The heat coming off Wallace's punch was palpable, even from afar. His opponent felt it too, an invisible wave of danger pressing against his skin.
But the pirate facing him didn't back down. Clad in an iron gauntlet, he met the blow head-on, his own fist swinging forward with defiance.
This clash was nothing like the earlier, dull fights that had lulled the audience to sleep—those ended in surrenders or careless knockouts. Now, a real battle had begun, and every spectator's face turned solemn.
Crewmates cheered from the sidelines as fists collided again and again. Wallace, empowered by his Devil Fruit, was gaining the upper hand. Each impact rang like hammer on anvil. His crimson fists radiated heat, steel turning molten under strain. The opposing pirate's expression twisted in pain, his flesh reddening under the relentless assault.
Finally, with a strangled cry, he dropped to his knees clutching his burned hands before toppling from the stage.
"Don't trade blows with him!" one pirate called out sharply. "Use weapons instead, even if they don't cut through his steel body, he still burns stamina using that ability!"
Another chimed in, "Or better yet, someone fast, speed'll wreck him."
They were right. Wallace's talent was obvious, but so were his flaws. His technique was crude, his experience shallow compared to veterans who'd survived years at sea. Keen-eyed observers noticed that despite his strength, many of his punches missed or were countered. His last opponent had lost, sure but not before forcing Wallace to burn through plenty of energy.
Wallace exhaled heavily, his expression tight. He wasn't as drained as he looked, though. His Steel Body was passive, no stamina cost. Only his enhanced Molten Steel Fist ate into his reserves. And right now, he was pretending exhaustion to bait his next challengers.
Still, the criticism wasn't wrong. His technique lagged behind his power.
From the stands, Teach's deep voice rumbled, "Still too green. Needs real training in close combat."
Beside him, Gar crossed his arms. "Far from it," he said bluntly. "His experience can't compare to mine at three years old."
Teach chuckled. "People grow. When the time comes, I'll trouble you to train him, Gar."
That caught Gar off guard. His jaw stiffened. Teach wanted him to mentor this kid? He was still studying the Marine Six Styles himself—Soru, Geppo, Kami-e, and Life Return, while preparing to unlock Haki. His strength was there, but mastery took time.
Teach, meanwhile, continued to refine everything, his physique, his fighting technique, even his swordsmanship. After two years of training, he'd merged blade and claw into one seamless art. At this level, swordsmanship wasn't about finesse—it was about breaking all technique with pure force.
He thought of Roger's Divine Departure, a single, world-breaking strike that bypassed all defense. A move born not from the blade, but from will. Teach once sought that same path, but abandoned it. It wasn't his way.
Even the Dragon Abyss Sword, once his pride, had become less a sword and more an extension of his power, a weapon to channel destruction.
He laughed lowly. "Zehahaha… consider this a training, Gar."
Below, Wallace continued fighting and winning. Ten straight victories. The spectators' disbelief turned into respect. A nobody had defeated over ten pirates, each with bounties above forty million Berries. Strength commanded recognition in this world, and Wallace was earning it.
But the toll was showing. Even after short breaks between bouts, his breathing grew ragged.
Meanwhile, tension rippled through the gathered pirates. The prize pool had dwindled from 300 million Berries to 120 million. Wallace had carved through their ranks, and no one wanted him to win again.
Reputation mattered more than money. Fame drew recruits, and crews with fame ruled the seas. If Wallace walked away victorious, his name would spread and theirs would fade.
Half an hour later, Wallace faced his next challenger, a lean, cruel-looking pirate with a tattooed black heart on his cheek and the Simon Pirates' insignia burned into his neck. His tongue flicked out as he smiled.
Wallace's expression hardened.
Teach chuckled from above. "He's in trouble now."
Garl nodded. "That one's strong. Stronger than his bounty says."
A 46-million-Berry pirate, yet his presence screamed much higher.
Beside them, Baccarat smiled slyly. "Will you step in if Wallace dies?"
Teach grinned. "No need. The Steel-Steel Fruit is tough. He won't die easily. Besides, this is their duel. I'd break the rules if I interfered—and we're not allies yet. If he dies, it just means fate wasn't on his side."
His tone was casual, but his words chilled the air.
Baccarat's smile curved. "So, if he does join us, then you'd have a reason to interfere, hm? You never struck me as a man who follows rules."
"Zehahaha! Rules are for breaking. I'll be the one making them."
Teach's grin turned teasing. "Speaking of training… you should pick up the Marine Six Styles too. Your luck ability's nothing without strength to back it up."
Baccarat's smile froze. Training? Again? Just remembering her last session with Teach made her legs ache. She wanted power, yes, but not that badly.
Down below, Wallace lunged forward, his steel fist blazing crimson. The Simon pirate sidestepped smoothly and kicked him hard in the abdomen. The impact rang out like a cannon shot. Wallace gritted his teeth, pain flaring through his body.
He stumbled but didn't fall.
"This guy's stronger than I thought…" he realized grimly.
His steel skin didn't make him invincible—he could still feel pain, still take damage. The transformation only gave him resilience, not immunity.
He countered, his molten fists sweeping forward, but his opponent dodged again, striking Wallace's temple. Reflexively, Wallace's scalp hardened, glowing red-hot. The pirate's fist met searing steel.
A hiss of pain escaped him.
Wallace smirked. His heat wasn't just offense—it was armor. Anyone who struck him got burned for their trouble.
The spectators roared. Wallace's grit was undeniable. Blow by blow, he began to turn the tide, forcing his opponent onto the defensive.
Up in the stands, Simon, the pirate captain himself, watched in fury. His subordinate was losing, despite being leagues stronger on paper. The humiliation burned.
He clenched a steel ball in his hand until it warped. Wallace was dangerous, too dangerous to leave alive.
Wallace didn't know it, but Simon had already decided. The moment this match ended, he would make sure the boy never walked again.
Teach, watching, saw it all. "He's improving," he muttered, "but his technique's still a mess. Too slow. If he could just refine his movements, that ability would make him terrifying."
Then came the end.
"Steel Fist: Molten Steel!" Wallace roared, lunging forward and wrapping the pirate in a blazing embrace.
A scream tore through the air.
The smell of scorched flesh filled the arena as Wallace's molten thigh pressed down, unfortunately, for the man's crotch. The pirate's howl went high-pitched and pitiful. Under the weight of Wallace's steel body and the unbearable heat, he collapsed to his knees, completely broken.
Wallace didn't hesitate. Two brutal punches to the skull, and his opponent crumpled, unconscious. His blistered, burned body was dragged away, steam rising from his skin.
Silence fell.
Then whispers rippled through the crowd.
On the stands, Simon's face twisted with rage. His subordinate's defeat wasn't just a loss—it was an insult. The air around him turned heavy, suffocating. Those nearby instinctively stepped back, sensing the storm about to break.
And Teach just smiled.