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Chapter 63: Bullet, You're Playing with Fire!
🕑 Added 2025-09-16 14:51:31 +0000 UTCThe aftermath of the Battle of Et War spread faster than the storm itself. A few days later, a News Coo dropped the latest newspaper on the Oro Jackson's deck. The front-page headline blazed in eye-shattering bold letters:
[BATTLE OF THE CENTURY! "Golden Lion's" Great Fleet Destroyed! Gol D. Roger, the Undefeated Legend of the Seas!]
The newspaper detailed that heart-stopping encounter, portraying Golden Lion Shiki's massive formation of twenty-five flying warships as if gods had descended, while painting the Oro Jackson's lone struggle as an epic heroic tragedy.
At the article's end, the tone shifted to describe that "bizarre," "seemingly controlled" super storm with awe and bewilderment.
"...The sea and thunder seemed to become Roger's allies, natural disasters transformed into hammers of judgment, smashing the arrogant Flying Pirates into the abyss. Golden Lion himself was pierced through the head by a broken ship's wheel, fleeing in disgrace with his fate unknown. This battle marks the end of one era's powerhouse and the complete deification of another legend..."
"Gu ha ha ha! What 'ally of the sea'! The guy writing this newspaper sure knows how to exaggerate!" Gaban held the paper, laughing until tears came out. "It was clearly Kyle who did it, but all the credit goes to the weather!"
Buggy cowered nearby, touching his nearly singed red nose with lingering fear, muttering quietly: "Don't mention it, I get weak in the knees just seeing storm clouds now... Kyle was scarier than a demon that day..."
Kyle just leaned against the railing, cleaning his sword, deaf to both the newspaper's praise and his companions' chatter.
The joy of victory was like a receding tide—quick to come, quick to go.
All that circled in his mind was Crocus's verdict of "at most three to four years."
No matter how glorious the victory, it couldn't add a single second to Roger's life.
This sense of helplessness was like an invisible thorn piercing his heart.
The Oro Jackson had suffered severe damage in the battle, so the crew found a remote island. Though the shipyard there was crude, it was at least quiet.
The shipwrights busily hammered away while crew members went to town in small groups to resupply or drink and make merry, trying to use noise to wash away the fatigue from that great battle.
Kyle didn't go.
He sat alone in a corner of the shipyard where discarded lumber was piled, from where he could clearly see the entire Oro Jackson. He sat quietly like a statue.
A tall, burly figure blocked the sunlight in front of him.
"Hey."
Kyle looked up to see Douglas Bullet's face, hard as stone.
This man called the "Devil's Heir" radiated danger and pure power from his entire being.
Bullet didn't beat around the bush, getting straight to the point: "The Battle of Et War—that storm was your doing. Your strength goes far beyond what we've seen."
Kyle didn't answer, just looked at him calmly.
Bullet continued on his own, his voice deep and powerful, as if stating an indisputable fact:
"Roger is strong, I'll admit that. But he's sick, a dying man with limited time. His strength will only decline as time passes."
He stepped forward, looking down at Kyle with knife-sharp eyes: "You're still young and getting stronger. Why follow a sun that's destined to set? Isn't it ridiculous to waste your power on a ship that's about to sink?"
Kyle's gaze finally showed a hint of change, and the air around him seemed to grow several degrees colder.
Bullet, you're playing with fire!
Bullet didn't notice, or perhaps he simply didn't care.
He only believed in strength above all else. "Leave this place, Kyle. Powerhouses like us shouldn't be bound by so-called 'games of companionship.' The sea should be our stage, not someone's funeral!"
"Are you finished?" Kyle finally spoke, his voice soft but carrying icy coldness.
"You..."
Before Bullet could finish, Kyle's figure had already vanished from where he sat.
The next instant, he appeared before Bullet with no flashy moves—just a simple, straightforward punch.
Bullet's pupils contracted sharply. He instinctively crossed his arms to block, top-tier Armament Haki instantly hardening.
"BOOM!"
A dull, tremendous sound seemed to explode directly inside his chest.
Bullet felt like he'd been hit head-on by a Sea King at full charge. The bones in his arms cried out under unbearable strain as he was sent flying like a cannonball, crashing hard into a wall made of discarded ship planks in the distance.
"Cough...!" Bullet struggled to stand from the pile of wood chips, a trace of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth.
He looked at Kyle in disbelief. That punch's power was pure, domineering, completely unreasonable.
"You're right," Kyle walked toward him step by step, his face expressionless. "Roger doesn't have much time left."
His figure blurred again.
Bullet's nerves tensed as he focused intently on tracking Kyle's movements.
But this time, Kyle didn't attack—he simply held his palm out toward him from a distance.
"Ugh?!" Bullet suddenly let out a muffled groan. He felt all his muscles, bones, even internal organs begin vibrating at a bizarre high frequency.
It wasn't external vibration, but something from within his body—a tearing sensation from inside out.
His proud body of steel seemed to become fragile glassware in this moment.
"Strong... weak..." Kyle's voice sounded near his ear yet also far away. "You muscle-brained fool who only thinks about strength—you understand nothing."
"What do you understand?!" Bullet roared, trying to forcibly suppress his body's abnormal state, throwing a punch at Kyle.
Kyle sidestepped, letting that violent punch wind brush past.
He placed his palm lightly against Bullet's back.
Bullet's body suddenly went rigid, his muscles completely out of control, spasming violently.
His eyes went wide as he couldn't move even a finger, falling straight down and convulsing on the ground.
Kyle looked down at him, his golden pupils holding no anger, only cold indifference.
"Everyone on this ship is using their own life to follow that man's shadow. We're not accompanying him to his grave—we're witnessing the birth of an era."
"Do you think Captain Roger's strength is what makes him strongest?"
"No—it's that charisma that makes everyone willing to follow him to death with a smile!"
"That's something you'll never understand."
Kyle withdrew his ability. Bullet lay on the ground gasping heavily, the paralysis gradually fading, but the trembling from his very soul lingered.
He had lost. Though he hadn't used his Gasha Gasha no Mi ability, he'd lost completely and decisively, without even touching his opponent's clothes.
He watched Kyle's retreating figure. That back wasn't particularly tall, yet somehow overlapped with his memory of Roger standing at the bow laughing into the storm.
Bullet fell silent. He sat up from the ground, leaned against the broken wall, and said not another word.
In the distance, Rayleigh and Gaban stood side by side in the shipyard's shadows.
"That kid really doesn't hold back," Gaban took a sip of liquor and chuckled.
Rayleigh adjusted his glasses, a barely perceptible smile playing at his lips: "There's always some noise on the ship that needs clearing up. Now it's much quieter."
He looked toward the Oro Jackson, back under repair, his gaze distant.
Yes, they didn't have much time left.
Which made them even less tolerant of hesitation and wavering.
