"Fists, no matter how strong, are naturally inferior to the sword!"
"Even if you train, even if your dragon scales harden, and even if Armament Haki coats your body, you still can't match a true blade!"
Bogard's eyes were cold. He ran a finger along his sword's edge; a chill sword-aura seeped into anyone nearby. Top-level swordsmen carry a heart that fears death no more — to reach Roger or Lion's stride, you must be willing to die for the cut.
Sharn's strength lay in raw vitality and dragon-scale defense. Zoan awakenings grant beastly regeneration; the Blue-Dragon form's specialty is defense. That is why Kaido could combine brute strength and near-immortality — few can leave him with permanent scars. Sharn, even before full Devil Fruit mastery, still had relentless life force and iron defense.
If Bogard wanted Sharn dead, he'd need the kind of power later held by island-conquering Zoro — an Emperor's right-hand level. "What a cocky beast-type brat!" Bogard spat, wrapping his blade in Armament Haki. The black-sheathed sword flashed as cold light stained his eyes red.
"Look at you — an apprentice of the Rocks!" Bogard mocked. "Don't bluster — I stand with Garp and men of justice! When we return to the East Blue, order will be restored!" Thirty-eight years later he would fulfill that promise: the East Blue was called the weakest sea — then later, in those chaotic decades, it would become feared, then later still reclaim its humble pride.
Sharn trembled all over — not from fear, not from frenzy, but because Armament Haki was seeping from every pore. It concentrated into his fists and painted them with a thin, black sheen. It wasn't yet fully solidified. Armament hardening's true power lies in visible, tangible substance: when Haki crystallizes on a fingertip it can shatter steel. But the path from initial awakening to full hardening takes time and relentless training. Sharn simply poured the flooding Haki into his fists and let it thicken — it would lock any moment now.
"Talk of justice." Sharn spat, standing on ruins and broken bodies. "The Celestial Dragons slaughter entire kingdoms every three years. Hundreds of thousands die — did your Marines save them? Or does your justice only protect those who pay the Heavenly Tribute?" He stepped on corpses and continued, his tone razor-sharp: "The Admirals and Admiralty are nothing but dogs raised by the Celestial Dragons."
He knew what shouting did — a warrior's cry amplifies will and activates potential. People forbid others from shouting lightly because the courage it breeds forces bowed heads up. If the high and mighty were exposed as cowards under glass domes, sunlight would shine into everyone's heart — the drum of Nika would beat in every chest.
"You don't understand what we do!" Bogard snapped. "Even imperfect acts to defend justice are better than your reckless destruction!" Bogard, behind his shades, felt Sharn's words like bait for madness — identical to the kind of talk that spawned Rocks. He could not waste time debating; the blade must end it.
"One-character slash!" Bogard vanished and the sword cut a single black line across the air, a chasm under the blazing sun, three meters above the ground — exactly the height of Sharn's beast form.
"May your blathering trash fall silent in God Valley!" Bogard roared; his blade was the embodiment of righteous order. He believed firmly: if kingdoms joined the World Government, the Marines could protect them. Pirates destroyed the world; kill the pirates, preserve justice. He had convinced himself; he could not be wrong.
"Fist intercepts blade!" Sharn said, unmoved. The truth was on display: God Valley was tragedy; Celestial Dragon games slaughtered far more than pirates ever did. Only by overthrowing the Dragons and rewriting rules could the future be forged.
Sharn's knuckles alone were covered in the dark hardening of Armament Haki — not full-body yet, but with purple electricity coiling around it, the impact looked monstrous. The fist met the blade; Sharn's palms leaked blood where bone shards ground under force. Bogard staggered — his abdomen took a concussive blow. He turned slowly, blade still in hand.
"You got nothing to say, Sharn?" Bogard asked. He still felt uneasy — he wanted to win the argument of ideals as much as the fight. Experience had taught him that pirates often had fixed minds; only force could change them. But Sharn's words gnawed at him: his sword was slower — was it the weight of dead bodies beneath his feet that slowed him?
Sharn grinned. Steam rose from his massive body — life-return at work. Armament hardening! The battle had taught Sharn much.
"You're stubborn," Bogard breathed, blood at his lip, sword wavering. He had marched with Garp, followed a great tree of justice, yet the world's criminals paled before the monstrous games of the Celestial Dragons. He tightened his grip as Sharn walked toward the battlefield center despite his bleeding.
"Keep working on it, then," Sharn coldly said. "Whether you kill a thousand pirates or none at all, the Celestial Dragons' three-year revels eclipse them in scale. You cut out petty evil and pretend the great evil doesn't exist."
Bogard could not steady his mind; he tried to call Sharn back, but the young beast strode on. Sharn's words cracked open doubts that would, in decades to come, stop Bogard's rise to a sword-admiral. A swordsman must cut everything — yet the Marine sword could not cleave the Celestial Dragons' sin. That contradiction would shape Bogard's future.
"Freeze!" a young voice barked. Two hands formed claws; Haki screamed like wind-blades. The new Marine rising star had arrived — Monkey D. Dragon.
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