A small, no-name pirate crew was no match for Vice Admiral Garp's personal warship.
Even without Garp lifting a finger, the enemy folded instantly—
crushed like rotted wood under a hammer.
In less than ten minutes, the Marine officers had stormed the enemy ship and dragged the Coyote Pirates' captain, Saros, out in chains.
With their captain seized, the rest of the pirates lost their will to fight and scattered like frightened birds.
The Marines, following orders, didn't pursue. They simply regrouped and took stock.
That was their usual protocol:
Break the pirate crew, seize the core criminals—
and ignore the small fry.
They had nowhere to detain the rest, and frankly, chasing them down one by one was too much trouble.
Except for Davy.
Davy originally wasn't planning to act.
Soon, he would be escaping the ship—no need to stir up extra trouble now.
But when he saw the Marines turn a blind eye to the fleeing pirates,
he found his hands tightening around the ship's railing.
A cold edge flashed in his eyes.
And he moved.
Geppo carried him into the air—
Rankyaku rained down like a storm.
In the span of a breath, the sea below turned blood-red.
Bodies shattered.
Limbs floated.
The surface of the water looked like a mural painted in hell.
After confirming there were no survivors left drifting away,
Davy returned to the ship.
Only to find countless eyes trained on him—
eyes he had never seen before.
Fear.
Distance.
Disgust.
"...Butcher."
Someone whispered the word, and like a contagion, everyone around began tightening their grips on their weapons, watching him as if he were some wild beast.
It wasn't that these Marines were "pure."
They had killed too—
but only in the heat of life-or-death combat, when choice was stripped away.
They did not kill unarmed men.
They did not kill prisoners.
To them, what Davy had done was no different from slaughtering captives,
a violation of the justice they believed in.
"What are you all standing around for? Don't you have work to do?"
Captain Norris barked at the murmuring Marines, dispersing them before approaching Davy with a complicated expression.
"Don't mind them. We Marines aren't like bounty hunters. Many of us can't accept killing people who've already lost the ability to fight back."
A comforting tone—
but unmistakably a line drawn in the sand.
Davy looked at him for a long second, then nodded silently and turned to leave.
Norris bit his lip, hesitated, then called after him.
"I heard from Vice Admiral Garp… your Devil Fruit requires killing to absorb souls, right?"
Davy stopped mid-step.
He didn't answer.
Norris instinctively stepped forward, raising his voice.
"Davy, power is important, but too much killing leads to corruption. Today it's helpless pirates—tomorrow it may be civilians. I've seen many people spiral down that path."
Davy turned slowly.
His eyes gleamed with something sharp.
"You think I killed them for power?"
"Didn't you?" Norris shot back. "The ringleader was captured. Why go out of your way to kill those stragglers running for their lives?"
He truly wanted Davy to have a good answer.
Over the past days, he'd come to admire the young man.
He didn't want to watch him become a monster drunk on blood.
Davy smiled—not kindly.
"Let me ask you something."
He stepped closer.
"Why not kill them? When they pillaged, they enjoyed a share. When they slaughtered, they each swung a blade. Why should they now get a free pass?"
Norris swallowed, forcing out,
"We don't have the space to detain them. And without a captain, they're weak. They can't do much harm."
"Weak?" Davy laughed.
"To you, maybe. But what about ordinary people?"
His voice grew colder—
and louder.
"What if they swim to an island where civilians live? You think they'll politely take up honest work? What if another pirate crew recruits them? You plan to defeat them again and hope—what?—that they grow a conscience?"
Norris faltered.
He opened his mouth, but no answer came out.
He knew Davy had a point.
He just couldn't accept it.
Davy's tone sharpened like a drawn blade.
"And you cling to your regulations. Don't kill those who surrender? Fine—tell me, did they treat civilians like humans when they were killing?"
His pupils glowed with eerie green fire.
"This is why I'll never join the Marines. Our paths diverge."
He turned and walked away.
Cold stares followed him like shadows, but he moved as if walking through fog—
untouched.
This world's values were different from his.
He refused to bend to them.
So he would make the world bend to him.
And for that—
he needed absolute strength.
Returning to his quarters, Davy didn't rest.
He dove straight into training.
From this day on, he decided—
he would double his training load.
If it didn't kill him, he would push until it almost did.
…
Elsewhere, Garp sat on a desk, shoving doughnuts into his mouth as Norris finished his report.
"That's what he said, word for word?"
"Yes." Norris frowned. "Vice Admiral Garp, why didn't you let us stop him?"
The truth was simple:
Davy had only been able to massacre the escaping pirates because Garp himself had issued prior orders—
No one was to interfere with Davy.
Otherwise, with this many seasoned Marine officers, how could they have watched him do as he pleased?
Garp hadn't expected Davy to act this way.
He thought the boy would flee, or go for the highest bounty.
Not wipe out the leftovers.
He hid his awkwardness behind a booming laugh.
"Ahahaha! Let him be. He killed pirates—no problem there. If it were that Sakazuki fellow, he'd probably kill the captives too!"
"...S-Sakazuki?" Norris paled before quickly adding the proper title:
"You mean Admiral Akainu?"
Garp rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"Maybe I should introduce Davy to that guy someday…"
Norris's expression froze in pure horror.
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