Garon's steel armor was pressed against the beach, the scorching sunlight heating his plates until they glowed, but he didn't care, his mind was filled with only one thought: 'How to smash him to death.'
That one sentence from Renzo, "I'll make your armor too lazy to harden", was like a thorn in his heart.
The more he thought about it, the more unwilling he was to accept it. In the New World, he had seen people who could control fire, split their bodies, even turn into lightning, but never anyone with a fruit power as weird as this, one that could make even abilities themselves lazy.
Weird or not, he refused to believe it could keep suppressing him forever.
"You think this is enough to hold me down?" Garon's muffled voice rumbled beneath his armor. "My heavy armor isn't that easy to mess with!"
He tightened his spine, the hardened vertebrae creaking like steel rods, forcing his upper body up by a few inches.
At the same time, his right arm armor began to tremble, thin gray mist seeping out from the gaps between the plates; he was forcefully pushing his Devil Fruit to its limits, trying to brute-force his way through Renzo's "weight suppression" field.
Renzo, who had just taken a bite of strawberry mochi, frowned slightly.
He hated people like this, ones who clearly couldn't win but still stubbornly struggled, wasting time and making noise.
"Don't bother," Renzo said lazily between chews. "Even if you shake your arm off, you're not moving an inch."
But Garon didn't listen.
He took a deep breath and poured all his Armament Haki into his right arm. The dull-gray armor instantly turned jet-black and glossy, the sluggish heaviness of the field lessening a bit.
Then, instead of striking at Renzo, he swung his fist toward the edge of the hot spring pool!
Bang!
His fist cut across the sand, sending dust flying like a small waterfall.
If that punch landed, the steel-hard strike would easily smash a hole in the spring, letting the boiling water gush into the sea.
Potts yelped and instinctively ducked behind Renzo. Sanji tightened his grip on his kitchen knife, ready to rush in, but Renzo merely raised a finger casually.
In the next instant, the sand in front of Garon's punch suddenly bulged upward, forming a half-human-tall dune that perfectly intercepted the strike.
The fist slammed into the mound. Sand exploded, but the barrier didn't collapse. Renzo had used his domain, making the sand "too lazy to scatter," turning it into a solid wall.
"Even this is possible?!"
Garon stared, shock overtaking his anger.
'This man clearly wasn't a Logia-type user, yet he could command the sand to defend him?'
'The range and precision of that ability is absurd.'
Renzo ignored his disbelief, more focused on the mochi in his mouth, which was now feeling too sweet.
He turned to Sanji, speaking as if he were placing an order: "Got any cold juice? Mochi's too sugary."
Sanji, halfway relieved, rolled his eyes. "There's some fresh-squeezed volcano orange juice. Wait a sec."
He turned toward the stove, but paused beside Garon. The poor hot-spring moss that had been crushed earlier was still sticking to Garon's armored boot, and Sanji winced at the sight.
Then inspiration struck.
He scooped up a ladle of green sauce from a nearby pot, the morning's hot-spring moss purée he'd made to spread on bread.
While Garon was still staring at the sand wall, Sanji darted behind him and splashed the sauce all over the gaps in his armor.
The green liquid trickled down through the cracks, releasing a faint aroma.
Garon turned his head, furious, only to feel his body suddenly go limp.
The moss's relaxing essence resonated with Renzo's Absolute Lethargy Field, making his muscles slacken completely. His upper body, which had just managed to rise, slammed back down into the sand.
"What the hell did you throw on me?!" he roared, though now even turning his head was impossible.
"Hot-spring moss sauce," Sanji said smugly, dusting off his hands. "I was gonna eat it, but letting it loosen your muscles feels just as satisfying."
He had long discovered that the moss naturally calmed nerves; when Renzo ate desserts with it, he'd sleep better than ever.
Now mixed into the sauce and splashed on Garon, it amplified the field's effects, poetic justice for ruining Sanji's ingredients.
At that moment, Potts came back, carefully carrying Renzo's rattan lounge chair. He placed it beside the hot spring under a patch of shade. "Commodore, the chair's ready. Want to rest again?"
Renzo nodded and was about to sit when Garon suddenly went berserk.
With the last of his strength, he twisted violently, slamming his hardened back into a nearby coconut tree.
The tree shook wildly, and the sunshade canopy tied above it came loose, crashing down into the hot spring with a loud splash.
Water surged everywhere.
The shade was ruined.
That canopy was Renzo's prized nap spot, built after three days of work using thick coconut trunks and waterproof sailcloth salvaged from a pirate ship. It perfectly blocked the noon sun, his "private domain" for afternoon naps.
Now it was soaked, a support broken, completely useless.
Renzo's face finally darkened.
He could tolerate Garon's noise.
He could tolerate a broken stove.
But ruining his napping spot? Absolutely not.
"…Looks like you really don't want to rest properly."
Renzo stood up, the hem of his bathrobe still dripping. The lazy warmth in his eyes was gone, replaced with something cold.
"I wasn't going to bother with you," he said, looking down at Garon, "but you just had to start something."
Garon panted hard but managed a twisted grin. "So what if I broke your stupid canopy? Go ahead, kill me! If you don't, once I recover, I'll wreck your spring and level this whole island!"
He was gambling that Renzo wouldn't dare kill him; a Marine officer killing a pirate with a 450 million bounty would cause unrest in the New World. A man this lazy would never risk such a headache.
But he guessed wrong. Renzo did hate trouble, but he hated future trouble even more.
If he didn't deal with Garon now, the guy would only come back and cause worse messes.
Then forget naps, even desert time would be gone.
"Kill you? Too much hassle," Renzo muttered.
He crouched down and tapped the armor lightly. "I'll just make sure you never move again. I'll let Kizaru pick you up later."
Then he activated [Sloth's Decree], issuing a sharper command this time:
"Armor, completely harden, too lazy to move. Muscles, too lazy to exert force. Even breathing, slow it down."
Garon froze instantly.
His right arm armor, which had been trembling, suddenly went rigid, sealed tight like solid iron.
Then his limbs went lead-heavy, unresponsive. Even his breathing slowed to a crawl, each inhale dragging like a mountain on his chest.
He tried to scream, but no sound came out. He tried to glar,e but even his eyelids felt too heavy.
He could only watch as Renzo stood up, brushed sand off his hands, and said, with that same indifferent drawl-
"That's better."
Potts arrived with a seastone rope, visibly relieved. "Commodore, is he… completely out of strength now?"
"Mm. Moving's impossible," Renzo replied lazily.
Sanji came over, carrying a glass of orange juice. "I checked, his armor's practically fused with the beach. Even without seastone, he's not going anywhere."
Renzo took a sip. The sweet-tart juice cooled his temper.
He glanced at the half-submerged canopy and frowned. "Potts, fish that sailcloth out and hang it to dry on the trees. If it's still damp tonight, there'll be nowhere to block the dew."
"Got it!" Potts saluted and waded into the shallow spring, careful not to touch Garon.
Sanji squatted nearby, eyeing the motionless armored figure. "Man, talk about unlucky. Anyone else would've struggled fighting him. You just made him too lazy to move."
"Fighting's a hassle," Renzo murmured, leaning against an intact coconut tree, sipping juice. "If you can solve something in one go, don't leave loose ends."
His gaze drifted from Garon to the horizon.
If Garon had come, then others from Doflamingo's rumor might follow. If they were all this annoying, his "quiet vacation" was doomed.
"Let's hope no one else comes," he muttered. "Otherwise, I'll have to move again."
He closed his eyes, already thinking about dinner.
Meanwhile, Garon lay trapped in the sand, despair sinking in.
He could hear their conversation. He could feel the sunlight burning his armor. But he couldn't move a single finger.
At last, he understood, he hadn't lost in strength. He'd lost because, to Renzo, he was just a hassle.
Too insignificant even to fight. Just another problem to eliminate quickly.
That realization stung worse than defeat.
Potts finished drying the canopy and came back, rope in hand. "Commodore, the cloth's up! Should I tie him up now?"
"Yeah, tie him tight," Renzo said, opening one eye. "Don't let him start thrashing again later."
Potts nodded, looping the seastone rope around Garon's armor.
The touch of seastone made Garon's remaining strength fade even faster, his consciousness dimming, not from the field, but from the natural curse of seastone itself.
"Boss, you okay?!"
A few surviving pirates, who'd been pretending to sleep, finally stirred, only to collapse again under the lingering effects of the Lethargy Field, helplessly watching as Potts tied their captain up.
Renzo didn't even spare them a glance.
They couldn't cause any trouble. Once Garon was taken away, they'd flee on their own.
All he wanted now was for Kizaru to show up, haul the nuisance away, and let him rebuild his canopy in peace for a proper afternoon nap.
…Except, wait, did Renzo even call Kizaru?
Probably too lazy to.
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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