The power from devouring a Sea King dwarfed what Dimon got from "Amputator" Monroe.
His muscles felt like they were on fire—strength spiking at a ridiculous pace.
Life-force surged so hard it nearly forced his Armament Haki to awaken.
That newborn Haki bled outward. Dimon followed instinct, pulling it together over his right fist.
Up ahead, Kaido was already knee-deep in a forest of flesh—one man versus ten Sea Kings… then twelve… then more.
Each beast was colossal; next to them, Kaido was an ant on a mountain.
Standing in the jungle of monsters, Dimon grinned, heat rising in his chest.
"I'll back you up!"
He kicked off. The counterforce exploded the sea into a geyser behind him.
He shot forward like a cannon shell and met the first Sea King face-to-snout.
One punch—Haki roaring at the knuckles—landed clean.
With almost nothing but raw wrist power, the giant's eyes starred, its body reared and collapsed across another titan.
Kaido glanced back, dumbfounded.
"Didn't you say you were ordinary?"
What kind of "ordinary guy" decks a Sea King with one punch—and with barely any Haki presence?
That was Charlotte Linlin–tier brute force.
"Don't sweat the details!"
Dimon laughed, drunk on the feel of power.
Last night he devoured a pirate; today he devoured a Sea King. He was stuffed—and itching to burn it off.
"Gehahahaha—then let's race, Dimon!"
Kaido clenched both fists. Standing on a Sea King's back, his Armament flared upward like flame.
They split roles without talking—each taking a side—and crashed into the herd.
Dimon barely had time to track Kaido. He could still eat a few more.
He smashed another Sea King senseless with his fist, injected a measure of immortality with a syringe, then planted his right palm and Devoured it.
Another tidal wave of vitality flooded him—so rich he felt he might burst.
Not enough. Still not enough. I can take more.
—
An hour later.
A splinter of a dinghy skated across the waves. Kaido rowed like a machine, arms a blur.
"Faster. They're gaining," Dimon said, sprawled at the stern, urging him on.
Even Kaido was panting now, sweat tracking his brow. "Why don't you row?"
"I'm rear guard."
They swapped in one motion—Kaido at the stern watching their six, Dimon churning the oars till the boat hissed over the surface.
They pulled for another hour until the sea behind them was empty—no shadows, no wakes, no teeth.
Dimon exhaled, wiped imaginary sweat. "Moments like this I envy Shiki. Flying would be nice."
"Gehahahaha… question." Kaido flashed teeth. "If I get an arm chomped off, will it grow back?"
"It will. The severed arm would be reabsorbed; a new one sprouts at the stump," Dimon said. "Unless…"
"Unless what?"
"Unless you've burned out—no stamina, no will. Then regeneration crawls."
Kaido whistled. "Trickier than a Logia's intangibility."
Dimon stood, feeling the wind, reading drift like a seasoned helmsman. Monroe's seamanship lived in his hands now.
"There's wind. We're out of the Calm Belt." He frowned. "Question is… where?"
This wasn't the route in. No sign of the Hell Pirates' ship.
"I don't carry a Log Pose," Kaido said, entirely unbothered.
"Then we go with luck. Maybe a kind stranger passes by."
Dimon flexed his fingers; black arcs crisscrossed as a bottle flickered into his hand.
Not a full one—half a bottle. What remained after last night's syringe draws. No immortality effect—just excellent wine.
"What is that power? You a Fruit user?" Kaido asked, surprised.
"That's my ace," Dimon said, pouring two cups.
Kaido didn't press. The wine hit his nose and the rest of the world became optional. He drained it and sighed, eyes going half-lid.
"Good stuff."
They drifted, sipping and waiting for fate to pick a direction.
Kaido stretched out and snored. Dimon leaned on the stern, chin tipped to the sky.
A tickle brushed his ear—Observation Haki picking up a presence to starboard.
"Up, Kaizō. Company."
About a kilometer off, a World Government warship crept along.
On the mast, the lookout rubbed his eyes; he thought he saw a tiny boat… blinked… and it was gone.
"Must be seeing things. Who'd bring a dinghy here?" he muttered.
Boots thumped up the ladder—shift change.
"Noon relief. Go grab lunch."
"Finally!"
The lookout handed over and hustled down the rigging. He hit the washroom for a quick rinse and sauntered into the mess, humming.
Two people were already there.
One was huge, with horns.
The other… his face tugged at memory.
"Who are you—?"
He stepped closer. Recognition detonated across his features.
"R–Rocks—!"
Dimon's palm snapped up and slapped the man's jaw. Lights out.
"Indoor voice," Dimon said, dropping into a chair. "Some of us are trying to eat."
He picked up a spoon like a man who absolutely belonged there, and helped himself to the biggest bowl on the table. Kaido, already chewing, lifted a hand in greeting without looking up.
From the corridor outside, another set of steps approached—heavier, authoritative.
The mess hall door handle turned.
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