat Garen, whose current level was only 4.
"You brat!"
Hammer had already seen through Garen's true strength.
"With this weak level, you dare try to fool me?!"
Garen didn't respond. He simply raised his sword and charged.
Furious, Hammer gripped his own blade tightly and swung it at this cunning bastard before him.
At first, Garen's attacks sometimes landed thanks to his "guaranteed hit" passive. But once Hammer realized what was happening, he began meeting every strike head-on.
With his overwhelming physical strength, Hammer wasn't afraid to block Garen's sword directly and even managed to counter with slashes of his own.
Garen was now experiencing the crushing pressure of being completely overpowered by a high-level martial artist.
His Judgement spin couldn't catch up due to his lack of speed. His guaranteed-hit attacks were being blocked by brute force. His only real advantage was the tricky [Warrior Trickster] skill.
But that invisibility skill had a long cooldown—over ten seconds—and dealt low damage.
So Garen was left with no choice but to grit his teeth and grind out the fight.
After a few rounds, Garen had already lost over half his HP.
"Wait!"
Garen knocked aside another slash and jumped back several steps, finally speaking in a serious tone.
"You're a Marine Commander with high rank—why fall so far from grace?"
Hammer studied Garen closely, secretly shocked.
He himself was already showing signs of fatigue, bleeding from multiple wounds. He was barely holding onto his advantage through sheer strength.
And yet, this kid—clearly weaker—still looked full of energy, showing no sign of slowing down.
The eerie contrast made Hammer hesitate. He decided to play along with Garen's "conversation," using the pause to recover and strategize.
"High rank? Fallen from grace?!"
Hammer barked a bitter laugh.
"You know how long I've been stuck at the rank of Commander?!"
He pointed to the white streaks in his hair and snapped angrily,
"Ten years! Ten damn years!"
"Not only did I get no promotion, they even dumped me in backwater Loguetown to guard the damn gates!"
"All because I don't have a Devil Fruit… or a big-shot mentor like an admiral?!"
"You…"
Garen said in a low, solemn voice, "You were already being promoted for your 'outstanding record'—HQ was planning to move you up."
"They had faith in you. And yet you took bribes, defied justice… doesn't your conscience hurt?"
"Promoted?"
Hammer sneered, utterly unconvinced.
"Young man, are you naïve, or just pretending?"
"They wanted to promote me to Captain, sure—but only to shove me off to West Blue's training camp?"
"Everyone knows that place is just a retirement home for has-beens!"
"You call that a promotion?!"
Hammer's voice grew louder, more emotional.
"The Navy ignored me all this time!"
"So, what's wrong with me lining my pockets, preparing for a decent retirement?!"
"…"
Garen fell silent for a moment, then stepped forward with righteous fury.
"You dare speak so boldly?!"
"Do you even deserve the word 'Justice' on your back?!"
"Hahaha!"
Hammer laughed wildly, completely unrestrained.
"You're still so young! So naïve!"
"Justice?"
His face twisted as he spat on the ground in contempt.
"Justice, fairness, the law…"
"In the end, they're just fancy words people use to justify stealing!"
Hammer waved his sword in rage, his voice rising:
"I was drafted into HQ's training camp at sixteen! Graduated at eighteen! I've fought in almost every nation across the Grand Line!"
"I—"
Before he could finish, Garen's greatsword came down once more—swift and silent.
Garen stood tall, sword in hand, radiating righteous fury.
"Sorry!"
"My HP's full again. We'll chat next time."
(End of Chapter)