Roger, not yet forty, stood at the height of his power.
When he invited Dimon to spar, Dimon smiled. "Let's take it north. If we fight here, Shakky's bar won't survive the bill."
"Agreed! Last thing I need is Shakky chewing me out!"
Roger followed him out, with the Roger Pirates exchanging puzzled looks behind them.
A fishman with a trident scratched his head. "Did I hear that right? Captain's picking a fight with a Rocks rookie?"
The smoker beside him puffed a laugh. "Love rivalry again? Man's hopeless."
Jabba chuckled. "Not just that. The guy's got a five-hundred-million bounty on debut. Anyone would get itchy fists. Come on, we're watching this."
As Roger's third-in-command, his word was law—and the crew moved as one.
News spread like wildfire through Hive Island.
"Dimon's fighting Roger!?"
"No way, that's suicide—he's Roger! Rocks' equal!"
"Equal? Rocks is stronger! Every time Roger comes here, Rocks sends him flying!"
"So why fight this time—over Shakky?"
"Shakky's the island's treasure!"
At the Skull Hotel,
Gloriosa lounged on a velvet chair, reading the latest paper while nibbling a pastry.
The door banged open—Charlotte Linlin stormed in, eyes gleaming.
"Good news, Gloriosa! Roger's here again."
"Really!?" Gloriosa's paper dropped, her eyes bright.
"Yup—and he's about to fight Dimon," Linlin grinned.
Every Rocks pirate knew Gloriosa's soft spot for Roger. Pity for her—Roger's heart was elsewhere.
Her smile froze mid-lift.
"What's wrong?" Linlin asked, genuinely baffled. "You're usually sprinting out the door when Roger shows up."
Gloriosa frowned slightly, touching her chest. "Strange… My heartbeat's normal. No rush at all. It's like I suddenly… don't care."
She looked just as surprised as Linlin.
Linlin's smirk turned wicked. "Ha! The great 'romance' cured, huh? Knew that mushy stuff was nonsense."
Gloriosa snapped, "Shut it, you overgrown broodmare! You pop kids like popcorn!"
"I enjoy it! Got a problem?" Linlin laughed, hands on hips.
"I'm going to see the fight," Linlin huffed, leaving.
Gloriosa blinked, murmuring to herself, "Could my love-sickness be gone?" Then she tossed the paper aside and hurried after her.
"Wait, Linlin! You think they're fighting over me? What a sinful woman I am~"
Hive Island, North Shore.
Remote, windy, perfect for a duel.
Dimon stood by the crashing surf, smiling faintly. "After you."
Roger unsheathed his blade—one of the Twelve Supreme Grade Swords, Ace.
"You're not drawing a weapon?"
"I don't use swords."
"Then don't blink, Rocks rookie!"
Roger charged, excitement blazing in his eyes. No holding back.
Dozens watched from afar—the entire Roger crew.
When they saw Dimon face Roger barehanded, whispers rippled.
"Maybe he's like Garp—fists of iron."
They found out soon enough.
Roger's sword flashed—a horizontal arc of killing intent.
Dimon crossed his fists, Armament coating his arms black—but the blade sliced through him like butter.
Blood sprayed.
Both arms—gone.
Even his upper body was nearly cleaved open.
For a heartbeat, Roger blinked. He'd felt Dimon's Haki—it was ordinary.
"Oi, Roger!" Jabba shouted. "What the hell!? He's a Rocks rookie—if you kill him, we're in deep!"
Roger turned, sheepish. "How was I supposed to know he was that fragile? I barely—"
"Captain! Behind you!"
Roger's instincts screamed. His Observation—his future sight—snapped open.
In it, he saw himself flying backward—punched by the man he'd just killed.
Roger spun—raising his sword just in time.
BOOM!
A blackened fist slammed into his blade, sending him skidding back fifty meters.
Sand exploded, his boots carving trenches through the shore.
He looked up—eyes wide.
"You're alive!? No—you're fine!?"
Dimon flexed his restored fingers, grinning.
"Fine? Of course. A mere fatal wound."
He rotated his wrist, casual. "You hit fast enough that my nerves didn't even register pain."
Roger's jaw tightened. "Devil Fruit user?"
But it wasn't Logia—his Haki had cut through a Logia.
And yet… Dimon stood whole.
Dimon smiled. "You saw that punch coming. Future sight, huh?"
Roger's grin returned, feral. "That's right! Guess that bounty's earned. But now—I'll get serious, Dimon!"
Haki flared. The air cracked.
Dimon steadied himself, locking onto Roger with Observation Haki.
But in the blink of an eye, Roger was gone.
A blur—then steel.
He reappeared point-blank, Ace cloaked in Conqueror's Haki, slashing in a red-black crescent.
Dimon crossed his arms—Armament at full strength.
CRASH!
The blow sent him rocketing out to sea.
Waves split apart behind him like torn curtains.
"Fast and strong… so that's a King's light attack."
He spat a mouthful of blood—but the crimson reversed course, sliding back into his lips as wounds sealed.
I can't beat a King head-on—not yet.
Roger's crew murmured among themselves.
"Not even close…"
"Of course not! He's our captain."
"Wait," Jabba said, eyes narrowing. "Look—at the sea."
Far off, black flame erupted skyward.
A demonic aura bled across the horizon.
"What the hell is that?" Roger muttered—then his future sight hit again. His expression hardened.
He looked up.
A shadow fell over him.
High above, Dimon hovered, black wings spread wide, blocking the sun.
His voice rolled like thunder.
"No choice. My human form can't keep up with you."
Then—boom—a beam of black light shot down.
Roger raised Ace again just in time—
Dimon's demon-clad fist slammed into it, exploding the ground.
Sand cratered for a hundred meters, the shore collapsing inward.
Roger gritted his teeth, awe breaking through the strain.
"What is this…? A Mythical Zoan!?"
Dimon's eyes glowed scarlet, his wings pulsing with power.
"No," he said softly.
"Something worse."
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