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The air throbbed with vibrations, and the entire island shook under the weight of the conflict. Luca raised his arm slowly, trees tore from their roots, massive rocks were flung from the ground, and the ships anchored on the shore soared into the sky like wooden dolls, then all of them rushed toward Marco in a torrential surge of destruction.
But Marco did not step back. He placed his hands in front of him, and as he waved his claws, a massive whirlwind erupted around his body, followed by another, before turning into giant cyclones rising tens of meters and swirling around him like a savage wall. The cyclones struck the ships, shattering them into flying shards, swallowed the rocks then spat them out as dust, and tore through the tree trunks before touching his skin.
The scene seemed as if nature itself was trying to crush Marco… and yet, nature itself failed. Luca watched with steady eyes, gauging the power he had just faced, reshaping his attacks.
The pier no longer resembled what it had been just minutes ago. The once-bustling, peaceful area had transformed into a shattered arena, reminiscent of a raging natural disaster. The wooden ground, designed to accommodate large ships, split into cracked planks, some ripped completely from their place, others bent as if a massive wave had stomped on them.
The sides of the pier broke, support pillars fell into the sea, creating successive ripples across the turbulent water. The ropes that tied the ships swayed above the water, torn and bulging, as if something furious had passed through and ripped them without restraint. Pieces of wood, shards of rock, even the remains of small anchored ships—all scattered over the sea, floating between the waves like the remnants of a battle no one would have believed had they not seen it with their own eyes.
The air above the pier still carried the remnants of the cyclones Marco had unleashed; whirls kept the dust suspended in the sky, producing a faint whistle as if the place itself remembered the violence that had struck moments ago.
In the midst of this wreckage, Luca stood on a wide wooden plank, broken at one end, contemplating what his power and his opponent's had left behind, while the waves echoed into the gaps shattered by Marco's blows, as if the sea itself was trying to swallow the traces of this brutal confrontation.
The cyclones around Marco gradually extinguished, as if the wind itself had grown weary of the fight. The dust receded, revealing the man's face among the ruins, lightly scratched but still standing firm.
Marco took a slow step across the ruined pier, his gaze fixed on Luca, but this time, the arrogance in his eyes was gone… replaced by something closer to regret.
He said in a calm, measured voice despite his heavy breathing:
"Enough… I didn't intend for it to come to this. Provoking you was a mistake."
Luca did not reply. He stood among the debris as if the entire ground awaited his signal, the scattered pieces of wood and rocks moving around him.
Marco tried again, with a less harsh tone:
"You don't have to continue. You can leave… as if nothing happened."
Only then did Luca lift his head slightly, looking at him steadily.
"Do you want to end it now that you've realized it was beyond your power…" he said slowly, each word seeming to weigh down the air. "Don't even think about it."
Marco had no answer.
Luca continued, as a massive ship rose behind him, ready to strike:
"You didn't calm down because you are wise… but because you realized you misjudged who you provoked."
Marco's features stiffened for a moment before lowering his gaze slightly—a silent confirmation that he was indeed remorseful.
But Luca did not give him a reprieve.
"And since I am the strongest here…"
More debris rose around him, spinning like a second storm throwing itself in anticipation.
"I won't end this until I want to."
Even the pier itself rose slightly from the sheer force, and the air trembled as if the battle was preparing for a deeper round…
The air choked under the weight of the power Luca had gathered around him. Broken planks, chunks of wood, rusty metal pieces from shipwrecks—all hovered around him in chaotic orbits as if gravity itself had begun to lose meaning near him. With each passing second, the pressure in the atmosphere increased…
Marco finally raised his head, a faint, tense smile trembling on his lips.
"So… you won't back down."
Luca did not respond. But the massive ship rising behind him was enough to say it all.
Marco bent slightly, as if preparing for a final round, but the wind around him did not obey. He tried to raise his arms to gather the air… but the air itself had betrayed him. Every element of nature that had allied with him minutes before now feared him.
He muttered in a broken voice: "You're one terrifying little monster…"
Then everything surged.
Luca moved without a word—with a single gesture.
The giant ship launched first, crashing onto Marco like a wall from the old world. As he tried to jump, the air around him transformed into a hand that held him in place.
The ship collided with the pier… and Marco.
The impact sounded like a thunderclap.
The wood shattered, shards flew, and the ground beneath the strike exploded.
Once the dust cleared, the scene appeared.
The ship's blow split Marco's body in half.
The shock dissipated into the air, leaving dust falling like the ashes of a finally ended battle. Marco's body remained in two halves over the ruined pier, motionless.
Luca stepped slowly over the broken wood, the echo of his footsteps resounding in the lifeless space. He stopped before the remains, looked at the severed body, and took a deep breath.
He knelt beside it, grabbed Marco's dust-and-blood-streaked blond hair, and lifted his head slightly, inspecting it without a trace of pity. He knew he didn't need this money—he had enough gold for more than one lifetime—but he wouldn't leave a head of such value lying around.
And Luca never leaves what has value.
With a touch of his power, he severed the head smoothly and eerily, as if it were just an extra piece in the scene. He raised it in his hand, the air around him whistling faintly as the remaining accumulated force dissipated.
Luca paused for a moment, holding Marco's head, while the gentle wind brushed away the rising dust as if trying to hide the traces of the fight.
He rose slowly, then turned toward the sea. The ruined pier groaned under his feet, and the waves slipped through the gaps, wailing as if trying to swallow what had happened. He lifted Marco's head slightly, weighing its value one last time, then moved his other hand.
His ship rose directly from the open sea, spraying droplets of water into the air before settling in front of him at the edges of the broken pier. Its polished planks looked strange amid the chaos—as if belonging to an entirely different world.
Luca boarded it, placed the head inside a small wooden box, and sat behind the helm.
He whispered as if reviewing his plan: "I should have gone straight to Shabondy… but this head will not be wasted."
He pressed on the wood with his hand, the sails moving on their own, and the ship smoothly turned southwest.
He continued speaking to himself: "The G2 branch is close to the archipelago… and they'll be happy to pay the full price. Only then… I'll go to Shabondy."
The ship gradually distanced itself, leaving behind scattered winds and debris witnessing a power no one on the island could comprehend anymore.
Then it disappeared on the horizon, heading toward G2.
---
The journey to the G2 branch took two full days. Despite the relatively calm sea, there was no time to rest; the winds played with his ship, and the waves struck its sides, as if the sea itself were testing Luca's resolve after the brutal battle. With every mile he covered, news began to spread unexpectedly: a reporter from a small marine newspaper had been on the island during the fight, hiding among the rocks and watching everything with his own eyes.
After Luca left, the reporter wasted no time; he emerged from his hiding spot and began documenting every detail with remarkable precision, leaving nothing out. Illustrations of the severed head, descriptions of the colossal fight between Luca and Marco, as if they were legendary events, were published within hours, spreading the news of the battle like wildfire.
This was the second time Luca appeared in the papers, the first being over two years ago when he killed the Bear Fruit owner, and now Marco.
But the difference was significant: unlike the Bear, Marco was one of the most prominent new faces among the Grand Line pirates, and his death at Luca's hands became the headline across the Grand Line.
By the end of the first day, newspapers filled the ports, and soldiers and merchants in the markets whispered about the boy who defeated Marco, with astonishing details about his immense power and young age—only sixteen. By the second day, the news was unbelievable, reaching the major ports and even the ears of the Navy before Luca set foot on the G2 branch dock.
When he approached the branch gate, there was no need to introduce himself. The soldiers and staff had already heard about the battle, and the faces he encountered reflected a mix of astonishment, respect, and wariness. Luca sat behind the helm, calm as usual, the air around him still carrying echoes of his power, while the legend he had sparked with just one reporter became the talk of all sailors even before he arrived.
As Luca neared the G2 branch gate, the soldiers' faces showed a mix of astonishment and anticipation, though they tried to hide any embarrassment. The previously spread news of a sixteen-year-old boy capable of killing Marco had preceded his arrival, but seeing Luca in person was a wholly different experience.
On the top of the inner dock stood the commander—Vice Admiral—surveying the situation with a firm eye, maintaining his dignity despite the shocking news about the battle. He raised his eyebrows slightly when he saw the young boy on the ship, carrying a box that seemed to contain something extremely important, but he did not let the surprise show beyond a fleeting moment. He knew the newspapers had exaggerated, yet he couldn't deny a subtle sense of attention and respect toward the true power this boy displayed, recognizing that he had a great future ahead.
Luca stepped onto the pier, cast a quick glance at the ropes and moorings swinging in the wind, and descended steadily, as if the ground itself were clearing the path for him. He approached the Vice Admiral, lifted the box containing Marco's head, and placed it in front of him calmly. There was no expression on the Vice Admiral's face except for complete calm and unquestionable authority, while the other soldiers watched the scene silently, tinged with awe.
After confirming Marco's identity, the Vice Admiral ordered his men to deliver the reward to Luca: 285 million Beli in full.
After obtaining his goal, Luca had no other objective at this branch and set off toward the Shabondy Archipelago.
---
At night, Luca sat on the deck, looking at the sprawling stars above. The waves lapped gently, the breeze carrying the sound of the sea like an ancient whisper. He smiled, realizing that the news that had spread would make everyone anticipate his movements, and that his growing reputation would not stop here.
By the next dawn, the ship neared the archipelago, and Luca knew the next phase required more focus, where every calculated move could change the course of events. Each step could mean a new confrontation or an opportunity to increase his strength and influence.
As the archipelago approached the horizon, the echoes of the news rose in all surrounding ports, and everyone who knew Marco's name whispered the boy who had become the talk of the Grand Line: Luca, the boy who killed Marco at sixteen.
It wasn't long before Luca reached the archipelago, leaving his ships as usual in the sky, filling his backpack with money, and descending onto the archipelago that night.
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