The air in the training grounds didn't just hum; it screamed. The faint tremble in the earth became a palpable vibration as the unleashed Conqueror's Haki from both combatants warred invisibly, pressing down like a physical weight. Dust motes hung frozen in the dappled sunlight. Then, without a signal, they moved.
It wasn't a lunge; it was a mutual detonation. Gaban erupted forward, a primal roar tearing from his throat, Sea Breaker and Sky Cleaver carving arcs of compressed air that shrieked. Marya met him head-on, a streak of obsidian shadow, Eternal Eclipse a black comet trailing crimson rune-light. Their collision wasn't metal on metal; it was WILL against WILL, amplified by steel.
KA-BOOOOOM!
The shockwave ripped outwards. Moss was torn wholesale from ancient boulders. Wood chips from shattered dummies became shrapnel. A spiderweb of cracks exploded across the packed earth where they met. The very sky above the clearing seemed to fracture for an instant, the dawn light distorting violently before snapping back.
Gaban's grin was feral now, unhinged with the pure, savage joy of unrestrained combat. Decades of experience fueled his onslaught – brutal axe sweeps that could cleave galleons, deceptive feints honed against legends, sudden bursts of Armament Haki hardening his strikes into mountains of force. He fought like a cornered beast finally unleashed, every movement radiating raw power and veteran cunning.
But Marya read him. Her golden eyes, blazing with inner sunfire, tracked not just the axes, but the minute shifts in his shoulders, the tension in his legs, the flicker of intent before each strike. She flowed through his attacks, not just around them. When Sea Breaker swept low, she was already leaping, Eternal Eclipse lashing out not to block, but to deflect the haft of Sky Cleaver mid-swing, throwing his rhythm off by a critical fraction. She forced him to compensate, to overextend, to commit fractions of a second earlier than he intended. Her defense was no longer passive; it was a relentless, surgical pressure.
Splinters of unleashed Haki became tangible hazards. A misplaced parry from Gaban sent a crescent of invisible force slicing into a moss-covered boulder, shearing off a chunk the size of a small house with a deafening CRUNCH. Marya, evading a thunderous overhead smash, flicked her wrist; a concentrated burst of Armament Haki from Eternal Eclipse's tip punched a neat, smoking hole through a practice dummy thirty feet away. The training ground wasn't just damaged; it was being systematically dismantled around them.
Gaban began to pant, great heaving breaths that misted in the cool air. Sweat streamed down his face, tracing paths through the dust caked on his skin. The feral grin remained, but strain etched lines around his eyes. The sheer, relentless precision of Marya's assault, combined with the constant drain of maintaining his Haki against hers, was taking its toll. He was a force of nature, but even storms tire.
Marya sensed it. Her advance became inexorable. She pressed him, not with overwhelming power, but with flawless timing and angles that cut off his avenues of escape. Her movements were economical, almost lazy in their grace, but each step, each block, each subtle feint pushed him back. She was a scalpel carving away at an anvil.
Gaban snarled, attempting a desperate gambit. He feigned a stumble under the pressure, left side dipping low – a veteran's lure. As Marya flowed in for what seemed like an opening, he exploded upwards and to the right, Sky Cleaver whipping around in a blinding, unexpected backhand sweep aimed at her flank. It was a move that had felled giants.
But Marya was faster. Not in raw speed, but in anticipation. She hadn't taken the bait. Instead, she'd already shifted her weight, pivoting on the ball of her foot. Eternal Eclipse wasn't there to block the sweep; it was already lancing forward in a lightning-fast thrust, aimed not at Gaban, but at the space behind his leading foot, where his momentum would carry him. The obsidian point stopped a hair's breadth from the earth, precisely where his heel landed as he committed to the missed sweep.
He was overextended, off-balance, his guard momentarily wide open. Marya didn't strike. She simply stood, Eternal Eclipse held in that perfect, poised thrust, the crimson runes blazing, her golden eyes burning into his. The message was clear: Checkmate.
Gaban froze, panting heavily, axes held awkwardly. The feral grin slowly softened into something else – profound respect, weary amusement, and immense satisfaction. He lowered his axes, the tension bleeding out of him in a visible wave. A deep, rumbling chuckle escaped him, echoing in the sudden, stunned silence.
"Hah!" he barked, wiping sweat from his brow with a trembling forearm. He looked at Marya, his eyes crinkling behind his sunglasses. "That's more like it, girl! Took you long enough to stop playin' nice!" He gestured vaguely at the devastation around them – the cracked earth, the sheared boulder, the smoking dummy hole. "Now that's the kind of demolition Mihawk would appreciate!"
The dam broke. The Red Hair Pirates erupted from their boulder perches like a tidal wave of sound and motion. Yasopp whooped, throwing his betting slate into the air. Bonk Punch and Limejuice pounded each other on the back, yelling incoherently. Monster roared, shaking his fists at the sky. Building Snake cracked a rare smile. Hongo sighed with relief, lowering his medical kit. Gab finally strummed a triumphant, discordant chord. Lucky Roux bellowed, "BREAKFAST! BREAKFAST FOR THE WINNER!" Colon was jumping up and down, screaming, "MARYA WON! SHE WON! DID YOU SEE, MAMA?!" Jelly bounced erratically, morphing into a wobbly trophy cup. "BLOOP! CHAMPION! SHINY CHAMPION!"
Shanks leaned back on his boulder, his own grin wide and approving, clapping slowly. Ben Beckman nodded once, a flicker of deep assessment in his eyes as he lit a fresh cigarillo.
Jaguar D. Saul, who had been rooted to the spot near the entrance since the Haki clash began, finally found his voice. His jaw, which had been hanging open, snapped shut with an audible click. He stared at Marya, then at the devastation, then back at Marya. His massive frame seemed to sag slightly with sheer disbelief. "By the weeping roots of Adam..." he breathed, his voice a mixture of awe and utter conviction. "Daughter of Hawkeyes... for sure."
*****
The warm, spice-laden fug of Mato's Tavern wrapped around the boisterous group like a well-worn cloak. Sunlight streamed through high, root-framed windows, illuminating swirling dust motes dancing above a table groaning under Brenna's volcanic breakfast bounty: mountains of eggs scrambled with fiery peppers, slabs of boar bacon glistening with chili glaze, loaves of crusty bread large enough to build forts, and steaming cauldrons of "Victory Stew" – a special Brenna concoction smelling faintly of sulfur and defiance. The air crackled with residual excitement, not just from the food, but from the morning's spectacle.
Marya sat with characteristic poise, picking delicately at a spiced fruit compote, her golden eyes observing the chaos with distant amusement. Beside her, Gaban was holding court, waving a giant fork laden with bacon. "—and then she flicked her wrist!" he bellowed, replaying the final thrust for the tenth time. Sweat still gleamed on his brow, but it was mingled with pure exhilaration. "Boom! Hole right through Wolf's best practice dummy! Precision like a surgeon's scalpel, eh, little hawk?" He nudged Marya, who merely raised an eyebrow.
"Demolition was requested," she stated coolly, a faint smirk touching her lips as she sipped her tea. "I merely provided a targeted sample."
Colon, perched precariously on a stack of cushions beside Ripley, was vibrating. "She was SO FAST! Like ZWOOSH! And Papa's axes went WHOOSH-BANG!" He swung an imaginary weapon, narrowly missing Jelly, who was happily absorbing spilled stew into his azure form, pulsing brighter with each splash. "Bloop! Shiny fight! Marya win!"
Saul chuckled, his deep laugh rumbling like distant thunder. He carefully lowered a tankard the size of a small barrel. "Precision indeed! Mihawk's shadow cuts deep, Gaban. Deep enough to humble even a Roger Pirate before breakfast!" His eyes held genuine awe. "Never seen footwork like that outside of… well, outside of legends."
The Red Hair Pirates were in their element. Yasopp was loudly settling bets, distributing clinking coins. "Told ya! Five-to-one odds on the clean finish! Pay up, Bonk Punch!" Limejuice and Bonk Punch grumbled good-naturedly while Monster roared approval, shaking the table as he reached for another whole loaf. Building Snake offered a rare, gruff nod of respect towards Marya. Gab strummed a lively shanty recounting the "Duel of Dawn," embellishing freely. Hongo meticulously inspected a small scratch on Gaban's forearm, ignored by the veteran.
Lucky Roux was a symphony of happy chewing, his plate a monument to consumption. "Best victory bacon EVER, Brenna!" he mumbled through a full mouth.
Shanks, leaning back with his own tankard, grinned at the recounting. "Surgical demolition! Perfect description! Had me on the edge of my seat, Marya. Gave the old sea dog here a run worthy of his axes!" He clinked his mug against Gaban's.
The atmosphere was electric, fueled by spicy food, potent mead, and the shared thrill of witnessing a masterful clash. Brenna bustled between tables, her salamander-scale cloak shimmering, refilling platters with a proud grin. "Eat up! Plenty of volcanic kick left! Need to fuel the next duel!" Her knives, woven into her fiery dreadlocks, clinked softly.
Suddenly, the tavern door swung open, slicing through the din. Ben Beckman stood silhouetted against the morning light, his posture radiating calm urgency. He scanned the room, his sharp eyes immediately locking onto Shanks. Without a word to the revelers, he strode purposefully through the crowded tavern, patrons instinctively making way. He leaned in close to Shanks, his voice low but carrying easily to the captain's ear over the background noise.
"Message just in, Chief," Ben stated, his tone crisp and businesslike. "Rookies. Kid Pirates, making waves. Sinking merchant runners, harassing our flagged outposts. Getting bold."
A subtle shift went through Shanks. The relaxed amusement vanished from his eyes, replaced by the focused intensity of an Emperor safeguarding his territory. He didn't need to raise his voice. He simply set his tankard down with a decisive thunk.
The sound acted like a conductor's baton. Conversations died mid-sentence. Yasopp's coin counting stopped. Bonk Punch paused mid-complaint. Monster froze with bread halfway to his mouth. Gab's lute fell silent. Even Lucky Roux paused his chewing, sensing the change.
Shanks stood, his crimson hair catching the light. He didn't shout; his voice carried the quiet weight of command. "Alright, lads! Playtime's over!" A grin, fierce and anticipatory, spread across his face. "Seems some fresh-faced pups need a lesson in respecting the flag! And who better to teach 'em than us?" He looked around at his crew, their faces already shifting from breakfast merriment to battle-ready eagerness, still supercharged from the morning's spar and the tavern's vibrant energy. "Time to remind the Kids why the Red Force sails where she pleases!"
The response was instantaneous and deafening. The Red Hair Pirates erupted from their seats, a wave of roaring enthusiasm.
"YEAH!"
"ABOUT TIME!"
"LET'S SHOW 'EM HOW PIRATES PARTY!"
"KID PIRATES, HERE WE COME!"
Tankards were slammed down, chairs scraped back. Yasopp was already checking his rifle. Limejuice and Bonk Punch cracked their knuckles in unison. Monster let out a bellow that rattled the rafters. Building Snake cracked his neck. Hongo snapped his medical kit shut. Gab slung his lute over his shoulder with renewed purpose. Lucky Roux shoved the rest of his bacon into his pocket. "Snacks for the trip!"
The sudden explosion of purpose left the giants momentarily stunned. Gaban chuckled, shaking his head. "Never a dull moment with you, Red." Saul nodded gravely. Ripley placed a calming hand on Colon's shoulder as the boy's eyes widened with excitement at the sudden departure.
Jelly vibrated with indecision, his gelatinous form shimmering. "Bloop? Adventure... again?" He watched the pirates surge toward the door.
Marya observed the transformation silently, her expression an unreadable mask. As Shanks moved toward the exit, his crew a crimson wave around him, she offered a single, near-imperceptible nod. "Fair winds, Uncle," her voice cut calmly through the storm of departure. The Owl Library's secrets awaited, yet the spectacle of the Red Hair Pirates answering the sea's call held its own raw, Elbaph charm.
Brenna heaved her massive cauldron with a theatrical groan. "And I just replenished the victory stew! Wasted volcanic chilies!"
Marya, Gaban, Ripley, and Colon escorted the crew to the docks. Jelly bounced beside Colon, chirping about "shiny ships." As the Red Force's crew made final preparations, Gaban, Ripley, and Colon tactfully stepped back, melting into the bustling dock crowd, leaving Shanks and Marya a pocket of privacy beside the weathered pier.
"Watch your back out there, little hawk," Shanks murmured, pulling her into a brief, fierce hug. Marya stiffened momentarily, then returned the embrace, a rare concession.
Before words could linger, Ben's sharp call sliced through the salt air: "Chief! Tide's turning!"
Shanks released her with a final, reassuring squeeze. "Keep that blade sharp." He turned, his dark cloak flaring as he strode up the gangplank, Ben falling into step beside him.
The group watched the Red Force shrink into the horizon's haze. The silence stretched, filled only by gulls and dock sounds. Gaban nudged Marya gently, nodding toward her submarine bobbing alone.
"Where you bunking down, then? Can't be comfortable in that metal sardine can for long." He jerked a thumb toward the bustling port town nestled in the branches above. "You'll stay with us. Plenty of room."
Ripley smiled warmly, placing a hand on Colon's shoulder as he vibrated with excitement. "More than welcome. Keeps this one out of my hair," she teased.
Colon's eyes widened like saucers. "Yes! PLEASE! Will you teach me sword stuff? Like the ting-zing block? Or the super-fast stab?" He mimicked her earlier moves with frantic energy, Jelly wobbling beside him, attempting to form a tiny, glittering sword.
Marya looked from the eager boy to the expectant faces of Gaban and Ripley, then back to her solitary vessel. A flicker of something unfamiliar – perhaps reluctant acceptance – crossed her stoic features as the weight of their unexpected hospitality settled around her. The library's mysteries awaited, but so, it seemed, did a hearth.