The roar of the crowd thundered overhead, a sea of jeers and laughter from both prisoners and guards alike.
Shun stood at the edge of the circular arena, chains still weighing down his wrists and ankles, every eye on him like hungry wolves.
Across from him, Number 38 cracked his knuckles, his grin stretching ear to ear.He was built like an executioner, and today, the axe was aimed at Shun.
"You're dead, rookie," the man sneered, voice gravelly, thick with the confidence of someone who had killed before—and enjoyed it.
The warden's voice echoed across the arena.
"Combatants Number 38 and Number 55—fight to the death.Only one leaves alive."
The moment the words left his mouth, Number 38 lunged.
Fast.Brutal.Heavy.
Shun's body tensed on instinct, ducking under the swing aimed at his head. Even bound by chains, his body moved cleanly, muscles coiling like a spring.
Too slow.Too predictable.
Number 38 swung again, a wild haymaker meant to break bones.
Shun slid aside, the strike whistling past him by inches.
Whispers rose from the crowd.They had expected Number 55 to crumple in seconds.But instead, he was... dodging?
Shun clenched his fists.
System Notification:Activate Might Guy Synchronization?Possession Tokens Remaining: 10
He exhaled slowly, ignoring the system for now.
No.Not yet.
Let them think he was weak.Let them laugh.
The more they underestimated him, the harder it would hit when he turned the tide.
Number 38 grunted in irritation, rushing in again.This time, Shun let him close.
When the man's fist came swinging in, Shun pivoted on his heel, slipping inside the arc of the blow.
He lashed out, striking the side of the man's knee with his shackled elbow.
Crunch.
Number 38 howled as his leg buckled, caught off guard by the precision.
Shun stepped back, keeping his breathing steady.
Even a beast like you has joints.Even in this world, bones break the same way.
But it wasn't enough.
The man roared, charging recklessly despite the injury.
Shun smirked bitterly.
"Fine.Let's end the warm-up."
His thoughts flicked to the interface.
System Notification:Synchronization with Might Guy initiated.Possession Tokens Remaining: 9Synchronization Duration: 1 Hour
Heat exploded through his body.
Muscles tightened.Blood surged.Veins bulged with unfamiliar, monstrous energy.
It wasn't chakra—he couldn't even sense chakra the way shinobi did.
But his body remembered.
The techniques.The breathing.The discipline of a man who turned his flesh into a weapon.
Shun rolled his shoulders, the iron shackles groaning against the sudden pressure of his muscles expanding subtly.
Number 38 blinked, thrown off by the sudden change in aura.
For the first time, he hesitated.
Shun's body moved.
Fast.
Too fast for this world's standards of brute brawling.
His foot stomped the ground, sending a crack through the arena floor.
In the blink of an eye, he was inside the man's guard.
One strike.
A brutal, clean uppercut with his shackled fist.
Bang.
Number 38's head snapped back violently, blood and spit flying from his mouth.
But Shun wasn't done.
He followed up with a spinning back kick to the ribs.
Crack.Crack.Crack.
Bones shattered.The crowd gasped.
Shun didn't stop.
He moved like a predator, his body remembering Might Guy's disciplined aggression—relentless, controlled violence.
He grabbed the man's collar, pulling him close.
"You don't understand," Shun whispered coldly into the man's ear, his tone devoid of theatrics, only quiet finality.
"I'm not a Devil Fruit user.I'm not a Haki master.I'm something worse."
He drove his knee into the man's gut with enough force to lift him off the ground.
The man's body bent like a rag doll.
He collapsed, coughing blood, his limbs spasming as his consciousness slipped into the dark.
Silence swallowed the arena.
The jeering stopped.The laughter died.
Everyone stared at the slender pirate who had, moments ago, looked like nothing more than fresh meat.
Shun stood over the broken body of Number 38, his breathing steady, eyes cold.
He didn't look at the crowd.Didn't raise his arms in victory.
This wasn't a performance.
It was survival.
He turned, facing the guards.
"Next."
The wardens flinched.
Even Saldeath, perched high above, narrowed his eyes, grip tightening on his trident.
They had seen Haki users.They had seen Devil Fruit abilities.
But what they saw now wasn't either.
It was something... alien.Raw physical dominance, honed to perfection, without the crutches of supernatural powers.
And in this world?That scared them more.
Shun clenched his fists, the heat of the Eight Gates simmering beneath his skin.
Nine hours left.
And this was only the first taste.
He would turn this prison into his hunting ground.One body at a time.